Asgoleth The Warrior: A Modern Tale of Sword And Sorcery (fantasy fiction books) by Bill Kirkwood Page B
Authors: Bill Kirkwood
Tags: Fantasy
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Aractus sat with his generals within the palace, deep in conference. In truth there was little to discuss, all knew that on the morrow their future would lie in the strength of their arms and on their determination to win.
Thus, when the light of dawn crept over the Agar Mountains, the gates of the city swung open and king Aractus led his army out to meet the hosts of Akon. Demos watched them come and smiled a cold, cruel smile. The ring upon his finger pulsed as he raised his hand and then he lowered it again as he changed his mind. He was still fatigued from his exertions at Fort Kronos and he decided to save his strength and let his soldiers earn their keep. He had little doubt that they would succeed in their assault but if they got into difficulties he could then bring his magic into play. Besides, he knew well that soldiers set great store by the loot and slaughter that their commanders led them to and he knew that when word got out about how cruel and merciless his soldiers were then that would help make future victories easier to attain. He smiled and ordered his army forward to face the charging Torrans. The two armies charged at each other and a deep growling rumble rose to the sky as they crashed together furiously.
Fired to desperate fury the Torran heavy cavalry, their white cloaks flying in the breeze, smashed into the front ranks of the Akonites. Men screamed and died under those iron shod hooves and the whistling swords of their foes but always there were others to take the place of the fallen.
Behind the valiantly battling mounted knights the Torran infantry surged forward into the cloven ranks of the enemy. The harsh, brazen notes of war horns mingled with curses and screams and the clang of clashing sword, axe and pike. Within moments a thick cloud of dust arose into the air above the battling warriors, blotting out the action from the view of the anxious watchers upon the city walls, leaving them to fret and worry helplessly.
All through that long day the armies fought with grim ferocity. The Torrans hacked and slew their enemies and none fought more bravely than king Aractus and his guardsmen. Asgoleth fought at the king’s side, his great sword rising and falling with deadly skill. With each stroke his blade drank the life of yet another Akonite warrior and a growing ring of corpses grew up around him. He towered over his foes, his face contorted into a grinning death mask which struck terror into the Akonites who came against him.
Brave as the Torrans were however, there were just too many Akonites surging forward into battle, they could not hope to stem the tide of enemies that beat against them but despite the odds against them they fought on bravely. As the long bloody day wore on towards dusk, king Aractus fell victim to the black shafted arrows of the Akonite archers and fell dying to the bloodstained earth. Asgoleth roared in fury and rushed to the fallen king’s side. The huge barbarian stood over the kings body and slew all who drew near and he shouted encouragement to his comrades in an attempt to keep them fighting. Then he too fell to the blow of a battleaxe that split his helmet to the skull. With the death of their king and the loss of the giant barbarian’s leadership, the Torrans broke before the overwhelming might of the Akonites and fled back towards the city. The trickle of fleeing men soon became a torrent as others joined in the rout. A roar of victory rose from thousands of Akonite throats and they surged forward after the defeated Torrans.
Men fell beneath the iron hooves and steel clad legs of the enemy and were trampled underfoot. No mercy was shown to the fallen and the ground ran red with the blood of the slain. The battle was lost now and there was nothing to stop the Akonite army as it swept towards the helpless city
CHAPTER SIX
The last rays of the sinking sun encarmined the silvered helmets and glittering sword blades of the Akonites as they strode arrogantly,
Thus, when the light of dawn crept over the Agar Mountains, the gates of the city swung open and king Aractus led his army out to meet the hosts of Akon. Demos watched them come and smiled a cold, cruel smile. The ring upon his finger pulsed as he raised his hand and then he lowered it again as he changed his mind. He was still fatigued from his exertions at Fort Kronos and he decided to save his strength and let his soldiers earn their keep. He had little doubt that they would succeed in their assault but if they got into difficulties he could then bring his magic into play. Besides, he knew well that soldiers set great store by the loot and slaughter that their commanders led them to and he knew that when word got out about how cruel and merciless his soldiers were then that would help make future victories easier to attain. He smiled and ordered his army forward to face the charging Torrans. The two armies charged at each other and a deep growling rumble rose to the sky as they crashed together furiously.
Fired to desperate fury the Torran heavy cavalry, their white cloaks flying in the breeze, smashed into the front ranks of the Akonites. Men screamed and died under those iron shod hooves and the whistling swords of their foes but always there were others to take the place of the fallen.
Behind the valiantly battling mounted knights the Torran infantry surged forward into the cloven ranks of the enemy. The harsh, brazen notes of war horns mingled with curses and screams and the clang of clashing sword, axe and pike. Within moments a thick cloud of dust arose into the air above the battling warriors, blotting out the action from the view of the anxious watchers upon the city walls, leaving them to fret and worry helplessly.
All through that long day the armies fought with grim ferocity. The Torrans hacked and slew their enemies and none fought more bravely than king Aractus and his guardsmen. Asgoleth fought at the king’s side, his great sword rising and falling with deadly skill. With each stroke his blade drank the life of yet another Akonite warrior and a growing ring of corpses grew up around him. He towered over his foes, his face contorted into a grinning death mask which struck terror into the Akonites who came against him.
Brave as the Torrans were however, there were just too many Akonites surging forward into battle, they could not hope to stem the tide of enemies that beat against them but despite the odds against them they fought on bravely. As the long bloody day wore on towards dusk, king Aractus fell victim to the black shafted arrows of the Akonite archers and fell dying to the bloodstained earth. Asgoleth roared in fury and rushed to the fallen king’s side. The huge barbarian stood over the kings body and slew all who drew near and he shouted encouragement to his comrades in an attempt to keep them fighting. Then he too fell to the blow of a battleaxe that split his helmet to the skull. With the death of their king and the loss of the giant barbarian’s leadership, the Torrans broke before the overwhelming might of the Akonites and fled back towards the city. The trickle of fleeing men soon became a torrent as others joined in the rout. A roar of victory rose from thousands of Akonite throats and they surged forward after the defeated Torrans.
Men fell beneath the iron hooves and steel clad legs of the enemy and were trampled underfoot. No mercy was shown to the fallen and the ground ran red with the blood of the slain. The battle was lost now and there was nothing to stop the Akonite army as it swept towards the helpless city
CHAPTER SIX
The last rays of the sinking sun encarmined the silvered helmets and glittering sword blades of the Akonites as they strode arrogantly,
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