The Champions (10 page)

Sara waited as the horizon grew brighter and brighter but a
moment before the sun rose she found herself no longer alone.

“Princess, you would do well to don your helm before the sun
rises,” Jonas said from behind her.

The large beast of a man had managed to walk right up on her
without her noticing. She needed to focus. Seth
needed
her to focus.

“I no longer have a helm Jonas, but thank you for your
concern,” Sara replied.

Rising to her feet and deciding she had better find a cloak
or cape with a cowl, Sara turned to find Jonas closing the gap between them.
His large fur-covered body stood in stark contrast to the blanket of snow
around him. In his hand he held her helm. One of the troops must have recovered
it after she discarded the thing. From now on she would not fight without it.
She could not risk biting anyone else.

Thanking the beast of a man, Sara accepted the helm that had
obviously been cleaned and polished. She placed it over her head, snapping the
visor shut just as the sun broke the horizon.

Hundreds of miniscule connections were instantly ripped
away. Sara wept silently within her armor. It was the exact opposite of feeding
upon someone. Dark, cold, devoid of life and pleasure, the absence of emotion
flowed through Sara making her feel empty and less than worthless. She suffered
it in silence as she and Jonas regarded each other through crimson lenses. More
upsetting still, over a third had survived. They would continue to spread. With
nothing more to look forward to, she placed her hand upon Jonas’ fur covered
shoulder in thanks, and stepped past him to see about her husband.

*****

It was not a long or difficult process that Seth chose for
his surrogate father and family friend. In fact, one of the auras he used to
alter them he had been reserving since magically transporting himself halfway
across the world. The other had been brought to him.

When calling upon his blessing in the past, James would grow
from six and a half feet to over forty. Seth wondered how big he would get now
that he was near double his original height in his unblessed form. Stepping
back out of his dad’s immense shadow, Seth craned his neck back to appraise his
work.

James was almost twelve feet tall with four massive arms and
a chest as wide as two ox carts. His skin was thick and leathery, with creases
and cracks. Where his nose had been stood a large horn, and below it his
nostrils. From his forehead sprouted yet another horn and his fingers and toes
had become thicker and stronger as well. Though he was not as invincible as his
son the king, James’s new attributes made him nearly as immune to physical
harm.

Jack was altered identically. Although naturally smaller
than James, and smaller too in blessed form, the fact that he could split into
a pair of warriors made his transformation dually impressive. Seth, satisfied
with his work, allowed the pair to go about the business of trying to find
weapons suitable to their new size. Seth doubted they would find anything but
wished them both luck.

Sitting down, Seth watched the world grow brighter around
him, and cautious with his eyes, he pulled his cowl down low as the sun broke
the horizon. With the freshly fallen snow he could not look in the sun’s
direction at all. Without another option, Seth closed his eyes, switching to
his vision of the gods just in time to see Sara approaching from behind.

“How went your night, my love?” Seth asked without so much
as turning to see who approached.

“It was terrible, but I pray for a better today,” Sara
replied.

“So you pray now, do you?” Seth asked jokingly. “Which god
has your devotion?”

“You Seth, you and only you,” Sara told him, sitting down
beside her husband. “Do you think we can defeat the gods and Sigrant in a
single battle?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it,” Seth answered earnestly.

“What will it take?” Sara asked.

“Every leader of every nation to get along. All wars have to
stop. That’s the only way to show the gods that we are in charge of our own
destinies,” Seth said, his shoulders sagging.

Many minutes of silence passed as Sara leaned into her
husband, cuddling as best as she was able with him. Before long Borrik winged
in overhead and settled to the ground as Jonas came trotting up as well.

“My prince,” Borrik began, “your brother is returning with
the army of Valdadore. He is going to try a new tactic and see if we can hold
the enemy at bay. He is as yet unaware of your father’s alteration.”

“Very well Borrik, shall we head to the front lines then?”
Seth asked.

“If you wish, master.”

Seth nodded slowly, tired yet without the need or desire to
sleep. It was his soul that was weary. Standing, Seth pulled Sara to her feet,
though she obviously needed no help, and together the four walked back to the
field of battle. Many of Seth’s troops awaited his arrival. Others showed up
each minute. Beyond his troops all of his created champions where there as
well, minus his father and Jack. Each of them had been told that their purpose
was to hold back the common troops of Sigrant, and slay only the champions.
Seth hoped they all stuck to the plan. He also hoped his brother had not
changed it.

The enemy approached from the opposite side. Only moments
remained.

*****

King Sigrant listened as his head cleric explained her
theories. He was intent, like her, to discover exactly what was going on, and
further, how he could use it to his advantage.

“As far as we can tell, your majesty, it works much like a
disease,” the woman named Salidaran explained. “Think of it as a magical
virus.”

“Very well,” nodded the king.

“When a person is bitten they contract the disease, and a
short period later our healers can do nothing for them. The disease itself does
not kill those infected though. We have made a discovery, and as it turns out,
those infected cannot withstand the sun. It kills them in about a minute,” the
cleric said, so giddy with excitement that she nearly clapped.

“So they get bitten, get infected and, like a rabid dog,
bite others. Then, they all walk into the sun and poof, they are all dead?”
Sigrant asked, skeptical.

“Yes, but we have discovered even more amazing things about
the disease,” she responded, then carried on without awaiting the king’s
approval. “Your majesty, the disease also has benefits. It makes those infected
heal more quickly; it makes them stronger, faster, and more agile too. It is
like creating your own champions simply by having the infected ones bite
others!”

“So let me get this straight. The virus makes normal people
into magnificent warriors, but also makes it so the sun kills them and they
feed upon everyone else uncontrollably?” Sigrant asked mockingly.

“Yes, your majesty, but it can be stopped without killing
all those infected,” she added to entice him to listen further.

“How so?”

“When you were bitten, the disease began to spread through
your body just as it had already through your wives. Had I arrived seconds
later you would have died as the disease would have blocked my healing
abilities. Except the disease vanished. When the infected man in your tent
succumbed to the wound in his heart, all those he had infected, such as
yourself and your wives, were cured. I managed to heal you all with little
effort. All your wives are alive and well, your majesty,” Salidaran exclaimed.

“So we hunt down the original thirteen infected to spare the
rest,” Sigrant summarized, assuming that was the cleric’s plan.

“We could, my king, but at present we are doing some
experiments with the one we captured,” she stated.

“What kind of experiments?” the king asked but before the
head cleric could reply a junior mage rushed around the corner shouting, “You
were right, head mistress! You were right! Feeding and transmitting the disease
does
make them stronger!”

King Sigrant glared at the young mage, seriously considering
having the man put to death for his interruption. Then, realizing what it was
the boy had said, pieces of a great puzzle slid into place in his calculating
mind.

“Explain yourself, whelp!” the king demanded.

“Apologies, my king. We have been feeding him, and with each
person he infects he grows stronger,” the boy explained.

“Where is he now?” Sigrant asked.

“He has escaped, my king. He grew so strong he bent the bars
to his cage, but we still have the ones he infected,” the young cleric
responded.

“Leave me. I need to think and I have a battle to oversee.”

Linaya and Zorbin both awoke refreshed. Over the last weeks
they had become accustomed to sleeping upon the ground so the beds were a
welcome change. Rising, both of them dressed, and with nothing better to do
they waited for Gumbi to return and take them to meet the king.

Linaya found the dwarven hierarchy interesting and, in the
absence of other matters to discuss that they had not already spoken of, she
voiced her questions.

“Zorbin, how are the dwarves ruled?” Linaya asked and then
continued as if to clarify, “I mean, without a royal council, how are the
duties of the kingdom divided?”

“A good question, m’lady,” Zorbin replied. “It is simple
really. Many, many generations ago when dwarves first came to these mountains,
there were twelve different clans. Each clan had a chief. Today each of those
clans is a warren, and each warren is overseen by a thane. The king rules the
thanes.”

“And the king is chosen in a fight to the death?” Linaya
questioned.

“Long story short, yes,” Zorbin replied with a smirk.

“So, all the candidates get locked in a room and a few hours
later the last man standing is crowned the king,” Linaya stated more than
asked.

“Short version not enough for ye, huh?” Zorbin joked.
“Thought the purdy ones wasn’t sposed to think none?”

Linaya laughed so hard she snorted. “I thought I was so ugly
it might be contagious?”

This time it was Zorbin’s turn to laugh.

“To be honest, it is infinitely more complex than a simple
fight to the death. Imagine a giant chamber filled with everything two people
need to survive. Now imagine you put twelve people in the room. There are
supplies in the room to do just about anything, but not enough for everyone.
Some might gather the food and horde it, while others find a place they can
defend easily. Others yet might begin by seeking weapons and armor. Some may
share and barter, while some might fight for what they want. It takes every
skill each of them has to survive the trial, and actually two come out alive.
One has to accede to the other’s leadership. This part, in the past, has taken
weeks. Supplies in the chamber are limited, but two have to survive. Once out
of supplies it is a battle of attrition. The weaker will eventually give in and
the stronger will assume the throne. It is not a ritual that happens frequently
as we dwarves live longer than you humans, but it has been known to take a
month or more when the warrens have chosen their candidates well.”

“By the gods, what is the shortest amount of time it has
taken?” Linaya asked, concerned.

“Nine seconds,” Zorbin replied smiling. “My
great-great-grandfather was the first into the chamber. First thing he grabbed
was a pick axe. Killed ten men in about seven seconds, as soon as they climbed
through the portal. Only took two more to convince his last opponent to give
up.”

“Oh my,” Linaya exclaimed.

“Never missed a meal to home neither!” Zorbin announced
proudly.

“That’s not the way I heard it!” Gumbi said, striding into
the room. “I seem to recall it was eleven seconds, maybe fourteen.” The dwarf
smiled through his immense beard.

“T’was it not for my great-great-grandfather being so
convincing, Ol’ Gumbi here might not’ve been around today,” Zorbin proclaimed.

“Truly Gumbi? Your great-great-grandfather was the last
survivor to stand before Zorbin’s and he acceded to his rule?” Linaya asked,
enthralled.

“Tis true, but how could he not with the man standin’ in the
way with an ole pickaxe?” Gumbi questioned.

“What was your great-great-grandfather’s name, Gumbi?”
Linaya asked.

“T’was Gumbi as well, the seventeenth methinks,” Gumbi
replied.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what does your name mean in
the human tongue?” Linaya queried. She found dwarven culture exhilarating.

“Roughly it be meanin' man who walks with a swollen chest,”
Gumbi answered.

Linaya could not stifle a giggle.

“Hey now there, lady, ‘tis a proud name among my people,”
Gumbi said, almost sternly. “If ye wants a laugh, ask ole Zorbin what his name
be meanin’ in your tongue.”

“Zorbin?” Linaya asked.

“I ain’t sayin,” Zorbin replied.

“Oh come now, Zorbin, ole swollen chest told me his,” she
giggled again.

“Fine,” Zorbin relented. “It means, he with bearded nipples
and a bald bottom.”

Linaya was overcome again and began laughing. Within seconds
all three laughed, but even so Gumbi had one last tidbit to add.

“Funny thing is, ole bearded nipples here is named after his
mother!” Gumbi cried before he rocked back on his heels laughing so hard his
beard and belly bounced with the action.

Linaya, moments later, had to pull herself up from the
floor. She had laughed so hard her legs began to tremble and she barely avoided
peeing herself.

*****

King Robert Sigrant stood looking out upon his army. He
watched as the opposing force moved into position and suddenly had a change of
heart. It had been his intention to destroy the champions of Valdadore, for
they were really the only thing standing in his way. Now, however, seeing how
it appeared the young king of Valdadore was trying to protect the bulk of his
army behind the front lines, Sigrant decided to change tactics.