Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (125 page)

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Linaya watched Zorbin’s chain mishap from above, and though the details were lost at such a distance, even Gumbi and the king thought Zorbin a goner when he tripped. Each of them was surprised when the member of the Ironfist clan sent his opponent sprawling over backwards to fall upon the stone spikes. Though she may or may not have smiled proudly, clapping her hands like a fool, Linaya reminded herself that there were yet two more dwarves to subdue. One of them would have to be killed. As darkness fell both above and below the coliseum and Linaya rose from her kneeling position, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.

Straining against the darkness she was certain she saw a form darting among the darkest shadows just a few miles away from her fellow Valdadorian. Darkness then filled the chamber below and all sight was lost.

Rising, Gumbi took Linaya’s arm and guided her from the room and through several more adjacent chambers where smokeless candles had been lit. Leading her back out of the capital building and down a side street he brought her to two stone dwarves that each held an axe over a doorway.

Opening the door, Gumbi allowed Linaya to enter and told her he would return before daylight the next day. Closing the door behind him, Gumbi left Linaya to her own musings to return to his own chambers, allowing her to explore her accommodations.

Linaya inwardly drooled at her surroundings. When Gumbi turned to leave, so slowly she was certain he did it on purpose, she began to take stock of the room already. Everything here was lavish and made by expert craftsmen. The walls were painted in murals of wilderness scenes of the like only found above the dwarven realm. The floor was covered entirely in thick lush rugs and there was a selection of places to sit with several styles of chair. Linaya tried them all, at least briefly, before settling on a favorite.

Rising from her preferred chair, she then strolled into the next room only to find a huge lavish bed covered in silky luscious pillows, and canopied in silken linen so fine it appeared to be made of heavenly gossamer. Again Linaya plunged herself into the luxurious comfort laid out before her and the bed swallowed her like a giant awaiting a meal. Lying there for several moments, indulging, she chided herself harshly for allowing herself such luxuries. The man she loved was upon a field of battle somewhere, quite possibly fighting for his very life alongside everyone else she knew, yet here she was upon a silk covered bed that was softer than a cloud.

She wondered suddenly if this is what Garret had imagined for her all along. He knew the trip was a long shot at best and would more than likely end in failure. He anticipated her staying here for the long haul, but even so she was angry that there was literally nothing she could do to help Valdadore.

From the beginning it had been an unlikely quest. When they had arrived at Boulder Gate and heard that the king was old and tired, Linaya’s hopes had fallen further. When he openly admitted he would not march out his armies without so much as being asked, her hopes had died. Then Zorbin had literally been tossed into the fire, and suddenly her optimism had been renewed. She knew the outcast dwarf had what it took, not only to win, but also to rule this nation. Unfortunately thus far most of the ceremony had been more luck than skill.

Anything could happen, but Linaya held her faith in Zorbin and the gods. As neither Garret nor Zorbin would likely get much rest this night, Linaya crawled out of the luxurious bed, deciding instead to sleep upon the floor. Sadly, she still felt guilty as even the rugs felt amazing upon her skin. Such was the case that she quickly fell asleep, a dream of home, and of Garret, quickly coming to mind.

* * * * *

Sara, within her iron cage, trundled across the frozen lake in the opposite direction to the flow of Sigrant’s troops. Though multitudes of eyes fell upon her, she ignored them, knowing if she were to show a reaction then they would have gotten exactly what they wanted. Instead, she sat upright in the middle of her tiny cell watching the passage of bodies around her. Most of the troops were already upon the battlefield but here upon the lake teams of animals and men pulled war machines and siege equipment across the ice.

Sigrant’s rear lines had caught up with the main body of his army and Sara made calculations, counted machines and teams, and memorized the information in case somehow she was rescued. Such information could be priceless. With her pain and hatred pushed aside in order to preserve her sanity, she focused upon counting and watching to pass the time.

Hours later, Sara strained her ears as a roaring began to grow in the distance. Slowly the sound grew and eventually, leaning into the bars of her cage, Sara could see the great armored beasts slowly crawling across the ice of the lake. As they grew nearer she witnessed for herself the smoke that poured from their nostrils as fire peeked out from between their jagged teeth. Their enormous bodies were covered entirely in plates of overlapping metal, and handlers ran about the beasts in a chaotic maelstrom of bodies.

Her cart lurched to a stop, the oxen pulling it becoming nervous. The man that led them covered their eyes, blinding them from the potential danger lying ahead. With a few well-placed strikes to the animals’ heads and flanks eventually they began to move again.

Nearer and nearer still the giant metal-covered beasts came, and she continued to observe them without realizing the obvious. It was not until they were right on top of her that she understood what it really was that she was seeing.

The handlers were not handlers at all, but teams of gnomish engineers and mechanics who accompanied these great war machines they had designed for King Sigrant. Each of the metal beasts, though appearing a great lizard-like creature that breathed fire, was no more than a mechanism built of metal and powered by fire and steam.

The great lumbering machines had no real legs to speak of, but instead had great spiked steel wheels that spun below them, camouflaged by armor plates that resembled limbs. The fronts of the machines were designed to resemble the heads of the great beasts, and fire spat and spewed from their open mouths, into which the gnomes regularly fed a fuel source that appeared to be small black rocks. At regular intervals steam exploded from the nostrils of the machines. Within the lenses of the eyes, if you looked close enough, you could see yet more gnomes behind the tinted glass pulling levers and twisting knobs to propel and steer the machines across the ice.

They were by far the most complicated and wondrous machines Sara had ever seen. She knew the gnomes invented and created a vast many things, but she would have never imagined such creations as these were possible.

The line of metal beasts lumbered along and, after a while, Sara witnessed what many would probably not see in their lifetime. At a point of apparent panic, gnomes rushed to and fro screaming and hollering with bags of tools and other various implements that were beyond Sara’s understanding. One of the great beasts had come to a stop, and the gnomes had removed the armored side from it, exposing its inner workings.

Though she did not know the proper names for the vast majority of what she saw, she recognized many of the pieces, and believed she also had found a major weakness in their design.

Within the metal beast copper piping ran amuck with valves and tubes seemingly everywhere, but tracing the lines of copper with her eyes, she saw that they all ran eventually to a great copper container that sat just behind the mouth and was heated by the fire in the jaw. None of that was the weakness that she saw, though, as it was all protected by the steel-plated armor.

Instead it was the larger pieces of the machine that she thought could be used to bring the beasts to a stop. Though the copper piping was prevalent throughout, the largest two pipes ran into a box that had a large cog attached to it. This cog meshed with another which was the first of a series running to the rear of the machine and finally meshed with the rear axle. Sara realized two things about the machines. If the fire in the mouth went out, the beast would stop moving. Also, if something were wrapped about the axle, causing it to twist up into the various cogs, the machine would become entangled and unable to move.

Though her thoughts were more or less a distraction to keep her mind off the inner pain she felt, it was not until she sensed something else that her emotions broke free of the dam she had constructed before them. Just as she was passing the last of the mechanical beasts she felt the tug at her soul as yet another connection was made with her soul.

Another of her kind had been changed and reawoken. Moments later a surge of power flowed into her, slow at first and building strength with each passing moment. King Sigrant had awoken anew. He was one of her kind. Worse, he was rapidly feeding upon a great many people to increase his power. Sara felt sickened. Had it not been for her mistakes such a thing would not have happened. If it had not been for her need to be always more, she would not have spread her sickness. Had it not been for her, Valdadore might have stood a chance. Not now. Sara finally understood Sigrant’s plan.

* * * * *

Garret towered over the soldiers surrounding him, and kicked out, sending several flying as they screamed. In one hand he held a sword, the very sword he had used to remove his own arm. Upon that shoulder, where the arm had been, naught but a crudely formed jagged scar remained. The metallic sheen of his flesh made it appear even worse than it was.

Garret surveyed the battle. His father and Jack had been lost. His remaining Knights of Valdadore had all fallen. The vast majority of the mages under his command were gone. His brother Seth was lost. Most of his brother’s giant werewolf soldiers had perished as well. Their army had been decimated. It was only a matter of time before they all fell.

Though Garret wanted nothing more than to let his emotions take him, let the bloodlust sweep through him, one thought kept him in check. He had a responsibility. Not only to himself, but to the kingdom as well. Also to the woman he adored, and had sent to safety. He had sworn to protect them all, to fight for them all. He had sworn to do whatever was in his power to see to it that Valdadore survived.

Across the battlefront the Valdadorians were steadily being driven back. Amongst the remaining common soldiers and archers, only a few dozen of Seth’s werewolves remained. Though they were vicious, and put up a hell of a fight, their numbers were waning. Borrik too remained, presently throwing both fireballs and enemy soldiers at more of their kind. Sadly, Garret knew what must be done. The battle could not be won.

Tilting his head back slightly, Garret called a full retreat. If they could at least make it back to Valdadore, they had a chance of surviving. Perhaps the cold of winter would drive the enemy out of their kingdom. It was their only hope.

Garret began working back to his own lines. If he could help hold the line more of his common soldiers would likely survive the retreat. He would do what he could to save as many as possible. He watched and listened as his order was relayed throughout the battlefield. Slowly, impossibly slowly, his remaining men and women began to extract themselves from the fray and fall back. But the enemy would not let them go.

He knew the entire retreat would be a fight. He knew the enemy would be relentless, always on their heels. Garret was sure that they could make it, and then came yet another unexpected blow.

As they began their slow retreat, Garret saw with his own two eyes as one of his brother’s werewolves, blessed with immense size, vanished into a sea of soldiers around him. He had shriveled back to his normal size, his blessing, like his god, was lost. Less than half an hour later and another shrank. Champions were disappearing at an alarming rate. There was little else that Garret could think to do besides give yet another command. He wondered if they would follow.

“Run!” Garret yelled as his voice boomed across the battlefield. “Go now with all haste, do not look back…Run!”

The order was relayed and in seconds thousands took flight, turning and running as their king bid them to do. Many were struck down from behind, but it appeared, at least for a moment, that the invaders would not take up the chase.

That moment passed, and as even the king turned to flee, his hopes were yet again dashed as Sigrant’s troops took to the heels of the Valdadorians. His army barely had a lead on the enemy.

Spurred on by the imminent death that followed them, the Valdadorians ran like the wind. Slowly, they established an ever-widening lead ahead of their foe. Garret’s head swiveled back and forth looking down his fleeing lines. They had already been decimated. Fewer than three thousand soldiers remained by his estimation. Another of Seth’s werewolves shrank. He prayed that Gorandor would save them and see them safely through the gates of Valdadore.

* * * * *

Feeling the savage urge for sustenance he tasted the air, sniffing several times in rapid succession. Around him bodies stood, packed together like cargo in a warehouse. More appropriately, like cattle brought in for slaughter. He could hear their breaths, taste them. Their hearts beat a constant crescendo like rain upon a roof, and their sweat put a salty tang upon the air inside the tent. The thirst was constant. Nagging. He fought the urge to heed its call.

Flicking his tongue out he wet his too-dry lips, his entire mouth feeling dusty and gritty as if he hadn’t had a drink in days. He opened his eyes slowly; the interior of the tent was exactly as he recalled from hours before when he had been brought to lay here. Upon the table, King Sigrant found himself secured just as he had ordered.