Page 2 of Thorns & Fire
As more blood stained the tiles of the temple, he cast away the fantasies he’d had.Of one day showing her Tver, just the two of them; of building her a greenhouse of her own; of attending a gala, a name day –anything, proudly hand in hand.
Wilder’s voice cut through the chaos.‘Queen Reyna’s not with them.’
‘I can see that,’ Torj grunted as the flat of a blade hit his shoulder and he sent its wielder’s head through a wall of tile.‘No hostages down here.Doesn’t mean they don’t know where she’s being held.’
Torj’s muscles burned as he hefted the massive war hammer, its weight a familiar comfort in his callused hands.A line of rebels charged at him, shields raised high.He couldn’t help the sense of satisfaction that washed over him as he swung low and thehammer’s head whistled through the air.It connected with a resounding crack, splintering the shields and sending wooden shards flying.The rebels stumbled, off-balance, and Torj seized the opportunity.He pivoted, bringing the hammer up, catching the first man square in the chest.Ribs crunched beneath the blow, and the rebel flew backwards, crashing into his comrades.
‘How have they recruited so many, so quickly?’Wilder called out.
‘Why?Losing your touch, Hawthorne?’Torj shouted back, pushing forwards and using his Furies-given strength to throw another rebel off him.In one fluid motion, he reversed his grip and swung the hammer’s spike end.It found its mark in the man’s shoulder, puncturing armour and flesh alike.The rebel’s scream was cut short as Torj wrenched the weapon free, bringing it down once more on the man’s helm.The metal caved with a sickening crunch, and the rebel dropped like a stone.
‘Hardly,’ Wilder replied, thrusting his blade through an exposed neck.‘But it’s not their numbers I’m worried about.’
Frowning, Torj whirled around, following his friend’s gaze.A fresh group of rebels appeared in a passageway, glass vials in their hands.
‘Shit,’ he muttered, slitting another attacker’s throat with his dagger, blood gushing across the tops of his boots.‘Hawthorne!Pull your mask up!’From around his neck, Torj drew a piece of fabric up over his mouth and nose—
Glass shattered at his feet.
A strange vapour coiled around his boots, attempting to creep up his leathers.Torj darted away, lifting rebels bodily from his path and hurling them across the temple, their shrieks echoing in the cavernous space.
Standing shoulder to shoulder with Wilder, Torj took in the vials exploding around them.‘There’s no knowing how effective these masks are...’He brought his hammer down with all his might, aiming for the juncture of a nearby soldier’s neck and shoulder.The squelch of ruined flesh and bone followed.
‘They’ve been tested against the alchemy used at Drevenor during the battle.’Wilder threw a dagger across the temple, pinning a rebel through his shoulder to the wall by the entrance.‘Farissa warned that they’d only buy us time, if anything.’
‘Great.’Torj scanned the advancing unit.Their vials glinted in the candlelight, more glass shattering around them.The acrid scent of chemicals and fumes filled the air.‘Then it’s time to get the fuck out of here.’
‘Agreed,’ Wilder replied, thrusting his blade into an incoming rebel’s ribs.
‘But I’m not leaving empty-handed,’ Torj growled.He started for the exit, pointing to where the lone rebel was still immobilized by Wilder’s dagger.An emblem signalling a rank of leadership was clear on his chest.‘We fight our way out and take that bastard with us.’
Torj didn’t wait to see if Wilder followed his order.With plumes of another chemical concoction billowing through the temple, he took on three attackers, the thrill of the fight still singing in his veins.This dance of life and death – this was what he was made for.Alchemy and alchemists be damned.
The Warswords battled their way through the ranks closing in, dodging potions and powders and all manner of horrors that had been born in a crucible.The temple was a flurry of chaos.Enemies screamed upon exposure to their own concoctions.Many clearly weren’t trained in combat, which was something, but it made the creations they hurled at the warriors no less dangerous.
Ducking and weaving through the madness, Torj ripped Wilder’s dagger free from the man, his scream near deafening.Lifting him by the back of his jerkin, Torj sprinted for the exit, where Wilder was carving his way through the last line of rebels.
Sunlight kissed Torj’s face as he burst from the temple, passing beneath three towering stone statues of the great goddesses, the Furies.
‘Hawthorne!’he shouted, glancing back at the angry mob stillrushing towards them.Torj flung aside his captive, who scrambled back and cowered in the dust.With a deep breath, the Bear Slayer reached for the first stone likeness of the deities and pushed.
With all his Furies-given strength, he pressed his shoulder against the statue and bore down, meaning to block the passage entirely.The ancient monument creaked and protested beneath the force, but he could feel the leverage tipping in his favour—
‘Now!’Wilder yelled from nearby.
A roar escaped Torj as he sank everything he had into a final drive of his body against the stone.
The statue gave way.
Torj sprang back as it crashed to the ground, a second monument following in its wake at the hands of Wilder, the sound booming through the surrounding valley, muffling the screams from within.Clouds of white dust poured from the site, rubble and ruins blocking the entrance to the temple entirely.
Only one of the Furies’ likenesses remained standing.
Beside Torj, Wilder wiped the sweat from his brow and shook his head.‘How much bad luck did we just saddle ourselves with?’
Torj spat a mouthful of dust on the ground, surveying the damage.‘I don’t want to know.’He turned to the rebel, who whimpered at the sight of him.‘Let’s get this over with.’
His captive’s eyes were wide with fear, but he remained stubbornly silent.
