Chronicle of Ages by Traci Harding Page B

formations in the mist took on a glow all of their own, and a multitude of ghostly warriors manifested to challenge the men in battle.
    Guard thyself for true.
    The words thundered through every man’s mind.
    â€˜What in the Underworld be this?’ Vortipor reached for his sword to find it mysteriously absent. Was it possible that in his hurry to pursue his wife’s abductors he had left his weapon behind? Vortipor felt for the sword again, it was not on his person.
    The phantom warriors took to the air, wildly wielding their weaponry. Vortipor’s men drew their swords in response, and the airborne force began to dive.
    Vortipor braced himself for the onslaught, but the spectral army passed over him as if oblivious to his presence. With mounting horror the Protector watched as the unearthly force descended on his men. As the fierce apparitions raced around and through the soldiers, themen became flustered and began butchering each other in their attempts to destroy the illusive menace that taunted them. Vortipor screamed orders for his men to cease their retaliation, but it was already too late — the last of his men dropped from his horse, dead.
    The ghostly warriors laughed triumphantly. As they raced off past Vortipor their hard warlike forms transformed into beautiful winged women, who blew him kisses as they passed and vanished back into the mists.
    Vortipor staggered off his horse, shocked to the core by what he’d witnessed. He retrieved a torch from the dismembered hand of its bearer to view the slaughter of man and beast. He realised why he’d been spared; his missing weapon had saved his life. ‘Am I to lose every soldier in my kingdom thus?’ he cried into the eerie silence of the dark, misty landscape. ‘Have I been cursed?’
    Conan carries a sword. Vortipor entertained the thought, which eased his feeling of dread, momentarily. ‘So does Prince Bryce.’
    This realisation found Vortipor back on his horse.
    The Goddess has spared me once this night … I place my trust in her.
    The warrior dug his heels into his trusty steed and crouching low to the horse’s body, blindly took off into the night.
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    When Bryce awoke to the tortured wails of a woman, he threw off the animal skin that concealed him in the end of the small rowboat. He’d managed to hide himself herewhen Cara’s abductors had been driving off their horses. They’d taken the rowboat down the Du river to the bay at Aberdaugleddau to rendezvous with a larger seagoing boat that was anchored there. The Prince had thought it best to wait until the cover of night before attempting to board the vessel and execute a rescue.
    â€˜The damn swaying of this boat must have put me to sleep.’
    Again the agonised cries of the woman rang out through the dark misty night.
    â€˜Lady Cara!’ gasped Bryce, vaguely recognising the voice behind the contorted screams.
    Without hesitation Bryce lowered himself into the water, keeping hold of the rope that tied the small rowboat to the larger vessel. He followed the slack of the towline to the stern of the large boat and then shimmied up the rope towards the deck. As the lad got a foothold, the tip of his scabbard caught on his knee and as it was dragged upside down his sword slipped out and fell with a splash down into the water below. ‘Idiot,’ Bryce cursed, crouching low on the outer rail of the boat in case anyone had heard his bungle.
    The deck of the boat lit up suddenly, illuminated by a light far brighter than anything Bryce had ever known to shine at night.
    Guard thyself for true.
    The bethought challenge sent every man on the deck scampering for a weapon.
    Bryce looked to the sky to see a celestial army taunting the sailors with war cries as they prepared to descend on the boat and engage in battle. All eyes wereupturned to the pending menace above, so Bryce seized the opportunity to steal onto the deck. As the ghostly war