Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga)

by Laszlo,Jeremy

  Looking about, the streets were relatively silent and still. The sun had fallen while he was below ground. At least now, Zorbin Ironfist would leave him be. A night of peace and quiet is exactly what Linaya would prescribe, and as such it was precisely what he intended. Crossing the courtyard towards the palace, he paused momentarily and spun on his heel. The vault door was closed and locked. No one stood within it waving goodbye.

  Shaking his head, he turned again and began walking. Everything was a mess. The kingdom was in ruins and its defenders were few. Every town, village, and city had been drawn from and its residents conscripted into service. There were far too few left to do all the work that needed to be done. There were too many questions that needed to be answered, too many issues needing a resolution. Garret paused again.

  No, this time he would not turn around to look. He began walking again. It was his mind, it was the mess within it, it was the holes in his heart and soul that pulled at him to look again. She was gone, but she wasn’t. He could feel her. He could smell her. He could even hear her voice. Surely she remained in some capacity? If Seth’s corpse could rise again as a shade, could Linaya not do the same? If he needed her would that be enough to make it happen? He would settle for a shade of Linaya. No form of her could be deemed evil. She was so pure that something of her had to remain.

  With his wide shoulders sagging, the king of Valdadore strode through the first gates of the palace, ignoring the greetings and salutes of the guards on duty. Ahead, a pair of large luminescent eyes peered at him from the palace steps just three more gates away. Damn the dwarf! Garret thought to turn and go once more to the tombs, but knew it would do little good. Eventually he would have to face the stout warrior. It might as well be now.

  * * * * *

  Idly scratching behind the direwolf’s ear, Zorbin noticed when Xanth’s head rose and ears pivoted towards the darkness ahead. Listening carefully, he could hear the spoken greetings from the guards at each defensive gate and knew that the king approached. They were friends, it was true, but even so, Zorbin knew he had to tread lightly. Garret was a man with a broken spirit, and he feared that a push in the wrong direction would break his mind as well. With the king’s many visits to the vaults, he could only wonder if it wasn’t already too late.

  It wasn’t fair to judge, he supposed. Garret had lost more than any other. He had lost his mentor, his father, his brother, and his lover, as well as every comrade he was close with, save Zorbin himself. Loss like that could drive a man to any edge and push him over. He could only hope that the news he brought would not be the final blow.

  Watching Garret pass the last gates that separated them, Zorbin patted Xanth’s head and strode down the stairs.

  “My king,” he greeted, wishing to judge the man’s mood before proceeding.

  “What is it, Zorbin?” came the melancholy reply.

  Figuring that sad was better than lost or confused, Zorbin decided to proceed with caution.

  “There is an important matter needing your attention,” he began.

  “I do not yet wish to convene the council and handle matters of state, Zorbin. I’ve said as much more than enough times.”

  “No, Garret. It is another matter entirely. As you have said, the council is seeing to castle and defensive repairs… this is of another nature.”

  “Then out with it, Zorbin. I do not have all night, I wish to get some rest.”

  “Well, you see… Oh hell, it’s like this. There is a supposed camp of druids in the ancient forest, northeast of Raven’s keep,” he paused, thinking how best to phrase his next words.

  “And?” Garret pressed.

  “Rumor says that the camp was nearly all women, as they often are, and that they were beset by beasts that were neither man, nor wolf, but a combination of the two.”

  “Seth’s abhorrent creations?”

  “I would presume so, my king,” Zorbin admitted, reaching up to stroke his long, braided beard.

  “So the survivors are seeking some sort of restitution or punitive damages?”

  “No, Garret. They were not killed. They were raped. Rumor has it that the women have begun giving birth to… creatures. Some are saying they are monsters, and others say that the things are miracles.”

  “How long has it been since we have traveled those trails, Zorbin? Two months?”

  “I’d say, perhaps three,” Zorbin suggested, glad his words were not met with anger or confusion.

  “Is it possible to give birth after only three months with a seeded belly?” Garret questioned.

  Not knowing if it was rhetorical or not, Zorbin thought over the answer as an image flickered before his eyes of a heavily pregnant direwolf.

  “Xanth’s breed can birth a litter in as much time,” he relayed to his king.

  “Then it is possible that my brother’s evil is spread. You were right to bring this to me, Zorbin. See us prepared to travel at first light. I’d like to see if the rumors are true for myself. We need to free Valdadore of my brother’s evil. If such beasts are indeed real, we will put them to the blade and see this foulness ended.”

  “Very well, my king. I am happy that you feel well enough to travel.”

  “I do not look forward to the trip, in earnest, Zorbin. I just want to kill something to ease my own suffering.”

  Zorbin thought about his friend’s words. They were dark, and boded ill to anyone who was placed before Garret for judgment. Even so, at least he was looking for an outlet for his pain. In time, perhaps he would heal. Zorbin still had hope.

  “I’ll meet you at the south gate, m’lord,” Zorbin replied, bowing low as Xanth did the same beside him.

  Turning, he strode back up the steps to open the door for his king. Reaching the uppermost step, he reached out one thick hand, and grasping the iron ring upon the door he heaved it open as bright yellow light blasted out from the opened door. Turning to gesture the king through before him, Zorbin watched the illuminated shoulders and head of the king pass beneath the first set of gates on his way back out of the palace.

  “Oh, and Zorbin,” the king shouted back over his shoulder.

  “Yes, my king,” Zorbin shouted in reply to the retreating back of his friend.

  “Tell no one where we go or what you have heard.”

  “As you see fit, my king.”

  And that was it. Tomorrow Zorbin and Garret would ride away from castle Valdadore. He imagined it would do Garret well to be away from the castle. Without the constant reminders of all he had lost and the duties that came with his station, perhaps some of his wounds could heal. Turning, Zorbin strode into the palace with Xanth on his heels. If they were to leave at first light there were supplies to be gathered.

  * * * * *

  Racing across the courtyard, Ashton kept his eye on the large silhouette ahead. He had barely seen the king in passing during the final battle with Sigrant’s army, and had heard a great many things about the king and his mood. Could it be true that the king had gone mad and slept in the crypts with his dead lover? Had he sent Seth away, banishing him from the kingdom? Had Sara murdered the king’s lover? If the king was truly on the brink and susceptible to those with ill intent, Ashton knew he should be the one to help guide Garret back onto a path that was more desirable. Any wound could be healed with the time and patience to see it through. How it was mended was an entirely different story, not that it mattered here.

  With his sandaled feet bouncing off the cobblestones, his approach did not go unnoticed as the wide shouldered body ahead rose to its full height and spun to confront him. There, even in the darkness was a menacing glare that sent a shiver down Ashton’s spine. Without a word the king’s expression dared him to attack and welcomed the death that he hoped sought him. The rumors were true.

  Watching as Garret’s expression melted into one that was an odd mix of disappointment and recognition, he grinned at his friend, noting the deep lines beginning to grow on his face and the dark rings around his eyes.
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  “Hey, Ashton. Sorry, I thought you might be someone else.”

  “It’s okay,” he replied, placing a kind smile upon his lips. “What are you doing out and about at this hour?”

  “The duties of a king know not the bounds of time, friend, but you might do well not to question a king,” came an angered retort.

  “I didn’t mean to question or offend you, Garret, I just hadn’t seen you in a while and wanted to give you my condolences. I’m so sorry for all that you have been through. If there is anything I can do…” He let the statement hang.

  “Sorry. I’ve had a lot to deal with and haven’t been getting any rest. Thank you for your concern, but I’m afraid that the wounds I have are even beyond your talent, Ashton.”

  “Even the worst of pains and the darkest of moods can be improved with company,” Ashton replied with a bob of his head and an even bigger smile.

  “This is true, and you are a very dear friend, Ashton. If it were not for you, the battle and the kingdom would have surely been lost. Thank you for all you have done.”

  “You know that there is no need for thanks. I am just happy to see you out and doing well.”

  “Physically I am well enough, but perhaps you are right. My mood could use a lift, and I might just know how you can further help me.”

  “Anything you wish, Garret.”

  “Not a wish, nor an order. Tomorrow I ride out of Valdadore with Zorbin Ironfist, and would ask if you would like to accompany us?” Garret said as the pain was erased from his features momentarily.

  “I’d be delighted,” Ashton answered honestly. “Where might we be going? I only ask as to be able to prepare myself,” Ashton added, so as to not anger his friend by questioning him yet again.

  “We’re riding south, towards Raven’s keep. Rumor has it that evil is brewing in the forest there and I wish to see for myself if the rumors are true.”

  “That’s quite a ride. Good, it’ll allow us to do some catching up,” Ashton said with a grin.

  “Good. It’s settled then. Zorbin and I will meet you at the south gate at sunrise.”

  “I’ll be there,” Ashton said. “I look forward to being on the road with you again like old times.”

  “Some fresh air might do us all some good,” Garret agreed. “Now then, I must be on my way. I’m glad you found me, Ashton. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Ashton knew when he was being dismissed. Human politics were peculiar. People’s words always had two meanings. The first, what they said, and the second, what they meant. Garret was basically telling him to go away and leave him alone, which was fine. If he were to have a week or more, virtually alone with the king, he would be able to better judge Garret’s state of mind.

  “Good night, Garret. May we all rest well.”

  Without a word the king again spun on his heel and strode off towards what Ashton could only presume was the burial tombs. Turning himself, he hurried quickly back the way he had come.

  Entering his room within the mage’s tower, Ashton immediately dropped to his knees. Tilting his head back towards the heavens, he prayed to his goddess.

  “Thank you, my goddess, my queen, my mistress, for this opportunity. I will see to it that your will is done and that as the king is mended, so too will your order be strengthened through my counsel to His Majesty. I will guide him upon your path, and help see to it that your wishes are made material on this world.”

  Rising, he crossed the room and sweeping his hand over the candle upon his desk, he watched as it sputtered to life. Pulling a small pin from the wax of the candle, he thrust it through the flesh of his finger. Removing the pin, he winced as he squeezed a few drops of blood from the tiny wound to drip down into the flame below. With a series of sparks and sputters, his blood was consumed, and with it his words would reach the ears of his chosen god.

  Pulling his robes up and over his head, he let them fall to the floor without so much as a thought and climbed into his small bed. Tomorrow was the beginning of something new. It was something he had been working towards for some time now, and finally he was being given the opportunity to prove himself. Patience, he reminded himself, was the key. Do not charge in. Do not reveal yourself all at once. Instead, lie like a hair upon the back of a horse. Go unnoticed. Slowly, eventually, he could change the course, but only if his weight was never felt.

  Closing his eyes, Ashton dreamed of a home far away where brute force was life and all other was death.

  Chapter Three

  Looking up at the meager defensive wall, Seth could see no defenders with his eyes or vision of the gods. Each archer tower at the corners of the small town held a pair of soldiers, but beyond that the only defensive force he could see stood to either side of a gate in the wall straight ahead. Reaching out, he sent tendrils of power snaking throughout the town as they neared from several miles out, and found something he had not expected.

  Within the town, people were plentiful enough to fill most of the homes and gather at what he assumed were public establishments, like a town should be. Here and there people walked about the streets either alone or in groups and he even caught a pair of lovers in a passionate exchange behind what he assumed was a tavern. What was peculiar, however, was the extreme lack of variance in the auras. Nearly every person in the town was without a deity, and those who had sworn an allegiance were not blessed with any gift. The whole town, it seemed, had been stripped of all gifted with a blessing when Sigrant had marched to Valdadore. Easy pickings.

  Crossing the miles at an incredibly slow pace, Seth began to loathe the thick cloak draped over his shoulders. Not only did it add extra weight to the already hefty wings, but it made them cramped, clammy, and uncomfortable. More than anything he wanted to unleash his newest appendages and stretch them into the cold winter air.

  Looking up at the myriad of falling flakes, it was as if they plummeted to the ground in extreme slow motion, as he could see the detail on them mid-flight and compare each one to the next with ease. Though no two were identical, many were similar, like the auras of living things. With little to do but walk incredibly slowly, Seth wondered if all creation held a randomness that could not be removed. Was it possible that the act of true creation held an element of surprise, even to the creator? If so, were those created sometimes done so with unforeseen results? Could it be possible that he, or another living person, was actually a mistake of creation? Something unintended?

  From personal experience, the unintended happened more often than not, but with his infantile grasp on creation, he knew that there was a vast amount of information out there that needed to be understood and controlled in order to know what would happen when two unlike things were combined. There was much to ponder, and though he hated the way it sounded, he needed to continue experimenting with his power to truly understand it.

  “Almost there,” Sara said, breaking the silence.

  “Yes. Thank you,” Seth said, awakened once more from his own musings.

  “What keeps you so distracted?”

  “Besides the obvious?”

  “Yeah. I know you have many worries and lots of sorrow, Love, and I don’t mean to reopen wounds. I just want to be a part of what is going on inside your head.”

  “Many things are presently fighting for my attention, to be honest. I know I need to be here, in the now, but I see little threat from this town. I worry about Garret, and Valdadore without us there to defend it. I worry about those who have followed me to an unknown end. I worry about things I don’t know, even about myself. Many times I act and react, but I am realizing now that I need more time to study, more time to think.”

  “Are you suggesting we settle in somewhere for a while to give you time?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not suggesting anything, just making an observation really. I think we would be better off for it.”

  “Okay. Do you have any place in mind?”

  Seth’s mind swirled with the possibilities. Any place was
probably as good as the next, but he had left Valdadore with a promise and he would see it fulfilled. Sara had saved them all, not him. She loved people, and was willing to sacrifice herself for them. She deserved a place where she could help people, and look over them. She deserved to be a queen and Seth would give that gift to her.

  “Drakenhurst. That is where I think we will spend some time,” he answered after a moment’s reflection.

  “Sigrant’s capital?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “True. Do you actually mean to capture it and take control of his country?”

  “I do.”

  “Okay, good. I’m glad you are making a plan, but why and how exactly?” Sara said, her amber and crimson eyes sparkling in the darkness.

  “I don’t know how. Not yet. But I think no kingdom should be left to the dogs to be torn apart from within. I would bet that even now, differing factions struggle to assume leadership of this nation. Also, here, I think I can find the knowledge that I need. There have got to be some blessed champions remaining. Sigrant wouldn’t have left his entire nation without any champions. There will also be people to welcome into our cause too, for different reasons.”

  “By different you mean your reasons and then Ishanya’s reasons?”

  “Of course not, Angel. I serve the goddess, and it is only to her cause that I lend my abilities and effort,” Seth replied without even trying to contain his sarcasm.

  “I can see those wheels just grinding in that head of yours. I wish I knew what you were up to, but I’m sure you have your reasons for keeping everyone in the dark.”