Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One by Travis I. Sivart Read Free Book Online

and he shrieked. His cry became a gurgle as a black chitinous form exited from his open mouth. Cite cried out and tried to release his arm, but the man had clamped on to him with a death grip. As the mind mage backpedaled, pulling away from the hole, the arm tore loose and four of the deadly insects scurried out of the torn end and turned to climb up the limb towards Cite.
    An axe suddenly connected to the underside of the amputated forearm, cutting the tendons that held the hand closed, and it dropped to the ground. Rogen grabbed Cite and dragged him outside, his axe still in the Rokairn’s hand, as the creatures swarmed out of the hole. Rogen turned and shoved Izreus backwards into the insects.
    “Join your friend who you conspired with to over throw me,” the Rokairn said, “you will be more use to me there than waiting in the shadows with daggers and poisons, you useless fool.”
    Rogen pulled a stunned Cite into the night, Sybia and the remaining three advisors following. Outside the nightmare escalated. There were swarms of fireflies the size of cats dodging about; everywhere their glowing abdomens touched they left a deposit of shimmering acid. People died screaming as their hair or faces melted, or an arm burned away from their bodies. Larger beetles the size of wagons burrowed out of the ground. Their mandibles tore people in half and smaller insects swarmed to devour pieces that fell. The ground was alive with movement of deadly insects and small rivers of blood.
    Releasing Cite to Sybia’s care, Rogen erupted into a flurry of movement. In one hand was the double bladed hand axe and in the other was his double-headed hammer. Cite followed as best he could, trying not to step on anything that was once human, or that was still moving and trying to bite, sting, or poison him. Rogen danced in and out of the insects, heading straight for the larger ones. His axe sliced cleanly through the antennae of one beast the size of a horse, and his hammer crushing the multifaceted eyes of another. He rolled under one as it reared, neatly slicing its abdomen open, thick white entrails erupting onto the sand, adding to the stench that was thick in the air.
    Rogen tore his robe bottom off, and with two quick flips of his wrist, wrapped it around his forearm. He used it to knock swarms of small insects out of the air, crushing them with the flat of his axe against his forearm, or bashing them against a stone wall, or even the hard shell of a larger monster. He fought in a controlled rage, aware of every movement around him, doing his best to kill or disable as many of the horrors as he could as he worked his way out of the desert city. The cool night air helped, and the insects slowed as the chill deepened. 
    The people had organized a little, and the few who had any talent for magics began to use it. Wizards tapped the ley lines to bring the temperature down to slow the bugs. They called upon the element of earth to crush the insects; air to conjure whirling dust devils to sweep them away; or fire to rain flaming pellets down on them. Priests called upon the gods to protect themselves and others from the hordes of insects, it did little for the larger ones, but was some help with the smaller ones. Warriors used large shields to crush thousands of insects at a time. Other men gathered oil and sprayed it about, lighting whole areas on fire. Cite saw two familiar figures, gladiators, a slim lithe one with a shaved head and an older man with a staff, go back to back to help defend each other.
    Cite tried to do more than just follow behind. His chest wound burned, his legs were weak and his mind was confused as it grabbed at too many thoughts that were being forced through the night by the panicked minds of others. He felt the pain of some, the rage of the warriors, and the small glimmering hope of escape. He realized it was not his feelings or thoughts, but those of the people fighting for their lives that were being projected from