Possessing the Grimstone - By John Grover Page 0,9

“They are great reptiles with four-clawed legs, and slithering tongues. They ride these into battle. We know not what these animals are, but it they bleed, they die. Sniff for the scent of charred flesh in the air. When you find it, they are close. Do not fear them. They are different, but they will fall, just the same.”

“I’ve heard they eat the flesh off their victims and wear their bones,” a young archer said to his comrade.

“I’ve heard that they’re more animal than anything else,” his friend replied. “They travel in packs and howl at the skies.”

“My skin crawls just thinking of them with bile-covered fangs and magic from the bowels of the primal dark.”

“Enough!” Farnus-Tan yelled at them. “You conjure your own nightmare. No more spooking each other. We will not fear the stories in the night! We fight for home and loved ones, and for the Lady of the Council!”

Cheers erupted throughout the brigade. Behind the archers, the swordsman marched, blades glinting in the noonday sun.

They marched another hour until reaching a crossroads. Black smoke started to cloud the sky. The brigade halted. Farnus-Tan lifted his arm. “Archers, ready!”

The sound of turning wheels echoed down the road, hissing and snarling rose from not one path, but two. The archers armed their bows. The swordsmen clashed their blades against their shields.

The ferocious sounds grew louder. The brigade found itself being approached from two sides. Their fear grew.

“Stand strong,” Farnus-Tan called. “Wait for your line of site. Sink your steel into their hides, boys!”

The horde of nightmares finally slipped into view. Drums ignited, and a whistle cut through the air.

A massive, spiked ball crashed out of the sky, slamming into the middle of the archers, scattering bodies in every direction. Rivers of blood stained the roads, and men screamed for their saviors.

Farnus-Tan’s eyes widened. All color drained from his face, and his throat went dry. Despite it all, he rose to action. “Archers, away!”

A sea of arrows launched into the air. Four-legged beasts did indeed bleed as they tumbled to the ground, oozing black ichor. Their riders climbed to their feet, wielding spiked clubs, battle axes, and cleaver-like blades.

Catapults wheeled into view, being pulled by the horde by hand. More riders came into view, their steeds reptilian beasts with plated armor and saddles adorned with bones and shields.

Banner carriers walked behind the riders, obscured by the catapults.

Farnus-Tan tried to get a good view of their attackers, but there was so much bone-riddled armor, chains, massive shields, and machines that it was hard to focus on anything. He did notice something strange about them: a white, misty form was seemingly tethered to each of them, as if…

The archers fired a second round, then stepped back as the swordsmen rushed into battle. Their screams followed. Another whistle caught Farnus-Tan’s attention.

“Scatter… the skies pour!”

The men jumped to the sides of the road as another spiked ball, this one covered in flames, exploded over it.

Out of the trees lining the road, long, wispy, white claws reached out and tore at the men’s throats. It was an ambush. As the claws tore their flesh to ribbons, the enemy warriors emerged in their place, stalking the road with clubs and axes.

“What is that?” Farnus-Tan cried out. “What devils are they?”

Some of his men turned and ran from the battle, swords and shields toppling from their grips.

“No!” Farnus-Tan cried. “Stand tall! Cowards… do not desert your brothers!”

Men crawled on the road, legs broken, arms missing. The trees around them crackled and burned, branches crashed down on them, setting the men ablaze.

Farnus-Tan faced the invading army, drawing his sword and screaming. He would not let the city down; he would not abandon his post, or give up the Lady of the Council.

He ran through the center of the crossroads, only a few of his men with him. Most of the archers were dead, or had vanished into the wilderness. They were met with a stream of blue-green energy.

The enemy mages hurled their magic from the midst of the horde, finishing off Farnus-Tan and his remaining men. Their bodies burned with spectral fire before transforming to ash.

Chapter 3

Olani, the Lady of the Council in Bhrungach, stood in her study, tracing the patterns in the wallpaper again and again. She was greatly troubled with the news from the Lake Lands. It wasn’t enough that she had to endure conflict with the people of the South? Now a new enemy had risen to make war on her people. What had