Take My Heart...: Dark Ages - Fantasy (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 3) (15 page)

Chapter Twenty Seven.

This boy was getting too far, too fast. He’d journeyed here with such easy and pushed his lumbering way through the first challenge so easily. He’d taken a few light injuries but then moved on. He could smell his blood on the sand of the arena but there was not nearly enough of it to matter. Worst of all he had help. They were breaking their own rules and guiding him. First that old meddler showed him the boat and the error of his ways, they let him prepare, then that black-haired bitch had actually changed the course of the battle so he’d win. He was meant to be lying dead in that sand now but instead he was alive and getting in the way of what had taken so much patience to prepare.

He’d waited so long for this chance. Finally after years and years of silent work they were weak enough for him to try again. This time, they wouldn’t win and throw him away like a prisoner in his own castle. They thought people would forget him, who could forget fear, who could forget nightmares and the terror of the dark. He had his Order, his black dogs and the creeping stories and legends in the world of man, he was far from forgotten, unlike half of them. Time had been a much better friend to him than to them.

That said the boy had unknowingly undone his best work. The many faced bringer, the face of the sun in this land and others. He’d weakened him in the human land. He’d converted his followers, destroyed his temples and finally, imprisoned the god on one plain. It had been all he wanted, an entire world of his own. Feeding him with the fear of millions of lost souls. Now that was in ruins. It was too late, though. He’d gained enough power to turn his whispers into commands and turned the Order from a few scared men to leading the kingdom of man. The boy would have a tough fight ahead of him.

Now the boy was in the hall and even waking them up. He looked and saw the blonde girl looking at the statue. It was a wooden carving of a deer-like creature. Surely some stupid North spirit of something or other. There were so many, how could one remember them all?

“I think he touched this one,” she said, she was still seeing little pieces of the recent past. They kept appearing to her and thus to him, her mind was open before him like a book in a library.

He saw it in her mind, the North boy speaking its name tending to it. He saw it looked better than it had in his mind. He walked to the statue, listening hard he could hear it. The faint hum of life deep inside, that shouldn’t be there.

“Hello, little friend,” he said to the Driaghhame statue. “Don’t you look well? Now, what are you going to do? Sing me to sleep?” He yelled in rage.

Taking the wooden statues head in his bare hands he ripped if off with a burst of strength. Wooden splinters flew into the air, he felt the rage within him and let it go. The girl was scared by his outburst and it fueled him. He ripped the wooden Driaghhame statue apart, throwing the broken pieces of wood to the marble floor.

“You should have stayed forgotten,” he said, panting with exertion. As he looked back and screamed in rage once again, the statue was back as it was before his attack. It stood peacefully and still, unmarked and uninjured.

“Why is it back?” she said.

“That’s how these things work, any attention is good attention, they are like plants, you just have to ignore them until they die, or dig out their roots” he said.

Grabbing her hand he pulled her onwards, they marched through the pathway of statues. As he walked he started to feel better, the rage in his body was starting to leave and a smile came to his face. All along him were the broken and fallen statues of the work he’d done. Beings that thought they were so special now left to crumble into dust. Years before he’d be stopped, they would have had the power to halt him, fight him and throw him back in that cell, but now they were just crumbling memories, dead inside. Priests killed, stories ripped from the world and temples burned, soon he’d be the only one just as it should be, the first and the last, that honor was his.

The girl pulled her hand from his and ran to a statue of a Pellosi god. It was the judge, her little friend.

“Your patron, the Judge, you’ve been helping him without knowing it, every time you call on that power you give power to him.”

The statue was strong and proud. A man with a book of laws in one hand and stern look on his face. He saw the crimes of the Pellosi and passed his judgment of them.

She’d been giving him strength and so had all the Pellosi, he had temples all over and they called on him before they sentence someone in a court from criminal activities. He was strong, for a Pellosi god, but that was like saying someone was smart for a Northman or tall for a dwarf.

He’d enjoy this, he could feel her emotions as she looked at the statue, she felt she’d let it down, she’d let herself down and deserved to be judged, he laughed to himself and putting his hand on the statue's forehead, concentrated hard. He opened his eyes and was in a different room, it was a vast empty space, at the very end he saw a man sitting in a large chair and he stood as he saw him.

He heard a voice boom in his mind
you shouldn’t be here
it rocked the room with the power of its righteous anger. He grit his teeth and kept walking slowly onwards. He felt a force hitting his body, first it was like a heavyweight in his muscles, then pain, it was as if every fiber of him was on fire, he screamed in agony and collapsed to the ground. The judge walked up to him slowly as he lay on the ground writhing.

I knew you’d come and I’m glad you finally can receive my judgment,
he saw the man’s hand reach out for him and as it did his head was filled with visions of the many crimes performed for him. He saw all the people killed and destroyed in his name. He saw his red-shirted minions killing and felt the fear they created in their wake. He’d caused so much terror and death. The pain disappeared and he felt strong, the judgment only made him stronger. He stood and looked at the shocked face of the Judge, grabbing the man-god by his shoulder he smashed forehead hard into his face. The Judge staggered back bleeding, clothing his face in shock and growing fear.

“I never felt any guilt, only pride” he yelled as he dived on to the man and started hitting him again and again.

Chapter Twenty Eight.

Josette was led at sword point by three women, she could feel the blade lightly touching her back. Angelina walked at their head, leading the way through the vast temple that was their home. She counted, at least, twenty guards they passed along the way, all women, they bowed deeply to Angelina as she passed.

She led the way into a fine bedroom that was lit by a few candles and darkened. She saw Minsetta was sitting slumped in a chair with her hands bound in front of her, a small trickle of blood tainting the corner of her mouth. Angelina waved the guards away and gestured Josette to go to her friend. She went to Minsetta but she was fine, just a bit roughed up, she looked more angry than scared. She had a fire in her eyes Josette hadn’t seen before and she knew that all her courtesy and manners were just a front and that this woman was indeed a killer as well.

“Sorry for the ropes sister, just a precaution, and feel free to try your dirt tongue chanting, it won’t work here, we are protected by the righteous fury,” she said, making no moves to untie her. The woman walked to a small polished wooden stand and poured herself only a small drink of wine and came back, glass in her hand.

“Sister?” Josette asked.

“Oh not blood, clearly.” Minsetta was a goddess next to this scarred fighter. “Sister of the order I mean”

“I was never one of you sexless harpies,” Minsetta said darkly looking up and glaring at the woman.

“True enough” she said, then turning to Josette, “we took her in, hid her, fed her, trained her and nursed her injuries and then when she was the strong proud creature you see now and we ask just a small favour of her, she runs,” the woman literally spat as she spoke the words. “Turned her back on us.”

“I never believed as you do, so I left, would you rather I lie to your face and tell you I cared about any of this shit,” she yelled back.

“Believed? Believed you saw the proof, we showed you it all,” Angelina yelled back, and she pulled out a small blade from behind her.

“Enough of this, why are you here? And not from your liars lips, no your little redhead friends,” she said.

“We thought you were someone else, the church of the divine child, the king’s mercenaries are coming and we sought to warn them,” she said quietly.

“Oh,” was all she said back. “But why would you care to help them, it’s not like you to care about anyone else?”

Josette had had enough of this grudge match between the two women. “Look we were just helping a friend. Seth, the Druheim? Maybe you know what that is? Anyway, you don’t need protection or help from us, so we’ll just leave, ok”

“Of course girl, are you tied up? No you can leave whenever you want, but she’s staying, as for your friend Seth, the Druheim, he’d better be careful wherever he is because some people don’t like it when you try to hurt their family.”

“It’s got nothing to do with your sisters of fury at all?” she said back.

“Hasn’t it? Fury is the sister of fear. Now fuck off before I change my mind.”

****

Goldie woke to the cold wet shock of a bucket of dirty water being thrown over his face, he lunged forward with a dagger but the boy jumped aside with a laugh, wooden bucket in hand.

“Is that any way to treat your friend!” the boy cried. “You’re late for the first match, did you get drunk? that was stupid.”

Indeed, Goldie had gotten drunk. It had been a terrible night. He hadn’t quite made it to the Lady’s temple but just the wine stands and dice games that were being played outside. He had lost in a truly epic fashion. He’d laid down a big handful of gold on the first roll of the dice to cheers of the assembled drunks, confident in his Lady. He’d spent the next few hours chasing that gold down the hole with more and more. Every roll was bad, everyone hated him, even the wine tasted bad. He’d never felt anything like it, it was awful.

Goldie staggered to his feet. “Right, what’s first,” he said to the boy, now he was standing his head has really starting to pound, he had no faith in himself at all now.

“First is archery, lucky for you every person has to use the same bow, cause I think you lost yours,” the boy said.

He had, it was gone in a bet, along with his sword, but luckily not his horse which had wandered off on its own to the fish stall.

“I’m not sure about this kid, last night I had the worst luck I’ve ever had, the worst in my life, maybe the Lady isn’t with me.” he said.

“You’d better be joking. I made my dad advance me the next two years of my wages to bet on you winning,” he said.

“What? Really” Goldie said.

“Of course, you’re my chance, if you win every challenge I’ll make more gold than you, now follow me and try to look a little more wretched, it’ll increase my odds.”

Goldie didn’t have to play it up, he felt sick in his stomach from the cheap wine and staggered after the boy through the thick crowd of people. Most now knew that he’d entered all of the competitions, they’d seen him bet heavily on himself and saw him lose in such a bad fashion. The laughter of the crowd nipped at his already shattered confidence. At least, it was archery, he might be hung over but thanks to Seth he was much better than most people at this.

The boy lead him through the crowd yelling as he went. “Clear the way for the ladies champion. Get out your gold and bet heavily on this man to win, win, win,” it just brought more laughter.

Soon they had reached the archery field. It was in the center of the town. They had cleared the road and people stood along the sidelines. It was very dangerous, still what did he expect. He looked at his completion as he stood on the mark, there were only four other than him and they all looked good, well rested and serious. One was a Pellosi girl, who looked every bit an archer, tight leather clothes and ponytail pulled back. One old mercenary and two Pellosi men, with their tanned skin and smug faces. There was only one bow for them to use in turn which was good, a better weapon would deliver a clear advantage.

A priest of the lady stood at the side and glared at him. He was dressed in long black robes in the hot sun sweat was dripping down his bald head into the fold of his black robe. Goldie felt the stink of booze coming off himself and thought he must look a sight.

“Well people here we are again, ladies day, who will be her champion, normally we have a champion of archery, a champion of sword and dice, and all the other skills she can help with but this day we have a man who would do them all,” he scowled. “You’ll need her most of all,” he said and the crowd laughed.

Goldie looked at the targets far down the road and it was a tough distance for anyone, he squinted to see them through bleary eyes.

“Three arrows each, closest to center wins, it’s simple, now bets all round and someone place a bet for me that our friend, the champion, misses all three,” he said. Goldie glared at the man with malice, he’d clearly made an enemy in him saying he spoke for the Lady.

He was last to arrive and would shoot last, which was good, he’d get a chance to see the competition. The other four all took their time. It was such a distance that not all shots made it. The Pellosi girl fell short on the first shot and the second two we're good, the Pellosi men were excellent, all three hitting near the center and the old mercenary, just threw up his hands, muttering, “Fucking Pellosi” and walked off after seeing the others shoot. So he had to beat three right near the center, would have been easy on another day, why did he have to get so drunk? He remembered just being passed free drinks again and again by the server and never asked to pay, that was the only good part of the night.