Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (187 page)

“You think you can find it?” Garret asked.

“I’m fairly certain I can get us close, but I don’t think I’ll have to.”

“Why’s that?” Ashton asked.

“Cause I’ll just have Xanth take us.”

“He understands us?” Ashton asked.

“More than you know, he does.”

Ashton pondered the revelation. Had the wolf seen his deeds the previous night? Heard his prayer of offering? Smelled the blood around the tents? Is that why it simply dropped the venison and left to inspect behind them? Was it possible it could relay such information to the dwarf? Ashton needed to be more careful. The wolf and dwarf could be trouble. He’d have to keep his eye on them.

Turning his attention back to the spit, he turned the handle once more before looking up with a grin.

“Breakfast is served, gentlemen.”

* * * * *

Gorandor stalked across the heavens filled with anger and something he had not felt in eons. Fear. He could see the threads of time twisting and binding to weave a fate for him and many of his kin that was beyond simple mending. Seeing the threat for what it was, he knew that he needed to act. Their simple manipulations had been countered and had somehow backfired, speeding Ishanya’s plan to only one likely conclusion.

Peering across time, where the threads were first twisted into possibilities, he looked for any sign of hope and saw a glimmer. Following the thread to where it met destiny, he grinned. Among the human race there was still opportunity to end Ishanya’s reign before it began. There was a chance in the most unlikely of places.

Gorandor contemplated for a moment about sending one of his champions to do his bidding, and thought better of it. Instead, he summoned for himself some mortal flesh and joined his essence with the lower form of life. Crossing time and space in an instant, he appeared in an orchard without a single witness in sight. Turning, he headed east in search of the exact point in time at the precise place that he could turn the tide of this battle. Pulling his cowl low over his face to avoid the chill, he smirked fondly at the mortal sensations and frailty. It was their mortality that drove them to such ambitions, but it was also their mortality that limited their abilities. Even so, he much enjoyed the disguise and as such, moved on at a quickened pace in a rather jovial mood.

Leaving their meeting with Goldenfingers, Seth had a lot weighing on his mind. The invasion of Valdadore seemed to have left both nations weak and vulnerable to upheaval. The last thing he wanted to do was cause more unnecessary bloodshed.

As he walked between both Borrik and Sara, they made their way back towards the town they had left behind, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Seth knew he could take Drakenhurst by force, but did not plan to. Instead, he was developing another plan that would hopefully spare them another battle. He wasn’t about to give the gods what they wanted. Not this time.

Watching as the dark silhouette of the town grew before them, Seth pondered Ishanya’s plan and deceit. It was obvious what she wanted of him, but there had to be more to it. She had lied to him in an effort to make him reaffirm an oath. She had tricked him, but why? What was her need to make him feel that he was in her debt? Was she losing the battle in the heavens? Was she afraid? If so, of what? Surely she wasn’t afraid of him. Perhaps her fear was indirect. Maybe she feared that he would fail, and as such she would lose the war she waged with the other gods.

Thinking that this was the most likely reason, Seth thought about his own situation. In order to keep his power long enough to master it so that he could set things right, he needed to abide by Ishanya’s plan, at least partially. If he didn’t she would find a way to kill him and replace him, of that he was certain. But could she? If it were that easy, why not simply create more champions like him? Unless it had not worked out as she had planned.

Thinking back, Seth recalled Sara telling him that some tree-like people, not far from where they were now, had called him The Abomination. Could it be possible that he was an unexpected result? Had he detoured off the course that Ishanya had tried to set him upon? The thought gave him hope. If it was possible to veer off the road of fate that a god had prepared for you, then was it not also possible to betray all of the gods’ desires? Could war actually be ended? Worship? If some of the theories he had read were correct, then without worshippers, the gods would simply vanish.

As they neared the gate to the city, Seth wondered what the world would be like without gods. If he did create an army of the like Thurr had never seen before, could he not use that army to destroy every chapel, temple, or other religious place within their world? Could he lead all men to eradicate the gods? Was this what Ishanya feared by him gaining power and worshippers of his own?

There was too much to ponder, even for Seth’s mind. There were so many possibilities, so many what ifs, and so many unknowns when it came to the gods. The possibilities were endless and Seth knew without a doubt that there was much he still did not understand. Something was amiss in the heavens, of that much he was sure. The gods were at war, and using him and other men to perpetrate their own ambitions. Eventually, one of the gods would surely have to win, bringing all the others to heel, but there was no knowing when that time would be. Could one god actually destroy another? If they could, how come Ishanya had survived so long? There had to be more to this puzzle. There was something he was missing.

“Who goes there?” A shout sounded from the gate a short distance ahead.

“Prince Seth of…” Seth began before being cut short.

“Yes, of course. Come on in,” the guard replied hastily.

Seth grinned in the darkness. Apparently word of their being in town had been spread to all the guards.

“Following us is a merchant caravan. Let them enter as well,” Seth instructed the guard.

“Very well, Prince Seth.”

Within a few short hours, his ragtag army would be armed, supplied, fed, and ready to move once again. Walking through the small town, Sara departed to collect their supplies from the tavern they had visited earlier, but Borrik remained at Seth’s side.

“Why do you not return to the army, Borrik?”

“You have much on your mind. It is better for me to stay with you.”

“Are you implying that I am too distracted to defend myself?” Seth asked with a smirk.

“Perhaps it is only my selfish desires that keep me at your side, my prince.”

“How so?”

“The last time you fell, we were hard pressed to continue on.”

“Truly?” Seth asked.

“I’d rather not face Sara alone, if you were to be injured again.”

“Fair enough,” Seth smiled. “Then let us make preparations.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Have your captains comb through those that follow. There are many injured in our army. There are many single parents with children to support. Select a few hundred such families to stay here under the employ of Goldenfingers. With each family, place at least two young orphans. We cannot have an army of injured women and children, let alone amputees and those who cannot walk unassisted. Gather them, and I will come speak to them. I do not want them left under the belief that we are abandoning them.”

Seth watched Borrik concentrate a moment as they walked side by side, patiently waiting for his orders to be carried out.

“The men have their orders, Master.”

“Good. While they do that, how about you and I find a quiet place to plan an invasion of our own, and perhaps have a few drinks?”

“I saw a large tavern from the air earlier that looked suitable,” Borrik suggested.

“Lead the way,” Seth said, waving his hand out in gesture.

* * * * *

Sara crept silently through the darkened town’s streets, watching, hearing, and smelling the humans all about her. She could nearly feel the warmth emanating from their bodies as they slept in the poorly constructed buildings around her. Here and there rodents scattered at her coming, and an occasional cat slunk through the shadows, but more or less she was alone with her own thoughts in the darkness.

Rounding a corner, she stepped over a puddle that she assumed was urine, and continued on down the filthy streets. Looking about, she could only wonder what it was that Goldenfingers had in store for the small town. He had mentioned renaming it, rebuilding it, and making it more defendable. It seemed a wise enough plan for someone in his position. Why not have your own town? Sara had to admit, she enjoyed the attention and obedience that came from being of a higher station. It certainly beat being smacked around by the owner of a brothel. Who wouldn’t want to rule?

The idea of having their own kingdom was intriguing. She would be a queen and Seth, her king. She knew he did it as a means to find temporary peace, but knew too that he had plans beyond that. With current circumstances and their understanding of them being what they were, she wondered if Seth intended to do as he had sworn to Ishanya, or if he had other intentions. She knew he considered all life precious. It was his belief that had helped her to discover her own flaws and weaknesses. Even so, she wondered how they could simply take a kingdom for their own, without fear of bloodshed. Surely if things were as Goldenfingers said they were within Drakenhurst, then there would be those who would refuse Seth’s rule and look for a way to capture his crown for their own.

Turning another bend, Sara spotted the inn she sought and quickened her pace. Already there were three carts heavily laden and piled high. A pair of Seth’s men stood guard over the carts, unable to move them on their own. Staked nearby were a trio of goats and several cages with laying hens.

Seeing the men’s predicament, she smiled at them as they approached, getting mixed responses to her bared fangs.

“You boys stay here a few moments more. I’ll see if I can scrounge you up some help to get this back to the army.”

“Yes, m’lady,” both men replied.

Crouching low, Sara pressed her toes to the ground, and shoved upward with all her inhuman might. Jumping high above the buildings, she summoned forth the power enchanted into her boots by her husband.

“Jump!”

Another thrust from beneath her and she was soaring over the rooftops. She loved the freedom of the air and wondered if she could convince Seth to give her wings of her own. Smiling even wider at the thought, she knew she
could
convince him, she just needed the time with him alone in order to do so.

Plummeting from the cold night air, she landed nimbly just outside the town and leaning forward she began pumping her legs. Within mere moments the miles whipped past her and she slid to a stop just outside what she supposed might pass for a camp. People lay on the damp earth, melting the snow with their bodies. Some milled about hopelessly, too afraid to sleep. Others thrashed or moaned, their bodies wrought with pain or hunger or both. Here and there she could see Seth’s wolven captains speaking to clusters of people in hushed whispers.

Seeking out Jonas, she strode through the camp looking for the large mottle-colored beast of a man. Sighting him, she turned and picked out a path among the slumbering bodies of Seth’s followers. Before she neared, he turned to look up at her and winked, though it was barely perceivable in the darkness.

“What can I do for you, Princess Sara?” Jonas asked, sounding more feral in the night than he had the day previous.

“I need a few dozen men sent into town to retrieve food and some supplies.”

“Any place in particular, or may they simply take whatever they can find?” Jonas grinned.

“Just follow the road in, they’ll find it.”

“I’ll see that it is done. Are we to disperse the supplies?”

“Yes, make sure the children and the injured eat first.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thanks,” Sara said, reaching up to lay her hand on his large shoulder.

Turning, Sara looked back towards the small town. Taking up what would be an unnaturally fast stride for those around her, she quickly made her way out of camp. Free to speed her pace even more, Sara ran with the cold wind whipping across her leather-clad body, dragging her raven hair to flow out behind her. Now all she needed to do was locate her husband and devise a plan on just how she might steal him off for a bit to convince him that she needed wings.

* * * * *

Borrik sat at the table with his master, awaiting their food. Though most patrons had gone home at this hour, the inn’s barmaid and cook had both come out to greet them, only to take their orders and scurry away as quick as was possible. Looking about the room he spied only a pair of old drunks in the corner, one of whom it appeared was already passed out and slobbering all over the table.

The place was nowhere near the quality of what Valdadore had to offer, but Borrik reminded himself that this was a simple town, not a capital city like his previous home. The plain wooden structure was more or less boring, with plain chairs and a bar that was little more than planks, pieced together to create a solid surface. The floor, ceiling, doors, and even the chairs and tables were all the same wood. Nothing was painted or polished, and not a single decoration hung from the walls. Thinking the people had no pride in their establishment, he then supposed that perhaps it was in an effort to avoid being robbed. If it appeared they had nothing, why would those with ill intent even bother? Perhaps the owners were more intelligent than poor.

“Do you want to discuss your plan, or would you rather wait?” Borrik asked, growing bored with the room and its inhabitants.

“Sara is nearly here.”

That was what he was waiting for—to discuss it with his wife as well. It was smart to do, he supposed. She was just as powerful a champion as Borrik himself was, he figured. She had really come into her own with all the power she had consumed. Waiting only a few moments, the barmaid returned, and standing as far back as was possible, she stretched out her flabby arms to place the platter with three wooden dishes she carried onto the table. Beside that she half dropped another platter containing three wooden mugs and a large pitcher of what appeared to be ale. More wood. Go figure.

It was nearly at the same instant that the barmaid turned to flee, that the door burst open and Sara floated into the room, seemingly gliding above the floor, her movements were so graceful. Even Borrik noted the accentuated sway of his master’s wife’s hips and realized quickly what she was all about.

Apparently deciding for herself that Sara was with her other beastly guests, the barmaid retreated into the room beyond without another glance as Sara came to join them.

“Hello, beautiful,” Seth greeted her with a grin.

“Hi, my love. Is this for me?” Sara asked, picking up a plate as she rounded the table.

“Of course.”

“And how did you know I would come back?”

“I was watching.”

“However is a woman supposed to have some privacy if her husband can track her everywhere she goes?”

“What woman is truly a wife if she requires privacy from her husband?” Seth countered.

Borrik grinned a canine grin, sure that Sara’s mock protest had been defeated. Just as wily as she was lethal, however, Sara turned upon her husband, leaning both her face and exposed cleavage towards him, licking her lips as she pretended to whisper just a bit too loud.

“The woman who wishes to surprise him with a night of enticing, and purely elicit acts, of course.”

Borrik didn’t know if it was possible in his current form, but was certain he blushed beneath his fur, though Seth could not hide his own emotions. Laughing a musical laugh, Sara sat in the chair she had been leaning over and placing her plate upon the table, she smiled as her husband poured her a glass of ale. Borrik could do nothing but watch on, afraid to say anything lest he laugh. Seth had been lured in and defeated by his clever wife, though in honesty, no man ever had a chance when tempted by a woman.