The Calling (Book 7 of The Blood & Brotherhood Saga) (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (6 page)

“What do you think we will find, Garret?” Ashton asked as his horse began to drink.

“I suspect we will find what the rumors say. All rumors start with some truth. This stinks of my brother’s sorcery and Ishanya’s corruption.”

“If it is true, then I imagine it is tied to your brother, however, I’d not be so quick to blame a goddess,” Ashton replied.

“Why? She has done our kingdom no good. She has corrupted even the hearts and minds of children who now blindly follow my brother into ruin.”

“What you say is true, Garret, but it can also be said that were it not for the power lent to Seth by Ishanya, Valdadore would have fallen not far from where we travel now and would be under the rule of orcs and goblins.”

“I suppose that argument could be made.” Garret said, spitting on the ground.

“So perhaps it is not the goddess that is at fault, but the vessel through which her power was channeled.”

Ashton watched Garret shift from one leg to the other, the subject making him a little uncomfortable. Good. He needed to be on edge.

“You know, I did a lot of studying on Ishanya after Seth revealed his powers and once, long ago, she was known as the goddess of lost souls.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Zorbin chimed in, sounding gruff and angry through his beard.

“According to our histories, in the past, she blessed warriors such as yourselves, and often accepted worshippers that other gods had denied. Perhaps she intended well by allowing Seth the power that he wields, but he has used it for ill purposes, twisting and abusing it.”

“Would she not, then, strip the power from him?” Garret asked.

“Perhaps, but look at what it has done to her following. Yes, his deeds go awry and we face demons brought to life, but they have also given the goddess renown. Everyone knows of Ishanya now, and maybe through the increase in her following she is seeking new champions to right the wrongs your brother has committed in her name.”

“You think this could be true?” Garret questioned, his face scrunching up slightly.

“Anything is possible, especially where power is concerned.”

“Then from here on I will sing a different tune. Ishanya cannot be blamed, but Seth must be held accountable for his crimes. If he ever so much as sets foot in my kingdom again he will pay for his misdeeds.”

“I think you wise to declare as much,” Ashton said with a nod. “Though it is a shame that you must lose your brother in such a manner.”

Inwardly he was smiling wickedly. The seed had been planted. He knew of the king’s impotence. The goddess had told him this much and more. Now all he needed to do was nourish the information he had planted in Garret’s mind and find a way to remind him of his weakness.

Noticing that his mount had stopped drinking and now was lazily chomping on the half frozen, brown grass at the pond’s edge, he turned the beast around and climbed back into the saddle. Both the king and the dwarf followed within seconds and again they were galloping south. Eventually the farmlands turned to wild plains and Ashton rode in a half dream, imagining what power he would be granted when he accomplished the task given to him by the dark queen.

Chapter Five

Hearing the yells of alarm and screams of panic from below, Seth had no doubt he had been spotted. Perhaps it had been ill-advised to go in closer for a better view of what they could potentially be facing. Even so, he had learned much using both his eyes and his vision. There were many armed men down there, but they weren’t soldiers. They carried no banners and wore mismatched armor. No. These were sell-swords—mercenaries hired to protect something or someone in the line of wagons, carriages, and carts. Armies like Sigrant’s had mercenaries, but this was not an army.

Among those below were two blessed by the gods. Immediately Seth locked onto the aura of one blessed by Zeranthil, knowing well the god’s love of gifting power over fire. If the woman invoked her power, Seth would sever her connection. The other blessing was unfamiliar to him. He could feel and see the power there and it was obvious that the man’s blessing was invoked and his connection with his god already in place, but Seth knew not the man’s gift. He didn’t like not knowing, but presumed that whatever it was, should it be turned against him, he would be able to defend himself.

Having already been spotted, he swooped low again for another look. Carts, wagons, and carriages, all surrounded by people. This wasn’t an army, it was a trading caravan, or perhaps a supply run to Sigrant’s army several weeks too late.

With the twangs of bowstrings below, and the beginnings of an organized defense building, Seth tucked his wings and plummeted down towards the ground like a wayward missile thrown from a siege engine. Spinning as he plummeted, he struck the ground hard, bending low and catching his balance with one hand pressed to the soil. Stretching his wings out to their full span, he tucked them in quickly to decrease the size of target he made. Then, using his power to enhance his voice, he spoke out above the screams and shouts.

“I do not wish to harm you,” he stated loudly, but calmly.

“It’s a demon! Loose arrows!” a voice came from the crowd as twangs filled the air once more.

With a flick of his wrist a transparent wall of green flame leapt up from the ground, creating a barrier that consumed the wooden shafts with little more than a hiss and a snap. Dropping the barrier once more, Seth tried yet again to reason with them.

“I will not harm you if you put down your weapons,” he announced more sternly.

It took more than a minute of shouted confusion, but eventually one voice carried back to Seth, above those of the other fearful men.

“What are you, demon? Why’d you block our path?”

“I am Prince Seth of Valdadore, and I only came to ensure that you were not my enemies,” he answered truthfully.

“Hey,” another voice lent itself to the night, “I thought yous was dead.”

“Yeah, King Sigrant killed the demon prince!” another more angry voice added.

“I was killed, but have returned from the dead to claim what is owed to me.”

“If you are really he that you claim to be,” a burly man said, stepping free from the crowd, “then where be all yer monsters and creatures and such?”

Without even giving him time to formulate a response, an explosion rocked the ground from the air above as a great wave of dust blasted out in all directions. Grinning at Borrik’s showmanship, Seth watched his trusted friend drop from the sky in all of his blessed glory. Now more than twenty feet tall with four arms and immense wings, Borrik summoned into his hands two great fireballs and crouching low he fanned them with his wings, growling just inches from the man who questioned Seth’s honesty. If that were not enough to prove his point, not three seconds after the burly man had urinated on himself with Borrik’s hot breath in his face, then Sara dropped nimbly to Seth’s side with a wicked grin as her blades and teeth shone in the moonlight.

“Do you wish to see more proof?” Seth asked as those opposing him began to slowly retreat towards their carts and wagons.

No one replied. No word came. No orders were given.

“We will not harm you, we only wish to speak with your employer,” Seth said, tracking both the fire mage and the other blessed man as they approached from somewhere near the middle of the convoy.

“I am their employer,” a voice came from the crowd as a path began to open.

There before Seth, nearly fifty yards away, was a man unlike any other Seth had ever seen. He was tall and lean with olive skin and dazzling green eyes. From head to toe he was dressed like royalty, with sparkling gems and rope of gold and silver draped around his neck and chest. His fingers were encased in gauntlet-like fashion, but instead of steel they were wrapped in gold and decorated in filigree. Even from his ears, eyebrows, and nose, rings of sparkling metal hung. Seth knew in an instant that the man was of great import, even without the ability to see that he was blessed by an unknown god.

“And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” Seth asked.

“My name is Gazoo Goldenfingers,” the man replied, wiggling his metal-clad hands.

“And what is your purpose upon this road at night?” Seth asked.

“Are the roads not free to travel at any time?” Gazoo raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps there is some new tax that I am due to pay?”

There it was. Seth had barely noticed as the man’s aura swelled. He hadn’t noticed the man pray, or anything else for that matter to invoke his blessing, but he could see the power pour from the man’s lips and into the air. His blessing was his words. He could feel the man’s bribe upon his mind like a serpent’s cold skin crawling across his flesh. The man was a merchant and his blessing was the ability to strike a deal. Seth shook off the sensation and absorbed the power.

“Your words have no effect on me, Goldenfingers. Nor do you owe me a bribe to pass. I simply want to know your business here,” Seth said, watching the man’s expression fall.

The man turned slightly and whispered to his companion, and Seth watched as his aura also flared to life. Grinning, Seth reached out with his mind and ripped the mage’s magical umbilical away, sucking at the severed end, adding further to his own power.

“I’m afraid, I won’t have any of that either,” Seth said, grinning as the men exchanged hurried words.

“It seems you have us at a bit of a disadvantage,” Goldenfingers smiled, “We are but simple merchants on our way to the town behind you.

“There is no need for an advantage, Goldenfingers, and if you are simple merchants you would not be dressed so extravagantly or be able to afford a personal mage, let alone a small army.”

“Well, I suppose what you say is true. I certainly do not like to think of myself as simple. Tell me what is it that you really want, Prince Seth, and I will tell you what it is that I am really doing.”

Seth thought it over a moment. If he was to take this nation for his own and needed peace long enough to study, he didn’t need to leave a trail of enemies behind him. The man was blessed, but only in a way that could threaten a man’s purse. His power could be used to hire men, purchase land, armament and more. If Seth knew his real ambitions, then perhaps they could be allies, or at least find a mutual enemy.

“Very well,” Seth began, “I have thousands of men just beyond the town that I am looking to arm and supply. I can simply pillage and take what I want, but as I have said, I do not mean you, or anyone else here any harm.”

“Indeed?” Goldenfingers questioned. “Then it seems we may have met at the most opportunistic of times.”

“How so?” Seth questioned further.

“Please, Prince Seth, accompany me to my carriage. The cold, dark night is no place to discuss business. And this is Princess Sara, I presume?”

Seth gave a slight nod to the man’s question.

“Very good then. Let us sit and drink wine, and speak of matters close to both of our hearts,” Goldenfingers smiled, turning without awaiting a reply.

Seth could tell the man was used to getting his way. It was also evident that he was well versed in dealing with uncooperative business partners. Seth liked the man already. He didn’t trust him, but he liked him.

With a nod to Borrik, the giant winged wolfman sprang into the air to watch over the camp from above. If it was some sort of trap, Borrik would lay waste to the entire contingent from the backdrop of a starry sky. Taking Sara’s arm in his own, as if escorting her through court at the castle, Seth followed Goldenfingers and his mage ally back into the crowd, doing his best not to snicker at the retreating steps of everyone they approached.

* * * * *

Climbing into what Goldenfingers had called a carriage, Sara was amazed at how luxurious the vessel really was. Carriage was not an appropriate label, though, considering the great mammoth of a mobile room was a large as a small house with at least a dozen axles and an entire team of black stallions to pull it, the thing was more lusciously furnished than the best brothel, and Sara would know.

Inside the mobile room, the walls were hung with tapestries and the floor carpeted with hand-spun silk. Pillows and large fluffy cushions created seating areas within the main chamber and as Sara’s feet sank into the soft floor, she witnessed as near half a dozen scantily clad women rushed into an adjoining chamber so as to not offend their new guests. Guiding them into the room, Goldenfingers ushered them towards the center, where they all took places seated about a small table topped in granite and gold filigree. His companion followed the collection of women into the adjoining chamber before returning with a crystal pitcher filled with a deep crimson wine and a platter of sweet morsels. He was really rolling out the red carpet, and Sara wondered just what exactly the man’s angle was. She could tell that more was going on here than she could see, but knew too that Seth was totally consumed in whatever it was that was transpiring between the men on an unspoken level.

“Please, do help yourselves,” Goldenfingers said with a comforting smile. “My home is your home.”

“It is really lovely,” Sara said appreciatively.

“Thank you. It has taken me some time to get it just right.”

“Your invitation to join you in privacy is appreciated, but if you do not mind I would like for us to come to an understanding,” Seth reminded.

“Yes, well… You seem to be a man who appreciates candor, and as such I will get straight to the point. I have traveled from Drakenhurst, not so much to trade, as to evade a struggle for power, and to see if I might still gain while others’ attention is drawn elsewhere.”

“Speak plain, Goldenfingers,” Seth suggested in a tone that was more order than request.

“As you can see, I have plenty of resources at my disposal. Like many others, I could have stayed in Drakenhurst and possibly bought myself the crown, but already those who seek to gain are dying in numbers…uncomfortable for those who understand the game.”

“So you left to save yourself?”

“Not just myself. Entire households have been slaughtered, poisoned, or burned to the ground with servants and all still within. Politics in Drakenhurst have never been so volatile. Without Sigrant, his councilors, generals, or anyone to keep peace, pandemonium has gripped the city and blood runs freely in the streets.”