THE GATEWAY (HARBINGER OF DOOM - BOOK 1)

THE GATEWAY
by
Glenn G. Thater
2005

“Ye wilt not thwart us again, harbinger of doom! We shall have this world this time.
What once was ours will be ours again!”
- The Chaos Lord Bhaal to The Lord Angle Theta.

A grayed Lord and his lieutenants stood at the fore of a small wedge of armored soldiers, veterans all. Malignant, clinging mist wafted about, sickening the men and clouding their vision. With the mist came a thunderous cacophony that consumed the night, piercing the very souls of those unfortunates within its demesne. A maleficent, skirling, bestial sound, akin to naught in nature and much in nightmare. A preternatural wailing it was, and in its wake bounded death.
“All hell’s fallen on them,” said Lord Eotrus.
Par Talbon made to move forward, but the old knight’s hand darted out and held him fast.
“We hold our ground,” said Lord Eotrus gripping the small man’s shoulder tightly. “We cannot advance in this mist and you can’t turn it all. Stern’s fate is in Odin’s hands now.” Staring into the mist he drew forth his sword from its ornate scabbard and raised the steel blade to his face - a salute from olden times - then lowered it again, though he kept it at the ready. “As is ours,” he said. “Our path is clear.”
“What’s out there Aradon?” said Brother Donnelin. “What are we facing?” “Nothing of Midgaard, my good priest,” said Lord Eotrus. “Nothing of this world.”
The wailing grew ever louder. A deep rumbling sound began and quickly intensified. Soon, the very earth itself began to shake and shudder. Archers closed ranks before their lord and his lieutenants. Swordsman and pikemen stood at the ready, eyes wide but feet planted. Several cloaked men with staffs matching his flanked Talbon.
Lord Eotrus’s gaze drifted upward to the midnight sky. “The Valkyries gather. Soon they’ll carry us home.” More quietly then, “I thought I’d have more time. Thank Odin at least the boys aren’t here.”
Donnelin and Talbon exchanged worried glances as they stood protectively about their lord.
“Here they come!”
“I still can’t see them,” said Donnelin. “Damned mist.”
“Keep your formation men!” said Lord Eotrus. “Talbon! Dispel the mist! Now!”
At his liege’s command, the sorcerer uttered forgotten words of eldritch power; secret words lost to all but the chosen few. The ancient sorcery he called up crushed the unnatural mist back against the night, though the darkness lingered beyond the limits of the soldiers’ torchlight.
Lord Eotrus’s face grew ashen and his eyes wide as the horror thundering down upon them came into view. A war cry burst from his throat and he charged forward to meet his fate. A few of the bravest soldiers followed him, but most dropped their weapons or froze in a panic. Not one even bothered to try to flee.

***
If this story has caught your attention and you'd like to read more, the complete version of "The Gateway is included in the book "Harbinger of Doom" by Glenn G. Thater. "Harbinger of Doom" is available for purchase on Amazon.com beginning in February 2008. Please feel free to leave comments below by clicking on the 'comment' button.

The Fallen Angle (Harbinger of Doom - Book 2)

THE FALLEN ANGLE
By
Glenn G. Thater
April 2007

“How do you know these things?
Who are you Theta?
Who are you really?”
-- Ob to the Lord Angle Theta

The last of them went down – cleaved in half by Theta’s falchion. Geysers of blood gushed everywhere as the Duke’s guards charged into the room. A butchery of flowing blood and spilled entrails. Several corpses soiled the exotic carpet, some still twitching as such are wont to do. The dead wore the Duke’s livery, confusing the guards. The Duke’s guest – a hulking foreign knight stood beside the bed. Nightshirt drenched red as was his face and pants. Bloodied falchion in his left hand. His expression best described as annoyed; his aspect calm. He stood unmoving, staring at the guards with his piercing blue eyes. They all stood there still as the Duke and his personal bodyguards came dashing down the hall to the apartment’s entrance. The guards made way.
Harringgold’s mouth dropped as he entered and took in the sight.
“Are these yours?” said Theta, pointing to the dead with his right hand.
“I cannot tell,” said the Duke.
He motioned to the guards who adjusted the corpses so their faces could be viewed.
“This one has been in my employee some five years,” said the Duke, pointing to a decapitated head at the foot of the bed.
“This one has worked as a guard for a few months I think, perhaps a year. The other four I do not recognize.”
“Nor do I,” said the guard captain.
“Search the bodies,” said Theta, still standing tensed. The Duke nodded to the guards who then began to search.
“Looking for what?” said the Duke.
“A tattoo; a scar, a strange coin, or some such token.”
After some minutes. “Two bear the mark of the Black Hand on their shoulders.”
“Paid assassins,” said the Duke.
“These others all wore a gold coin hung from chains about their necks.”
“Put them down on the bed,” said Theta, as he strapped on his sword belt and wiped the blade on the sheets, then sheathed it. He briefly looked at the coins, wrapped them in cloth and pocketed them.
“I’ll need another room,” said Theta.
“Of course,” said the Duke, seemingly surprised at the request.
“One with a bath, and some bandages, and a few guards at the door that you can trust more than these.”
“You’ll have it. I don’t know what to say, this should never have happened in my fortress.”
You are right, it should not have,” said Theta, giving the Duke an ice-cold stare.
“I’ll stand watch myself,” said the guard captain, “with you permission Lord Harringgold.”
Harringgold nodded.
Servants led Theta to another room, two floors up. Ob appeared along the way.
“The bastards won’t stop coming,” said Ob. “Once The Hand has a contract, they never give up. Not never. They took five years to track down old Par Tandar, down in Minco – he was hiding out as a cobbler – but they got him – hung his head from a lamppost right in front of the tower of the Arcane. Not one witness. Theta, your only chance is to head for the hills and not stop until you’re back home – in wherever it is youse hail from.”
“I’ll deal with the assassins as need be – but it will not be by running.

**
If this excerpt from the story "The Fallen Angle" has caught your attention, you can buy the full story on Amazon.com in the book "Harbinger of Doom" by Glenn G. Thater, available beginning February 2008. Please feel free to leave comments by clicking on the 'comments' button below.

The Hero and the Fiend

THE HERO AND THE FIEND

by GLENN G. THATER

All: Brave men are dead

Heroes are cowards

Brave Heroes are only myths and legends

---- from "Only Knights"

by Glenn G. Thater

(Excerpts)

Two vile creatures of Chaos stalked the moonlit streets of Lomion that night, preying upon hapless citizens in an attempt to sate their unending hunger for blood and souls, the very stuff of life. These fiends were so horrific in aspect no words could accurately describe their features. All that could be said with certainty was that they had two arms and two legs and walked upright. Such creatures as these nightmarish fiends had no place, in fact no right to even exist anywhere in the world of man, little less in the bustling metropolis of Lomion. These were unspeakable, maleficent, outré beings whose origins were rooted somewhere beyond the pale. Where they went only chaos, madness and death followed. They were likely brought over to our world by some foolish power-hungry mortal in search of unholy magic or forbidden lore long since lost to antiquity. No doubt all the conjurer received for his troubles was his own premature demise and the eternal torment of his immortal soul. Or perhaps the fiends were here all along, remnants of that ancient bygone age before the dawn of man when their kind walked the earth and called it their own. If so, they had existed for countless millennia haunting the nether regions of the world. Some say their kind are masters still of the darkest corners of the globe, beyond the farthest outposts of civilization and on certain mysterious foreboding islands and bizarre subterranean depths.

Not far away, a grim veteran warrior rode slowly through the chill moonlit streets astride a huge tan charger. The warrior stopped briefly to drop off a curious package at the small brick building where Iret Zale lived and plied his trade, and then made his way down Shield Street and across Marble Avenue toward one of his favorite inns, Baylock's Rest. He stabled his horse in the small barn at the rear of the inn, tossed a stable-hand a Silver Star, and walked through Goblin Alley to reach the front entrance of the Rest.

***

If the above excerpts from the story "The Hero and the Fiend" have caught your attention and you'd like to read more - please let me know - click on the 'comment' button at the end of the post and leave me a comment. I'm considering including the full version of this story in an upcoming collection of my stories that we be available for purchase on Amazon.com