“And your name?” Seth asked.
“Xander, prince Seth of Valdadore,” he answered.
“Xander, I would ask that you accept me as your king,” Seth began, “I am not a cruel man, nor an evil one as you may have heard, but one of reason who sees a knight befitting his title.”
“I’ve heard you are no man at all,” Xander retorted.
“I suppose that is true. I have sacrificed my humanity along the way, though still consider you my kin. That is not to say I do not want the same thing as you, only that perhaps I see things in a different light.”
“Is what your beast says true? Are you a god?”
“I am not a man. Not anymore. I do not know what I am,” Seth answered honestly.
“But you were slain as the reports said? A ballista bolt through the heart?”
“Yes,” Seth admitted.
“What purpose do you have coming here? Why take this kingdom for your own?” Xander demanded.
“Careful, knight, lest I put you in your place,” Borrik growled.
Raising his hand, Seth silenced his werewolf companion. Seth did not want to beat the man into submission, not if he didn’t have to. It was not how he wanted this kingdom to perceive him.
“What were your duties before today?” Seth asked.
“Defend the keep and hold it until my king returned if we were attacked.”
“I see,” Seth said, bowing his head slightly, “and prior to Sigrant’s war efforts?”
“To defend the keep and head the city guard as well. Maintain peace.”
“Then I shall want you to do the same,” Seth admitted. “You will put some of my own soldiers to work keeping the peace, and help to find housing for those who have accompanied me to this city.”
Seth could see the man pondering his words. He was edgier than Seth had originally thought, but who could blame a man under such circumstances? A winged demon and a troop of beasts had just taken over the keep he was sworn to defend. Seth gave the man all the time he needed to ponder the situation.
“What of my own men?” Xander asked after a few moments’ reflection.
“Like you, they will retain their positions, ranks, and duties. I expect you can properly educate those I add to your ranks on the laws and policies here, and myself as well. I do not wish to disrupt the harmony of your people, only to stabilize it and make it a better more prosperous place to live.”
“There are those who will work to undermine your authority, and likely some who will seek your death,” Xander said, appearing to have made a decision.
“Would it not be your job to deal with such people?” Seth asked.
“It would.”
“And what would the punishment be for such things?”
“Death.”
“And would you feel comfortable dealing out such judgment on my behalf?” Seth asked.
“I. Um. I suppose so, my king. But think the people might look on it in a different light.”
“So if I kill those who would have me hung from the city gates, I would look like the demon I appear to be. What then, would you suggest I do?” Seth asked.
“Strip them of title and assets. Use what you take from them for charity or to rebuild roads and wells. We have many poor here in need of food and clothing. Housing isn’t an issue as half the city is vacant, but there is much to be done to rebuild and those who have the money hoard it and will resist any change.”
“I have heard as much already, Xander, and you seem a man who shares similar ambitions as I myself have. I agree to your suggestions. I do not wish to end any life that can be spared. If you can agree to this, then I offer you the same position you previously had with a few expectations of my own.”
“Of course, my king,” Xander said, bowing his head.
“Borrik, send one of your men to meet with Xander,” Seth said, turning to the side before looking back to the knight before him. “He will be one of your lieutenants and work with you to organize and put my other soldiers to work. Anything you need to see your vision realized, you come to me and I will see if it is within my power.”
“My lord, if I may?” Xander began.
“What is it?” Seth asked.
“My son, king. I have seen and heard that you can do things to people. Give them arms and legs and such.”
“I’m no healer,” Seth interjected.
“I know. But the healers have already said that they cannot help him. He was born with a shriveled leg, and the healers say that they can only fix what is already there, they can’t recreate it or improve upon it.”
“So you wish to see if I can fix your son?”
“Yes, King Seth.”
“And what if I can’t?” Seth asked, standing from the throne.
“Then at least I tried, my king. He deserves no less.”
“Indeed he does, Xander. Bring me your son and I will see what I can do.”
Without another word, the guard captain bowed low, his crimson cape sweeping the floor as he turned, and stalked out of the room with his shoulders back and a noticeable pep in his step. A miracle was exactly what this place needed. It would settle the common people and silence those with sway. At least that was what Seth hoped. Everything started with something small. Just one movement could get things moving in the right direction, especially now that he knew what direction that was.
* * * * *
Sara watched her husband move, talk, and even breathe. Something about him was different, as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Had this been all he needed? A kingdom to call his own? A home? A place he could relax and think? That is what he had said he wanted, but no way had she thought it would affect him this quickly. Something else had to have changed without her noticing. Perhaps a messenger had come from his brother?
“I need to talk to the both of you,” Seth said, making her wonder even more.
Rounding the throne, Sara joined her husband and the hulking form of Borrik. She looked from one to the other, wondering if the werewolf had noticed the same change as she, and deciding that he probably hadn’t, turned her attention back to Seth.
“What is it?” Sara asked, a half nervous, half curious grin parting her lips slightly.
“During our conquest of the keep, I was met by someone I did not intend to see. He came out of nowhere and vanished just the same, but from him I learned a great deal.”
“Who?” Borrik asked.
“Yeah, who?” Sara mimicked.
She knew he was being purposefully elusive, but was happy that he was stringing them along. It was yet another sign that his mood was improved.
“Not who, so much as what,” Seth answered. “Climbing down to some of the lower reaches within the keep, I was met by Gorandor. He came to seek me out and try to convince me to seek a path that I have not yet found.”
“How does that help, exactly?” Sara asked, thoroughly confused.
“It doesn’t. Not really. But he also shared with me the secret that might lead to our success. Gorandor revealed that as gods, they only have the ability to create. Ishanya can’t directly do anything to me if I go against her will.”
“No, but can’t she just make another champion to assassinate you or something? Like you tried with Sigrant?” Sara cautioned.
“Yes, and if I understood him correctly, the other gods have already created a champion to stop me.”
“If they have a champion designed to kill you, and Ishanya can’t do anything in retribution to you, why not stop our campaign here and wash our hands of this business?” Borrik growled, looking from Seth to Sara and back again.
“Because then they win. If I stop, who else will try and save us mortals from the whims of the gods? I can’t stop, I won’t stop. I just have to be vigilant for this champion created to kill me.”
“So Gorandor came to warn you that another champion was going to kill you?” Sara asked.
“I don’t think that was his intent. I think he was trying to show me
something without being direct about it. Perhaps he is unable to intervene for whatever reason, but wanted me to discover something. I’m not sure, but I don’t know if that really matters.”
“Why?” both Borrik and Sara asked.
“Because they can’t stop me. I don’t need their power, I have my own. I don’t need their blessings, and all but Ishanya are growing weaker.”
“What does that mean for us and our plans to unite the people peacefully?”
“It means that I no longer have to pretend to do Ishanya’s bidding. I can cast her aside and focus on our plans.”
“Is that wise?” Borrik asked. “If you help Ishanya win, will that not achieve the same end?”
“Yes and no, I suppose. If all the other gods are destroyed, then I guess there will be no more need for war, but what will Ishanya do with Thurr and its people then? Without the gods our destiny is our own, but with them, any of them, we are still just puppets dancing to a tune of their creation. We need to show the people that the gods are not needed. Eventually the gods will fade.”
“So what do we do?” Sara asked, as Borrik nodded to her question.
“The same as we have been doing. Gather people. Show them how mighty we are without a god. Strike Ishanya’s name from all we have done. No longer are we the slaves of the gods.”
“And what do you intend to do?” Sara questioned further, seeing the look on her husband’s face.
“I intend to test my limitations. It is time I do some deep searching for the answers that lie within my own abilities and my own aura. I am different than anyone I have ever met since gaining use of my abilities, and I intend to find out why.”
“Do you think that maybe that is exactly what Gorandor wanted?” Borrik asked.
“I wish I knew. There was obviously something he wished to tell me, but wasn’t able. I think that he expects me to save them, but I don’t know why or even how I would do that. Just like Ishanya, he wants us to die.”
“Why come to you, though?” Sara asked.
She knew something was missing, she just couldn’t put her finger on it. There had to be something else.
“Because he is dying. With every moment his following diminishes. My deeds have spread and with them Ishanya is growing in power. I think he told me the things he did so that I will stop gaining more followers for her, but there is no way to be certain. All I can do is choose my path and hope that it is the right one. Really, it’s all any of us can do.”
“So what now?” Borrik asked.
“Send emissaries north, east, and south. Tell them a new king has come to Drakenhurst and he is living proof that the gods are false idols. Tell them to come and see for themselves. Tell them to bring their best warriors and I will stand before them and prove their gods are naught but myth, smoke, and legend. Then we wait to see who comes to call.”
“And in the meantime, love?” Sara said with a mischievous grin.
“In the meantime I intend to explore that which I have been ignoring for entirely too long.”
“I look forward to it,” Sara smiled with a wink.
“I’ll arrange the emissaries,” Borrik said. “That ought to give you two time to... um… well, you know.”
“Aww. Is the big bad wolf man tongue-tied?” Sara teased.
She watched, wondering if the huge hair covered man could blush, though she doubted it. When she felt his cheeks grow warm, and the scent of his blood grew stronger at face level, she realized that it was actually possible, it was simply hidden beneath his down fur. Too bad. She wondered what it looked like.
“And what of Captain Xander, my king?” Borrik asked, ignoring Sara’s taunts.
“He has his duties. If he seeks me out, especially with his son, bring him to me.”
“As you wish.”
Sara watched Borrik bow respectfully, even though it looked odd for a beast his size, before he turned and strode from the room. She had seen several rooms when climbing the upper levels that seemed suitable for a king and his queen to spend many passionate hours in; however, the throne behind her husband just had that special something about it that shouted ‘ravage me’. Springing at the man she loved, she drove him backwards as their mouths sought one another, pushing him into the throne with such force it slid backwards several feet with their momentum. This was long overdue.
Chapter Twelve
It was nightfall when Garret plowed through the last line of trees, hacking and slashing at the vines that would tangle the litter, dragging it down. With nothing but open road ahead, the king of Valdadore turned northward and continued trudging along without so much as a word to his allies following behind him. In only a few hours he broke free of the trees’ canopy above him to reveal both of Thurr’s moons gleaming brightly in the night sky. Beyond them innumerable stars winked back at the king, lending him hope that all would once again be well in the world. All he needed was time.
With his plans in order, he couldn’t wait to return to Linaya and tell her of the new army he planned to create. With these pups and the youth of Valdadore, he would create an army unlike Thurr had ever seen and when the day came he would hunt down his demonic brother and bring justice to the man who stripped Valdadore of innocence and honor. She would be proud of him for seeing the path. She would praise the fact that he had found his way out of the funk that had kept him down for weeks. Then, when it could get no better, he would tell her of his restored blessing and the new gifts his god had given him.
Picking up the pace, Garret heaved the litter forward. In his blessed size he would be able to reach Valdadore by mid-day tomorrow with the pups and their mothers in tow. Determined to have it so, he pulled at the makeshift straps across his chest, leaning forward to use the muscles in his legs more efficiently, and plunged forward, covering large swathes of ground at a time.
Eventually the night darkened as the moons disappeared beyond the horizon and again the sky began to lighten hours after that as the sun battled the darkness away. With the rising of the sun the wet ground and fields of untended grasses glistened as a thin layer of frost was melted away. Above, great cloud banks began to form, threatening a winter storm. Just one more reason to hurry.
Through the morning, Garret and his companions ploughed up the road towards Valdadore. It was late morning, nearing mid-day, when the tops of the city’s towers came into view and from that moment on, Garret watched the horizon unblinkingly. With his every stride the city grew, its battered and blackened walls climbing higher and higher as he neared. Over the cold winter air he could hear the ringing of great bells and the trumpeting of welcome as those few defenders upon the wall noted the return of their king. It was good to be home.
Entering the city to less fanfare than he would like, Garret smiled and waved at those who rushed to gather around and see what it was that he brought to the city. Ignoring their questions, by and large, he pulled the litter up the city streets, putting his infant demons on display for the general populace. With a destination in mind, Garret kept pulling, sure that Zorbin followed behind, with Ashton leading their mounts in the rear. It wasn’t until he reached the castle proper, when ducking beneath the gated entry to the complex, that he changed course. Approaching the base of the immense mage’s tower ahead, Garret lowered the litter to the ground, recalled his blessing, and turned to face his companions.
“You have both done well in giving me guidance,” Garret began. “Arrange for the tower to care for these creatures, as they are our hope for a brighter future. Ashton, seek the healer you made mention of and put her to the task we discussed. I want to see the fruits of her labor tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Ashton asked, surprised.
“I don’t expect a unit of trained adults. Just show me what progress she can make in a day. Once the pups and their mothers are secure and caretakers chosen to watch over them, I want you to arrange a call to a new Choosing ceremony, Zorbin.”
“As you wish,” Zorbin replied with a bow.
“I have much to see to. I have a kingdom to rebuild, a city to repair, and relationships that need mending. I expect to see the both of you tomorrow,” Garret concluded to a pair of replied nods.
Turning, he strode away from his companions, glad to have such friends and counselors. They had helped him when he was at his darkest. They had shown him the error of his ways and led him back to a surface that was not safe, but at least he could breathe. Striding across the cobblestone courtyards of castle Valdadore, Garret nodded to those that passed and greeted those who stopped in his path to say hello. Though he was impatient to reach the crypt, he knew too that he had a role to play if he was to rebuild the glory that was once Valdadore, and as such he tried his best to not rush, and instead took the day as it came to him, one delay at a time.
Though the distance was not overly long, it took nearly an hour to traverse from the mage’s tower to the crypt, with all those who sought to greet him and welcome him back to the city. Most of them were the servants who kept the castle a well-oiled machine and as such he knew few of their names, but decided that he would make more effort to get to know each and every one of them. After all, he didn’t need any fans of his brother lurking around in the shadows, taking notes and spying on the goings on in the palace.
Pulling the door open to the crypt, Garret took a long and deep breath, tasting the sweet smell of decay as it ruptured out from within. Peering down the darkened depths of the stone walled cavern ahead, he swore he saw the trailing of a silk gown as it rounded a corner in the darkness, and wanting to see if it was Linaya teasing him, he rushed into the darkness. Striding down the smooth surfaced marble floor of the corridor, Garret climbed ever deeper into the earth with every anxious step. Dust scattered from his feet at his passing, settling slowly behind him to erase all proof of his trespass into the realm of the dead. Turning one corner and then another, he slowed, taking a deep breath before rounding the final turn into Linaya’s chamber. There, upon the marble slab lay dust accompanied by the mask and veil that had hidden Linaya’s ruined face. Linaya was gone.
Turning this way and that Garret looked for her, hiding in the corners of the crypt, playing a game, but she did not appear. Calling out her name, he heard no reply. Panicking, he screamed her name, infusing his voice with the power of his god to make it carry. Reverberating with the sounds of his shouts, the walls and ceiling rained dust down upon him but still Linaya didn’t answer. Then it hit him. She had left the crypt. She had returned to the castle to properly spend their lives together. Linaya had been restored just as he had hoped. By the grace of the god he served, his lover was returned to him. Without another thought, Garret turned and ran from the crypt, rounding its corners without heeding his own safety, he burst out from the door allowing it to bounce off the wall, its hinges protesting as it slammed closed. He never even looked back.
Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) Page 184