The Champions (4 page)

They needed no mounts, for in his blessed form, James could
cover great distances in a day carrying both of his companions. A trek that
would usually take near two weeks on foot had taken only four days thus far,
and tomorrow they would arrive at Valdadore. Tomorrow, James hoped, he would
see his boys.

Standing, the three companions turned and exited the tavern,
leaving a tip for the barmaid upon their table. Together they walked to the
edge of town where James again called upon Gorandor and, with a concussive
boom, he exploded in size. ‘Giant James’ his colleagues had called him in his
time of service to Valdadore. Standing nearly forty foot tall, James crouched
down and allowed his friends to climb into his hand. Carefully he lifted them
to his breast where they climbed within a pocket upon his tunic. James turned
and began to jog at an even pace towards the capital city.

For the entire night James kept his pace, plodding along a
hundred yards to the side of the road so as to not trample any fellow
travelers. Near midnight, with his high vantage point, James saw the first
signs of Valdadore. Far in the distance the sky glowed orange where below it
sat the vast city. Though Valdadore itself was still lost to sight in the
darkness, James already felt a measureable amount better just knowing the city
was within reach.

Hours later James could see the silhouette of the city
against the backdrop of stars beyond. He could not help but grin slightly at
the sight. The city had been his home for nearly fifty years after all. James
picked up his pace a bit, and an hour before sunrise he was less than five
miles away.

Pausing, James helped his companions from his pocket, his
breathing labored from the exertion. Sealing away the source of his power,
James imploded with a pop and returned to his normal size. He did not want to
appear an enemy to the city, and so thought it best to arrive in his unblessed
size. Catching his breath a moment, without so much as speaking, James started
walking anew. His companions fell into step to either side of him, and together
the trio walked the remaining miles to arrive at the northern gate of the city
as the sun broke the horizon.

Though the huge gate itself was lowered, a small door within
the larger gate remained open and guards stood to either side questioning those
that approached. Within half an hour the companions stood before the guards.

“What is your business here?” an armed guard asked,
obviously annoyed by repeating the phrase time and again.

“We heed the call of the king and have come to fight,” James
replied.

“Then you’ve come too late,” the guard responded
nonchalantly.

“What do you mean?” James and Jack asked simultaneously.

“The king marched west with his army four days ago. Even now
they could be facing the enemy though I have heard no reports to confirm this.”

James shook his head. They had arrived too late indeed.
Turning, not knowing what else to do, he called upon Gorandor. The people
nearest to him were thrown from their feet, none of them expecting the blast
that followed his prayer. Apologizing in a deep, thunderous voice, James
scooped up his friends unceremoniously and allowed them to reclaim their spots
in his tunic before he began to stride parallel to the castle, heading west.
With each step he took, he picked up momentum. Each stride he stretched to the
fullest. His sons were at war, and he would do anything in his power to see
that they had his protection.

Without concern for anything around him, James sprinted down
the cobble road heading west from the city of Valdadore, leaving a deep
impression in the road with every stop, driving the stones down into the soil
below. Inside his pocket, both Rose and Jack were forced to cling to the
stitching and fabric within, lest they be thrown around. Though Jack doubted he
would be injured in such a manner, it was for Rose’s safety that he held on.

Four hours later James slid to a halt, his sudden stop destroying
a thirty-yard stretch of road. Before him the forces of Valdadore were fleeing
the field of battle. Within minutes they would be surging past the giant of a
man himself. Looking around, however, James discovered that this was only the
main body of the army. A few miles ahead, ranks of archers and mages awaited
the advance of the enemy. Beyond them a battle was being fought as giant
warriors like himself engaged an entire army alone.

As James watched, a giant beast swooped down from the
heavens unleashing blasts of fire as its vast wings flapped to gain altitude
once more. A fireball momentarily cleared a path through the invading troops,
and among all the giants on the field of battle one stood out from the rest.
Even at this distance, and with his altered skin and immensely changed and
sculpted body, James recognized his son. Garret stomped through the enemy
sweeping his blade low, cleaving men in two by the dozens. With his other hand
he sent men flying with each bash of his shield. Even from this distance a deep
throaty chuckle could be heard escaping the young king of Valdadore. Like his
father, Garret had the bloodlust.

James began to move slowly forward once again as the
retreating soldiers of Valdadore parted before him. He was about to begin running
once more, now that a path had opened, but as he leaned forward to start
building momentum, a shout reached his ears.

“Giant James!” A forgotten but familiar voice shouted from
the masses of fleeing troops below.

Looking down, James scanned the area around him seeking the
source of the voice. Jack and Rose recognized the sound too and both of their
heads popped out of the giant man’s pocket.

“Over here!” The shout came again.

James swiveled his body around to find an old man standing
apart from the crowd to his left. Instantly his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Sulvis, you old hawk, why do you lead your men away from
battle?” James asked.

“I follow the king’s orders. The only way we can hope to
survive this battle is to wait out the winter in the city and hope Sigrant’s
supply lines fail,” the grizzled old general replied.

“How are my boys doing?” James asked again.

“Your boys?” questioned the old veteran. “You mean the
knights?”

“The knights too, I suppose, but I was referring to my sons,
Garret and Seth,” James responded.

Sulvis’s large white eyebrows rose in sudden realization. “I
should have known,” he shouted. “They are well for the moment, and work to buy
the rest of us time. Perhaps you should go and see for yourself.”

With a nod, James turned, having all the information he
needed. Again he began running, though for him it was only a short distance.
Slowing again, he reached to his pocket and asked Rose to climb into his palm.
Moments later Rose stood among those of her order, the oldest battle mage upon
the field.

James walked the remaining mile, then lowered Jack to the
ground as well. Jack exploded, tripling in size to nearly twenty feet, then he
split into two men. All three drew their weapons.

It had been twenty-some years since either of them had drawn
a sword in battle. They were rusty. They were old. They were once two of the
best warriors Valdadore had to offer. James and Jack rushed into battle,
yelling a battle cry of Valdadore that most had forgotten.

*****

Garret faced a unit of sword-bearing infantry. Swinging his
blade low, he cleaved them in two a dozen or more at a time. Again and again he
swung his large sword with one hand, and his large shield in the other. A
crimson path flowed out behind him, slippery with gore and destroyed bodies.
Yet for all those he killed, more were already there to replace them. Taking
note of his position among the front lines of the enemy, Garret swiveled his
head and caught something unexpected out of the corner of his eye.

For an instant, Garret swore he had seen his fallen mentor
Sirus entering the battle, and with him a pair of other knights although none
of them was dressed in armor. On a double take, Garret assured himself that the
men who now faced away from him were not what they originally appeared. The
biggest of the trio was obviously not the slain Sirus, as the man on the
present field of battle was not as broad of shoulder, nor were his muscles as
defined. Garret felt rather than saw something familiar about the man, and
changing direction to get a better look, he began clearing a new path to near
the new champions.

Only a few fell swoops of the blade later, and the giant man
and his companions turned toward him. Garret’s metallic jaw fell slack. There,
clad in nothing more protective than leather leggings and cloth tunics, were
his father, James, and his father’s best friend, Jack. Only now there were two
Jacks. Garret could not believe his eyes which now watered uncontrollably.
Smiling in his direction, James and the duplicate Jacks changed course to
intercept the young king. Sadly, none of them were paying attention to the
sudden change upon the battlefield when the first wave of attacks was
unleashed.

Seth and his troops fanned out before the front lines of
Sigrant’s force. A dozen yards ahead, Sara danced through the invading army, a
whirlwind of death and destruction. Together with his troops Seth and his men
held this portion of the enemy force at a standstill. While Seth blasted wave
after wave of magical fire and lightning into the approaching troops, his
wolfmen tore them limb from limb with their teeth and claws. So efficient were
they that a mound of corpses and dismembered limbs began to form the length of
the line. Over the course of an hour the mound deepened, and before long the
approaching enemy was forced to climb over their own dead and dying just to
meet the defenders of Valdadore.

From above, both Borrik and Eve swooped down time and again,
leaving none below without fear of being snatched off their feet and carried
away into the sky. Body parts and organs rained down with blood and gore each
time a neighbor vanished into the air above.

Seth hadn’t lost a single one of his werewolves or champions
in over an hour. His line was holding. Yet this fact brought him no comfort. He
alone realized that the war had no purpose. No one was winning; they were
simply killing and dying to feed the greed of the gods. Seth had no time at
present to explain his fears to his brother. He could not simply leave the
battle. For as little as it mattered which side won or lost, he would rather
Valdadore win for no other reason than it was his home and he was sworn to
protect it.

For a while Seth simply let his mind wander of its own
accord as he siphoned the life from a few hundred enemies, then returned the
energy as a wave of fire, killing hundreds more. Over and over power washed
into him, and over and over he expelled it just the same. The pleasure that
came with the power did not overwhelm him as it once had. He had become
stronger since then. Now the feeling was only great when dispatching a blessed
champion of the gods.

Though Seth was not paying attention when the first changes
began to transpire, Borrik above was, and he relayed a message to his master.

“My prince,” Jonas shouted above the melee, “Borrik warns
that new troops are approaching from the rear and hiding themselves within the
ranks of those we now fight.”

“What weapons do they carry?” Seth asked.

A moment passed as the question was communicated and Seth
watched as Borrik swooped low to get a better look, his great leathery wings
having become one of his biggest assets.

“None, my prince, they appear to be unarmed,” Jonas replied.

“Shit!” Seth yelled. “He has more mages!”

As if to verify Seth’s statement, within an instant the
battle altered beyond measure.

Lightning, fire, blasts of ice, and gusts of wind raced
across the battlefield, seemingly from everywhere at once. Though Seth was
spared in the initial wave, something struck him none the less.

As the first barrage hit, Seth felt something snap as power
rushed into him, filling him momentarily with pleasure. Then feeling the loss
of the connection Seth mourned it, and turned his head in time to watch the
burning form of Eve, his avian champion, fall from the skies in a smoldering
heap.

In a moment of panic Seth’s eyes darted around the skies
until he located Borrik’s massive form hovering well above the field of battle.
Then Seth felt another rush of power as another connection broke. A moment
later and a third champion fell. Seth reached out with his mind to locate the
mages at the same time as he turned to face Jonas and give his orders.

“Have Borrik guide you and the men, and destroy the mages.”

Jonas bowed his head in understanding and within a second
over a hundred giant werewolves were bounding through the invading troops,
singling out those who were the greatest threat.

Magic blasted all around and Seth silenced one mage after
another, but his troops were falling before the onslaught. Water began to seep
up out of the soil as Seth turned another mage to ash. A moment later,
something smashed into Seth that drove him backwards to the ground, several of
his ribs either bruised or broken. Struggling to breathe, Seth rolled to see
the giant ball of ice that had struck him in the chest. He had never seen it
coming with his vision of the gods. Unlike magical fire or lightning, the ice
was natural. It was created by actual elements, although by magical means, so
once hurled, it retained no power and thus was invisible to his god-like
vision. Staggering to his feet as Jonas took up position to better guard him,
Seth threw up a magical wall of pure power, and went back to work snuffing out
the life of his foes.

The water upon the ground was now more than a foot deep.
Suddenly, as if coming to life, the water surged upwards into the air and, as
it did, turned unbelievably cold as wind blasted the field. Giant spikes of
ice, as tall as a man, formed all over the battlefield. Some of them encased
Sigrant’s soldiers while others were stained and filled with blood and gore.
Around them all was ice. Combatants from both sides of the fray began to slip
and fall upon the ice between the immense spikes. However for those of average
size it was just that, a fall. For those blessed with size, falling meant
landing upon the spikes of ice, and within a minute Seth lost another dozen
troops. Looking around Seth spotted something he never in his life would have
expected.