Harbinger of Doom (An Epic Fantasy Novel) (Harbinger of Doom Volumes 1 and 2) by Thater Glenn

Author:Thater, Glenn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, horror, fantasy, sword and sorcery, young adult, dark fantasy, teen, epic fantasy, action adventure, heroic fantasy, fantasy fiction, young adult fantasy, top fantasy books, best fantasy series, best fantasy novels

XVI

THE BOGEYMEN

From out of that ominous hole in the temple’s back wall, which proved indeed to be a gateway, vaulted a monster the like of which Claradon had never seen before, and until that very moment did not truly believe existed. It was an otherworldly creature of nightmare, of folklore; the very bogeyman of the children's tales come to life. A horrid caricature of a man: no flesh covered any part of the seven-foot tall creature's oversized skull. Its large, gold, glowing eyes and long, forked tongue were alight with demonic flame. It wore strange black armor that clung tightly to its muscular torso. In its right hand it held a six-foot long, white sword whose blade danced with red and yellow hellfire. On its massive breastplate was damasked the unmistakable symbol of Mortach, Lord of Nifleheim and mythical patron of death and destruction. Surely, any mortal who stood against that fiend would be tossed aside like so much chaff. Before Claradon or his men gained their feet, the creature sped through the hall, fiendishly laughing, and bounded out the entry—out into the world of man.

The unnatural pressure was gone and the earsplitting cacophony subsided. The writhing pseudopods and tentacles retreated, and the walls and columns returned to their normal, stony aspects. Waves of heat and the noxious scent of brimstone filled the air. It came from the abyss beyond the breach and pulsed into the temple in waves—as if the portal breathed. With those waves wafted a strong putrescence mixed with the bestial odor detected before, only it was stronger now, but still unidentifiable.

While those knights who were conscious staggered to their feet, coughing and gasping, Claradon gazed in disbelief as more unspeakable horrors manifested at the gateway. They rose through the rarefied ether of the abyss beyond the portal by some bizarre means of locomotion incomprehensible to man. Several nightmarish creatures more than six feet tall and roughly human shaped vaulted through the breach and entered the unholy temple. Their appearance was too monstrous, too ghastly to describe or even contemplate. No mortal creature ever possessed an aspect of such indescribable horror, such loathsome, abominable evil. Claradon shuddered as he looked upon faces of pure chaos—the putrid spawn of cursed Nifleheim. As horrific as they were, they were beings of flesh and blood and sinew; Claradon and his comrades knew how to deal with such things.

Claradon, Sir Conrad, and Sir Martin were the first to rush forward, yelling battle cries in honor of their patron gods: Odin, Tyr, and Heimdall. By the time they approached the gateway, an even more formidable being had pushed the ghastly fiends aside. It was nearly eight feet tall and covered from head to toe with sharpened, metallic spikes, though the spikes were no suit of armor: they grew from its thick leathery hide. It was brick-red in color throughout, except for its large eyes, which glowed a brilliant gold.

Claradon saw many more loathsome beasts behind the spiked giant, including many kin of the reskalan.

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