The Calling (Book 7 of The Blood & Brotherhood Saga) (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (22 page)

“It seems some of our guests have arrived,” Seth stated with an angered tone. “Borrik, with me. Xander, muster your troops.”

Without another word Sara watched as both her husband and Borrik raced out of the room and took to the air. Following them on foot, she bent low after clearing the doors and leapt, summoning the power of her boots with a word. Lancing up and over a wide swathe of the city, she watched as huge fireballs were unleashed, not towards the armaments or those who manned them, but up and into the sky.

Looking about, she found the dark silhouettes of her winged husband and Borrik above and ahead, racing like lightning towards the source of the magic. Turning her attention below as she plummeted from the air, she again wished she had wings, and landing sprang once more.

It was less than three minutes before she broke the walls of the city to sprint atop the snow-covered ground towards where Seth and Borrik now settled to the ground. It was only a minute later when she slid to a stop, digging her heels through the snow and into the soil to regain her husband’s side with a wicked flash of her fangs.

Drawing her blades, she listened to the exchange taking place between the newcomer and her husband, the king.

“I wish you no harm, but if you do not cease this threatening display, I will be forced to cease it for you,” Seth shouted, lending power to his words. “Your gods hold no power here!”

“You invite us to come only to insult our beliefs?” a giant of an armored knight boomed across the narrow expanse that stood between them.

Sara looked across at those who stood as their opposition. There weren’t many, perhaps two hundred, but nearly every one of them was enormous, blessed with abilities common to those who worshipped Gorandor. Those who stood at common height, threw balls of fire and bolts of lightning into the air, illuminating their slow but steady approach.

“It is no insult. It is the truth. And if you would hear more truth, I warn you to recall your blessings and dine with me in the great keep of Drakenhurst.”

“If our gods hold no power, then why not take our blessings yourself?” the lead armored man thundered in reply.

With a series of loud pops, Sara watched as those across the small field from them shriveled to average size and ceased were the magics used to frighten them and illuminate the field. The man had asked for it, and her husband had delivered.

“Very well, King of Drakenhurst!” the shout came across the snow covered field. “Your point has been proven. Let us dine and discuss what it is you propose for a treaty.”

Sara had not expected such an easy surrender, and supposed there would be other groups similar to this in the days to come that would be more difficult to convince. Then again, the possibility remained that it was simply a ruse to get close in order to kill her husband. She would have to be watchful. With the way her husband saw the world, and planned to change it, only time could tell what such a meeting would bring.

* * * * *

It was mere hours after their meeting upon the field outside the city when Borrik settled down to the grand table beside his king, looking over a handful of delegates across from him, including the very king of Dragonthorn to the west. He was a small man in his normal form, shorter than most, though more stocky. Borrik couldn’t help but wonder if he was sired by a dwarven father and human mother, such were his attributes. Though he wasn’t about to ask and offend the man, either.

Piled upon the table were platters filled with warm bread loaves, freshly baked, and spit roasted lamb with various vegetables harvested from the city’s now thriving grow houses. It had been uneasy over the last two hours as Seth led the contingent of foreign troops through their city, pointing out the newly built defenses and those still under construction. He showed them everything, which would normally be a terrible military maneuver. Never show your cards. Ever.

Borrik supposed that Seth knew what he was doing, and soon realized, when sharing how the grow houses worked to feed them in winter, that his master was showing the potential enemy for two reasons. One, to prove he had no fear of them retaliating and coming to claim his city, and two, to help this foreign leader better provide for his people. It was with that in mind that he sat at the table looking across at a group of still armored and armed men who accompanied them all for a meal.

“King Dolmas, I thank you for coming all this way to meet with me,” Seth began. “I hope our hospitality will meet your expectations, and you and those with you are welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you, King Seth,” the stout man replied.

“I apologize if I have offended you by telling you that your gods are false. I only do so to enlighten you to the truth.”

“And what truth is that? That you are the god we should bow to?”

“Of course not, good king. As I have shown you, we are poorly defended, and it is a struggle to survive the winter after having been stripped of everything by the former king. I do not wish animosity. I wish you and your people no harm at all. I do not want your worship, as I am no god. What I want, is for you to return home and demolish all the temples in your cities and towns. Destroy tapestries, idols, scrolls, and anything else that has to do with the divine. You see. It is all a lie.”

“What you say is heresy. All people know the gods are real.”

“What I say is the truth. We alone are the makers of our destiny. Men have the power to reshape our own world without false idols.”

“Do not make me rise from this table,” the stout king warned from directly across from Seth.

Borrik bared his teeth, but remained seated in acknowledgement of Seth’s raised hand.

“Summon your blessing, King Dolmas,” Seth suggested. “Go ahead. I will take no offense.”

Borrik watched as more than a minute passed as their guest’s brow creased in frustration. He knew his master was blocking the man’s power, but even so, he watched on to see what would be the result.

“You see, your gods have no power here, because my people give them none. All that joined you to this fair city have false gifts from false gods. Tell me, kind king, what is the purpose of those blessings?”

“To protect our homeland,” King Dolmas said without hesitation.

“Is that so? Then why not simply gift you with an impenetrable shield that covers all your land? Try again, King Dolmas, what are your blessings for?” Seth pushed.

“For battle. To prepare us to defend what is ours.” Dolmas tried again.

“Why not give you metal skin, like my brother the king of Valdadore?”

“I do not know, King Seth. There is a good reason, there must be. The gods are all-powerful.”

“No. Not here. Their power does not reach here and as such their lies and deceit can be seen. How many men have you killed, King Dolmas?”

“Hundreds or more.”

“So your gift has allowed you to kill hundreds. Then what is your gift truly for?”

“For killing, King Seth. It helps me kill.”

“That, my fair king, is the truth. Your false gods only give you the power to kill more effectively. All of your gifts are designed only to destroy the races of men. Don’t you see, the gods wish us all dead.”

“Then why not simply kill us themselves?” one of Dolmas’s companions asked.

“Because, as I have said, they are not all-powerful. They are not gods. They are mere tricksters bent on the destruction of man.”

“How is it that some are blessed with beauty and others blessed with the ability to bargain?” King Dolmas countered.

“What happens when one woman is more beautiful than all the rest? When one person is more wealthy?”

“Unrest. Fighting,” Dolmas answered.

“You see. It is a trick that plays to your vanity or your desires. Those who want power are given strength, those who want riches are given a sharp tongue and crafty mind, and those who want attention are given beauty. Blessings, though seemingly used for good reasons, only bring out the worst in humanity. See past the shroud, good king,” Seth concluded.

Borrik watched as those across the table each pondered his words looking for an argument, but he knew nothing of merit would be forthcoming, because what his master stated was true.

“One more thing, King Dolmas. I know what you have really prayed for. I can see it in your soul. Think tonight on what I have said, and find your prayers answered. Here your false gods cannot keep you from getting what you truly desire. Tomorrow we will discuss more.”

For the next two hours, Borrik pondered his master’s final words, wondering what it was that Seth meant by knowing prayers and fulfilling desires and such. After the feast wound down and their guests were shown to their rooms, Borrik joined Seth, Sara, and Xander in the corner of the hall where they had feasted, finally happy to discover what the words had meant.

“What did you mean by answering King Dolmas’s prayers, my king?” Borrik asked.

“King Dolmas has a flaw in the building blocks that make him who he is. Just as I can study and add to you, to create a warrior unparalleled, or make Xander’s son a new leg and the ability to walk, I could see that Dolmas had a condition of his own, and I repaired it.”

“What flaw, master? I could see nothing but his short stature.”

“That will remain, but his inability to satisfy a woman, or himself for that matter, and as such bring an heir to his kingdom is now corrected. I trust he will notice when he first awakes.”

When morning came and Borrik joined his master in the throne room, he entered to witness the visiting king shaking Seth’s hand vigorously, before striding from the keep, standing a tad taller than he had the day before. Seth had done it. He had gained an ally without drawing a drop of blood. He had shown another man that all he knew was but a lie cast before his eyes to keep him blind to the truth. In a nation that lay more than a month’s march away, the gods and all that mentioned them were about to be erased. Sure, there would still be followers of those gods, but Borrik knew it was only a matter of time. Whatever details his master and the visiting king had worked out were of no consequence to Borrik. What the king would tell his people when he went home was unimportant. The victory was the avoidance of a war and the gaining of an ally. If he could convince one king, he could convince them all. Believe it himself or not, Borrik knew his master was a god. The god. The only
true
god.

Chapter Seventeen

Garret entered the training and now breeding grounds of his vile soldiers. Hearing the gate slam closed behind him he nodded to the two men standing inside the gate, a silent order to follow. Without stopping, he heard more than watched as they fell into step in his shadow, pushing along a wide cart laden with freshly butchered cattle. Cage by cage he stopped and turning, grabbed a thick slab of the blood dripping meat before holding it through the bars to the famished beasts within. They were always hungry, though he did not starve them as Zorbin would have others believe. With their training schedule and the amount of exertion they underwent on a daily basis, they had near unending appetites.

Reaching through the bars, Garret held out a slab as the man-beast within took it gingerly. They knew better than to snatch it away, and they were accustomed to him bringing their meals. Perhaps they thought him their mother, he didn’t know, but as long as they obeyed his commands it didn’t matter. He was strangely proud of them, though he knew they were expendable. Perhaps he too had grown an odd attachment by feeding them each day and watching them grow strong and ferocious. Either way, he finished his task within an hour before wiping his hands clean and striding across the grassy sparring field littered with training dummies and various other implements. There, across the field, stood his beautiful bride to be, more appropriately dressed than on her previous visit, wearing leather, body-hugging breaches and a skin-tight bodice to match.

Though she looked absolutely edible in the ensemble, he couldn’t help but note that it was a similar look to the one his brother’s bride often wore. Shaking the thought from his head, he crossed the final distance separating them and wrapping his arm about her waist, looked on as Ashton and a pair of other healers assisted one of the beast mothers to birth her young. With gritted teeth, he watched as Ashton reached up inside the woman with his long fingered hands and extracted them once again, wrapped about the small head of a squirming, slime-covered, gross little babe. Nearly twenty minutes later another was extracted and then another. It went on for over an hour when at long last a sixth was pulled free. It was smaller than the rest, but seemed fully developed and as such allowed to live.

Garret watched as the healers severed the umbilicals of the creatures one by one, after tying them off tightly with string. Then, once the pups were free, they were handed off to be cleaned and examined by one of Ashton’s companions. Still watching on, it was only moments later when pushing on the hideous mother’s belly and tugging on the dangling, severed, umbilical cords, that Ashton pulled a great gelatinous mass of blood and tissue from the mother’s nether regions. As Ashton handed the repulsive sack to the new mother, Garret almost vomited as she began to gnaw upon the thing, spewing blood and slimy residue down her doglike chin until it was totally consumed.

Even as disturbing as it was, Anna at his side watched on without so much as wincing. When the creature’s disgusting appetite was sated, her pups were returned and put to her swollen tits to suckle.

“Nine more today,” Ashton said rising from where he sat with legs crossed upon the ground.

“Nine?” Garret asked.

“Yes. Last night we worked to speed ten mothers towards delivery, and today we begin bringing into the world the second generation of your new army.”

“So near fifty new soldiers will be born per day?”

“Until those are mature, yes.”

“You’re going to be needing more help just to maintain the process soon.”

“That, my friend, is the understatement of the century,” Ashton joked.