The Gateway (Harbinger of Doom Volume 1) by Glenn Thater Page A

deeper.
    The blow shocked Gabriel, but at first, he
felt little pain. Dropping his sword, he pulled his Asgardian
dagger from his belt and slashed it across Korrgonn’s throat, once,
twice, and a third time, slicing it from ear to ear. Blood and bile
surged from both opponents’ mouths. Still the beast held him
fast.
    Now the excruciating indescribable pain washed
over Gabriel, blasting him to his knees, Claradon’s legs pinned
beneath him.
    From where he lay, only semi-conscious,
Claradon attempted to let fly another magical blast, to come to his
hero’s aid, but his strength was spent. He couldn’t even pull
himself out from under Gabriel. He could do no more than watch in
dazed horror as the ghastly scene unfolded before him. For him the
battle was over.
    Strangely, Korrgonn’s arm began to glow a
fiery red, first at the shoulder and soon extending down toward his
fist. Gabriel continued to struggle to pull away, but the wicked
spike would not release him. He felt it boring deep within his
chest. It was moving, growing, twisting, probing. Probing for
something. His heart? Gods, how did it come to this? How to get
away?
    The hellish glow permeating Korrgonn’s body
reached Gabriel, causing his chest to begin to glow as well.
Coughing up blood, he tried in vain again to free himself. “No!
No!” he gasped as he realized the fiend’s mind. It was consuming
his very body, devouring his immortal soul, assailing his mind,
taking over his very being. He looked down and saw the blood
draining from his chest. This can’t be happening, it can’t be real.
I cannot be defeated.
    Fleeting, ephemeral memories passed instantly
before Gabriel’s eyes and assailed his senses. A momentary image of
smiting the fire wyrm of the Kronar Mountains; a mere wisp of the
fetid stench of the barrow-wight who had killed those poor
children. His duel with Valas Tearn – the assassin who had slain a
thousand men; his conquest of the city of Saridden and of freeing
its slaves; the great battle of Minoc by the sea; his victories
over the demon-queen Krisona, and the vampire-lord Jaros, and the
evil masters of the Dead Fens. A glimpse of that far off fateful
day at R’lyeh when he and Theta banished the last of the fiends
back from whence they came, back unto the void, and extracted some
small measure of vengeance for the abominable plague that the
beasts had unleashed upon mankind. That victory had freed all
Midgaard from the yoke of chaos and bore witness to the dawning of
a new age of freedom and hope. Gabriel would survive this battle,
just as he had that day at R’lyeh. There could be no other
outcome.
    In desperation, he plunged his Asgardian
dagger into Korrgonn’s right eye, sinking it to the hilt. Still the
spike held him fast.
    His vision began to cloud, the sounds around
him dimmed. He thought of the thousands of lives he’d saved down
through the years, of all those he’d protected, of the uncountable
mighty deeds he’d done.
    He withdrew his dagger and plunged it into the
beast’s left eye. “Around me are my kinsmen, always,” he said, and
then pounded down on the hilt again, and again, and
again.
    He could see little now, and the sounds of the
battle went away. He could hear his heart beating, the rushing of
blood at his temples, but nothing else. Can this be the end?
Everything moved in slow motion, the merest moments extending to
long minutes. He thought of all the things important to him, all
the places and the people he had known, all the lands he had
visited, all that he would never do again.
    “ To the south, my father, my
father’s father, and all my line before them, back unto the
beginning,” he said, though only Claradon could hear
him.
    The evil glow covered nearly all his body, but
Gabriel fought on and pounded down on the dagger’s hilt again, and
again, and again, and again.
    “ To the north is Odin…” Visions of
fire, floods, and terror flashed before his eyes.
    He pounded down on the hilt again,