Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (154 page)

Gnak watched as the entire ploy was then brought to an end, as the goblins all turned and rode out and away in all directions, seemingly fleeing the giant. With them they pulled the ropes, and as they all pulled together in all directions the giant leaned back precariously as the ropes began to tighten. The crowd watching grew silent as they stood gazing with unblinking eyes, but now it was time for Gnak to cheer. And he did. Loudly. The goblins looked at him uncomfortably and slowly put more distance between themselves and him.

Grinning, Gnak watched the giant topple over, the goblins securing their lines to long poles being driven into the ground, before swarming over the giant this way and that, again appearing to move in a chaotic fashion. From no more than two hundred yards away, the Orc who stood among the goblins watched as the small attackers finally relented more than an hour later, climbing down from atop the giant’s still body, an apparent web of ropes binding its every movement. Now came the hard part.

Seeing that the show was over, many goblins rushed out to see the giant, or climb atop its face. Whatever made them happy. But Gnak turned and walked back into the city and made his way back to the king’s home. There he was welcome, and could check on progress made by the goblins on his behalf.

Day after long day passed, the goblins working ceaselessly to fulfill his wishes. Over and over Gnak wandered about the city from blacksmith to blacksmith, watching as they progressed. All day and night the goblins worked to create the massive bindings that he sought. Painstakingly they pumped the billows and heated the iron and pounded it again and again in teams, to form it into hooks and rings and links, and all the while Gnak went from one to the next and so on.

As segments were completed he went to the giant’s side and watched them installed. Each piece was measured from the giant’s body and each was made to be as precise as was possible to create a secure fit. Gnak would watch as the pieces were clamped to and through the great giant, and he would listen to its screams of protest. But he could not go on without rest. Catunga approached, and he had to be physically prepared.

In a room offered to him by the goblin king, Gnak would rest when his body required, though he rarely slept for long and did so at odd hours when progress permitted. He ate what he wanted when he wanted, the king taking care of his every need.

It was late the eighth day when they came to him with his armor. The king’s own blacksmith had been working on it in private for days, only sending his apprentices to measure Gnak with a merciless lack of shame. But seeing the armor as they brought it to him, he decided the occasional groping was likely worth the result.

The armor was now a wicked collection of twisted spikes and blackened iron. Gone was the rust, and the entire surface had not only been re-formed to fit him and then smoothed and polished. No, the goblins had gone further. The entire surface of the black armor had been formed into the likeness of skulls and bones, stacked here and intertwined there to create a metal tapestry of death. The lines and detail work within the armor had been filled with a bright silver metal, and the entire surface had been polished to a brilliant shine. Where his helm had before been a plain cylindrical thing with horns that curved up from either side, now the front had been reshaped into a wicked skull, the visor making a mouth that seemed to roar, filled with pointed teeth and two great tusks. It was a true Orc warrior’s armor and Gnak proudly accepted it and began putting it on.

Minutes later, with the goblins’ help, Gnak slid his helm over his head and peered out through it feeling more at home than ever. He was meant to wear the armor. Still the goblins were not finished.

No sooner was he suited up in his armor than his blades were brought into his chamber as well. Though they had neither been altered in shape nor design, the blacksmith had heated the metal and blackened it to match his armor. In the blades were etched two skulls sneering at each other. The first was that of an Orc. The second was that of a goblin. Gnak accepted the blades graciously, sliding them into two scabbards the goblins had built into the backplate of his armor. If the past few days were any indication, Gnak knew the Orcs could learn a good bit from goblins as well.

Moving and flexing, he strode out into the night to make his rounds with the blacksmiths and see to their progress.

The ninth day came and the goblins sought him out, bringing him to watch something they called a
coronation
. Following their lead, he approached the secured form of the giant for what he guessed was the hundredth time, give or take. Great bands of iron circled its four arms at regular intervals from pits to wrists. The same on his legs. Around his neck was another great circlet of iron, but he had seen all this already. But as he admired the goblins’ handiwork, a cart issued forth from the city and turning, it was led to their location. Out from the cart more than two dozen goblins worked in unison to lift a giant iron crown.

Upon the crown hoops circled the band that rose in progressively taller spikes towards the front. The most prominent spikes rose up at least six feet, with a gap of two feet between them. Into the front of the crown was a silver skull. One side of the device was split with the workings of a clasp upon each half, and the other side was hinged. But that was not the wicked part. Inside the hoop of the crown, where it would rest upon the head, were spikes of iron, each two inches long all around the inner circumference.

Placing the crown upon the giant, all the goblins worked to position it in place before they began the process of closing the clasp. Some of the small green and black striped men climbed atop the giant, pounding the crown with hammers as others stomped upon it to drive the spikes into the flesh. Others pried with bars of iron and twisted rope over and over as the two halves of the clasp slowly came together. The giant screamed in pain, but secured as such was unable to remove the offenders. Blood poured from the hundreds of small wounds, but finally flesh and bone relented to the iron and the clasp was closed before a red hot iron spike was brought and hammered into it, smashing both ends wide so it could not be removed. Gnak did not know if the giant had been a king to his kind before, but he certainly looked the part now.

Speaking briefly to those who installed his designs upon the giant, he was assured that it would be completed the following day. Turning back towards the city, Gnak strode in his black armor, passing yet another cart on its way to the giant. This one was filled with thick chain in varying lengths. Anticipation was beginning to set in, but Gnak did his best to remain focused.

Day ten came, and with it Gnak found himself again speaking to the king of the goblins. They discussed the purpose of the giant and Gnak was truthful in his answer. Gnak was assured the giant was prepared and had even been tested for flaws. So it was that Gnak found himself with another debt to pay.

“Now I tell where gold,” Gnak told the king. “Go to mountains. There path to other side. In path many,
many
dead. Dead have gold.”

“There are mountain giants in that pass,” replied the goblin king.

“No. Giants die. Orc kill. Orc no need gold.”

“Very well, Gnak, I will send soldiers to collect it. Now take your giant and return to your home. May you one day become the king of your people so that I may visit you.”

“You welcome, my home,” Gnak replied, and turning he stalked out of the king’s home to retrieve his giant.

It was both a gruesome and daunting sight, the giant that the goblins had captured for him. Standing upright it looked like something out of a nightmare. Though in reality it had been inspired by a goblin toy. Atop its head the iron crown sat, and from the rings upon the crown great chains had been attached in bundles, stretching down each side where they then attached to the bands on the giant’s upper pair of arms, keeping them straight out to the sides. Between the giant’s upper arms and lower arms, more chains spanned the gap, securing the pair of arms on each side of the giant together. From the bottom of the lower arms more chains were attached, stretching down to the giant’s legs which were similarly bound together with chains. With its legs straight and its four massive arms out to the sides, the chains between them all made the giant appear as a huge spider’s web. But that was only the beginning of the goblins’ work.

All down the giant’s back great iron rings were pierced through flesh and meat all down its spine. But the rings were only a pathway for a higher evil. Through the rings many cables of tightly woven fibers were run, using the rings like pulleys. Various sharp hooks and barbs had been placed throughout the giant’s body and into his flesh to prevent him from sudden movements. Twisting his torso to one side pulled on hooks pierced through his stomach and the other direction did the same on the opposite side. Bending over drove hooks deeper into its flesh on its neck and thighs. Swinging its arms forward pulled upon the rings in its spine themselves, and swinging them back pulled on hooks dug into the flesh of his chest and ribs. Although the giant was standing, it was basically immobile, able only to walk without causing severe and painful injury to itself. Rounding the giant, Gnak used the bands and rings up its leg and then up its spine to climb up and into the crown. For a sand giant the brute was massive, easily thirty feet tall, but even so, Gnak found the crown a bit confining for his liking. Greeting the goblin at the controls with a grunt, he watched as the goblin pulled a lever secured to the inside of the crown. The giant cried out in pain and lurched forward carefully. The goblin pulled a second lever and Gnak looked over the rim of the crown to see where the attached cable being pulled secured to an iron hook in the corner of the giant’s eye socket. The giant turned its head to relieve the pain, and in doing so it gradually turned as it walked. Releasing that lever and pulling another the giant turned the opposite direction. Finally the goblin released the very first lever he had pulled and the giant froze in his tracks. It was fairly simple really. Forward. Left. Right.

Nodding his approval to the goblin, he waited as the smaller man climbed out and down the giant.
Now
he could think about saving Jen. With a deep breath he pulled the lever that would make the giant move. He didn’t even want to know where the goblins had placed hooks in the giant’s flesh to achieve this reaction. Slowly the giant stepped forward, its bound legs limiting its stride. Even so, at a giant’s height they covered ground quickly, which was good. Gnak wanted to arrive at sunset.

The sand blew wistfully over the dunes as the sun fell lower and lower towards the world below. A sand dervish twisted up into the air, whipping up the sand as it moved sporadically before vanishing without a trace. Already the moons were in the sky, though no stars had yet appeared. Gnak was now in land he was familiar with, land that belonged to his clan. Removing his helm, he knew it would be only minutes more before he could see his camp ahead, and they would begin to see him as well.

As the camp came into sight he watched intently across the miles, every step of the giant closing the gap between them. Closer and closer they came, the giant’s footsteps absorbed by the sand beneath it. Another mile passed and the camp’s details began to become revealed. So far as he could tell, nothing had changed. His clan members rushed out to meet him only a few giant steps later, each of them armed, thinking their camp in danger. Out they ran with spears and swords raised until they saw him atop the monster’s head. Even Korx had come, and Gnak was happy to see the look on his face when he realized what it was he was seeing.

Realizing that they were not under attack, they cheered Gnak’s return and loped along beside his enormous mount, back to the village. Once he felt the giant was at a safe distance he released the lever that made the thing move, and it stopped quickly in an attempt to avoid further pain. Picking up a length of coiled cable within the crown, Gnak tied it around all three of the levers and tossed the coil over the side, watching as it unraveled. Climbing down after it, he pointed to a young Orc, not yet old enough for Catunga, and motioned the boy over. Handing the boy the cable, he gave his instructions.

“Hold him here. I go camp. You stay, keep giant king here.”

The young Orc nodded, happy for the honor of guarding the king of the giants. Gnak, approaching the camp, saw all the sacrifices lined up outside its meager wall. Each of them was attached to a stake by a crude leather collar and chain. There were animals, goblins, a tall stag, and the pair of humans as well. Though he tried to avoid it, his eyes sought out Jen and lingered there a long moment. She was filthy, covered in dirt and dried blood. She had been beaten and abused, forced to heal herself as proof of her magic. And she was skinny, too skinny. She was not being fed. Her condition angered him and he clenched his jaw, trying to play his role. Seeing him approach, tears streamed down her face but he could show her no sign. Not now.

Instead he strode past the line of sacrifices and into the camp where the shaman awaited him.

“Gnak, you last come. Some say you not come. You do come. Bring great sacrifice. But Catunga no done. Need give gods blood. Need spill own,” said the Shaman.

“Catunga now?” Gnak asked, hoping once again to buy more time.

“Catunga this night. Moons top sky. Go rest. Eat.”

Gnak grunted his understanding as he turned and strode towards his tent. Crossing the camp quickly he threw back the flaps and stormed inside. It would be several hours before the ceremony, but he could not stand to wait that long. Yet at the same time he wished he could put the ceremony off longer still, and find a way to rescue Jen. He sifted through various plans and scenarios but none of them would work. And then he realized the error in his thinking. Jen saw it, but he had missed it. His understanding of such things so fresh and new he had overlooked it all along.

She had saved his life understanding that he was taking her from her home, probably to kill her. She was not afraid of dying. She knew there was a god in the heavens that waited for her. No, she was afraid of dying alone. That is why she cried. She knew that someone who cared for her would be there when she died. Her tears had been happy. She believed in her god so strongly that Gnak finally saw Jen’s purpose. He thought about it a long time but could not believe it was true. Hours passed and still he debated. There was only one way to find the answer for certain. Rising, he strode back out of his tent.

Crossing the camp, he could not understand the kind of trust Jen had. The trust she had in the gods was far greater than what he and the goblin king had shared. Her trust was blind. She did not know what she was doing. Did she? Could a child so young know more about the gods than he? She certainly understood everything else better. Maybe she was right to trust her god. Maybe her
one
mistake had been trusting
him
.

Crossing the camp, he looked up at the moons directly above. Time was running out. Speeding his pace he crossed the camp, weaving in between tents, ignoring the calls of praise and proud words of his clan members. Leaping the small dried mud wall of the camp, he walked directly to her and knelt to the ground to look her in the eyes.

“Korx kill you soon.”

“I know, Gnak, it’s OK.”

“Not OK. All life precious,” he repeated her words back to her.

“Yes, Gnak, but you
can
kill to survive. Some lives
have
to end for others to continue.”

“Not this way. My fault.”

“I will die, but you will survive, Gnak. It is the will of my god. I forgive you.”

“You forgive. I no forgive. No ever forgive.”

“Just remember me, Gnak, and I will always be with you.”

“Gahh!” he shouted, clenching his fists. “You no die alone. I watch. It hurt, but I watch.”

“Thank you, Gnak. Now go before they see.”

Rising, he wiped the tears from her cheek. “Be strong. Die proud.”

“I will. I promise.”

Gnak strode away and turning, he leapt back over the short wall and into the camp. He did not know if anyone had seen his conversation. He did not care. He had needed it. She had needed it. He owed it to her. Taking deep breaths, the Orcish warrior worked to calm himself. Orc life was all tension, he reminded himself. He needed to think ahead, and focus on what was important. Then the drums began.

Roaring to release his anger, he turned again towards the camp’s center as his clan began to gather.

“Catunga done soon. Elders choose Korx. Elders choose Gnak. All spill blood for gods. Korx and Gnak shed own blood.” The shaman stated the terms of the ritual.

A great fire blazed in the center of their camp, its flames fanning high into the sky, making immense beasts of the Orcs’ shadows. Embers and ash rained down everywhere, making red glowing eyes in the sand. The crackle of the fire was constant and random at the same time, punctuated by hisses and pops that would have caused lesser races of men to become startled. Tensions were high, just as they were before a battle, for tonight many would die.

Following the procession of those that belonged to his clan, he stood and watched as more than thirty Orcs in Catunga lined up along with their sacrifices. Each of them carried a spear. Because his sacrifice was deemed the best, and because it was not with the others, he would have to perform his kill separately. The drums beat louder and faster.

With a rhythm beating like a great heart, the deep resounding drums carried on and on, over even the sounds of the fire. Red, orange, and yellow light cast a strange ambiance across the gathering, appearing to make the Orcs move and sway when in fact they stood still. Gnak shook his head, a shiver running down his spine. It was time to focus.

Looking to Jen, he watched as her face scanned the crowd, seeking him out, and their eyes met. Locking his gaze with hers, he could see that she fought her tears. He refused to blink as the drums grew faster and faster still, their thrumming becoming almost deafening. He held her eyes with his own and knew that Korx watched him even without looking. Then the drums stopped.

Jen sat upon the ground on her knees leaning forward, facing him, when the spear entered her back. A great chorus of screams arose, mostly that of beasts and goblins, but not Jen. Though her mouth opened and blood spurted from it, she did not scream when it tore through her insides and out her chest again to drive into the ground between her legs. She had been tough, and held her scream of pain inside, just as she promised. Now it was his turn to hold in the scream. Breathing rapidly, every muscle in his body tight, prepared to spring and put down Jen’s killer. He needed to release it. Needed to let go. But he held it in. Let it fuel him.

The drums started again as Gnak strode away from the camp, his entire clan following to witness how he would slay the giant king. Approaching the huge beast, he accepted the cord from the boy he had placed as guard and turned to face those that saw honor and pride in his actions. Sneering at them, Gnak yanked the cord.

Without the ability to turn its head to relieve the pressure created by the pulled levers in its crown, as the hooks in both corners of its eyes were torn in opposite directions, the giant screamed in pain as its eye socket tore. As a natural reflex it attempted to jerk all four hands up towards its eye to protect it, but the result was devastating. Tearing chunks of its own flesh from its back along its spine, the huge iron rings there ripped free. Realizing its error too late, the giant flung its arms backwards, tearing more flesh from its chest, abdomen, and thighs. Blood vessels were torn asunder at every injury as blood began to pour from the numerous wounds. Unable to react in any logical way, the giant spasmed several times, probably in shock, tearing yet more hooks and rings from its flesh before it finally toppled over and crashed to the ground in a symphony of clanks and clangs, its screams rising as a great cloud of dust and sand rose into the air. The giant’s screaming and thrashing went on and on and on. Gnak didn’t move to end it. The Orcs just watched as he stood, letting the giant bleed to death slowly, its screams, a wretched, booming sound, drowning out all others. His clan did not react, did not make a single sound. But Gnak did.

Roaring in anger, he pulled the swords free from his back and charged Korx, his heart seeking revenge. Slashing and jabbing, Gnak attacked as his opponent fended him off with his own pair of crude blades. Their clan gathered around them, suddenly cheering and cajoling, though he did not hear their words, only hers. Thrusting forward, he watched as Korx twisted aside, barely escaping his strike before launching one in return. He did not even try to block it, instead letting it glance off his armor as he struck out again.

Thrusting and slicing, Gnak continued in his relentless rage. He managed to draw blood first, but the cut upon his opponent’s shoulder was minor. Good. He wanted him to die slow, like the giant king. He wanted him to suffer.

Around and around they went, neither gaining the advantage for a long time. Neither seemed to slow, neither tired. Gnak still did not relent, his mind full of rage, hatred, and disgust. But eventually the emotion faded, and only action remained and he realized something. His anger and rage were Orc anger and rage. Feel emotion, react. That was the way of his clan, not the way of Jen. No, she would want him to think ahead, plan, and focus. Fighting the urges that came with a life among his people, he put that version of Gnak aside and did as she had told him. He remembered her. And in doing so he found his advantage.

Watching Korx, and thinking instead of reacting, he could see the Orc’s weaknesses. Parrying a slicing blow, he struck out, stabbing his opponent in the thigh before kicking out with his foot, sending Korx sprawling backwards in a struggle to remain upright. Filled with Orcish anger and rage, when he recovered Gnak’s rival blindly charged again but Gnak sidestepped at the last moment, lashing out as his rival passed, slicing across the side of his ribs. Again Korx came.

Launching himself into the air, the Orc tried to spring upon Gnak, driving him bodily to the ground, and would have succeeded had Gnak not seen the move for what it was. Instead of diving aside, Gnak raised both of his blades, letting their edges absorb the momentum, slicing his enemy as he rolled backwards to the ground, Korx upon him, before shoving with both of his legs using every ounce of his strength. Korx was flung away using both his own momentum and Gnak’s strength, where he landed in a ball with a howl of both pain and rage.

Rising quickly Gnak turned and watched as his opponent gained his feet as well. From forehead to chin, Korx wore a deep gash that continued down his chest. Across his abdomen he wore another, where now he reached to hold his insides from spilling out. Such was his hatred of Gnak and his rage, however, that even defeated he did not relent, choosing a new weapon with which to attack Gnak.

“Korx cut her. Korx beat her. Korx use her body,” he grinned wickedly. “Kill her good.”

Gnak struggled to fight it, seeking out her memory to hold it at bay, but there was no use. Up came his rage again and he leapt upon Korx, smashing him to the ground as his guts spilled around him. Again and again he struck the Orc, his blades driving through him into the soil below. Over and over he hit the Orc, screaming out his hatred, roaring his pain. Again and again he lashed out as the body beneath him became unrecognizable, until the rage, as before, dissipated, leaving him exhausted and empty.

Dropping his blades as he rose to his feet, he turned and stumbled back towards the village, his clan parting before him and following behind. None of them spoke, curious of his actions. Ahead he moved across the sand, dragging his feet, all strength and purpose having left him. Still he continued on. With nothing left but the nothing she left behind, he fell to his knees and gathered her small lifeless body into his arms.

Smoothing her clothes and hair, he clung to her like a babe and petted her cheek, feeling her smooth skin with his fingers.
Remember her,
she had told him and he did. With pride he held her thoughts and wisdom within him, knowing it was better than his own. But still too he was empty. It was not enough. She was too much to let go. He knew not how to move forward, and wanted her words. But her blood dripped beneath her, coating his arms. And he knew that she was lost to him.