torg 02 - The Dark Realm Read Online Free

Horn Master in any of the previous cities he had plundered — cities named Boston, Chicago, Lincoln. They would not slow him now.
    He raised a bone horn to his lips and blew the long cry of a wild beast. It was time to gather the Wild Hunt! He sounded the horn a second time, and the storm itself took up the cry. The Horn Master sat atop his stag, his own anticipation building in time with the growing call.
    As the noise built, pieces of storm dislodged to swirl about the Horn Master. At first they were bits of cloud and dark mist, but they took on shape as they swirled faster. Flittering night-black forms spouted wings and flowed until they became a flock of night-black ravens. Crawling shadows took on definition and became wolfhounds of enormous size. Cawing and baying joined the wild cry, and the city below shivered with fear and dread.
    Still, the hunt was not complete, and the Horn Master blared his horn again. New forms emerged from the clouds, galloping shadows mounted by skeletal riders that became night-black horses and armored hunters as they rode forth. The horn blared a final time, and the slithering shades that flowed behind the riders added their cry to the cacophony as they formed into running squires and men-at-arms.
    The Horn Master surveyed the crowd swirling about him; the mounted hunters, the squires, the ravens, and the wolfhounds. He saw beyond the flesh, and reveled in the shadows and bone and demon creatures that truly made up his troop. With a triumphant shout, the Horn
    Master led the Wild Hunt down to plunder and destroy in a bone rattle of power and frenzy, riding the clouds of darkness like thunder in a storm.
     
    4
     
    Mark Hope hit the off ramp at a respectable twenty miles per hour, hoping to find an open gas station. The ash was still falling, a perpetual cloud that turned the long day into a pseudo twilight. But when he rounded the bend of the ramp, he saw more than ash in his headlight beams. Dark clouds of flying insects swarmed around a stream of animals that flowed across the road and rushed toward some unknown destination.
    Or rushed from something.
    He swerved his truck to avoid hitting the animals, an odd mix of dogs, cats and rodents turned into ash- covered replicas of themselves. He almost laughed at the sight, but he was too busy fighting to control the vehicle. He failed miserably as the wheels lost contact with the blacktop and spun freely in the blanket of ash. The truck skidded, spinning completely around, before he was able to regain control and stop the vehicle as the engine stalled. He took a deep breath to settle his racing heart, then looked through the insect-spattered windshield. He missed the animals, but the clouds of bugs were unavoidable.
    The scene reminded Mark of an article he read in a magazine once, about animals fleeing en masse from an earthquake or forest fire. They stampeded blindly, in utter terror, just like the animals running past his truck.
    He rested his forehead on the padded steering wheel and closed his eyes. Mark still had such a long drive ahead of him, and he was already feeling the effects of navigating through the ash blizzard. His nerves were frazzled, his eyes ached, and the tension in his shoulders knotted his muscles into a tight coil. God! He needed a warm bath and two aspirin!
    Mark slowly rotated his head to work out some of the kinks, then reached for the ignition to restart the engine. His fingers found the cool metal of the key ring and lingered for a moment. He was about to turn the key when a loud noise from outside the truck caught his attention.
    Crashing out of the brush on the side of the road were sword-wielding horsemen straight out of the Middle Ages. One of the riders locked eyes with Mark and directed his mount straight for the truck. The horseman wore furs and leathers over a tanned, muscled frame. A horned skull cap rested atop his long, grime-caked hair. The rider shouted harsh, guttural words that Mark did not