Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (98 page)

Having his first test already securely in his mind, Seth withdrew a small portion of his power and, forcing his will upon it, stretched it into a strand no thicker than a hair. Then carefully Seth began to lay the strand upon his breastplate, slowly and delicately so as to not break the strand itself. Loose in the world the power was like the thread of a spider’s web, infinitely fragile. Breathing too hard could even break the delicate strand. The power too seemed to be sticky in a way, as if it wanted or needed to be contained within something of purpose, for as soon as the strand touched something solid it bound to it immediately. Several times Seth was forced to re-consume the power, recreate the strand and start anew. Finally however, after many attempts, with sweat beading on his forehead from the concentration, Seth laid the last of the strands into position and inspected his work. Comparing the tiny, delicate symbol on the breastplate with the one etched permanently in his brain, Seth was satisfied with his work. Now that the foundation was laid, Seth poured more power into the symbol and watched as its aura expanded to encompass the entire breastplate, wrapping it within a protective layer of magic. His task completed, it was time to test his enchantment, which was called ‘retribution by fire’ by the mage Findalt.

Seth looked around the room for something to test his enchantment with, his own sword having been lost in his recent battle with the Zoomba queen. Picking an ancient blade from the rack beside him, Seth stood to put a little distance between himself and the breastplate, just in case. Then, raising the sword in one hand, Seth wrapped himself in power for protection before swinging his arm down to strike his own armor. He was not even remotely prepared for what happened next.

* * * * *

Garret remained in silence for a quarter of an hour in his study, alone. He steeled himself mentally for the day as best as he was able, though he knew much of his plan was more a hope and a prayer than an actual strategy. Like he had told Linaya, he had to succeed. An entire kingdom was counting on him, and he could not fail them. Most of all, he did not want to fail Linaya. Imagining her smile and bright, beautiful eyes, Garret strode from his study to attend his morning meeting in the war room.

Head held high and shoulders thrust back, Garret shoved the doors to the war room open, appearing to all those that looked upon him as a vision of fearlessness. Not bothering to seat himself, Garret approached the head of the table and stood behind his chair, gripping the back of it roughly, his knuckles turning white.

“I am leaving with a few of my knights to prepare the road for our unwanted visitors. In my absence I expect nothing but the impossible to be accomplished. I need an army raised, trained and equipped within no more than a few weeks. I need all provisions and citizens from outlying areas to be gathered and brought within the city for protection. I need the guard upon the wall at full alert, and fully manned. But what I need from all of you more than anything else is answers instead of questions. You all know your place in the city and in the council. Each of you knows what must be done in this scenario. We are under attack, and though I plan to march out to meet the enemy, in order for that to happen we need longer to prepare. I will go buy what time I can, and my brother sends his troops and his wife to do the same. You see…all of us must make some sacrifices this day. I am counting on each of you to ready us for war as best as we are able, and prepare the city for a siege if we should falter on the field of battle. The council will rule the city in my absence, though every resource shall be spared to my brother, the prince, if he should ask. Are we all in understanding?” Garret asked and the response was heard even outside the castle.

“Aye!” the royal council shouted as if they were of one voice.

With that Garret turned to Jordin Mason, the new Captain to the Knights of Valdadore, and gave his first direct order of the day.

“Gather my knights and meet me outside the castle in a half an hour. Come equipped, and bring a mount. We will be riding hard. Prepare for a week and no less,” Garret ordered.

Without a word, Jordin slammed his fist to his chest in salute and then sprinted out the door to do as he was commanded.

“The gods be with us,” Garret said, as he turned on his heel and strode from the room.

Returning to his personal chambers, Garret closed the door behind him and leaned against it heavily. So much rested on him, and yet he could see no way to save the lives of his people. Sure, it was still possible they could win this war, or at least delay it. Many would die, though, and with Garret drafting so many into service, many who died would be young, having experienced so little yet. Others would be veterans who had seen enough blood already for many lifetimes, praying to spend the rest of their days in peace. Garret, using the power of king, was consigning innocent men to die but he could see no other avenue. It was their only hope.

Crossing the room Garret sat down upon his bed hard and caught a familiar scent. Linaya’s perfume lingered upon the sheets and for that he was thankful. At some point Garret hoped to return to sleep upon this bed, and though Linaya would be leagues and leagues away, he could still feel close to her if he closed his eyes and imagined. Removing his boots and undressing, Garret redressed in his knightly garb and donned his armor as well, double checking every strap and buckle. Selecting a sword from the collection in his room, Garret strapped the sheath to his back and snatched up his helm before leaving the room vacant, but not empty. Here there remained memories, and memories lasted forever.

Garret stepped out of the last gate of the many courtyards surrounding the palace. Awaiting his arrival were his knights; only nine remained and fewer would be sharing in his task. Each man saluted him as he approached, and Garret returned the motion in kind. Coming to stand among his men, Garret decided to give the most painful orders first.

“Zorbin, my trusted friend, you will not be joining us on this little adventure for I have a more important task for you,” Garret stated and continued without awaiting a response from the stocky dwarf. “Go and collect Lady Linaya. The two of you are to go with all haste to Boulder Gate. You take her straight to the king, and the two of you convince the gray beard to send us aid,” Garret finished.

“What if he refuses? Shall I be knockin’ some sense into ‘im?” Zorbin asked with a grin.

“No. If he will not send aid, you are to remain there as his guest until I send you further orders,” Garret replied.

“Yes, yer majesty.” Zorbin’s thick dwarven voice filtered out of his helm.

His orders received, Zorbin left the group of knights, disappearing through the same gate Garret had just emerged from. Garret watched until his stocky friend vanished from view, then turned back to his men.

“Malik, you will be staying behind as well. You are to stay and train Princess Sara in the art of battle,” Garret told him.

“Seriously, my king? You wish me to teach a girl to fight?” Malik asked, his face a mask of disbelief.

“Watch your tongue, Malik, for if you cut her any slack, she will likely cut it out. I suggest you have a healer on hand,” Garret added.

“I will, my king, though I will try not to hurt her,” Malik promised.

“The healer is for you, not her,” Garret replied with a smile, to which all the men laughed. “Meet her upon the training grounds at nightfall as she has other duties during daylight hours.”

“Yes, your majesty,” the loyal knight said before gathering his mount and returning to the knight’s garrison.

“Jordin, you too will remain behind to keep a close eye on our defenses. The rest of you are coming with me, but first we need to stop by a blacksmith and purchase some stout shovels,” Garret said with a grin.

No one even bothered to ask about the shovels, and Garret was a bit disappointed at that fact. He was sure they must be questioning the statement. None the less, each of them would follow his orders even if he told them they were to wear dresses and each marry a goblin. Well, perhaps not then, but anything reasonable they would listen to for sure. But now it was time to go match wits with Mother Nature, and lend brawn to soil to create a better tomorrow.

Seth stood, poised in the small chamber with the ancient blade held above his head. He wasn’t sure how hard to strike in order to set off the enchantment he had bestowed upon his breastplate, but decided to hit it as hard as he was able. Swinging the blade down with all his might, Seth threw his body weight into the blow. Driving the blade downward Seth braced himself not only for the impact, but also for the reaction thereafter. Immediately Seth wished he had taken a moment to inspect the blade before choosing it. As the sword contacted the breastplate three things happened simultaneously. First, the breastplate exploded into blazing fire on the outside surface, sending wave after pulsing wave of fire in the direction of the would-be attacker. Luckily Seth had anticipated this and as such attacked from an odd angle to avoid being burned. However, unexpected to Seth, the blade also burst into flame, sending a wave into the breastplate where it was magnified by the power contained in the armor.

Then Seth realized his biggest mistake of all. Having swung the sword as hard as he could, the enchanted blade had managed to pierce through the breastplate, and become wedged therein. Such was the case that Seth watched in helpless horror as an entirely unexpected result began to play itself out. With each wave of fire the sword lanced into the breastplate, the plate both absorbed and released that fire with its own return assault. The sword then did the same in return, but with each cycle from weapon to armor, the size of the blast doubled, and already with each cycle, the available space to retreat into within the room grew exponentially smaller. Within a few more seconds everything in the room would be consumed in magical fire if Seth could not stop the process.

Acting on instinct, Seth reached out to siphon the power from both objects. Grasping both auras with his own power, he pulled. Seth felt as the breastplate relinquished its aura and watched the cycle stop immediately. His troubles were not entirely over, and as the next few seconds unfolded Seth began to panic anew as the sword’s true nature began to reveal itself. Pulling at the sword’s aura, Seth felt the sword pull back as if it had the same ability that he had. With the object unwilling to yield its power, yet still sending wave after wave of magical fire into the now, un-enchanted breastplate, Seth realized he had to try again to stop the process. This time, Seth treated the ancient sword as he would a blessed member of the races of man. Grasping at the sword’s aura with all his might, Seth tried to rip the aura from the object. What he felt in retaliation showed the blade’s wicked nature. As Seth tugged at the blade’s aura, the blade did the same in turn to Seth. The sword did not relinquish its aura, but Seth watched as his own aura began to diminish as it was siphoned into the blade.

Though panic threatened to overtake him, Seth had studied this enchantment and knew not only its name, but also how it worked. Return Fire, was the name of the enchantment upon the ancient blade. Designed to return any means of magical attack thrown at it, like a mimic of sorts, as the breastplate attacked the sword with magical fire, so too did the sword retaliate with fire of its own. Now, however, as Seth tried to strip the power from the relic, in retaliation it was now siphoning his power. Seth, seeing the enchantment for what it was, reacted in the only logical way that he could think of. Separating a large portion of his still bloated aura, Seth sent the power to surge into the ancient blade, which in turn stopped the siphoning of his power. Not only did it stop but the blade also magnified the process and sent a wave of power rushing back into Seth, near double what he had given. As Seth had hoped, the blade was enchanted to not only retaliate in the manner in which it was attacked, but it was also designed to use its own power to increase the magnitude of such retaliation. As Seth consumed the power flowing into him from the sword, he watched as the antique destroyed its own enchantment, having given all of its power to Seth as a final attempt at retribution. Seeing his ploy work successfully, Seth sighed loudly before sitting down for attempt number two.

Retribution by fire had been a success on the breastplate, except for the part where it nearly got out of control and killed him. That being as it was, Seth decided to take an approach that did not include hitting any enchanted item with another enchanted item. This way seemed safer. Picking up his damaged breastplate, Seth grasped the ancient sword. Twisting it first one way and then another, he managed after several moments to separate the two items. Pouring his power to his will, Seth repaired the damage to his breastplate before continuing with his next experiment. Pulling from his vast reserves of power, over the next three hours Seth created three different symbols upon his breastplate from strands of pure life energy. The first symbol’s meaning was ‘absorb’, and attached to it was the symbol for the magical realm of Thurr. Connected below this symbol was the symbol for containment. Seth believed, if his understanding was correct, that his breastplate could now work to absorb the energy from magical attacks, and contain that energy for him to siphon from in a pinch.

Before testing his theory, Seth poured energy into the breastplate once again until it had an aura large enough to encompass the entire surface of the piece of armor. That completed, Seth tested the magical armor. Creating a tiny fireball, Seth lanced the small missile into the breastplate where it exploded across the surface of the metal. As the fire expanded over the breastplate, a flash of pale light pulsed out from the metal. Remaining unscathed physically, the breastplate’s aura grew by a miniscule amount. The first test was a success, and Seth could not help but smile to himself within the small chamber.

Emboldened by his triumph, Seth summoned another fireball, easily a hundred times the size of the first, and sent it to crash into his own armor upon the floor. Again the fire encompassed the surface of the breastplate, seemingly hitting its target as intended. However, again a pulse of pale light flashed and, where the flames had been, an unscathed breastplate remained, having absorbed the flames. Success number two! Now Seth knew the breastplate could withstand any magical attack, and so he decided to try something else.

Seth drew another strand of power from himself, and fashioned with it a small sphere-like symbol within his palm. Carefully raising the sphere to his lips, Seth whispered into the magical bubble a single word, before he then added it to the side of the previous containment symbol upon the breastplate. Carefully, without damaging either symbol, Seth connected the two before admiring his work. Assuming the plate had enough stored power to make his trial easily visible, Seth pulled one of the wooden crates from the table. He set it carefully in front of the breastplate, which he angled precisely after leaning the piece of armor against the wall. Then stepping back as far as he could, Seth repeated the word he had earlier whispered into the magic symbol.

“Release!” Seth nearly shouted the command he had chosen.

As he had hoped the breastplate responded as expected, if not a bit more forceful than intended. With all the power consumed from both fireballs, the energy contained within the breastplate was expelled in a whoosh of raw force, driving the crate backwards across the room where it shattered into splinters against the far wall. Yet another success. Seth, beginning to understand the process more and more, pulled yet another strand of energy from himself, and began shaping it upon the breastplate. This new symbol he also attached off both the containment symbol and the command symbol. Ready for yet another test, Seth first attacked the breastplate with a small fireball. Watching the armor consume the power, Seth again spoke the command.

“Release!” Seth said and watched as the breastplate responded. A fireball nearly identical in size shot out from the breastplate without warning and crashed, hissing and smoking, into the far wall, leaving a scorch mark upon the stone. Another success, and with it came much understanding. Though these were some of the easiest symbols to create and connect into chains and patterns, Seth had garnered a lot of useful information from just these few tests. With that information came hope that with enough time and the right supplies, Seth could create objects unlike anything the world had ever seen before: objects that in the right hands could sway entire battles and end wars. Though he was in desperate need of rest, this new hope drove Seth to remain alert throughout the day as he studied the ancient weapons within the room, and practiced enchanting items to different effects time and again.

It was during one such experiment that Seth realized the error of his previous thinking. Earlier he had imagined himself enchanting weapons by the thousands to create an invincible army for Valdadore. Now he realized that such a deed would be in error. For any one nation to be vastly more powerful than another would upset the balance in Thurr. The entire world would be afraid of that particular nation, and through their fear, all would grow to hate those who held the power. This in mind Seth began rethinking the way he assembled the chains of symbols upon his breastplate. As he toyed with this new direction he came to a conclusion. Either one man in the nation, who was trustworthy and incorruptible, should be trusted with the power of highly enchanted weapons and armor, or the entire nation should be equipped with a limited resource of power to dissuade their enemies. They were more for show than for real tactical advantage, perhaps both. With this in mind, Seth set himself to designing a new chain of magical symbols, both simple and easy to replicate. It was a chain of five symbols: absorb, magical realm, containment, illumination, command. After having completed the simple chain, Seth performed a simple test upon his breastplate for the final time that day.

Unleashing first a fireball, and then a burst of raw power at the piece of armor, Seth watched as both manifestations of his power were absorbed into the breastplate’s aura. Then speaking the command he had infused the armor with, the breastplate flared to life with blinding white light for near a quarter of an hour until all the power it had absorbed was consumed. His test successful, Seth waited an additional several moments for his eyes to stop watering, readjust and focus before he stood to exit the vault. Collecting his breastplate, Seth exited the room, closing the secret door behind him.

Turning, Seth could not help but to grin to himself as he noticed Borrik leaning heavily into the corner of the room, fast asleep. Some guard he made, Seth thought. But immediately Borrik’s ears twitched having caught some sound inaudible to Seth, and his eyes popped open as he quickly got his bearings and surveyed the room for danger.

“My prince, the afternoon grows late and your troops have come as commanded,” Borrik growled.

“Yes, my task was more time consuming than I had imagined it would be, but let’s get to business, shall we? Where are the men?” Seth asked, one eyebrow rising slightly.

“They are here within the temple, my prince. Shall I take you to them?” Borrik asked, stretching his muscles.

“No, Borrik, that is fine. You can tell the men to come to this room in pairs, and then you yourself may retire and get some much deserved rest. I don’t think I have seen you sleep in weeks,” Seth added.

“I rest when I am able,” Borrik admitted. His head turned slightly askew, as if listening to something in the distance. He paused briefly before he continued speaking. “The men have been given your orders, master, and the first pair nears now. Also Sara has risen from her slumber and comes as well.”

“Very well Borrik, and thank you, but I’ll be needing one more thing before you go,” Seth added, and continued without awaiting a response. “See if a couple of your men can bring myself and Sara something to eat and drink. I have a feeling it will be a long night for the both of us.”

“Very well. Connor Falion is already on his way to fetch you both a meal. Will that be all?” Borrik asked.

“Yes Borrik, that will be all,” Seth smiled. “Now go get some rest, mingle with the men, do something that amuses you. It is no matter to me what you do, just go and take a break for the night.”

Without another word Borrik turned and left the chamber, ducking slightly through the doorway as he turned into the hall. Seth listened as his footfalls grew quieter with each step and eventually disappeared altogether. Seconds later he heard new footfalls in the corridor, and a moment after a pair of Seth’s werewolf troops entered the room. These were his common troops, slightly larger than normal men, well-muscled, and covered with a layer of downy fur. Their stunted muzzles and sweeping foreheads with long pointed ears gave them a very canine appearance, though inwardly they were actually more human than wolf. Seth felt somewhat ashamed as the men entered, bowed low and greeted him as their master. Truth be told, the hybrid beasts, through their feral understandings, believed him to be their creator. In their eyes he was a living god who walked among the inhabitants of Thurr. Call it a twist of fate, but thus far the arrangement had no downside that Seth could discover.

Motioning for his men to rise, Seth bid them to each display the items they brought with them upon the table in the center of the room. They quickly did as they were told, and Seth was rather impressed by their selections. Neither of the men, probably former farmers or other working men of little material wealth, had chosen decorative armor pieces. Not a single one upon the table was even polished let alone adorned with any unneeded decoration. These were simple items, cheap and effective. Wolves were generally shown as noble and wise creatures, and Seth could not help but wonder if these traits had transferred during the men’s alterations, or if it was just coincidence. In either case, Seth quickly got to work. He was nearly finished with his first set of armor for the day when Sara and her personal bodyguard, Captain Jonas, arrived.