The Witch's Eye by Steven Montano, Barry Currey Read Free Book Online

closest Firehorn’s throat with a clean, swift stroke.  The creature stumbled, its eyes darkened, and its heavy body toppled forward.  Scant traces of flame flickered in its nostrils as it died.
    Ronan turned and ran. He heard grunts and growls behind him.  The air burned with pale red flames.
    He was outside himself, a vessel, not a body.  His mind had taken him to another realm.  The mages of the Crimson Triangle called it the Deadlands: the place where killers dwelled.  Ronan went there at will, and while it was sometimes difficult to return, the journey had its benefits.  His vision went almost black and white as he gazed through a shadowy reflection of the world.  The burning pain in his legs faded.  He felt a sense of calm even though he was in mortal danger. 
    Orange light at his back lit the way ahead.  Thunderous hooves shook the ground.  A mass of armored bodies chased him.  He smelled flames and brimstone, and jets of fire lanced past him as he came to the bottom of the hill. 
    He cleared the distance back to the ship quickly.  His body was weary, but he kept moving, locked on his destination.
    Gorgoloth shouted from above as Ronan ran up the steep hill. The shattered warship was at the top of the rise, just beyond a cluster of broken rocks.  He reached the apex of the slope and rounded a tall spire of blasted granite.  The campsite and its blazing fire came into view.  A Gorgoloth sentry charged at him with a bone club, but Ronan easily dodged the attack and sliced the creature’s throat. 
    Ronan ducked behind a stone, and let the Firehorns do the rest. 
    The beasts charged into the camp with fury in their eyes.  Gorgoloth moved to meet the flaming beasts head on, and their brutal ferocity served them, at least for a time.  Spears and slings brought the lead Firehorn down in a heap of shell and flame, and it tumbled to the ground in a pool of its own molten blood. 
    White manes and black skin leapt at the herd . Bodies collided.  Gorgoloth were set aflame and stone hammers smashed pachyderm eyes.  Bodies were trampled and exploded in bursts of gore. 
    Bestial howls and the terrified screams of prisoners filled Ronan’s ears as he followed the Firehorns into the camp.
    He hacked two Gorgoloth down before they even saw him.  The barbarians were undisciplined and ravenous, and they pushed one another out of the way in their bid to get to the front of the battle.  Only a few kept their eyes on the prisoners, and Ronan hacked those sentries down one by one, so swift and silent that he reached his next target before his previous victim hit the ground. 
    T he battle raged behind him.  Prisoners saw Ronan and pleaded for release.  He hacked through the cage-locks with grim efficacy, and before long the prisoners were able to use their weight to force the doors open.
    The roar of the Firehorns echoed into the sky.  Ronan felt the heat of the battle as the fires drew close to the cages. 
    “Over the slope!” he shouted .  He pointed at the ridge opposite where the Firehorns had attacked the camp.  “Maur?!  Where are you?!”
    A few Gorgoloth ran back from the battle to attack the escaping prisoners. A man’s head exploded beneath the force of a heavy stone hammer, and two soldiers were gutted with spears. 
    Ronan stepped forward and sliced a Gorgoloth’s head off with his katana, then pierced another through the chest.  He side-stepped just in time to avoid a spear decorated with human teeth.  His assailant raised another spear, but icy blades cleaved into its skull from behind. 
    Jade shaped her spirit into a crimson saw and hewed through two more Gorgoltoh.  Both she and Maur were bloody and bruised.
    “Maur is happy to see you!” the Gol shouted.
    “Move!” Ronan barked.  Maur gave him a hurt look.
    Ronan ducked .  A fist-sized stone flew past his head.  He couldn’t tell how many Gorgoloth or Firehorns were left, but more and more of the black-skinned humanoids