torg 02 - The Dark Realm Read Online Free Page A

understand and rode for the truck.
    Mark turned the key, pumped the gas pedal, and waited for the familiar sound of the engine turning over. It sputtered, caught, and coughed, sending a rumble through the truck but not starting. He cursed, then turned the key again. This time the engine started, but Mark never got the opportunity to shift into gear. The heavy metal of the rider's sword smashed through the windshield and sliced into Mark Hope, cleaving his head from his torso.
    The rider did not stop the inspect his work. Instead, a dark shape scampered out of the brush, through the broken glass, and reached into Mark's dying body with long, black claws. When the claws were pulled back, they held the glowing essence of Mark's soul. The dark shape protectively cupped the glow to its chest, then scampered back into the brush to add its spoils to that of the rest of the Hunt.
     

     
    Captain Adam Burke scrambled his F-15 Eagle air- superiority fighter when the first distress call came out of Warren Air Force Base. Lowry, the closest base with aircraft, answered the call. Burke's squadron had only recently been assigned to Lowry from its original home at Holloman in New Mexico, and he had hoped they'd see some action. The war status had units moving and relocating all over the country, trying to anticipate where forces would be needed most. If the call had any basis, Burke thought, then his Eagle was going to get a workout. And that suited him just fine.
    The swirling ash made visuals difficult, so Burke constantly scanned his instruments, knowing they were his senses in this storm of volcanic dust. The familiar chatter of his wingmen spilled through his radio, and Burke's chest swelled with confidence. They were fifty miles out of Cheyenne. Forty. Thirty. His instruments still hadn't picked up any in-air threats. Could Warren be wrong? He hoped not. Burke was definitely looking forward to blasting the pseudo-dinosaurs he had heard so much about.
    "We're getting close, boys," Burke said over his radio. "Let's stay alert. The first one to bag a lizard gets the President's undying gratitude."
    "I'd rather have a three-day pass," said Zahn, flying in the fighter on Burke's left wing.
    "When this is over," Burke laughed, "I'll see what I can do."
     

     
    The Horn Master led his terrifying band of spectral riders over the city, letting huntsmen dart to the ground to wreak havoc where they would. He noted that the
     
    squires were hard at work gathering the souls of those slain by the huntsmen. These souls would be added to the Hunt, eventually taking their places as hunters, or being transformed into shadow creatures to run with the pack or fly with the flock.
    The furious host was in motion, and the Horn Master knew that his own lord would be pleased. He remembered the orders given him, orders that came down from Lord Uthorion (who still played his game of deceit in the body of Pella Ardinay, but to what end the I lorn Master could not fathom). The Wild Hunt was to fly to the aid of Baruk Kaah, High Lord of the Living Land, and provide support until such time as Uthorion called the Hunt back. There was one clause, however, that burned brightly in the Horn Master's memories.
    "If you find Tolwyn of House Tancred, kill her quickly and bring me her soul," the voice that whispered in the Horn Master's mind was Ardinay's, but the words were Uthorion's.
    And through it all, whether aiding Baruk Kaah or hunting down the paladin, the Wild Hunt would get to do what it did best — cause untold destruction and gather souls to replenish the Hunt.
    The night wings alighted on the Horn Master's shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts as he felt the tingling touch of their shadowy feathers. He regarded the raven-things momentarily, then shifted his gaze toward the horizon, toward where the danger they had come to warn him of originated. Blazing eyes glared from the dark hollows of his helmet, and the horn master listened to the approaching