Free BlackThorn's Doom by Dewayne M Kunkel Page B

combat many times over since the siege had begun.
    She was a devil with those swords, lightning fast and lethal. Many Morne and more than her share of Trolls wandered the netherworld because of them. Gaelan could think of no one better suited for his cousin.
    “Anything new?” He asked breaking the silence.
    D’Yana shrugged and looked to the Morne encampment. “It has been two weeks since their last attack. I know something is going to happen soon, I can feel it in the air.”
    Gaelan nodded looking to the fires as well. “The men are rested, whatever their scheme is we will be in fair shape to stand against it.”
    “What of the trail?” She asked, referring to the path cut through the tangled trees.
    “The reason for its construct is a mystery to me.” Gaelan admitted. “But it cannot bode well for us.”
    D’Yana raised her hand. “Listen,” She whispered cupping her hand to her ear.
    Gaelan listened; he heard the whistling wind and popping of the torches. In the distance a man coughed and a few others joked quietly. He was about to speak when the faint sound of creaking timbers and grunting Trolls reached his ears.
    In the distance a Morne campfire disappeared as something moved in front of it. After a few moments several more fires vanished, one after another. What ever was approaching was enormous and its weight was cracking stone beneath ironclad wheels.
    “Sound the alarm!” He shouted, breaking the still of the night.
    He strained his eyes against the darkness trying to see what new threat they faced. Behind him horns blew and a bell rang. Within minutes the wall was bristling with hard faced men who’s skills had been honed by many battles.
    “What is it?” D’Yana wondered aloud staring into the darkness.
    A harsh battle cry erupted from the gloom as arrows by the thousands rained down upon the defenders.
    The men lining the ramparts sought what cover they could from the hissing cloud of steel and wood. Volley after volley fell from the sky. With only a few seconds between them Gaelan’s archers could do little to halt the screaming onrush of Morne below.
    Wooden ladders smacked the stone and the arrows ceased to fall. The defenders rallied and Gaelan’s archers rose to the occasion slaying the enemy by the hundreds.
    Gaelan used a spear to dislodge a ladder and winced as a Morne arrow glanced from his helm. He watched with some satisfaction as several arrows pierced the enemy archer.
    Morne died by the hundreds, then by the thousands and yet they came. Climbing over the bodies of their fallen in a frantic rush to gain the wall.
    In several places they had done so, but these footholds were short lived as the defenders rallied and cut them down. The men hurled the bodies of the fallen down upon the milling mass of warriors below.
    Out of the gloom came two lines of powerful Trolls. They pulled thick hawsers of hemp dragging a massive cart that supported a battering ram of staggering proportions.
    Fashioned from four tree trunks bound together by thick iron bands. The head of the ram was cast of iron and shaped by artisans to resemble an enraged bull. The horns were thick and curved sharply forward. Smoke and flame poured from its eyes and nostrils.
    The ram had been forged in the fires of V’rag and the power it held filled the air with electricity.
    Gaelan recovered from his shock and looked to the towers top. “Kill the Trolls!” He shouted hoping Wolhan had heard him.
    A moment later one of the two Ballista they had recently constructed fired. The spear sized bolt flashed through the air piercing through one of the trolls. The iron head blasting out of it’s back and into the stony ground, pinning the dead beast upright.
    The second Ballista clanged; a flaming spear lit the dark and embedded itself into one of the great wheels of the cart. Fire spread quickly along the wagons side.
    The Morne were prepared and with both water and sand they raced to extinguish the fire as the Trolls