Elora didn’t mind how long they stayed here but sensed the uneasiness in the others so kept that to herself.
Above the rise were tall stacks of rocks, maybe twice the height of Ragna, sticking up like fingers with smoke rising from the top.
“Don’t get too close to the chimneys,” warned Otholo as they passed. “The vents go down to the fire pits, deep in the belly of this world. The rock down there runs like water and occasionally gets spat out of these.”
The group passed warily, careful not to come too close to the smoking stacks. The whole place appeared to be baking, the air dry like the inside of an oven, even the rock was blackened in places, streams of lava long ago dried and stuck to the sides of the chimneys like dark thick veins.
Beyond the stacks the rise gave way to another gorge, Zionbuss led them along its edge, head frequently peering over as if searching for something.
“I thought there was no water here,” said Ragna, staring behind them. “Looks like there’s a sea down there.”
The group halted and stared back. Elora could see a huge black lake, or was it a small sea? Down on the flats where moments ago there was nothing but a dry cracked dessert. Above the water was a huge cloud, a dark black shape hovering above and spreading out before them.
“Seems it’s going to rain as well,” he grumbled looking up at the approaching cloud.
Elora watched Zionbuss’s reaction and knew that it wasn’t good.
“Time to pick up pace. That’s not a rain cloud, it’s a dust cloud created by the thousands upon thousands of soldiers that are charging this way.”
“I don’t see any soldiers,” remarked Ragna, as everyone drew weapons.
“No? That big black mass which you took for the sea is a tide of heavily armed men, demons, trolls and grumpkins. Every little beastie which you’ve been looking forward to flattening with that big steel Fist of yours, is coming our way.”
“That’s an army? But there’s got to be millions of them,” said Elora, her eyes only now picking out the faint shapes of men amongst the dark mass. Then she felt the ground beginning to tremble as the weight of a thousand, thousand soldiers rumbled up through the rock.
“Not the entire army, just a small portion,” replied the demon. “Best find the Necrolosis and make for the air - they’ll be on us in no time.”
They ran, Elora and Bray keeping with her uncle at the back, Nathanial clenching his teeth as he pushed his ageing limbs into a task they probably hadn’t done for decades. She linked her arm through his and bore some of the weight, his breathing coming out hard and laboured as the gap increased between them and the rest.
Gravel crunched under foot, kicking up sand and dust as they pumped their legs for all they were worth. It clung to Elora’s clothes and got into her mouth, scratching against her teeth. She pulled Nat with one arm whilst protecting her face with the other, attempting and failing to cover her mouth. Peering through narrowed eyes, she hoped they would reach the ship soon, she didn’t know how much longer her uncle could take.
Ragna paused, bending over double, hands on knees and panting like a dog in the sun. Ejan, took his hand and pulled.
“Move it, you great five-bellied lard,” she yelled at him.
Diagus came back and took the pack from the huge Viking, slinging one strap over his shoulder. “It’s the air, it’s too thin. But we can’t stop now, look, they’re getting closer.”
Elora risked a glance behind and saw that the swarming multitudes were closer and as she watched two ranks darted from the front.
From this distance they appeared to be no more than a pair of thick black lines racing ahead of the rest. The creatures which formed it were roughly the shape of men, only bigger, wider and running on all fours. The speed in which they came was startling, they’d be on them in minutes.
“Bulworgs!” shouted Zionbuss. “Now run, we can’t be far, she’s around here somewhere.”
Bray took hold of Nathanial’s arm and hoisted him over his shoulder into a fireman’s lift. “Sorry, Nathanial,” he said, as he lumbered on, keeping pace with the others.
Elora ran on at a better speed now she hadn’t the burden of her uncle who was now bouncing on Bray’s shoulder, face red and veins bulging from the side of his temple. But he kept quiet even though he must have felt shame at being carried.
The bulworgs were close enough to hear, deep throated growls and howls carried on the wind; quiet at first, hidden behind the erratic panting and boot scuffing on rock as the group clambered on. Yet unmistakably the sounds were bestial, snarls and grunts of huge predators that were hunting them down like prey.
She tried desperately to block the threat out and concentrate on running, keeping with the group even though her lungs screamed for her to stop; Otholo’s lute banging into her hip, threatening to fall to bits with every bounce.
Zionbuss suddenly skidded to a halt, his boots sliding towards the edge of the gorge where it ended in a cliff, another flat plain before them.
Elora’s heart thumped against her chest as she sucked in the thin air, looking down at the vast landscape before them, covered in huge black squares that stretched off into the distance. Horror forcing more adrenalin into her veins as she realised what the shapes were.
Each square was made up of rank upon rank of soldiers, each row numbering about a hundred, arranged in hundred-long columns that stretched to endless thin lines in the distance. This was the dark army, her father’s army.
Elora’s mouth fell open - they were trapped.
“Don’t fancy the odds much,” muttered Ejan, as she took an arrow from her quiver that was strapped to her back.
Elora watched how she slowed her breathing, a quiet and determined calm settling over her as if being sandwiched between two colossal armies of killers was something she did on a regular basis. Even Ragna stretched his head from side to side, working the tendons in his neck as he cocked his hammer onto a wide shoulder.
Bray set Nat back on his feet and drew his sword and took a couple of practice swipes, blade cutting the air and making faint wisping sounds. “I’ll take the million on the left,” he chuckled.
“Aye, I’ll start on the wedge on the right, after I’ve done some bulworg tickling,” laughed Ragna.
Elora wished she felt as brave as them, they were hardened to battle and had a wealth of experience when it came to fighting, where as she, had none.
Sweat broke out on the palms of her hand as she fidgeted with the ends of her cloak, Bray placed his warm hand in hers and gave a gentle squeeze. It was less than reassuring, but she was glad for the contact.
The bulworgs split formation as they filtered through the rock chimneys. Long white teeth, razor sharp and bared in a rictus snarl as the wolf-like heads snapped at each other in a race to reach them. Claws sank into the rock as they scrambled up, the leading bulworg striking a chimney with his shoulder and smashing it to rubble. Elora couldn’t tell if he had meant to do it or didn’t care, the stack of rocks fell away as if it was nothing more than cardboard.
Diagus stepped in front of her, blade drawn before him. Her eyes drifted along the strange green metal, the lethal edge sending a shiver down her spine, her bones tingling. She found it hard to look at that sword for long, it scared her in a way she didn’t understand, putting her already frayed nerves on edge and making her teeth itch. Perhaps because it was her father’s or because the Shadojak had hurt her with it when she had awakened in Rams Keep.
“Stay behind us. I don’t want you turning into that devil spawned creature again and end up tearing us to pieces and helping the enemy.” He stared at her for a moment, white pearl seeming to burn straight into her soul before stepping beside the huge Viking.
“If we all die; feel free to turn into what the hell you like. As long as you take as many as those bastards down with you before you join us,” said Ejan, giving her an uncharacteristic wink before pulling her bow string fully back, fingers brushing her ear.
