Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (210 page)

“You are right, my dearest Sara, but even tens of thousands will not deter my brother. When he marches it will be with a force unlike Thurr has ever seen before. I can feel it. I know it to be true. We don’t need tens of thousands, we need hundreds of thousands.”

“I don’t even know if there are that many people left, Seth. Where will I go to find them, across the sea?”

“No, a trip across the sea is too dangerous and too unpredictable. There are plenty of men, millions even. Just not humans,” Seth replied.

“Not humans? Surely you do not mean the dwarves, no way will they march on Valdadore.”

“No, not the dwarves, I had more sinister races in mind.”

“You can’t be thinking about the elves? They can’t be trusted. Even I know that,” Sara exclaimed.

* * * * *

Seth noted as Borrik spiraled down from above, both glad he was appearing now and at the same time sure he would meet more resistance. “No. I was thinking of the orcs, trolls, and goblins that live beneath the southern arm of the Rancoor mountains.”

“You want the very races you decimated just a year ago to come to your aid?” Sara shook her head.

“What is this?” Borrik asked, his head tilting to one side and then the other.

“Seth intends for us to leave him here while he studies some new… thing. He wants for us to go and raise an army of goblins, orcs, and trolls,” Sara said, exasperated.

“I still think I’m missing something here,” Borrik admitted.

“My brother is breeding an army of troops that are akin to you and your men. He already has tens of thousands. Soon he will have hundreds of thousands. I don’t know when he will come, but it will not be long.”

“And you think orcs and trolls and the lot will join our cause because?”

“I don’t want the two of you to negotiate with them. I just want you to locate their kings and tribal leaders for me. When you’ve done that, I’ll come and handle the negotiations,” Seth explained.

“If you’ll be here, how will you know to come?” Sara asked.

“I learned a new trick today that will allow you to summon me,” Seth admitted.

“I don’t like it,” Borrik stated simply, shaking his beastly head.

“Me either,” Sara agreed.

“And I knew neither of you would, but I will be safe here.”

“Says the man that died… Yesterday.” Sara sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“Did I? Here I am. I assure you that I will be safe. Xander and his men will run the city and I will seal myself away beneath the castle.”

“How long?” Borrik asked.

“Either until I am finished, or until you need me.”

“Sara and I can move fast, we’ll fly. It should only take a few weeks.”

“No, Borrik. The rest of your men need to be with you. Remember, Garret is out to hurt me, and the two of you are my most beloved. Other blessed warriors who fear me or despise me for whatever reason will be a threat. The orcs, trolls, and goblins have blessed warriors. You will need a small but strong force.”

“They will hinder us,” Borrik scoffed.

“A necessary precaution,” Seth stated firmly.

“So leave you with naught but humans to protect you?” Sara questioned.

“I no longer need protection,” Seth said. As if to accentuate his point, Seth focused and shifted to the plane of power, dismantling his body as he transcended the barrier of time and space. Moving just a few feet, he shifted back, reconstructing his body in an instant. Both Borrik and Sara gasped.

“A good trick indeed,” Borrik grinned wolfishly.

“If you can simply vanish, why not take your body with you as you’ve just done?”

“Because I do not think you will be able to summon me if no piece of me remains on this plane.”

“So you do not even know if this will work?” Sara asked, her mouth falling wide open, exposing her elongated fangs.

“No. But it feels right.”

“It is a lot to put on a hunch,” Borrik said, scratching his chin. “But I have sworn to follow your orders regardless of what happens. I will do as you command. I have faith in you.”

“Thank you,” Seth nodded to his second-in-command.

“So that’s it? I’m just supposed to abandon you to seek out races that humans have had no communication with in hundreds, if not thousands of years, and locate their leadership, then hope we can summon you to our aid when we’ve succeeded?” Sara hated it. She couldn’t fathom leaving him behind on a hunch, unprotected, and alone.

* * * * *

“I know this is hard, Sara. But if I am to save them all, it needs to be done.”

“So raise an army, have a war of the likes Thurr has never, in its entire history, seen. Then what? Millions dead?”

“Not if I can help it,” Seth said, wondering if he himself believed in this plan. It was a risk, every damned step of the way. It was the only plan they had. It had to work. “If we don’t raise such an army, Garret will invade sooner and kill everyone who has served me. He’ll destroy all we have built. He’ll undo all the good I am trying to do.”

“And you’ll be forced to kill him,” Sara said with tears in her eyes. “I know… fine. For you, I’ll do it. Not for the people, not to fight the gods, but because I get why it has to happen this way.”

“My men are gathering and the rat soldiers are preparing to leave,” Borrik stated, having already given orders to his men telepathically.”

“I knew I could count on both of you,” Seth said, feeling both sad and grateful. He was more worried about them than he was about himself. Who knew what risks they would face upon the road? At least they would have a small army at their backs.

“If you think I’m leaving tonight without saying goodbye, you’re sorely mistaken, Wolf-boy,” Sara said, reaching up to cup Seth’s face in her hand.

“We’ll be outside the wall in the morning awaiting your arrival, my queen.”

“Fare well, Borrik. Take good care of yourself, my wife, and our men,” Seth said, reaching up to pat his large friend on the shoulder.

“You know I will.”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

Seth watched his friend turn and stalk away, his wide shoulders sagging just enough to be perceptible. This had to work. If not, all was lost.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Sara stated as they walked hand in hand into the castle.

“I know, my love.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“Bring me to bed, mighty king, and let me make you miss me all the more.”

When morning came and all was prepared, Seth walked with Sara through the city to the wall where the gates stood open. Farmers and flocks could already be seen upon the field that just a day before witnessed battle. To the south, upon a slight rise, was Borrik and his contingent of troops. They were not many. Not many at all. Seth wished he could spare more, but he could not leave Drakenhurst undefended. Not if Garret had spies in the city.

Climbing the rise, Seth pulled Sara into his arms and held her tightly before pressing a small wooden figurine into her hand. “It’s been repurposed. Do not hesitate to use it if you need me. Simply hold it in your bare hand and tell it ‘bring Seth to me’ and I will be summoned.”

Sara nodded her understanding, trying to contain the tears that filled her eyes.

“All will be fine,” Seth tried to reassure her.

Sara nodded to him, turning before wiping away her tears, trying to hide her pain from him, but he felt it too. As she strode away, Borrik approached, grasping him by the wrist and pulling him into an embrace of his own.

“Be well, master. Rest easy. I’ll make certain no harm comes to her.”

Seth nodded against the great hairy chest. “You either.”

“I’ll be cautious.”

“As will I,” Seth promised, stepping back from his immense friend.

Spreading his wings, Seth leapt into the air, circling upwards on a warm current of air. Gliding back towards the castle, he lit upon the top of one of its many parapets and watched as his loved ones and all his altered troops vanished over the rise. He watched them still for mile after mile with his vision of the gods, until he could stand letting them go no longer. Stepping through the barrier between worlds, he shifted to the plane of power and in a fraction of a second returned to the plane of the living.

He stood in a small stone room deep in the bowels of the castle. He’d once met a god here. Something about that comforted him. Placing his hand upon the stone wall, he surged power into the stones, watching them contort and extend, sealing off the doorway.

Alone, in the darkness, he thought to reach out one more time to check on Sara and Borrik, but thought better of it. He needed to let them play their part. Taking a deep breath he seated himself on the cold, damp floor and left his body. The time was upon him.

Chapter Eleven

Ashton looked down, over the heads of all who stood in the Lycan training grounds. They had come so far, yet had so far to go. Lycans already patrolled the streets and manned the city walls. Lycans were working with building crews to create more housing and training grounds for more Lycans. Soon, not a moment would pass in Valdadore where a Lycan wasn’t seen carrying out the orders of its master.

Down below, in what was once the sparring field of the knights of Valdador, hundreds of new teenaged handlers were being handed out their instructions for the day. They were simple tasks mostly. Cleaning up waste and carting it outside the city for the farmers to use as fertilizer was the most common. Other jobs consisted of butchering livestock and feeding the Lycans. Perfect tasks for uneducated and unblessed teenagers. Were Ashton back home, those the ages of these children would be fighting, hunting, and preparing for the day they became adults. Not these humans, though. They were soft of skin, soft of heart, and soft of mind. But they were smart. They built impressive castles, towers, buildings, and could share ideas with reading and writing. It was an advantage Ashton’s own people, back when he still owned his own body, had.

He could not dwell on the past, however. That was behind him, and if rumor had it right, perhaps ahead of him as well. He’d recently heard from a Lycan patrol that a unit of Lycans had been dispatched under the command of a human to travel south past the Rancoor mountains to locate and befriend the races that lived there. He was told they carried a great amount of gold and silver coins with them to buy the allegiance of such races. Ashton knew this was how Garret planned to supplement his army. If the Lycans could not be created fast enough, he’d hire mercenaries. Should the efforts prove fruitful, there was the chance that he’d see Gnak again, and maybe, with his newfound knowledge of writing, reading, healing, and more, he’d be allowed to return home, to a body that was not so weak and useless.

Pacing atop the wall that separated the training grounds from the courtyards beyond, Ashton rubbed his chin. If he played his cards right, when Garret defeated his brother, he could find himself upon the throne of Drakenhurst and be the first orc to rule a human city. That was, of course, if he could get Gnak to give him his body back.

One thing at a time, he reminded himself. First the Lycans and his bond with Garret. Then marching to war and seeing what paths presented themselves to further his agenda. Time. Time would give him what he wanted if he were patient and aggressive.

* * * * *

Sara walked at what seemed a snail’s pace across the plains south of Drakenhurst. She knew the mountain range was not terribly far, and soon they’d be in the foothills, but even so, the path ahead felt as though it would go on forever. Orcs, goblins, and trolls… That’s what her husband had said. He wanted them to seek out the leaders of these races and summon him so that he could bend their wills to his own. But what if they didn’t have leaders like humans did? What if there were no kings, no castles, and no structure to their societies? Sara had no idea what to expect ahead. She’d fought alongside her husband, against these races, but knew almost nothing about them. Although she knew her task, the how of it all was a mystery.

“Borrik, what do you know of orcs, trolls, and goblins?” She watched as his head cocked slightly to the side as he walked, pondering.

“You mean how they live?”

“Precisely. Are we to find castles and kings beyond the mountain?”

“I’d be lying if I said I knew, but in my estimation, no.”

“What do you mean?” This time it was Sara’s turn to cock her head, though only so she could look up at his as he walked beside her.

“Their tools are primitive, their weapons and armor are crude. Their clothing is also crude. I think that if they have an organized society, it is more tribal, and it is likely that they do not stay in one place for long.”

“If you’re right, how will we find them?”

“I suspect it will not be difficult from the air. I do not imagine they lie in the dirt like dogs, but rather have some sort of shelter that they can carry with them.”

“Like tents?” Sara asked.

“That is my thoughts, judging by what I’ve seen of them.”

“So we seek the leaders of races who might not have leaders, to discuss with them an alliance, though we do not share the same language, and we seek them out in a land where they have no true home, but range about like wild beasts?”

“Sounds about right,” Borrik growled.

“The things we do for Seth,” Sara said with a mischievous grin.

“No, my queen. The things we do for Thurr, in the name of Seth.”

Sara pondered it a minute. Of course the great beast of a man was right. It was much like his previous religion she supposed, back when he was a priest of Ishanya. Though you worshipped the god, loved the god, and acted for the god, it was the god’s will you were performing upon Thurr, or in this case, for Thurr. Seth was the driving force, it was true, but the big picture was so much more. Sara couldn’t even begin to comprehend the things her husband saw or thought. He had told her once that he could feel time.
Feel
it.

Time was odd to her now as well, as she was so much faster than when she had been human, but
feel
it? And now he had discovered another world. She had never even fathomed that there were other worlds, and he had visited one. He was probably there now, studying, learning, testing. His was a life of understanding lest he make mistakes. Hers was a life of devotion. Not to Thurr. Not to the big picture. She worshipped him, not only as a god but as a man. If Seth wanted her to walk to the ends of the world and back a million times, she’d not deny him. Hers was a life devoted to him. As was Borrik’s, she imagined.

“You are right, Borrik. In the name of Seth.” She needed a few minutes alone and with what presumably could be weeks of walking ahead of them, she knew she wouldn’t get it here.

“Borrik, you and Jonas continue ahead, I’m going to scout the traila bit and make certain no dangers lie in wait.” Without awaiting a confirmation, she sprang into the air summoning her wings, feeling them slither beneath her skin before taking form. It was a sick feeling, but something worth the while once she began to climb.

* * * * *

Garret stood upon the stage in the depths of Ishanya’s temple. Before him, as they had for weeks on end, his young subjects knelt in subjugation before the ancient statue of Ishanya praying for her blessing, her wisdom, and her grace. Already seven had been blessed. Two, he believed, in part due to his own prayers. They had been given important gifts. Now Ballantine would not have to act alone. Ishanya had created her own healers of a sort, with the ability to speed healing and growth. He was told that the Lycans were being produced at an unprecedented rate, though he had refused to leave the temple thus far.

The other five blessed by Ishanya were given gifts of battle, and all of them were blessed identically. Four boys and a girl given the ability to dematerialize and materialize at will. Even now they sparred in another room. Vanishing to avoid a blow, then reappearing to deliver one of their own. They could only vanish for a second or two at a time, and were still vulnerable to magical attacks even when deconstructed, but nonetheless, watching them flit in and out of existence as they fought was astonishing. Garret dubbed them his wraiths, and spent hours each day teaching them the blade, the bow, and the axe.

Seven was a good number, but he wanted more. Needed more. He didn’t want to defeat the demon inhabiting his brother’s flesh, he wanted to obliterate it. He didn’t want to retake Drakenhurst, he wanted to retake the world. If he ruled it all, there would be no more war. He could enjoy the rest of his years in peace, in bed with his soon-to-be bride. How he yearned for vengeance following conquest. Conquest of the world and of Anna’s flesh. He would have it all, he just needed to wait a bit longer.

Pacing across the stage as his teenaged minions sought blessing, he felt the air in the vaulted room change, as if becoming electric. The torches flickered before going dark. They remained ablaze, and Garret could see the flames, but no light emanated from them. All the air in the room grew stale before rushing from the space in an eerie howl as the doors above the great staircase slammed closed. There, before him, in the absence of air and light, he could feel the tremendous power of the goddess as he gulped again and again trying to breathe.

“Your incessant calls annoy me.” A musical but powerful voice spoke from the darkness.

Garret could hear the thrashing of his would-be warriors upon the floor, each of them fighting to breathe. He tried to hold onto his resolve, all the while feeling the burning in his lungs.

“I do not answer to the beck and call of mortals, slave of a king. I give what and when I see fit to those who I deem worthy. Ask for more again, and I will flay the flesh from your bones whilst you watch your lover raped for eternity by the very beasts you breed for war. You will have what I deem you need and nothing more. Do as I have instructed and destroy the demon prince!”

Garret nodded, falling to his knees. It was all he could do.

“In repentance for your bothersome prayers, I shall take what is mine and leave you what is left.”

With an almost imperceptible whoosh, the chamber was again filled with air as the torches cast light once more. Upon the floor, more than a dozen of his would-be warriors began ripping at the flesh of their own wrists with their teeth, tearing and biting as blood began to spray from the wounds. As if possessed they tore at themselves with eyes filled with fear and sorrow, and one by one they dropped lifeless to the cold stone of the floor in puddles of their own fluids. Garret knew now the price of their prayers.

There was nothing he could do for them. Blessed by a god, and the king of a kingdom, he was helpless. He simply watched on as they took their own lives, uncertain of what drove them to this end. Could the goddess force people to kill themselves? If she could, what need was there of him? Could she not simply kill whatever possessed Seth’s body? Or perhaps it went deeper. Did she offer something to those who killed themselves in exchange for their lives? It was likely he’d never know.

Climbing down from the stage amidst a gathering of crying, screaming teenagers who had never seen such a thing, Garret did his best to calm them.

“It is a sacrifice, my young warriors. For the blessings she has given, and those she might give, these boys and girls have taken their own lives.”

“Did you see their faces?” a girl called Bekkah asked.

“I did, and it was the sorrow for us, their sadness that we must remain on this mortal plain, that I saw in their eyes as they escaped into the beauty of the next world.”

Garret doubted it was true, but there was no use dwelling on it. He still had his pair of healers and his wraiths. Twelve had been sacrificed but near twenty more remained. Looking down, he patted the nearest boy on the head to comfort him and found the head peculiar. Looking to the face of the boy he saw the small mouth open in horror as he extended his hands out before him. Upon his flesh a gray rot crawled, drying and stiffening his skin. His movements slowed as it spread, his voice becoming scratchy, deep, and broken. All the children again began to holler and scream, holding their hands out before their faces as their sounds and movements grew to naught. Garret watched in horror as all the remaining unblessed children around him began to grow, contort, twist, and thicken as their faces bore witness to the horror taking place within them.

One by one the children ceased moving, their flesh turning to stone like the very statue they had prayed to just moments before. Their joints ground to a stop as their faces froze with hideous expressions upon them.

Garret had offended his goddess and this was his punishment. He had killed the children. It was his doing.

All around him the swollen, contorted statues of his followers stood, all of their eyes transfixed upon him. It was like a garden of horrors, something born of a dark mind and insanity. Garret could not help the tears that filled his eyes, and turning to avert his gaze, he knocked into one of the stone children and watched as the grotesque girl stirred.

Moving slowly at first, she began to twist and rise to her new height as dust rained from her joints and the sounds of stones grating together filled the chamber. Then, one by one, the other children began to groan and stretch, moving their stone bodies about. They were not dead as he presumed, but transformed! Much like his own metallic blessing, Ishanya had given them skin of stone, making them impenetrable to most attacks. She had made them warriors.

Again the children raised their hands to look at their new forms, and they looked about the room at one another. Faster and faster they moved until it was apparent that their new bodies would not hinder them.

“Praise Ishanya,” the boy known as Jake Grant said with a deep firm voice that was not human.

“Praise Ishanya,” the other stone children repeated.

Ishanya had given him a gift. Had given them a gift. It was time to get his plan in motion.

“Gather the dead,” he said to the stone children. “Jake, lead your fellows to the mage’s tower and get help preparing them for burial. When they are buried, seek me out at the barracks opposite the Lycan training grounds.