Tharkan

Flint snapped the neck of a Theiwar captain and he looked around for another target, reaching this time for his magnificent Tharkan Axe.

Flint, the King Kirchoff, Mary 2003

Flint shook his head, slipping the Tharkan Axe into the loop on his belt.

Flint, the King Kirchoff, Mary 2003

The Tharkan Axe in Pitrick's chest, nestled against the remains of the five-headed amulet, glowed red, so hot that Flint could not even touch it through his gloves.

Flint, the King Kirchoff, Mary 2003

The Tharkan Axe flashed, and the Theiwar's head flew from his shoulders.

Flint, the King Kirchoff, Mary 2003

The Tharkan Axe blocked every assault, the haft growing hotter and hotter under his palms, until even his gloves could not protect him.

Flint, the King Kirchoff, Mary 2003

Then the Tharkan Axe blinked brightly, and a white burst of light overpowered the pale dawn and caused Pitrick to close his eyes, crying out in pain.

Flint, the King Kirchoff, Mary 2003

In particular he remembered the grandest treasure of them all - the Tharkan Axe.

Flint, the King Kirchoff, Mary 2003

The white glow of the Tharkan Axe had become tinged with red, as the metal itself heated like an iron bar in a smith's forge.

Flint, the King Kirchoff, Mary 2003

Pitrick's blood soaked the once shiny blade of the Tharkan Axe, sizzling and scorching from the fiery heat of the metal.

Flint, the King Kirchoff, Mary 2003

Flint raised the Tharkan Axe and the weapon lit up the courtyard.

Flint, the King Kirchoff, Mary 2003