Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (191 page)

And
that
was it. There was the truth. The gods were afraid. They
could
stop Ishanya, but they feared making something even more powerful than Seth. They could not simply snuff the life from him as Ishanya had threatened. He was untouchable by them directly, though out there somewhere was a champion that was at least his rival, if not his better. The die had been cast into the world and now the gods feared the outcome. Seth was winning on behalf of Ishanya, that much was evident, but he now knew that there was a plot to turn the tides.

“What is it that you wish of me, oh mighty Gorandor? You wish me to prostrate myself at your feet and beg forgiveness? You wish me to turn against the goddess who gave me power and destroy her followers so that you may once again reign supreme? Do you wish that I, Seth Derringer, Prince of Valdadore and soon to be king of Drakenhurst, simply lay down my proverbial sword and bend my will to the influence of the gods for their own greater good?”

“No. I simply want you to open your eyes to the truth that is laid out before you. You already work to thwart the very god you serve, but be cautious what path you tread for the destruction of all is on the brink. A path of mutual gain is there if only you seek it out. Be true to your own values, and all will be as it should.”

Without warning, Gorandor vanished. Seth rather liked the god. He was certainly more tolerable than Ishanya, though the bastard spoke in riddles.
See the path you can’t see,
and such. Even so, the god had divulged a great secret that he had only wondered at for some time now. It was not in the power of the gods to destroy, at least not directly. They could intervene and sway destiny through the actions or inactions of others, but more or less, Seth was untouchable by Ishanya. Which meant something even more important. She had lied.

Just as Seth had presumed, it was now confirmed, he had been restored to the world by Sara, not Ishanya, and the goddess held no power to directly intervene in his plans. It was in his hands to change the course of Thurr’s fate and Ishanya could do nothing but watch. She wasn’t even the source of his power. He was independent of a god and as such held no true allegiance. Sure, she could create champions to destroy him, but so could Seth create his own. The rules of the game had just changed immensely and Ishanya hadn’t been given notice. Grinning to himself in the absolute darkness, Seth turned and began to climb back up the way he had come. He did have an appearance to make after all.

* * * * *

“You wish to meet my master?” Borrik questioned the knight now towering over him. “Bow at his feet, and surrender to him the keep you are sworn to protect,” Borrik demanded, “Then you will know him as the god he is.”

“The keep will never be yours. It is impenetrable and even your dead master cannot breach its walls!”

Borrik grinned as the last of the keep’s banners plummeted down from the stone walls in the distance ahead. Like a great serpent the silken pennant fluttered down to the earth, wriggling and undulating through the air to vanish into the city. The deed was done, the keep was taken. Atop the tallest spire a lithe form appeared. Borrik knew even at this distance it was his master’s wife. Waiting just mere seconds longer, a dark shape shot into the air above the keep before settling down upon the spire. There, atop the highest point, Borrik watched his master spread his wings before unleashing a great green and yellow fireball to blast into the soil behind the knights who stood as Borrik’s opposition.

Startled, the knights and their mounts reared up, turning back in the direction they had come to witness the missing banners and winged demon atop their keep. Several called upon their blessings, only to shrivel back to normal size as Seth robbed them of their power. It took only a moment more for the captain of the knights to turn and face him once more.

“I should kill you for this deceit,” the man scowled.

“You may try. But know this, if you succeed, my master will resurrect me from the dead and I will gut you and feast upon your insides over and over as my master raises you and repairs you again and again.”

It was a boast, and one Borrik was almost certain that was beyond even his master’s abilities, but nonetheless, the look on the knight captain’s face said that he believed. That was good enough for Borrik.

“My master bids you come speak to him. He wishes you no harm. In fact, it is likely he will allow you to resume your position and continue to guard the keep.”

“What of my men?” the knight questioned.

“Those who are loyal will serve loyally a real master with real power. Those who oppose my master’s rule will meet a different fate.”

“And those who guarded the keep?” the man asked, obvious concern on his features.

“Nearly all survive. It is not my master’s wish to end your lives, but he will show no mercy to those who oppose him.”

Borrik leaned down over the now cowering knight. Without his blessing he was no real threat. Peering down his short snout, he bared his teeth, growling slightly before speaking once more.

“If any of you so much as thinks of opposing King Seth, I’ll personally see to it that you, your families, and everyone you have ever known is slowly torn limb from limb before feeding them to my men, still alive and screaming.”

The point was made. Those knights riding with the captain cowered together in a knot of flanks and hooves. He doubted any of them would attempt to attack their new king, but hoped a little that at least one of them would. Setting a good example of what would happen to those who resisted the change in regime might ease the transition a bit. Borrik wasn’t looking forward to a peaceful future, a far cry from the priest he had been so many months ago. Then again, Ishanya was no longer the god he served either. Odd how so much could change in so little time. Borrik didn’t dare to even begin to imagine what would change now that Seth had a kingdom of his own.

Even with their blessings, Garret and Zorbin were having a harder time than they had previously presumed when trying to clear a path through the forest large enough to pass with their immense litters laden with mothers and pups. It was almost as if the forest itself was against their passing. Clearing trees and brush alike, they would find themselves at a steep impasse or a hole where a cave had collapsed beneath the soil. So frustrating were the random occurrences, that only five hours into day two Garret sat down the handles upon the litter he had built and cursed the thing from one end of Valdadore to the other. Ahead, a small swamp prevented them from passing in their blessed forms lest they risk sinking and becoming stuck in its depths. Once again, they would be forced to turn around and retrace their steps, choosing a new course.

If that were not enough, the disdainful looks from Ashton, Zorbin, and the many mothers he hauled, sent him into a line of apologies that he didn’t really mean. Who cared if he cursed in front of the pups? They weren’t really babies. Not like human ones anyway. They were abominations, spared their lives as a means to an end. Nothing more. Nothing less. It was easier, however, to placate his companions and the beast-ridden mothers. Better anyway than to hear them spew on about how he should do better in front of women and children and how it was inappropriate for a king to speak such a way. He was king, and could speak precisely however the hell he wanted.

Sighing loud enough that leaves actually separated from a branch a few feet from his enormous face, Garret turned back in the direction they had come, looking up the trail for an easy location at which they could change directions. Ahead, a grove of young trees they had circumvented looked like the easiest path. Climbing back up the hill, he watched as a wide blade slowly slid out from the top of his wrist. It was an odd thing to watch, but he couldn’t help himself but stare as it happened each and every time.

With his blade prepared, Garret hacked down the small trees while bolts of electrical energy lashed out, exploding the trunks of those beyond the ones he targeted. Down the trunks came as if they were little more than blades of grass, each of them toppling over as Garret shoved and pushed them to fall the way he desired. Looking past the now devastated copse of trees, he could see another fairly easy to navigate path that worked its way down hill towards the road just a few miles beyond. Looking northward, he wondered if Linaya was as anxious for him to return as he was. Already her voice threatened to fade from his mind, and her touch was but a ghostly memory. He needed to get back, and the sooner the better.

Returning to gather his litter against the protesting yelps and growls of the tiny fur-covered pups, Garret hefted the end of the massive litter and began dragging it back the way he had come. Moving with renewed purpose, he didn’t even look back to see if his companions were following.

* * * * *

Zorbin was no fool, he had noted the alterations of Garret’s blessing, but had said not a word about it since seeing his king with the added spikes, blades, and lightning-like electrical charge. It was his place to question neither the king nor the gods and as such he simply stood witness to his master and ally. It did not take long to realize that not only his abilities had changed. There was something else at work within Garret, though he couldn’t quite pin it down.

Something about the king’s demeanor had changed. It was not as if he were better. No. The signs of self-loathing, pain, and mourning were still there, though somewhat muted. It wasn’t exactly as if the king were improved so much as his mood had simply shifted from outright pain and rage to something less volatile but more dangerous. Garret exuded something completely different than he had just weeks before. The man had changed and it wasn’t for the better. What was worse was that he was still changing, and Zorbin no longer knew what to say around him or how to behave. He needed to get through to his friend before the king was lost to whatever it was that was eating at him.

“Garret,” Zorbin began. “As the appointed head of the knights of Valdadore, I wonder if we should not seek out those who remain with blessings and see if we can work to bolster our ranks.”

Watching as the king turned his head slightly as if to hear him better, Zorbin was not surprised when the king gave a very uninterested answer.

“If you need more to fill your time, Zorbin, you may search high and low for more knights. I doubt you will find many.”

“Tis true, my king, but I wonder if there may still be some within Valdadore who have not yet found their calling. Without the knights to defend the realm, who will stand to protect the people should another army come calling?”

“You mean if my brother returns?” Garret asked, nearly hissing the words.

“No, I had meant another army. I do not think that Seth wishes you any ill will.”

“Think what you like, Zorbin, but should my brother show his face, I will remove it.”

“Apologies, my king, I only meant…”

“I think it may be wise,” Ashton interjected, cutting Zorbin’s apology short. “Perhaps have another Choosing ceremony, but alter the age of those summoned. There may yet be some with blessings who could be trained to protect the realm who simply were not yet old enough for the last ceremony.”

“You suggest we enlist children?” Garret asked.

“Certainly he does not,” Zorbin protested.

“Not toddlers. I’m not talking of stripping a babe from its mother’s arms, only those a few years your junior, my king,” Ashton explained.

Zorbin didn’t trust the healer. Thus far they had worked together to set the king’s mind straight, but the healer had an unsettling interest in military matters and things that should mean little or nothing to the man. It was peculiar, but after the battles they had survived recently, perhaps it was better if more people began thinking about the security of the realm. Maybe it was just the way the healer looked at the king that made Zorbin uncomfortable. Even Xanth stayed clear of the healer, though could not express exactly why. Either way, again they were on the same side of the issue, yet with a totally different approach as to how best to achieve results.

“We have already pulled those from our people who had previously served Valdadore and many were lost, now you want to pull the next generation of defenders into early service? What will that do to the kingdom in the future? We’ll be forced to enlist children again and again for all time if we start now,” Zorbin argued, hoping they would see the wisdom of his words.

“Sigrant had mages and blessed warriors of all kinds and all ages. Why can we not do the same? Don’t just enlist those who are younger, but give rewards to the parents of those who enlist,” Ashton continued.

Zorbin spit as he walked. He’d already lost the battle on this one. Ashton seemed to understand the mind of the king better than he, or perhaps the king simply did not want to hear Zorbin. Maybe it was because he had been the last to spend any real time with Linaya. For that, maybe the king was tempered against him. There was no way to know for sure, and they certainly weren’t about to start talking about their feelings. No, this time he would have to sit back and see what it was that the king decided. He could only hope that the king would come out of this funk and see what he was doing to the kingdom by ignoring that which was important and focusing on his own rage and emotions.

“It is a wise idea, Ashton,” Garret replied. “Zorbin, when we return to the castle, you will arrange for another Choosing ceremony. Enlist all those over the age of twelve. I want to hold the ceremony before another cycle of the moons.”

“As you wish, my king,” Zorbin replied.

At least Garret wasn’t putting Ashton in charge. He didn’t like the idea of recruiting children, but it was true—they had nearly been defeated by a man who had done just that. Would have been defeated in fact had not Seth returned from the dead to save them, a point Zorbin was not about to bring up. Time, Zorbin reminded himself. Time was what the king needed to heal and see the errors of his way. At least he had decided not to slaughter these women and their children. In time he would see too that these other decisions he was making were folly, and Zorbin would be there to help him put it all back together again.

Deciding it better to remain quiet lest he accidentally begin something else that would alter Valdadore’s history, Zorbin pulled the giant litter, glancing back, dragging the women and children behind him as gingerly as he was able. Looking ahead, he frowned as he noted Ashton smiling and silently praying towards the sky. Something about the man wasn’t right, and Zorbin meant to get to the bottom of it before it was too late.

* * * * *

Seth sat upon the throne more for effect than actual liking, when Borrik entered leading the captain of the knights he had just defeated without so much as drawing a blade. The man was a proud one, that Seth could discern with the care he gave his armor and the way he strode with his head and shoulders held high even after such a humiliating defeat. Seth immediately liked the man. He reminded him of Garret.

“So you are their leader?” Seth asked, watching Borrik take up a place beside and behind him, opposite where Sara already stood guard.

He had reassured her that the man could not harm him, but both she and Borrik obviously had a different opinion.

“I am their captain, yes,” the knight answered.

“And your name?” Seth asked.

“Xander, prince Seth of Valdadore,” he answered.

“Xander, I would ask that you accept me as your king,” Seth began, “I am not a cruel man, nor an evil one as you may have heard, but one of reason who sees a knight befitting his title.”

“I’ve heard you are no man at all,” Xander retorted.

“I suppose that is true. I have sacrificed my humanity along the way, though still consider you my kin. That is not to say I do not want the same thing as you, only that perhaps I see things in a different light.”

“Is what your beast says true? Are you a god?”

“I am not a man. Not anymore. I do not know what I am,” Seth answered honestly.

“But you
were
slain as the reports said? A ballista bolt through the heart?”

“Yes,” Seth admitted.

“What purpose do you have coming here? Why take this kingdom for your own?” Xander demanded.

“Careful, knight, lest I put you in your place,” Borrik growled.

Raising his hand, Seth silenced his werewolf companion. Seth did not want to beat the man into submission, not if he didn’t have to. It was not how he wanted this kingdom to perceive him.

“What were your duties before today?” Seth asked.

“Defend the keep and hold it until my king returned if we were attacked.”

“I see,” Seth said, bowing his head slightly, “and prior to Sigrant’s war efforts?”

“To defend the keep and head the city guard as well. Maintain peace.”

“Then I shall want you to do the same,” Seth admitted. “You will put some of my own soldiers to work keeping the peace, and help to find housing for those who have accompanied me to this city.”

Seth could see the man pondering his words. He was edgier than Seth had originally thought, but who could blame a man under such circumstances? A winged demon and a troop of beasts had just taken over the keep he was sworn to defend. Seth gave the man all the time he needed to ponder the situation.

“What of my own men?” Xander asked after a few moments’ reflection.

“Like you, they will retain their positions, ranks, and duties. I expect you can properly educate those I add to your ranks on the laws and policies here, and myself as well. I do not wish to disrupt the harmony of your people, only to stabilize it and make it a better more prosperous place to live.”

“There are those who will work to undermine your authority, and likely some who will seek your death,” Xander said, appearing to have made a decision.

“Would it not be your job to deal with such people?” Seth asked.

“It would.”

“And what would the punishment be for such things?”

“Death.”

“And would you feel comfortable dealing out such judgment on my behalf?” Seth asked.

“I. Um. I suppose so, my king. But think the people might look on it in a different light.”

“So if I kill those who would have me hung from the city gates, I would look like the demon I appear to be. What then, would you suggest I do?” Seth asked.

“Strip them of title and assets. Use what you take from them for charity or to rebuild roads and wells. We have many poor here in need of food and clothing. Housing isn’t an issue as half the city is vacant, but there is much to be done to rebuild and those who have the money hoard it and will resist any change.”

“I have heard as much already, Xander, and you seem a man who shares similar ambitions as I myself have. I agree to your suggestions. I do not wish to end any life that can be spared. If you can agree to this, then I offer you the same position you previously had with a few expectations of my own.”

“Of course, my king,” Xander said, bowing his head.

“Borrik, send one of your men to meet with Xander,” Seth said, turning to the side before looking back to the knight before him. “He will be one of your lieutenants and work with you to organize and put my other soldiers to work. Anything you need to see your vision realized, you come to me and I will see if it is within my power.”