Read Online Soul of Sorcery (Book 5) by Jonathan Moeller - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jonathan Moeller
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Toraine's men.
Then the portcullis rattled open, and the men marched out.
A mass of runedead waited, their black blades glinting, their foreheads ablaze with sigils of green fire.
A terrible voice, like rusted iron plates rasping over each other, rang out.
"Kill them all!" said the voice. "Leave none alive! Kill them all, take the castle, and bring the Glamdaigyr to me!"
"Take them!" shouted Mazael. "Drive them from our lands!"
The knights and armsmen shouted and charged.
The men crashed into the undead, burning swords rises and falling. Mazael charged into the melee, Lion a blue of azure light in his hand. The battle rage of his Demonsouled blood filled him, making him faster and stronger. He cut down one runedead, and then another. Darkness flickered through the runedead, and Molly appeared and disappeared, never staying in one place for longer than a few heartbeats.
She left a trail of destroyed runedead in her wake.
Then they broke through the runedead, and Mazael saw the dark figure waiting at the base of the hill.
For a terrible moment Mazael thought that Corvad had returned from the dead. The figure wore the elaborate black plate armor of Old Dracaryl, just as Corvad had in the end. Intricate reliefs of dragons marked the cuirass, and a black helm hid the figure's face, wings rising from its side. In its right hand the armored figure held a black sword, a sigil of green fire blazing on the blade near the crosspiece.
How had Corvad returned?
And had he already claimed the Glamdaigyr?
Then Mazael's mind recovered from the shock. The figure's armor was similar to Corvad’s, but less elaborate. And the sword looked like the Glamdaigyr, but was smaller and had only one sigil carved into its blade.
The last of the runedead fell, and Mazael stepped forward, Lucan, Romaria, Toraine, Molly, and Timothy at his side.
"Stay back, the rest of you!" he shouted.
He suspected the armored figure could mow through his men like wheat.
The black helm turned to regard Mazael, and he saw a glimmer of green light within its depths.
"Who are you?" said Mazael.
"In life," hissed the armored figure, "I was Ardasan Mouraen, a knight and vassal of the High Lord Randur Maendrag of Arylkrad."
Beside Mazael, Lucan flinched. Did he recognize the name?
"In life?" said Mazael. "What are you now?"
"A revenant," said Lucan.
Mazael glanced at the wizard.
"The most powerful form of undead the necromancers of Old Dracaryl could create," said Lucan, watching Ardasan. "And only wizards of considerable skill could transform themselves into revenants."
"Yes," said Ardasan. "Long I served the great high lord Randur. And in repayment for my loyalty, he transformed me into this undying form and my men into runedead. He bade me to stand watch over Dracaryl's southern march for all time, to guard our realm from the barbarian nations on the far side of the Great Mountains."
"In other words," said Lucan, "he sealed you up in that cave and forgot about you. Or he perished before he could return and free you."
"Dracaryl fell centuries ago," said Mazael. "You now guard the southern march of nothing."
"These are my lands now, rotting thing," said Toraine, pointing his sword. "And I command you to leave them and never return!"
"Silence!" said Ardasan, lifting his black blade. "Dracaryl may have fallen. But I sense the presence of the Glamdaigyr, the great weapon the high lords forged to steal the might of the Demonsouled! With it, I shall rebuild Dracaryl, and rule an empire of the undead that stretches from sea to sea."
Mazael lifted Lion. "You'll have to kill me first."
"Easily accomplished, little mortal," said Ardasan. "I ground my foes beneath my boot centuries before you were born, I..."
"Oh, shut up," said Molly. "Were all the nobles of Dracaryl such utter windbags? Little wonder your miserable realm fell, if you wasted all your time making pompous speeches."
"Impudent child!" roared
Then the portcullis rattled open, and the men marched out.
A mass of runedead waited, their black blades glinting, their foreheads ablaze with sigils of green fire.
A terrible voice, like rusted iron plates rasping over each other, rang out.
"Kill them all!" said the voice. "Leave none alive! Kill them all, take the castle, and bring the Glamdaigyr to me!"
"Take them!" shouted Mazael. "Drive them from our lands!"
The knights and armsmen shouted and charged.
The men crashed into the undead, burning swords rises and falling. Mazael charged into the melee, Lion a blue of azure light in his hand. The battle rage of his Demonsouled blood filled him, making him faster and stronger. He cut down one runedead, and then another. Darkness flickered through the runedead, and Molly appeared and disappeared, never staying in one place for longer than a few heartbeats.
She left a trail of destroyed runedead in her wake.
Then they broke through the runedead, and Mazael saw the dark figure waiting at the base of the hill.
For a terrible moment Mazael thought that Corvad had returned from the dead. The figure wore the elaborate black plate armor of Old Dracaryl, just as Corvad had in the end. Intricate reliefs of dragons marked the cuirass, and a black helm hid the figure's face, wings rising from its side. In its right hand the armored figure held a black sword, a sigil of green fire blazing on the blade near the crosspiece.
How had Corvad returned?
And had he already claimed the Glamdaigyr?
Then Mazael's mind recovered from the shock. The figure's armor was similar to Corvad’s, but less elaborate. And the sword looked like the Glamdaigyr, but was smaller and had only one sigil carved into its blade.
The last of the runedead fell, and Mazael stepped forward, Lucan, Romaria, Toraine, Molly, and Timothy at his side.
"Stay back, the rest of you!" he shouted.
He suspected the armored figure could mow through his men like wheat.
The black helm turned to regard Mazael, and he saw a glimmer of green light within its depths.
"Who are you?" said Mazael.
"In life," hissed the armored figure, "I was Ardasan Mouraen, a knight and vassal of the High Lord Randur Maendrag of Arylkrad."
Beside Mazael, Lucan flinched. Did he recognize the name?
"In life?" said Mazael. "What are you now?"
"A revenant," said Lucan.
Mazael glanced at the wizard.
"The most powerful form of undead the necromancers of Old Dracaryl could create," said Lucan, watching Ardasan. "And only wizards of considerable skill could transform themselves into revenants."
"Yes," said Ardasan. "Long I served the great high lord Randur. And in repayment for my loyalty, he transformed me into this undying form and my men into runedead. He bade me to stand watch over Dracaryl's southern march for all time, to guard our realm from the barbarian nations on the far side of the Great Mountains."
"In other words," said Lucan, "he sealed you up in that cave and forgot about you. Or he perished before he could return and free you."
"Dracaryl fell centuries ago," said Mazael. "You now guard the southern march of nothing."
"These are my lands now, rotting thing," said Toraine, pointing his sword. "And I command you to leave them and never return!"
"Silence!" said Ardasan, lifting his black blade. "Dracaryl may have fallen. But I sense the presence of the Glamdaigyr, the great weapon the high lords forged to steal the might of the Demonsouled! With it, I shall rebuild Dracaryl, and rule an empire of the undead that stretches from sea to sea."
Mazael lifted Lion. "You'll have to kill me first."
"Easily accomplished, little mortal," said Ardasan. "I ground my foes beneath my boot centuries before you were born, I..."
"Oh, shut up," said Molly. "Were all the nobles of Dracaryl such utter windbags? Little wonder your miserable realm fell, if you wasted all your time making pompous speeches."
"Impudent child!" roared
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