Ghost Orcs by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller [Moeller, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Military, Arthurian, epic, Historical
Google: hW8zDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B0758CXGTZ
Goodreads: 36158478
Publisher: Azure Flame Media, LLC
Published: 2017-08-29T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5: The Hanging Tower

As the sun dipped below the snowy peaks to the west, Ridmark and the others came to the Hanging Tower.

The ruin was a grim and impressive sight.

The road and the forest both ended at a sharp precipice, a cliff that plunged a thousand feet to the earth below. The Hanging Tower perched on the edge of a precipice, four hundred feet of gleaming white stone rising against the mountains' dark bulk. It had the strange, alien angles favored by dark elven architecture, aesthetics pleasing to the eyes of the long-slain dark elves, but disturbing and unsettling to human sensibilities. Some of Ridmark’s distant ancestors, men who had been Swordbearers, had undertaken quests to the Tower, driving out the orcish warlocks and petty necromancers who had taken shelter in the ruin.

There were smaller ruins clustered around the base of the Tower. Once the Hanging Tower had been the heart of a small citadel, and while the Tower still stood, the rest of the citadel had been smashed by war and time. Ridmark saw freestanding walls of white stone, toppled columns, and tottering statues of dark elven lords in armor and robes. He also saw cruder walls and crumbled towers. The various orcish warlocks and necromancers who had occupied the Tower over the years had expanded and rebuilt the citadel at its base, and their ruins lay heaped upon each other.

“That is an evil-looking place,” said Sabrina in a quiet voice. The pack horse tossed its mane with a snort.

“In ancient days, it was the locus for mighty dark sorcery,” said Vholazae. “Both wielded by the dark elves and then the urdmordar, I think.”

“And it still might be,” said Ridmark, lifting Oathshield. The soulblade’s blade burned with white fire, a fire that seemed to intensify with every step they drew nearer to the Tower. “There is dark magic nearby.”

Vholazae smiled behind her tusks. “Perhaps your ever-vigilant sword thinks that my powers are dark magic.”

“No,” said Ridmark. “You’re using earth magic. I’ve seen it before. Forbidden to the men of Andomhaim, but you’re not a man of Andomhaim.” He met her black eyes. “If you use dark magic, I’ll know.”

Khalzak growled and shifted his stance as if preparing to attack Ridmark, but Vholazae only smiled.

“You are familiar with the magic of elemental earth, then?” said Vholazae.

“Yes,” said Ridmark. “There is a spell to sense the presence of foes, or rather their weight pressing upon the earth. Do you know it?”

“The priestesses of the goddesses learn of such secrets,” said Vholazae. She did not seem like Ridmark describing the mysteries of Shalask so bluntly.

“Then if you know such a secret,” said Ridmark, “I suggest that you use it. Those ruins at the foot of the Tower have a thousand different hiding places for foes. I would prefer not to walk into an ambush.”

“He speaks sense, priestess,” rumbled Khalzak.

“Very well.” Vholazae gestured, purple fire playing around her fingers and staff, and her eyelids fluttered. “Yes…yes, I can sense your weight upon the ground.

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