An extract from “Balor Rising”

“Come with me,” the voice whispers. “Come over the sea to where a land lurks. Come with me that I may guide you and aid you, nurture you and give you strength.” Silence; the sound of the breeze, the gentle murmur of the river’s voice.

“Who are you?” Ghorthigurn asks, sleep in his mind, fatigue in his thoughts.

“I am for you, your strength, your purpose. I am your sword, your axe, your spear. Let me guide you, drink your strength, eat your dreams and enter your heart.” Confusion, darting eyes, a shadow, dark and tall. The man tries to rise from his bed of cut grass, but he cannot, for his thoughts are clouded with grey mist, his wits filled with the whispering trees.

“Tell me your name?” Ghorthigurn asks, fear dazzling him, greed mastering him.

“I am Balor. I know your name, you are Ghorthigurn, the man without a tribe, the man who yearns for greatness and power.”

“Where are you from?”

“I speak to you from your bleakest dreams, I live in the city of shadows and broken souls.”

“What do you want with me dark god?”

“I have waited, longed, wished. I have wandered the pathways and have found strength. I wish for us to become friends, I wish for you to know a god.”

“Why?” fear; drowsy, sickly lethargy. The shadow moves, the shadow whispers.

“To conqueror a land, to right an ancient wrong.”

“Why me?” Ghorthigurn asks, sweat trickling down his pale face.

“Because you have the hunger, and I have the thirst.”

“where will we go?”

“To a place to the north, away from your green warmth. To a village in the woods, a place by a lake. Will you obey me mortal?”

“Command me.” Ghorthigurn says groggily.


All text copyright BJ Edwards
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