Free BlackThorn's Doom by Dewayne M Kunkel

the shelter of the trees a mounted patrol of twenty men rode around the mountain and into view.
    They dropped into the underbrush, watching as the riders drew nearer. The patrol rode within the stand of dead trees, keeping to a well-worn track. They passed within a few hundred feet, the riders oblivious to the hidden men.
    They were gaunt men, dressed in heavy chain armor. Their helmets were crested, bearing long tails of horsehair dyed scarlet. From within their visors burned eyes as red as hot coals.
    Each warrior bore an unadorned buckler and wore a broadsword about their waist. Their shield hand held the reins to their maddened mounts while their other held a wickedly barbed lance aloft its butt resting in a leather cup attached to their stirrups.
    The horses flanks were fire scarred, a few bore fresh burns that oozed wetly. Their eyes were wild and they chomped at their bits. The only thing keeping the mounts in check was the cruelty of their masters.
    No one breathed; they lay in the undergrowth watching the patrol from gaps in the leaves.
    The horsemen paused for only a few moments before spurring their mounts forward once more. The frightened beasts raced through the ash and disappeared into the distance.
    Connell carefully raised his head and watched as the last horseman disappeared around an outthrust knuckle of stone.
    “Its clear,” He said softly, brushing the ash from his clothing. “It would appear that we have run into the patrols sooner than you believed Marcos.”
    “We were fortunate.” Marcos said rubbing his eyes. “We have allowed our weariness to cloud our judgment. We cannot afford to relax our guard, lest we fall into a trap.”
    “Those were not men.” Casius said. “Aethir nearly burned through its sheath at their approach.”
    “You are correct Casius,” Suni said. “Grel’in, they are named by my people. Once they were brave men, heroes of old whose minds and bodies have been subjugated by spirits loyal to the Kin slayer.”
    “The fact that twenty of them are moving through this forest proves that Sur’kar is aware of our presence.” Yoladt ventured.
    Marcos shook his head. “It only proves that he is being cautious. Had he sensed our presence we would be facing thousands of his followers, not twenty.”
    “Having one of the Balhain slain may have given him grounds to be concerned.” Connell suggested.
    “One of the Dark ones most powerful servants is dead?” Yoladt asked.
    “Marcos slew him in Rodderdam.” Connell answered. “He had attempted to turn Trondhiem’s crown over to Sur’kar’s control.”
    “To be honest, I had believed us to be on a doomed mission.” Yoladt said. “If one of the worlds eternal evils can be slain, then perhaps there is hope for us yet.”
    “Though the odds are against us we are not altogether helpless.” Marcos said.
    Yoladt looked at the determination in the faces around him. These men had ventured into his hidden realm without fear or hesitation. They were battle hardened, having tested their metal against foes both formidable and terrifying.
    It was a wonder he had not seen it in them before. Even young Casius possessed an inner strength that had yet to be fully realized.
    A surge of hope cleansed the darkness from around his heart. If any were worthy of the blade it was these men.
    “What are we waiting for?” He asked jovially. “There is a god waiting to be killed.”
    The others laughed, but all Casius could do was force a grin. After all it was his hand that was expected to slay an immortal being of terrible power.
    Around the northern face of the volcano they walked, keeping well within the trees. The patrol had been a frightening wakeup call and now they moved with great caution.
    Hours later they made camp beside a deadfall of charred timbers. The mountain was several miles away now; a fetid swamp of black water and boiling mud had forced them further into the wood. After Suni’s encounter near the pond no one wanted to