The next evening, Gideon watched the dwindling lights of Millertown, far behind and below Grimwald's army, with satisfaction. With any good providence, this company would never come back out of the Thornhill Mountains alive. Nevertheless, Grimwald had managed to assemble and lead his horrifying new army all the way onto the Broken Pass at the base of the mountains. Now it had become Gideon's turn to lead.
He rode approximately fifty yards ahead of the main group, scouting out the way before them. Gideon smiled in anticipation. He would have to lead them the long way around in order to give the army access into one of the secret exits used by The Order of Shaddai. He also knew that approaching in this manner was fraught with all manner of natural perils.
Gideon dared a silent prayer in hopes that Shaddai would not only alert The Order to their presence in the mountains, as they approached, but also destroy as many of these ghoulish creatures as possible along the way. If his prayer was answered, he hoped the priests would be long gone by the time any of his company actually made it into the Temple.
The rocky terrain, where they were currently riding, had gradually grown more so as the day had worn on. Now, with twilight upon them, the rocks and boulders, which occasionally rolled down upon the pass, had become a nuisance to the long, winding line of horses trailing after him. Gideon watched the loose hanging shelves of shale that towered above them on either side. Jagged teeth of grayish rock threatened to close on them at any moment. Sun-bleached bones, lying here and there beneath slabs of rock, testified to past tragedies.
Gideon had personally witnessed a far smaller group trigger a deadly rock slide with the pounding hooves of their horses. The thunder generated by these demons on horseback, not to mention their howling and general carrying-on, would almost certainly cause trouble before they moved out of the pass.
Gideon quietly goaded his animal forward in order to increase his lead and get out of the pass more quickly. Loose gravel rolled down the steep incline ahead of him, forcing his gaze upward again. He spotted plate sized pieces gingerly sliding down the bare, gray slope.
Gideon glanced back toward the army winding its way through the narrow pass, still littered with debris from past slides. The trail they were following now had actually formed on top of previously fallen debris. How many times had this valley buried travelers only to be trodden over by more hapless victims?
The crack of rock and the grating slide of stone against stone resounded above them. Gideon watched as a shelf slid away behind him. Several horse-sized boulders rolled, wobbled, then bounced away from the sheer face headed straight into the line of soldiers.
Gideon kicked into his mount's sides, spurring the animal forward. The black horse leaped away wildly wanting to be clear of the danger as much as its rider. Gideon pulled the reins back hard, when they were clear, as he heard several loud cries silenced abruptly behind him.
He turned the animal, though it jerked hesitantly, and looked back at the front of the line behind him, hoping to see many of these abominations lying crushed beneath the rock slide. Even as Gideon surveyed the damage, he knew it unfortunately couldn't have been enough to do much good. There just hadn't been as much rock coming down as he had hoped.
Still, Gideon had to suppress a smile, when he found General Grimwald lying on his side on the ground. He lay in a pool of blood. But as the man stirred, defiantly attempting to get back to his feet, Gideon realized it wasn't the General's life issuing out, but his mount's. The black horse remained crushed beneath one of several large boulders which had dislodged from the shelf above them. Only a few hooves and a crimson stained muzzle remained for viewing.
As the General got to his feet again and surveyed the damage, he turned toward Gideon. The priest leveled a petulant gaze upon the man, saying without words, you wanted this.
Grimwald's face flushed red with anger. But there was nothing more he could do. The priest hadn't caused the slide. It was simply one of the many hazards to be found in the Thornhill Mountains. Everyone knew the dangers of passing through them. And rock slides were perhaps the least worry they might face. Still, his anger burned as he watched the wry smile fighting to reveal itself fully on Gideon's face.
"Would you like to turn back, General?" Gideon called back.
Grimwald only grimaced, then turned back to his army. He had lost several men, but only one other horse. He stalked back around the dead and the fresh debris and secured another horse for himself. When he had mounted the animal, Grimwald turned back toward Gideon smugly. "We ride on, priest, but don't get any ideas of sabotage. Remember, your child is counting on you."
Gideon's anger ignited afresh-mostly because Grimwald hadn't been killed by the slide. So close, he thought. But then he realized that might make things even worse. What would happen with this demonic army without Grimwald here to restrain them? The least they might do was kill him. But they could also turn back out of the mountains toward Millertown. As bloodthirsty as they were, they might do anything.
If it was still the will of Shaddai for Grimwald to live, then certainly there must be a reason for it. Gideon gulped down a lump in his throat as he turned his animal back down the trail leading out of the valley. He felt so cold inside, so far from the place of close fellowship with Shaddai he used to enjoy-perhaps even taken for granted. Now that he had turned down this path of treachery, with Mordred and his demon allies, Gideon felt utterly alone.
He pushed forward, down the path, not caring now if the entire mountain gave way and buried him alive beneath the rock. At least he wouldn't have to look his former priestly brothers in the eyes as he led these demons straight into the Temple-wouldn't have to bear the pained looks of betrayal most certainly waiting for him there.
General Grimwald and the endless line of soldiers behind him reorganized and began the slow trek around these fresh boulders. Grimwald was dusty and a bit battered, but he rode proudly again. Some of the demons looked longingly at the corpses left behind-a few licking their lips hungrily.
Wide eyes stared down into the valley as a black spyglass lowered. The priest, watching the horrid army winding its way through Broken Pass, couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. More startling than the army itself or the few deaths caused by the slide was the presence of one of their own among the enemy.
The priest, Gideon, rode at the head of these invaders, leading them through the Thornhills toward the Temple of Shaddai. He didn't want to believe it. But Gideon was not bound in any way and he was leading them. Worse still was the black and crimson armor that he wore-the uniform of Mordred himself. Betrayal-utter, black betrayal-could be the only answer to what he had seen. And that could mean only one thing for the other priests. Gideon, their long time mentor and brother, was now dead to them.