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

and again,
and again, and again, and again.
    The world went dark, he could see no more. The
pain was less now.
    “ The hero’s path.”
    Gabriel convulsed as the evil glow consumed
him. He was alone. He would die alone.
    Korrgonn’s body stopped glowing and went
limp.
    Gabriel thought of the woman he’d loved and
lost and forever longed for. If only he had another chance, if only
he could do things over, if only he could be with her
again…
    His eyes closed and his head rolled to the
side.
    “ The homeward road…”
    He thought of his mother’s face and her
undying and unconditional love. If he could only see her one more
time, if only he had more time…
    “ Valhalla”.
    Then he thought no more. And Sir Gabriel Garn
passed into legend.
    At last, Claradon’s head began to clear and he
dislodged himself from beneath Gabriel. Still dazed he flung
himself into Korrgonn, ripping him away from Sir Gabriel. Claradon
pounded his gauntleted fists into Korrgonn’s unmoving head,
Gabriel’s dagger still protruding from its eye, over and over,
mashing it to pieces. As he pummeled away, smoke rose from his
hands and they began to burn. The acidic blood of the otherworldly
beast actually ate through his gauntlets. He shed them before his
flesh was sorely beset.
    Claradon turned toward Gabriel, tears
streaming down his face.
    When Gabriel’s eyes opened moments later, they
glowed a brilliant gold. Claradon gasped in horror at the
abominable sight, surmising exactly what it meant. He cried out for
aid, but the din of the general melee drowned him out. Those
terrible orbs were not Sir Gabriel’s eyes at all; they were the
eyes of the Son of Azathoth, the Prince of Demons. Claradon
couldn’t believe his eyes – so stunned was he that he couldn’t
move.
    Gabriel’s mouth opened and it spewed out a
gory glob of blood. The wound on his chest glowed for a moment and
then rapidly closed and healed itself. It grinned an evil, unholy
grin, picked up Korrgonn’s sword as it stood up, turned, and fled
the building.

    XIII
    THY TIME HAS COME AND
GONE

    The enormous monstrosity at the breach broke
its way through and entered Midgaard. As it did so, its form shrunk
and transformed into the likeness of a huge, handsome armored
knight wielding a mammoth crimson sword. No one could mistake its
dark unholy visage. This beast was none other than Bhaal, the
infamous lord of death and chaos. It paused at the hell-mouth for
several moments surveying the carnage taking place in its ancient
temple. It laughed. But this was not a laugh of mirth, not the
laugh of a man. It was a maniacal, inhuman cackling, such as had
not been inflicted on the ears of man for untold epochs. The beast
was here now, on our world. It would make it his again. It had
won.
    As a multitude of smaller fiends leaped
through the gateway and moved to engage Lord Theta, Dolan and Sirs
Artol, Glimron, Talbot, and Dalken closed with the transformed
fiend from its flanks. With blinding speed, Bhaal struck a brutal
overhand blow at the largest of the warriors, Artol, who swiftly
raised his battle-axe to parry the blow, but the massive strike
sheared the axe haft cleanly in half. Bhaal’s red sword rotated
with the impact and the flat of the blade struck Artol squarely
atop his helm. His eyes rolled back in his head as he crumpled to
the floor. Dolan lunged in and stabbed Bhaal in the sternum,
burying his glowing dagger in the fiend’s chest. Bhaal roared,
grabbed Dolan by the throat, and lifted him high. As Talbot moved
in, Bhaal threw Dolan into him, sending them both cascading across
the ebony slab. Glimron and Dalken simultaneously struck at Bhaal’s
legs. Their steel blades clanged loudly and sparked when they
struck the chaos-wrought armor, but had no damaging effect. Bhaal’s
next cut entered Glimron’s right shoulder, cleaving clean through
him, coming out his left side. Bhaal grabbed Dalken by the throat
and lifted him up. The fiend opened its mouth, wide like a