Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (145 page)
Authors: Laszlo,Jeremy
In the throne room of the palace inside the once beautiful city of Valdadore, King Garret Valdadore, so named after his kingdom, sat upon the throne, the broken corpse of the no longer beautiful Linaya splayed across his lap. With her death her beauty had faded, leaving behind a plain and common shadow of the vision she had been in life. Garret clung to her body and sobbed there uncontrollably, all doors to his location thrown wide and left open, a small trail of blood the only witness to his passage.
Though his heart was broken and all emotion within him was drained, one yet remained and filled him so completely that his vision saw only in shades of red. Staring ahead blankly, his tears having dried up long before his sobbing ceased, he saw movement ahead and willed his eyes to focus better through the haze that sought to shelter him from painful truth.
Seeing those who approached, he rose carefully from his throne and delicately laid Linaya upon its surface, before turning to face the open door. Summoning his blessing, the king of Valdadore exploded in size as he rushed headlong to exit the palace, smashing doorways with each passage.
* * * * *
Seth could not believe what she was doing. In his arms, Sara’s body fought to heal from the grievous wound she inflicted upon herself, yet she held fast to him, keeping the blade lodged firmly between them. For better than an hour they stood locked as such, her life draining away, expelled in the exertion of healing that could not complete. Every moment her life fled in a torrent and every moment it returned to the god she worshiped, the only god she had ever believed in.
With each passing second Seth’s power grew, but it was the power as a god received it, not the power as it was stripped from the life it belonged to. As such it was given to Seth freely, untainted, and joined with him freely, without the need to impose his will upon it.
Eventually her grip upon him slackened and he backed away quickly, drawing the blood-coated blade with him. Her injury healed in seconds, proof that she retained plenty of power.
“Thank you, love,” Sara grinned sadly. “Now we can still be together, and you can understand me.”
“How did you know when to stop?”
“Your heart told me,” Sara answered. “I’ll never forget your heartbeat.”
They hugged one another tightly, happy to have their lives to share with one another, and Seth could not help but pepper her forehead with kisses. It was some time before they released one another and spoke again, but when they did the mood was somber.
“I think something is changing in Garret,” Seth warned.
“I’ve seen it too. Especially in the way he looks at me, but I’m afraid I’ve made it worse.” Sara choked back tears.
“Do you mean Linaya?” Seth asked.
“How did you… never mind. Yes, I mean Linaya. It was an accident, but Garret has no one else to blame but me, and if it weren’t for me it would have never happened so it
is
all my fault!”
“What is all your fault?” a deep guttural voice came from the road behind them.
Seth watched as both Borrik and Zorbin approached from the darkness.
“Lady Linaya is dead,” Seth answered. He did not know what to do about the situation. It seemed Garret was already struggling with more than he could handle and yet here was another situation that could not be resolved easily.
After several minutes of trying to discuss options it was realized that there were none. Instead, it was Seth who had to make the call.
“We should go to Garret, and you can apologize and we can all be there to show him support,” said Seth. “He is nothing if not honorable and fair. Surely he will see that it was an accident, and he will forgive you. He must.”
So it was that the four companions walked the short distance to the palace complex where a guard was just being set, marking things as relatively back to normal. They strode through the gate to many bows and spoken titles, but Seth did not feel inclined to reply and neither were his companions in the mood for civilities.
Reaching the palace itself they were a bit surprised to find that no guards yet watched the gates, and the doors ahead stood open, directly into the chamber within. There sat the king, the broken body of Linaya upon his lap. Though they had paused briefly at the sight, Seth stepped forward again and those with him followed his lead. Garret too moved and as soon as he did, Seth knew that his intentions were not good.
Placing the maimed body of the woman upon the throne, Garret turned and charged, invoking his blessing as he smashed headlong through the walls and doors that separated Seth from his brother. Seth had no choice. He had to react.
Throwing up a wall of protective power, Seth blasted Garret in the face and chest as he broke free of the confines of the palace. Adding more and more strength to the power, he brought Garret to a seething halt just out of reach of those who cared for him the most. Still that did not stop the grieving king. Instead, he drew forth his massive broadsword and attempted to put it to use against those in front of him, but Seth reacted faster.
Seeing the sword, Seth pushed harder with his power, driving the king backwards and out of range. Even so, Garret raised the sword as if to throw it, his eyes locked on Sara. Seth had no choice but to try and make Garret drop the sword.
Lightning burst forth from Seth’s hand, arcing across the distance and licking the blade of the sword. There the bolt ran up the metal to arc into the metallic flesh of the blessed king, to no avail. Angered, or perhaps hurt, the king yelled unintelligible words of rage.
Seth could do nothing but look on, and hold his adopted brother at bay with his power.
“Calm down, Garret!” he shouted. “You are not yourself. Let us grieve with you.”
“You grieve
with
me? asked the king. “It is you that I grieve, brother.”
Seth stared at his supposed twin, confused by his words, but it was not long he waiting for his brother’s reasoning.
“I do not know who or what you are, Seth, or what happened to the brother I grew up with, but you have been tainted by evil. You surround yourself with demons and I can stand you no longer. Be gone from my kingdom, never to return, for you are not my brother. He died upon an artillery bolt days ago. If you should enter Valdadore again, I will see you killed myself. Leave my city and take your beasts with you, for those who remain will be put in irons and tortured to learn what evil guides you. I, King Garret of Valdadore, banish you from the lands of my kingdom!”
Seth’s heart stopped beating in his chest for longer than could have been possible. It was true he had made some bad choices and paid dearly for them. Many had died because of his actions. But this… to lose his brother too… it pained him beyond measure. He had thought them inseparable. But now he was being banished. Garret was not thinking straight.
“Garret, this is not what Father would want,” he pleaded.
“Then I suppose we should talk to him,” Garret replied. “Oh wait, that’s right, you killed him!” Garret spat. “Now be gone with you, demon!”
Seth did not know what to think. His head lowered in defeat, he released his control on the magic and let it fade as Garret dropped his sword arm and turned his back on them to rejoin the dead lady Linaya, dragging the blade behind him. Seth watched him go a moment before he turned and began to walk away from the palace. Sara reached out and grasped his hand in comfort, and Borrik placed one giant hand upon his shoulder as well.
“I’ll inform the men that we are leaving, and have them gather provisions.”
“Very well, Borrik,” Seth muttered.
“Don’t ye go too far, Prince Seth,” began Zorbin. “He’s justa hurtin’ and he’ll be regrettin’ his words soon. Ye’ll see. Send message of where ye’ve went to and when he calms down a bit, I’ll send ye word.”
Seth simply nodded halfheartedly in reply, so Sara spoke on his behalf.
“That is very kind of you, Zorbin, you are a good friend to the king. I pray that you stay by his side and help him through these dark times.”
“Oh I will, m’lady. The light is easiest to seek when surrounded by darkness. We dwarves know this well. I’m sure Garret will bounce back quickly. Just give ’im some time.”
And that was farewell. With nothing further, the dwarf spun on his heel to return to the palace. Seth, Sara, and Borrik strode through the city, three beings that everyone cheered and feared just the same. When they reached the wall of the city they found the gate still closed, so instead they turned and climbed the rubble of the crumbled wall to look down upon their waiting contingent of troops. All of Seth’s wolves had survived the ordeal, and nearly eighty percent of his young rat soldiers as well.
He did not bother to stop and address them; instead he walked past, and the contingent of mutated soldiers who fell in behind their god, their master, and followed him obediently.
“So where do we go, love?” Sara asked, a sad quality to her voice.
“We go to claim Sigrant’s kingdom for our own. We have a lot of work to do and it is just as good a place to start as any.”
-End
Many gods there were who gathered to create the world. Each of them lent an equal gift of their own power, of their own life force, to create all things living upon Thurr. This method of creation allowed them all to remain equally powerful, working together to create perfection. Through eons they watched their world grow and prosper.
Civilizations arose and their creations learned and thrived upon the land that had been made for them. With expanding civilizations came the discovery of neighbors. With that discovery came borders. With borders came disputes and ultimately wars erupted from time to time upon the world that the gods had made. Among all of their creations upon Thurr, the many races of man held the gods enthralled. The creatures were but a speck in the shadow of the gods who had breathed life into them, yet the many races of man never failed to surprise their makers. So it was that men were to teach the gods who made them many lessons.
All gods were equal, and being so, many concepts had never occurred to them. The races of man, however, were not all equal. Some of the races had higher intellect, others had more brawn and larger physical prowess, but these differences occurred between different races and thus the gods expected different cultures to arise to fit the needs of the peoples. What they had not suspected came not in a physical form, but from within individuals of individual races.
As time progressed, the gods stood in the heavens watching the races of man, awed by the spectrum of concepts they had never before postulated. Honor, trust, courage, fear, hope, loss, excitement, vanity, greed, lust and ambition were just a few of the lessons gleaned by the gods from their own creations. Above all, however, jealousy was learned by the gods.
Though none of the gods would outwardly show it, each had become jealous of the races of man. Wanting to experience what man experienced for themselves, the gods took council with their brethren. It was unanimously decided that each of them would take the form of a mortal, walk among man and learn firsthand all that they could from their mortal kin. They decided to reconvene later to share all that they had discovered. Each of them was given one lifetime among the many species of men. Thus they set their ethereal bodies aside, wrapping themselves in the flesh of whatever race most inspired them. Leaving the plane of immortals vacant, the gods came to roam Thurr, living among mankind.
Eventually all the gods returned to their realm. Although only moments in the time of gods had passed, it soon became evident that something had gone amiss. A struggle for power had begun in the heavens. Fueled by their newly learned jealousy and greed, the immortals began striking out at one another with the only instruments they held against their own kind. They used man.
Learning that with more followers ultimately came more power, the gods began creating champions of mortals to spread their own worship. In every major battle for thousands of years, it was those champions that led the charge, but as always things were changing.
For all recorded history, battles have now waged upon Thurr to one degree or another, but at long last the heavenly battle brought to mortal soil approaches an apex. Those chosen among the races of mankind to be blessed by the gods are becoming more and more powerful as the gods who control them become more desperate.
With so much on the line for the many races of man, only a few realize what it is that hangs in the balance. Even those races considered primitive have begun to rise up with champions of their own, as the world faces a war unlike anything ever seen before.
But with change comes questions. And with questions comes knowledge. With knowledge comes truth, and with truth comes action.
It was dry and miserable as the sun sunk slowly to the horizon over the dunes and sparse grasslands that extended away from camp. Flies swarmed and bit Gnak’s bare back and shoulders, causing small bumps to rise upon his blue-black flesh. Shrugging repeatedly, and whipping his head from side to side, he attempted to fend them off while shoveling the last of his meal into his waiting mouth with a spoon carved of human bone. In less than an hour, when the light faded, the flies would abate and allow him to better concentrate on what awaited. The anticipation was killing him.
Though just days away, a ceremony that would change his life forever would begin, he had no time now for thinking of such distant events. For Gnak life was about here and now. It was about survival. It was about cunning, and hunting, and killing. As an Orc approaching Catunga, the ceremony that marked him as an adult and established his rank among his people, Gnak knew his every action was being watched. Those who performed Catunga with him sought his weaknesses, and tonight’s hunt would be no different.
Rising from his position upon the ground he straightened the necklace around his neck, reminding those who watched him of the many boars and bears he had brought down. Grinning a wicked grin, he flashed his large, tusk-like teeth as his silver eyes flashed in the failing light. Bending to retrieve his crude sword, he shoved it in his belt before flexing his muscles in a feigned stretch. Sure his watchers were thoroughly reminded, Gnak strode to his tent with his shoulders back and head held high. Being proud, with a strong family name, he knew few among his clan were his rival. Even his home spoke of his strength.
With a base of stacked stones and poles thrust down into the sand, his tent was one of the more impressive in the camp. It was covered entirely in the hides and skins of those greatest among the beasts he slaughtered. He remembered every kill down to the breaths he took. Such victories were to be savored.
There were those who had tents that were grander, though. His own father had one such tent. A few other elders in the camp had great sprawling domiciles as well, but the only one Gnak refused to admire was just paces away. It belonged to Korx, his rival from the time they could crawl. Shaking the thoughts from his head, Gnak tried not to recall the broken bones, swollen eyes, and bloodied faces they had exchanged over the years. There was no time for distraction. There was only hunting and Catunga.
Snatching the spear from beside the flap of his tent Gnak peered across his small camp to see who else prepared to collect game for the feast. Just as he suspected, all who would enter the ceremony with him had come out to provide for their clan. Like him, most of his clan mates carried spears with a short sword in reserve. But not Korx. He instead preferred two short swords. It showed he was not afraid to get close to the beasts he killed, and most would agree that it was a proud act, and one deserving of respect. Most. Not all.
Turning to watch the last sliver of the sun slip into the beyond, Gnak turned and looked off to the foothills of the mountains to the north. Tonight he would seek out an enormous beast. Tonight he would kill that which would bring respect to him and his father. Tonight he would show them that he had what it took to be a captain.
Grinning again, Gnak jogged out beyond the edge of the camp. Setting his sights on a point in the distance, he leveled his breathing and leaned forward as he gained speed. Digging his toes into the sand with every stride he rushed towards his destination, the sharp, dry blades of desert grass slicing at his scarred legs to little effect. He had been the first to leave the camp this night, but he knew nearly four dozen would be hunting the same grounds as he in the hours to come. Redoubling his speed, he moved as fast as his massive legs would carry him. He needed to find the most magnificent beast. His elders and his clan would expect no less. He would not disappoint them.
Little more than an hour into the night and more than a dozen miles later, Gnak broke free from the sand to set his feet upon more solid ground. Here the sandy grass turned to hills of brush and rock. Only a handful of miles ahead, the base of the mountains began. Raising his chin into the cool breeze that flowed down from the mountain he sniffed hungrily, the air rushing into and out of the two slits for nostrils that adorned his face. With no sign or scent catching his attention, he turned briefly to witness as dozens of forms raced through the darkness behind him. It was one thing, looking out for the beasts he was hunting. But it was entirely another knowing that the others of his own clan were just as likely to be hunting him. After all, there was no shame in eliminating your competition. It was more or less the primary means for promotion in the Orcish hierarchy.
Gnak silently dared them to come, he was raised to have no fear or compassion, and would show them neither. How much more glorious would the return from the hunt be if he brought with him not only a magnificent beast, but also the tusks of those who wished to gain position by his death? Turning again, he began to run once more into the night with a wolfish grin upon his purple lips.
Another half an hour, and he rushed past the first trees that marked the edge of the base of the mountains. From here on he knew it would be slower going, forced to climb uphill against both gravity and the breeze. But even so, he would not back down from the challenge. In fact, he intended to climb higher than he would normally hunt, for there were stories that said only the strongest of his prey could survive higher up.
Catunga began in three nights. So no matter what prey he found, he would need to return to camp with it in time to skin it, and have it prepared for the feast. Most large game needed a full day and night to roast upon a spit, cutting a full third off of the time he had. No, he needed to bag his trophy tonight and return to camp, even if it meant staying up the entire day that followed.
His deadline set, Gnak turned towards the largest trail that climbed the mountain. If he planned to climb higher than the rest he needed an easy approach to remain ahead of them. Besides, it was more than likely that only a few would dare venture as high as he. If any at all.
Reaching the trail he once again increased his pace, finding the well beaten path much easier to traverse. It was only an hour into his climb that he heard the roar from below. He recognized the sound instantly, and knew it to be one of the great brown bears that inhabited the mountain’s wooded slopes. By the pitch he guessed it to be a smaller bear, perhaps a yearling or slightly older. Any bear was a prize to be had, but he was glad his brethren were so easily satisfied. With so little ambition, those such as the bear’s slayer were not likely to pose a threat in the days to come.
Climbing higher and higher it was near the middle of the night, with the twin moons of Thurr, one blue and one red, directly above, that he saw the first immense track. Reaching down he placed both of his hands inside the impression in the soil, his fingers spread to their full extent. He did not even touch the edges of the track with both hands within it. At nearly nine feet tall, with broad shoulders and massive arms, Gnak was not small for an Orc by any means. His hands were large, even for an Orc and yet the track in the damp soil before him proved from a beast that would dwarf him by half.
Looking up the mountain side it was evident where the beast had passed, its tracks obvious in the damp soil. Gnak could not be certain if it was good or bad that he would be able to track the creature so easily. If
he
could track it, so could the others, and he would not want to find himself pinned between the beast and those who wished him harm. There was little choice in the matter, however, as this was precisely the type of creature he had sought. He knew, without even making a conscious decision, that he would track the creature back to its den if he needed to.
Without fear he altered course and began climbing once again through the darkness, away from the trail and into the ever thickening forest upon the mountain slopes. Here were mostly pines and ferns, interlaced with various vines and a smattering of mushrooms. The beast’s trail blazing through the undergrowth was easy enough to follow, and as such Gnak felt he was making good time.
Sniffing the air as he climbed, it was only an hour later when he picked up the distinct scent of the beast. Even by its smell it was monstrous, its odor reeking of decaying flesh, urine, and feces. Looking up through the canopy he located the stars he needed to mark his location, before his attention was broken from his calculations of his distance from camp. His head snapping down as he heard a branch crack with a snick, he slowed to a stop to listen as the sound was followed then by a rustling. Ahead, not far, was movement. It was slow and deliberate. Another branch snapped. Gnak sprang into action.
Ducking off the trail of prints and stench he followed, he quietly crept through the undergrowth, carefully selecting every footfall. Creeping, he sought to flank the creature and land a killing blow with one quick strike between the ribs. Following the ever moving sound he climbed slowly up and around his target, following it into a dense copse of firs. Ducking from shadow to shadow beneath the moons he crept on, growing nearer and nearer to the sounds ahead. It was not until he broke free of the dense trees into the clearing beyond that he realized his mistake.
