Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (72 page)

"How do you propose we do both?" Karishtala asked. "Both are important and timely affairs."

"Yes they are, and until recently I lived a very simple life, having never even imagined standing where I stand this day. However, no matter my life before now, even I know that when you build something, or rebuild it for that matter, you start at the bottom. You must lay a solid foundation to build upon," Garret finished.

"Those are wise words beyond your years, Lord Garret," Shimad complimented.

"So you propose we start by filling the lowest positions first and work our way up to the throne?" Karishtala asked.

"If it were my decision, it is what I would do," Garret replied. "The sooner we begin to replace those we lost in the lower ranks, the smoother things will begin to operate, thus allowing us to turn our attention to those positions of more importance."

"A good plan," came a voice from across the room.

Garret recognized the man as one of the king's generals among the common army and nodded to him in greeting.

"How would you recommend we go about getting things rolling with so few of us here?" the man asked.

"Again I appreciate the honor of you listening to my suggestions," Garret said. He looked around the room to find that now all eyes were on him. "I suppose I would send out the royal messengers to gather up all those council members who are absent."

"Where do you think they have gone, Lord Garret?" the man questioned again.

"I am sure many of them had genuine immediate responsibilities, though I fear that some may be buying favor, bargaining for power, or exploiting whatever other means they might find to attain higher position,." Garret answered honestly.

"Very direct words from one so young," the old general replied, "though I too fear you are quite correct in your thinking. So what say you about such men?"

"I believe that each of them was chosen for this council because each brought a unique point of view to the king’s ear. I believe that each of them has the potential for good, though some would become corrupt with more power than they already hold," Garret answered.

"You are an honest man Lord Garret and for this I like you," the general replied with a wise grin. "So what do you suggest we do with such corruptible men? How should we handle their efforts for more power, their hunger and their greed?"

"I think it may be hard to ascertain their true motives. I think the only honorable thing we can do, to best serve the people of Valdadore, is leave such people in the positions they already hold, or transfer them to a position of equal power, but which is less crucial to the kingdom," Garret responded.

"We are but a third of the council," another man stated. Garret knew this man as well.

"Well met, Captain Felonus. How fare your archers?" Garret replied in greeting.

"We lost nearly half of my men," Felonus replied, his long blonde locks falling perceptively as he lowered his head slightly.

"I fear we have all lost much these past days. I also fear that you are correct, that with only those of us in the room we hold no majority with which to vote. However, I might also add that nearly twenty positions remain open. We could fill those lower positions with good, honorable, people-minded men and women, whom we all support. Once these gracious men and women are appointed, each given the honor to serve the kingdom, they might well be like-minded with the rest of us, and wish to heal the kingdom, not fill their own coffers. I would also suggest that though we are only a few of the many, those not among us will be struggling for their own ambitions, likely dividing them into smaller groups. Even with so few we may yet make a majority vote," Garret concluded. Applause broke out in the room from all corners, everyone having listened to and agreed with all of Garret’s words.

"Then what say you to our next step?" the old general questioned, his wiry eyebrows rising.

"I suggest we quickly make a list of those deserving of the lowest positions we have available, and send for the rest of the council so that we can get started building a better future for Valdadore," Garret answered. Met by applause once more, all those attending gathered around the far end of the great table and began to toss names into the hat for those to be raised from their current stations to one of power.

Garret had not been in service to the kingdom long enough to know the history of such people, but he did take interest in one particular debate.

"What of Dillon Storm? He is a good man," one member of the council stated.

"Doesn't he have five wives?" another asked.

"Yes and thirty-one children at last count," the first man confirmed.

"And you would suggest him for this position?" the second man argued.

"Indeed, as I have said he is a good man, and name another with more to lose than he?" the first man replied.

"I concede your point Sulvis, and more yet he has rescued four other men from marriage. A good man indeed!" the second man shouted in jest.

Garret found the playful argument very amusing and could not wait to speak to such a man who could handle five wives and thirty-one children. Such a man would be a useful tactician, or good perhaps on budgeting the treasury, maybe even a coordinator for the armies of Valdadore. Before long, however, Garret was roused from his musings as a list had been compiled of decent, upright men and women who loved the kingdom and would find honor in serving it. Garret looked to all of his peers around him and found his own respect for them mirrored in their eyes. They saw him as an equal. Garret, the son of an innkeeper, whose twin some accused of murder, who had managed to join the valiant Knights of Valdadore, and now found himself upon the royal council of Valdadore. Garret wished his father and Seth could see him at this moment. He knew they would each be very proud of him and Garret did not plan to let anyone down.

"Shall we send for the others then?" Garret asked.

"Indeed, let’s see if we can lay to waste all plans of greed and all aspirations to power," the old general Garret now knew as Sulvis replied with a smirk.

Messengers were sent to all corners of the city to fetch those who belonged to the council, as well as those that made their list and would be voted upon for election into the council. The meeting was set for sundown, giving Garret a couple hours to attend to other affairs, though he did not look forward to his next responsibility.

* * * * *

Borrik led his men through the immense forest at a gut-wrenching pace. The feline girls that led them some distance ahead never once came into sight and Borrik feared he had greatly underestimated their ability for speed. He picked up the girls' scent occasionally, though each time it was weaker than the time previous. The pair of girls were pulling farther ahead the longer the day progressed. The forest was much the same as Borrik remembered from a week ago when the king’s retinue had passed on its way to war. Though they followed no road, the game trails here within the forest were worn well enough to grant them fairly easy passage even in the limited light that filtered down through the canopy above. Several times on their hasty trek eastward Borrik caught scents of other things familiar to him. Twice on their run through the forest he had come upon the scent of goblins, and though faint, he could not help but to send a subliminal message to his pack to keep their eyes open for any stray raiding parties they might have missed the week prior. Several of his pack had noticed the scents as well, and were already on the lookout. But what had puzzled Borrik most was another scent he had noticed once while passing through a small clearing within the vast forest. They were quite a long distance now from the city of Raven's Hold, yet here deep in the forest Borrik had caught the scent of a human male. It was possible that there were those brave enough to venture this far into the forest to hunt the large deer or other game that thrived beneath the enormous trees. However, generally when hunting this deep in a forest, men would hunt in groups for at night, when the predators were active, there was safety in numbers. Borrik could not help but to ponder what might bring a single man this far into the woods, and sifting through the possibilities he ran through the forest mostly on blind instinct as if his body were finding the safest trail and footfalls, while his brain worked out more peculiar things. Thus it was, when realizing his mistake, Borrik heard both the snap of a twig and the sound of metal armor clanking as he rushed headlong into the very enemy he had warned his troops to look out for.

Borrik smashed directly into a goblin soldier, sending the small green creature cart-wheeling head over feet through the trees. Digging his clawed toes into the soft soil beneath him, Borrik literally slid to a stop, crouching as he slowed, preparing himself to lunge. As he decelerated, and details of his surroundings became clearer, he realized he had rushed headlong into the center of a goblin party, and hearing his collision with their brethren, goblins closed in on him from all sides. Surrounded, Borrik used the collective conscious of the pack to summon his troops to his aid.

As the nearest goblin rushed him, the pathetic creature hesitated mid-stride and faltered as his comrades directly behind him nearly trampled him. Many of the little green monsters were closing in, yet never having seen a magnificent beast such as Borrik, none dared to be the first to attack. Borrik watched as those who were the nearest of the scrawny little men slowed to appraise him. Then from somewhere beyond Borrik’s field of vision he heard a vicious snarl and the scream of a goblin that had been set upon by one of his wolf men. With the shriek, the small forms of green leathery skin and armor reacted and charged Borrik from all directions.

Borrik had been a priest as a human, and as such his knowledge of battle had been limited to being beaten as a child. Since aligning himself with Lord Seth, however, he had been recreated into a massive, muscled beast of a man, designed for killing. Not only was his body an amazing new asset, but so too was his mind. As the alpha of his pack, all of the memories of those who submitted to him were his to access at will. Having nearly five hundred troops' memories at his disposal at the battle just two days ago had taught Borrik more about fighting than any other man alive. Through his telepathic abilities with his pack he had not only witnessed but also been a part of every single fight his soldiers had brought to their foes. In a day he had gleaned a few thousand years’ worth of battle training, and now he would put those lessons to use.

Borrik sprang at his nearest enemy like a great bird. Crushing the slimy green creature beneath his massive weight, he spun upon the gore under his feet to face his next foe. That goblin lunged at him with his wicked blade in an attempt to pierce Borrik’s armor, but Borrik was both too fast and too smart for such crude tactics. Sidestepping at the last moment, Borrik let the goblin’s momentum carry it past him, and reaching out to his side as the vermin passed, he clutched the small creature’s face in the palm of his hand. Tugging with all his might while digging in his clawed fingers, Borrik effectively removed the creature’s head and a portion of his spine which he tossed at the next approaching goblin. By now the growls and clangs of steel came from all directions as Borrik’s pack located their foes.

Having the head of one of his peers hit him full in the chest gave Borrik’s next opponent pause. Borrik used the creature’s uncertainty to his advantage, and rushing the goblin at full speed, he reached out with both arms as if to scoop the beast off the ground. Instead, however, as the poor critter panicked at the approach of the giant, armored wolf man, Borrik drove his clawed fingers into the sockets of both of the goblin’s shoulders, and wrenching his hands away from one another, ripped the arms off the small beast. Borrik then snatched up one of the dismembered arms and spun to face his next opponent. But this time Borrik did not face a single foe. As he turned, two of the leathery green beasts rushed him from directly ahead, while another came from the side. Borrik first feigned a lunge at the two who approached from the front but instead whirled and charged the single opponent from the side. Using the dismembered arm of the previous goblin, Borrik knocked the blade from this one's hand as he ran straight past the singular creature. Then turning back the way he had come, as he had hoped, he saw the two other goblins following him.

Borrik rushed into action once again. Digging his toes into the soft soil he dove at the recently disarmed goblin and snatched him up by his breastplate. Not even bothering to slow, Borrik continued towards the oncoming pair as if to rush them, using their comrade as a shield. However, when he felt the pair of opponents in range, Borrik twisted his torso. Slamming one foot into the earth he whirled upon the heel of his other foot, and using both his forward momentum and the centrifugal power of his spin, he released the goblin within his grasp and propelled it with bone-crushing force across the distance between him and the advancing foe. As his living missile crashed bodily into its brethren, Borrik listened as simultaneously the sounds of crashing steel and cracking bones erupted, followed by the gurgling screams of both felled goblins. Borrik did not even hesitate to witness the deed.

As soon as he launched the goblin, he again charged at what would be his remaining foe. Just as his previous goblin ended his first and last flying lesson, Borrik crashed bodily into the last goblin that dared attack him. Though it would have been easy enough to rend the small beast limb from limb, Borrik felt that particular message would simply not be clear enough, and driving the beast backward he propelled the small man into the trunk of one of the massive trees with a bone-shattering thud. Ripping and tearing with his claws Borrik severed all of the leather bindings holding the goblin’s armor in place. As it fell away, Borrik clawed once more, slicing ribbons across the lighter green flesh of the beast's abdomen. Stepping back to watch the steaming entrails fall to pool at the creature’s feet, Borrik then reached down and grasped a handful of them. He began to run through the forest once more to assist his pack, dragging behind him the still-screaming form of the disemboweled goblin by its own intestines. Few goblins remained for Borrik to slay, but he did manage to strangle one with the intestines of the still living goblin which he had drug through the forest, before then stomping in the face of their owner. Then as a last show, Borrik used the goblin he strangled as a meat club and beat to death his final goblin of the day with the limp body of one of its own kind.