Chapter Seven

Ashram looked with troubled eyes out at the fog that now hovered near the Heroes' Bridge. Even though he wasn't magically aware, he could feel the evil emanating from the fog.

"Never have I looked forward to seeing friendly faces than I am now. Even the face of Queen Shiris would be a blessing right about now." Ashram thought, as he turned his attention back to where he was standing just outside of his side of the bridge-gate, watching anxiously for Parn and his Free Knights. He perked up when he heard the sounds of hooves on the bridge. He took no notice of the fact that the fog had just shifted so that now it veiled the rest of the bridge from view. As the riders drew nearer, Ashram smiled and opened his mouth to shout a greeting, but stopped himself when he saw what the riders looked like. They were clothed and cloaked in solid black, and they road upon horses that were as black as midnight. Then one rider, the leader, spoke, and his voice chilled Ashram to the bone.

"Give me the blade." The rider ordered.

"Who are you to demand it?" Ashram asked, poised and ready for a fight.

"The rightful owner." The rider replied, his hollow voice a growl.

"The rightful owner of this sword was Beld of Marmo and he died thirteen years ago. Go back to wherever it is that spawned you and trouble me no more!" Ashram said, angrily.

"Then I shall have to take it by force!" the rider roared, as he tried to hit Ashram with a fire spell. With agility that belied his appearance, Ashram dodged the spell, gray eyes flashing as he looked defiantly back up at the dark rider. Behind him, Ashram could hear the gatekeepers shouting for reinforcements.

"King Ashram!" one man shouted, as the gate was opened just enough for Ashram to get through. Without a glance back, Ashram leaped through and slammed the gate shut behind him.

"Here's your horse, sir!" one man said, as he handed the reins to his king. Ashram nodded to the man, then mounted and galloped off. He almost made it to Marmo's side of the bridge, but, before his horse had even touched Marmoan soil, it was struck down right out from under him. Ashram hit the ground running, but didn't get far before he was surrounded by the riders and their fog.

"Give me the blade." The rider again snarled.

"Try and take it!" Ashram shouted as he grasped SoulCrusher's hilt, only succeeding in burning his hand. The rider laughed, cruelly.

"The sword yearns for its master………and it isn't you." The rider said, then made a commanding gesture. Ashram cried in agony as dark energy flowed into him and as he was lifted into the air by living darkness, then thrown all the way back to the gate. He landed with a bone-shattering impact against the doors, then fell heavily to the ground again. Painfully, Ashram opened his eyes and looked up, seeing, to his despair, that the dark rider that had attacked him was now looking down on him.

"What………………what are you?" Ashram asked, as blood ran down from the corner of his mouth.

"We are the Nazgul and I am known as the Witch King. And no man shall hinder me." The rider growled as he removed the SoulCrusher from Ashram's limp form, remounted his horse, and rode off, eventually melting into the fog with his fellow riders. Almost immediately Ashram could feel someone near and could tell that his men had just arrived on the scene.

"Nazgul………………….Witch King…………" Ashram choked, painfully.

"Save your strength, Sire. You've been badly hurt." One man said, then shouted at his men to go and get a healer.

"That………….goes without saying." Ashram gasped, then coughed up some more blood. The last thing Ashram heard before consciousness left him was his men shouting for a healer, and the sound of hooves upon the bridge.

Author's Note!

Sorry about the short chapter, but I am still working on the next chapter. Hope this is all right!

Gemini ^ ^;;