The Darkest of Nights - Part 10

It wasn't that he feared they might lose. There was no chance of any army headed by Gorm losing, that much Jok was sure of. It was the losses that he feared. What came after the battle, when they faced down more enemies, when their injured men grew weary and rotten? He would have much preferred to save their strength.

Yet Gorm and Kursak were both as hungry as starved dogs.

"This truly is a land of the unblessed," Gorm said, squinting at the sky. "I cannot feel the Goddess' love, as I normally would. The evils of this land seem to block out her divinity."

At such lamentations, the mighty Yarmdon leader comforted himself with a grin, as he set his battleaxe against his shoulder.

Jok had certainly felt the air about this land of their enemy. Indeed, it seemed thick with something that was far from holy, far from the Gods that they worshipped. It was growing even thicker now, now that Jok cared to look for it, at Gorm's prompting. Like an invisible oil, weighing them down.