Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2)

by Brent Lee Markee

  Vitiosi Dei

  Heritage of the Blood

  Book Two

  Copyright© 2015 Brent Lee Markee

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10:1514650088

  ISBN-13: 978-1514650080

  All characters within are purely fictional and do not represent people in the real world.

  Dedicated to my mother:

  For without her, these books would not exist.

  No, really.

  I would never have gotten around to writing book one if I hadn’t been working Sundays at the antique (junk) store her and my dad owned at the time.

  So thanks Mom for bringing me, Victor Deus, and all the others into this world.

  Prologue

  Nim awoke to the soft crackle of a fire, the gentle murmur of a nearby stream, and birds singing to the giant orb of light that was peeking over the crest of the horizon. Dew drops glistened on the fauna, and the brilliant purple hue of the sunrise faded into the blue-green that stretched towards the other horizon. Taking a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, Nim realized that today was not going to be on his list of pleasant days to remember. It was simply too nice of a morning, and in Nim's experience days that started off like this did not end well.

  Those feelings were soon justified. It had not taken the group long to come upon the encampment of the Order of the Griffon, and although they were admitted swiftly, Nim knew what they would find within. They were offered tea and treated very respectfully, but Nim was not in the mood for any of it. Zander had tried to calm him many times over the fifteen minutes that they sat in the well-manicured garden waiting patiently for the Grand Master, but it was to no avail. When the Grand Master came out to meet them, it took all of five minutes for Nim to lose the restraint he had on his emotions, and Zander had effectively kicked him out.

  Zander Halcyon, the Tetriarch of the Sorcerers and the most powerful Battlesorcerer alive, had dared to tell him to leave! If Zander hadn't been Nim's companion for so long he would have been staring up at the ceiling only moments after such a command. Instead of stabbing the man, however, Nim settled on glaring at everyone as he left the room. As he was leaving, he noticed the slight tick in Ashur's face as he tried to restrain a smirk. Nim's first thought was to turn around and kill everyone in the room to satisfy the torrent of rage rushing through his veins, but he settled for hand to hand practice with several members of the Order.

  Nim had been on edge since Victor had disappeared a week before, during the raid on the Blood Orc encampment, but it wasn't until he knocked out four of the monks in the training yard that he realized just how out of control he truly was. That damn letter the boy had left him still ran through his head every hour, and he found it hard to concentrate on anything but where Victor might be now. Why am I so worried about a letter from an eight and a half year old?

  Because you know he's right, said the little voice.

  Oh shut up.

  The final string on his emotional tether had snapped when they came upon a party of Giants shortly after they had awoken that morning. Nim's previous interactions with the massive men who lived in the mountains had been limited. Few giants came down from the mountains anymore, and the ones you did see in the cities were usually merchants' guards, or merchants themselves. It didn't take him by surprise when the party's gaze fell upon Shawnrik. Victor had known this would happen, but it hadn't made things any easier.

  Nim and Shawnrik wanted nothing more than to go out and search for Victor, but every avenue they followed after his disappearance had failed. The letter had told Nim to forget about Victor and focus on the task at hand. The only thing he knew was that something was going to happen in Asylum and they would be needed, and he didn't have time to stand around arguing with anyone.

  Shawnrik was prepared to argue, but Nim forcefully reminded him that Victor had told him that this would happen, and that he needed to go with his Giant kin. After having Victor's name yelled at him the fight visibly left Shawnrik, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Nim was sure that Shawnrik would ride to hell beside Victor if the boy had said it needed to be done—Victor seemed to have that effect on people. It was an ability that Nim himself also possessed, though to a much lesser degree. Nim had used it to his advantage his entire life, giving him an edge in his spy craft and making it easier to make back-room deals in the mercantile trade. Having that same ability turned against you was unnerving, and Nim wasn't sure he liked it.

  Taking his aggression out on the monks seemed to be going fairly well until a lanky, muscular young man with eyes like a hawk prowled into the circle. For the last twenty years, Nim had been in complete control of every confrontation, but fighting that blue eyed devil was like trying to have a knife fight with Stewart Cantel. Never one to give up, it took Nim a broken rib and three returns to consciousness before he ceded defeat to the young man. Nim briefly entertained the thought that he would have been able to beat the man if he had possessed his weapons, but after a few moments' consideration decided that it wouldn't have helped much.

  Learning that his assailant had been none other than Cypherious, prodigy of the Order, made him feel slightly less pitiful for his thrashing. As it happened, the meeting with the Grand Master concluded just in time for Nim's group to watch Nim get thoroughly beaten—definitely not a good day.

  As Nim had expected from the first moments of entering the compound, the Grand Master had denied their request. Orcs, Goblins, and their ilk were not a threat worthy of the mobilization of the Order. The Grand Master did make one concession, however; he would send with them his most prized student. Nim had plastered a smile onto his face as the old man announced that Cypherious would be accompanying them, his eyes trying to bore holes into the back of the old bastard’s skull. Definitely not a good day.

  The ride across the valley was not a quiet one, with Ashur, Dunnagan, and Zander heartily re-telling the incident with the young monk to the rest of the party, who had all seen the damn thing in the first place. To Cypherious's credit, he had not once boasted or said anything contrary. This might have been for the best, because the way Nim was feeling he might have killed the boy in his sleep.

  Entering the compound of the Wardens had been a breath of fresh air; Nim had always felt at home among the Wardens. Never had he met others more akin to himself: always ready for a fight, and always expecting one to be around the next corner. Besides the men and women he was currently riding with, the only other groups he could say had similar mindsets were the Protectorate Dirges and the Dracair.

  When they arrived at the complex that held the Field Marshall's offices they were ushered in immediately—another point in favor of the Wardens. After only a few minutes of conversation, orders were already being dispatched and the Wardens were preparing to ride to war. It seemed that a message had arrived only minutes before, updating the Wardens on the status of the engagement with the forces the Siniquitans had assembled near the city of Asylum to the south. The note had said that High Commander Stewart Cantel expected the battle to begin at any time, which likely meant that it had already begun, as it took the messenger four days to get to the Wardens. When Nim asked the Field Marshall why the Wardens and the Protectorate were communicating by messenger instead of by Mage, he was informed that the Wardens had already sent their Mages south to help with the battle. The only remaining Mage they had to receive communiques had fallen over dead last week.

  Nim had begun to feel a little better about the day, especially after he found out that the Wardens maintained a circle of transport with the city of Asylum. The only down side of the circle was that it took a lot of energy to invoke the runes, although hav
ing an overabundance of people who could work with such energies in the party made it a relatively simple matter. Activating the runes was simple enough if you could handle enough energy, but the runes themselves were some of the most complex workings that a Shaper could accomplish.

  Nim had once asked Simon Windsbane, the Arch Magus, how the runes worked. What followed was a two day lecture on quantum entanglement as it relates to space-time. There had been a lot of smiling and nodding involved, as Nim barely understood a third of the things that the Arch Magus was talking about. From what Nim had figured out by the end of the lecture, a Shaper (if they knew what they were doing) could link two places and create a gap in space-time between the two locations. The math involved seemed mind-numbingly complicated, and from the sounds of it, even the slightest error could be catastrophic in an infinite variety of ways. Because of the difficulty involved, it could take several years from conception to creation.

  Finding out the Wardens had a circle of transport made Nim rethink his opinion on how terrible of a day he was having. With any luck he might be eating dinner with the Knights at the Protectorate base camp, and if the battle had already begun he could kill a few dozen goblins before the day was through. He kept these positive thoughts in his head long enough to exit the room that held the transport circle in Asylum. That's when he heard the screaming.

  The steady stream of people heading west away from the outer walls of the city was also a good indication that something was awry. It wasn't until he could grab hold of someone who could speak in coherent sentences that he had a clear picture of what Victor's warning had been about: The attack to the north had been a distraction, throwing away hundreds of thousands of lives in order to pull off their real attack.

  Nim reached the first major intersection before he found someone that could give him more information. The man had an old, worn city guardsman's uniform on. He was directing traffic, and generally trying to keep the population of the city from acting like frightened animals. According to the old guard, the Dracair sent a group of Dracairei over the wall sometime in the night, and when the attack began to the north this morning the Dracairei killed the guards at the gates. Shortly thereafter, a force of Dracani and Magnus Dracani were seen heading towards the city at a full run.

  The city guard was mobilized, but quickly discovered that the eastern gate was no longer under their control and attempted to rectify that. Their assault did not go well. These men might be a match for a Dracani Warrior, but they were not prepared to fight a squad of assassins. Seeing that there was little chance of taking back the gates before the enemy arrived, the Guard Commander decided that it would be better to evacuate the residents of the outer district. He put into effect a plan for a fighting retreat, and his men went to work destroying key structures in order to slow the enemy's advance. It was that action that had given Nim the time he needed to take command and give the city a fighting chance.

  “Where in the name of all that is good and holy are those damn monks?”

  “The messages were sent less than an hour ago, General. I don't think we should expect them anytime soon.”

  “What's the status of the perimeter?”

  “Sir, battle lines are currently holding. We have managed to halt their advance through the city, and we are in the process of preparing the predesignated fallback positions for a holding defense. Our current perimeter is a twelve block radius from this point. Our men are spread thin between holding off the advance and preparing the defenses. If they push hard enough at any one spot, the whole thing could crumble. Two squads are in position to reinforce the line as needed: the Vigilantes to the south, and the Blood Hounds to the north. Lieutenant General Theromvore was last seen with Tetriarch Halcyon heading towards an incoming detachment of Magnus Dracani.”

  “Dreadnoughts? How many?”

  “The scouts reported...” the soldier's voice dropped an octave as he read the number, “...eight.”

  “Eight? Phaw, they are probably all dead by now,” Nim said, waving away the soldier's concern. “Ashur and Zander get to have all the fun.”

  If those monks don't get here soon, you will be able to have all the fun you want, right before you and all of your men die, a little voice inside Nim's head whispered. Sometimes he hated that little voice. “I knew it was going to be a terrible day.”

  Barely an hour had gone by since Nim stepped out of the circle of transport and found that the world had gone to hell and he had established a temporary command post in the barracks, adjacent to the building that held the circle of transport. All of the battle ready Wardens had already entered the city through the circle, and even a few who might not have been considered battle ready any other day had joined the fight.

  Zander had been able to establish contact with High Commander Stewart Cantel, and the word was not good. The forces to the north had engaged with an enemy force estimated to be several hundred thousand strong. The scout’s estimates before the battle commenced ranged from two hundred and fifty thousand to four hundred thousand various Orcs, Goblins, Kobolds, Grey Elves, and whatever else the Dracair could get to run in a straight line at the Protectorate.

  Nim wanted nothing more than to be fighting on the front line. Unfortunately, when it came to full-out military engagements, the Field Marshall of the Wardens would relinquish command to anyone over the rank of Major General. It didn't seem to matter to Field Marshall Bannis that Nim was retired, so he had been relegated to command while Ashur, Dunnagan, Zander, and Cypherious were on the front lines with the Wardens fighting back thousands of Dracair. Never before had the Dracair fielded a force as powerful as the one that was now assaulting the city of Asylum, and Nim was the one trying to keep everything together. Life had a sick sense of humor.

  Nim had runners spread throughout the city, bringing him reports on enemy movements. The first thing he had done when he realized he was the one in command was to order his men to find him a map. Nim stood over that map, making notations whenever a new report was brought to him. Wasting men as runners put another bur into his backside, but information was vital in any engagement, and at the moment it was more important to have these men feeding him information than it was to have them on the front line.

  The Dracair were slowly pushing his men back, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before they had to retreat behind the inner wall. Thankfully, they had decided not to tear it down when the city had outgrown its original limits, or they might have been fighting a no win scenario. Nim had ordered Zander and the remaining Mages to check the integrity of the inner wall before sending them to the front line with the rest of his men. They reported that the wall was in good shape, and that a large portion of the original wards were still holding strong.

  Nim wanted to have the Mages on the walls fortifying it further, but until the monks showed up it was not a sound decision. Looking down at the map at the little statues that represented where Ashur and Dunnagan were last reported to be, Nim thought that it wouldn't matter how strong the walls were; if those monks didn't show up soon, there wouldn't be anyone left alive to defend anyway.

  “Ho, ho, lad! That one almost took off yer head!” Dunnagan said as he ducked a blow from one of the gigantic axes wielded by the Dracair Warriors.

  “Nah, I had plenty of time to dodge that, these lizards swing slower than you!” Ashur laughed at the look Dunnagan shot him before dodging another blow.

  The soldiers near the two grizzled men listened to the banter with no small amount of awe. It was hard enough for most of them to take a breath, let alone carry a conversation while battling their massive foes. Ashur and Dunnagan were not only joking with each other, but they were taking more of the enemy out than the rest of the unit combined. It seemed to the men that the wave of Dracair was endless—every time one fell, there were another two to take its place.

  Slowly but surely, they were being pressed backwards. The stone walls around them were chipped and battered where errant blades had connected. As t
hey moved backward, the cobblestone road was tinged crimson by the blood of the wounded and the fallen, a grisly reminder of the price of each step. If they hadn't taken out the detachment of Magnus Dracani earlier, however, they would already be fighting a losing battle for the inner wall. Zander had disappeared sometime shortly thereafter, and Ashur could hear chaos suddenly erupt behind enemy lines, so he knew the Battlesorcerer was still out there somewhere, doing what he did best.

  Ashur noticed large signs outside the buildings, each step backward bringing them further into the merchant quarter of the city. The Dracani seemed to get as much enjoyment from destroying the signs and window displays of these wealthy shops as they did from trying to gut the soldiers of the Protectorate. Behind him, he heard several merchants escaping the coming battle, not willing to abandon their wares until the last moment. There had been several who had not reacted quickly enough, their greed causing them to die at the hands of the Dracair.

  Glancing to his left, Ashur watched Dunnagan's axe sweep down towards the neck of one of the Dracair Warriors. The Dracani's body took another step forward before it realized that something was missing and tumbled to the ground. Dunnagan was a good three feet shorter than even the smallest of the Dracair Warriors, but the battle hardened old Dwarf seemed to always be at eye level whenever he finished one off. When fighting the Dracair, little else would be enough, thanks to their ability to heal wounds rapidly. Removing the head was efficient. Doing large amounts of damage quickly enough would occasionally cause systems to go into shock, but even then it wasn't long until they were back in the fight. Ashur had found himself fighting the same Dracani several times that day, as the warriors would sometimes fall back before he could do enough damage, and wait until they were healed to resume the battle.