Duty Calls: The Reluctant War God Book 1

by Bill D. Allen

  Captain Rosten favored a place near the main gate called the Black Rose. During the day I trained with the fighting men, but at night, after a few songs to the troops at chow time, I was free to accompany Rosten and entertain at the Inn. Rank does have its privileges.

  We had a welcomed week of respite from the panic. For some reason, the Jegu paused after crossing the border in the kingdom. The defenders had no detailed intelligence. Scouts embarked, but none returned. Perhaps the Jegu were building siege engines. Perhaps they were recovering from wounds suffered in previous battles, gaining up strength for the coming fight, but for whatever reason the pause gave the Guldon troops more time to prepare the defense.

  As those defenses firmed up, I got to spend more time at the Black Rose and fencing and less digging ditches which suited me just fine. The defenses were about as ready as they could be.

  The familiar, boisterous atmosphere of the great room of the Black Rose felt like my natural habitat. A few tankards and a few songs raised anyone’s spirits, but this is where I tended to truly thrive. I also did what I could here and there to assist in bolstering the cheer of the others. I fought the black dread hanging over the troops with lively jigs and dirty ditties.

  In the process, I also overheard stories about the Jegu invasion from the conversations of the customers. Many were refugees from neighboring kingdoms. What they said was disturbing.

  None knew where Jegu came from. He had no people. His troops were a mishmash of conscripted men and women from the lands he had conquered. They had disparate cultures, random weapons, many even spoke different languages. The one thing they had in common was a fanatical devotion to Jegu’s divinity and holy right to dominate all lands and all peoples.

  It seemed Jegu could easily divide the loyalties of lifelong friends and close families. Those who took up his banner would perpetrate any audacity against those people whom they had supposedly loved. Husbands had slain wives. Parents had slain their own children. Those who escaped were dumbfounded as to the power Jegu wielded to create such fanatical zealotry.

  I’d seen it before, or at least something damn near like it. My family had led millions to their deaths, shouting in ecstasy as they slew their fellow mortals or praising us with their agonal last breaths. Still, Jegu seemed better at it than we’d ever been.

  I played near the hearth where I could keep an eye on the room and they could all get a good look at me as well. One night, I was about halfway through an old moonshiner song when I noticed the Black Rose had hired a new serving girl. She had dark eyes and hair and just a glance of her made me miss the next chord and stammer over the lyrics. I made a joke of it and recovered immediately, but to tell the truth, I was astonished a mortal woman had affected me so greatly.

  I’d lived hundreds of lifetimes, and there would be no way to count the number of women I’d known in that time, but only a handful had immediately created such a feeling of attraction within me. I made it my mission to come to know her, and over the next week I did so.

  The woman was named Angelina. I ensured she was the girl who brought me my drinks so we could share a word here and there. When we looked at each other, an obvious, undeniable flame of desire burned bright along with more than a bit of mischievous playfulness.

  She was smart witted, trim waisted and big breasted and to top if off, she liked musicians—what more could I ask for?

  Of course, she was no longer a girl. She was around thirty, an age just starting to be unkind to mortal women who had to work as hard as she did in a world such as this. The lack of medical care, reliable nutrition, and reliance on physical labor made for low life expectancies. The flower of her youth was still on her face, but faded and just beginning to wither, but a light from within her shined more brightly than any young little tart.

  She was more than she appeared to be. As we grew to know each to each other our relationship developed quickly, in part fueled by our evident natural attraction to each other and in part certainly due to the air of eminent threat suffusing the city. How long was there to live? Why not take a chance on a romance?

  She was rather quiet about herself. She avoided talking about her past. At her age, in this culture, she was an old maid. It was unusual for a woman, especially one as beautiful as Angelina to be unmarried and without children. There was an air of tragedy about her, so out of respect for her privacy I did not pry. If she came to trust me, eventually she might share her story, or not—her prerogative.

  I liked her more than I had liked anyone for a long time. And from the way we got along, particularly in bed, I think she also thought well of me. Of course, I might have been flattering myself. Even though I am a god, I am still male and subject to bouts of foolishness when dealing with women, and I would have it no other way.

  She brought me one of those drinks and stayed for a few minutes to talk. “Your songs seem wistful tonight,” she said. “Is there something bothering you?”

  “Just remembering. People I’ve known, friends and lovers. The past is full of ghosts.”

  She nodded. And she did know, I could tell.

  “I’ll sing something happy for you, Angelina. If you want.”

  “No, sing what you feel. There’ll be time for happy songs later,” She stole a glance toward the table where Captain Rosten sat with his sergeants then looked back at me with a grin. “Will I be seeing you tonight?”

  “Perhaps, I have some things to do this evening.”

  “Guard duty?”

  “Of a sort.”

  “I don’t know how you do it. You’re a wily man, but don’t take too many chances, hon.”

  “Are you getting tired of me?”

  “No, But I don’t want you to get into trouble. I heard they are slitting the throats of soldiers caught outside the camp after curfew. They are calling them deserters.”

  “You’re worth the risk.”

  “No, I’m not, now promise me you won’t be foolish.”

  “I promise,” I said with a grin.

  She looked at me and smile knowingly, then went back to serve the crowd.

  She knew as well as I did that I’d come scratching at her door like a tomcat as soon as I could. I could tell it made her feel good to be so wanted, and believe me, I wanted her.

  I’d quickly taken to the habit of sneaking out of the camp late at night and spending time with Angelina. I walked the aether between the veil of worlds so none could see me pass. I saw no reason to spend the night on the cold ground when I could spend it in Angelina’s sweet embrace.

  When I finished my set, I walked over to Captain Rosten’s table. He’d gathered his company sergeants together and he was talking of the war.

  “The Jegu camp is about ten miles away. They haven’t done anything in the last three days except eat like locusts. Their raiders have swept most of the countryside clean. We’ve had a few survivors wander in, but most are either dead, or they’ve joined with the Jegu.”

  Toger spat. “I don’t understand why so many are turning traitor.”

  Sergeant Hodge, a lean, older man with a deeply tanned face spoke. “I’ve heard talk the priests can do something to their minds. They have some magic.”

  “Better to die,” said Toger.

  Rosten nodded. “Perhaps, but I’m not sure the choice is yours. Jegu may have more control than you realize.”

  “Do the king’s magicians have anything to counter the Jegu’s magic?” Hodge asked.

  Rosten shook his head. “No, his magicians are more astrologers than battle mages. The priests of Yond have promised the thunder god is with us.”

  “What of Kaltron?” asked Josen, the third of Rosten’s sergeants.

  “Ah yes, what of Kaltron? Who knows? The war god is fickle. Without his sword the rest of the gods are powerless to defeat such an army. He must channel their power through his blade. So far, I would say he’s on the side of Jegu.”

  I had long since learned the folly of standing up for myself, but I was surprised when
Toger moved to defend my honor.

  “No. Kaltron isn’t likely to go for that lot,” said Toger, then he added, “although he is a cruel bastard. You can’t trust a damn thing he says or does.”

  He took another sip of his drink. “Hell, now that I think about it has anyone considered that this Jegu might actually be Kaltron in disguise? He is an evil one.”

  What can I say? My fans love me.

  “Well, for all the stories of gods I’ve seen little sign of truth,” said Rosten. “The only thing I’ve seen is how the eyes of the Jegu warriors are filled with something I can’t understand.”

  Sergeant Meno, who had been quietly nursing a cup of ale spoke up. “Oh, the gods are real enough. When I was a lad I once saw a man with a suit of crystal armor on a winged horse.”

  Sounded like father must have been out looking for a piece of ass.

  Meno put down his ale and pointed his finger as if he were tracking an object in the air. “I saw it as clear as day. I watched him fly across the sky, land on a hill just down the road and then transform from a god, to the form of a young nobleman on a stallion.”

  “If they are real, why do they stand by and allow us to die,” Hodge said.

  Rosten shook his head. “We can’t look to the gods. We’ve got to get the men ready and let the gods do what they will. The Jegu have a god and I wouldn’t want to trade them. Perhaps we mortals are better off without their help.”

  The sergeants left to gather up their men and head back to camp. Captain Rosten and I sat and finished one more round before we headed back.

  “Now they’re gone, what do you really think?” I asked him.

  “Just what I said, Carl. I trust steel a lot more than prayers.”

  “Do you think steel is enough this time?’

  Rosten put down his mug and dug into his belt pouch for a small pipe and a bit of tobacco. “I’ve seen you at training, Carl. You’ve been around. I don’t know when you started this trade as a musician, but I’d wager you were a soldier once, a professional.”

  “Is my singing that bad?”

  “No, but your swordplay is that good.”

  I shrugged. “What about it?”

  He lit his pipe and sat back. “You’ve seen our army, our regulars along with a mob of farmers forced to fight and trying desperately not to shit themselves. Obviously we need more than steel. We also need courage and luck. If the gods can put some steel in our souls and some good fortune in our hands, I’d take it, but I’d still worry about the cost.”

  I nodded. “The price of salvation.”

  “The gods are shrewd merchants. I’ve yet to see man come out ahead in any trade.”

  He had no idea how true his words were. “The way I see it, Captain, is men have to do the right thing with or without the gods. It doesn’t matter if there is a heaven or hell. We know we have a here and now. We know how to treat the people around us. We should do the right thing for ourselves and others and let the gods sort it all out amongst themselves. It if turns out there really is some divine judgment, then if we treated each other well, we’ll do all right in the afterlife. If we don’t do so well because we didn’t give the right sacrifice or kiss the right holy ass, then the gods are fickle bastards and we could never expect a fair trial anyway.”

  Rosten shook his head. “I hope we don’t get struck by lightning because of all the blasphemy you’ve been spouting.”

  “Trust me, I don’t think there’s any chance of that happening. The thunder god and I have an arrangement.”

  We finished our ale in silence, then returned to camp.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As much as I enjoy the simplicity of the old days my enjoyment of the culture does not extend to the bathroom. Give me a flush toilet, a nice exhaust fan and soft two-ply tissue and I’m a happy war god. Unfortunately, a couple of boards over an open trench with a tarp lean-to was currently in vogue, at least for a war camp. The royals had it much better. They had a hand carved wooded seat over a hole opening to a sewer below. They even had fresh corn cobs to clean up with and they didn’t have to share. Ah, the luxury.

  I was stuck with what I had. The smell was horrible. The best time to go the latrine pit was at night because it was cooler and there were fewer flies. I tended to hold it the best I could until dark and take a late night constitutional to the crapper. Moments like this highlighted that although I might be a god, I wasn’t too far above any human who ever lived.

  I was sitting there, doing my business and trying to make the best of it when the reeking stench was overwhelmed by the new odor of smoke. Thick smoke. It took me a moment to realize the latrine itself was actually on fire, filling with smoke and flames were licking up the tarp walls.

  I jumped, pulled up my drawers as best I could and shuffled outside as fast as possible. I tripped twice and scrambled on all fours to get away. I may be a god but I still feel pain and I’d been burned horribly more than once. Not any fun. The fact my ass and junk were exposed to potential risk didn’t help.

  When I thought I had cleared the danger zone I looked back at the latrine, almost fully engulfed. Then I heard the laughter of a woman.

  I knew the voice.

  “Come on Enyo, why the hell did you do that?”

  A slim girl dressed in black stepped from behind the latrine. Her halo illuminated her face with a deep blue light. She was crying—with laughter. “Are you kidding me? Look at you. That was hilarious.”

  “You are waking the entire camp,” I said.

  “Then come take a walk with me, she said, and phased into the aether.

  I followed. We were just enough out of sync with the here and now to render ourselves invisible and intangible. There was a slight shift in my perception of color and sound, but I was conscious of all surrounding me

  We walked slowly as the soldiers of the camp sounded the alarm. Some began to arm themselves for an attack, but they quickly realized the problem and began a fire brigade of water pails to put out the blaze. They ran around us, through us, never seeing us or sensing our presence. We were the substance of dreams. We walked toward a high point away from the main part of the crowd to a position where we could sit on the grass and watch the show.

  Enyo pointed and laughed at the chaos. Her laugh hadn’t changed, a harsh, tittering, evil thing like a child watching a fly writhe after having pulled off its wings.

  I looked at the joy in her face from the destruction and panic. But still, she had her sensuous, cruel beauty which spoke of other…forbidden things. It made me stir in spite of myself in ways I was ashamed of.

  Her eyes were dark, her irises almost black, as was her long, straight hair. Her lips were decorated with bright red lipstick. These features stood out starkly against her pale, smooth skin. She looked young and frail but it was a dangerous mistake to believe so.

  She wore black leathers and had a slim rapier sheathed at her side which I knew she could wield with deadly proficiency. Her clothing fitted loosely enough for ease of motion in fighting, but tightly enough to prevent being caught up by an enemy and, not coincidentally, tight enough to emphasize her cruelest weapons—her breasts, hips and her delicious bottom.

  She was the most sadistic, insanely chaotic female I’d ever known and although I never loved her and she had certainly never loved me, in the bad old days we’d had the best sex I’d ever had and we were insatiable.

  I’d joined her in many dark amusements then. She’d been my companion, my shield maiden, my partner in sins of the flesh. We’d bathed in the blood and mayhem of battle and made love with such passion it would have shredded the flesh of any mortal. It hurt like hell, even for a god. That was sort of the point. I liked it. We both did. But it wasn’t good for me to like it anymore. She was still the same spoiled, child and I’d grown up.

  “Was that really necessary? They ought to take away that halo.”

  She looked at me, curious. “But, where would I attach my handcuffs” she said and posed with her hands ove
r head, writhing as if helpless and vulnerable.

  I reacted predictably and she laughed at my expression. “Well, you seem to still have the desire within you. Why do you insist on keeping that stick up your ass? Loosen up. I’d hoped you were feeling some of the old yearning now that you’re coming back to the fold.”

  I picked a piece of tall grass and began twisting it into knots. “Who said I was coming back?”

  “No one had to. Didn’t Yond tell you what was going on? Aren’t you here in the middle of it? It isn’t much of a stretch to assume the old fires are starting to burn again. I’m surprised you held out this long. Seems masochistic in the most boring way possible.”

  “I’m just here to find out more about Jegu. I have no intention of leading the gods into battle. I’m not even leading these mortals. I’m one of the low men on the totem pole in this army. Why do you think I was shitting in a ditch.”

  She shrugged. “Whose to say what odd habits you’ve picked up in your time away from the celestial realm?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Whatever, I’m used to it. I’m still angry at you for wussing out on me. You left me alone and bored. We had such a good thing going.”

  “It was a horrible thing. It was wrong.”

  She shrugged again. “It was fun. You had fun, too. You don’t like to admit it, but you were an evil freak like no other. Holy shit the things you came up with. The punishments. The names for cocktails. And those hot wings, wow!”

  I sighed. “I don’t like to admit it because I’m ashamed of who I was.”

  “Shame’s a thing for mortals to keep them in line.”

  “I think the gods need to keep in line, too.”

  “We agree to disagree, and you’re the one in the flaming outhouse so just take that into account when you evaluate the results.”

  The men about of the camp had quickly dowsed the fire. There was no sign of a sneak attack on our strategic shitter. No one knew how it happened and everyone was so tired they really didn’t care so they milled around a bit then drifted back to their blankets and bunks.