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

by Laszlo,Jeremy

  “I completely understand, Lady Anna. I look forward to seeing you and Garret joined. The joy you bring him knows no bounds.”

  “Thank you, Ashton,” Anna said, pulling the gory frock over her head before handing it to the healer. At least the man had finally forgone his white robes. This was no place for white anything with all the blood, piss, and shit.

  Turning away from Ashton and the row of stalls behind him, Anna strode through the swarming mass of Lycan soldiers on the field without an ounce of fear for her life. They were strong creatures with fair intelligence and amazing reflexes and agility, but none were her match. Smirking to herself as she strode beneath the gate to exit the training grounds, Anna plotted on just how she would fool the grumpy dwarven warrior.

  Chapter Six

  Borrik folded his wings and loosed a mighty roar, plummeting from the sky to land amidst his foes, swords drawn and fireballs summoned. Hacking and slashing at the lesser men, the giant of a wolf man, blessed with the power of his god, towered over them like ants. Crushing men and armor between his toes, Borrik lashed out with a ball of fire, incinerating a mage who thought to oppose him. Grinning a toothy grin as the man screamed while ablaze, Borrik turned his attention to his left, a loud concussive boom rocking him off balance slightly. There, not a dozen paces away, stood a thick-limbed man holding a great battle axe. He was neither human nor orc, nor anything in between, but slightly resembled both. With bulging limbs and a wide blocky head, Borrik’s opposition boomed a battle cry before charging.

  Though equal to his size in stature, Borrik had no fear of the man, for though his master was gone, his blessing remained, which meant that Seth was indeed a god and still blessed him from the heavens. Unleashing a feral growl, Borrik met his foe, dodging a blow from the man’s great axe. Twisting to the side as the man charged past, Borrik spun and heaved a pair of fireballs at the man’s unprotected back only to witness as the man went up in flame like the wick of a candle. Without so much as a scream or any hint of hesitation, however, the giant of a warrior turned on Borrik, a grin on his face beaming through the magical flames.

  Cursing his luck, Borrik let the man charge him again. As he dodged yet another blow of the axe as his attacker collided with him, both crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. His fur singeing away, Borrik could feel the skin blistering on his chest and muzzle as he worked to pin the man’s arms. Using his great wings to keep his balance atop his foe, Borrik was flung back by a blast of wind catching in his wings. Barely able to right himself without tumbling off his feet once more, Borrik turned his attention to a tiny mage on the field just mere strides away. Leaning into the magical wind, Borrik dug his clawed toes into the soil and lunged forward, reaching out to grasp the puny mage.

  Snatching the small man by the legs in his giant hand, Borrik shoved his clawed thumbnail up under the mage’s chin, piercing flesh and brain as blood and gore spewed from the mage’s mouth, nose, and eye sockets.

  Dropping the pulp in the dirt, Borrik turned to face the giant burning champion just as a great pain exploded in his wing. Twisting to defend himself, he found the giant of a warrior ripping his immense axe free from the hole that tore his blessed flesh in two. Grinning, Borrik whispered the words as his wings began to shrink and crawl within his back once more.

  With fresh fur growing on his blistered skin, Borrik again leapt upon the peculiar warrior, pummeling with his fists and slashing with his swords. Landing a blow to the man’s ribs, Borrik grinned as the man growled and blood began to leak from the wound. Pulling his lower right arm back to drive his fist into the newly opened flesh, Borrik was caught off guard as the side of the man’s axe blade slammed into his head. His ears ringing and head reeling, Borrik grasped at the only thing he could, his rage.

  “You think your puny army can kill a god?” Borrik growled, being rolled aside as the man climbed atop him despite his struggling.

  “Your master is dead, slave. Now you go to join him,” the man said, spitting in Borrik’s face.

  Enraged by the filth’s actions and words, with his vision swimming, Borrik called to his men silently through their telepathic link. They were no longer many, but they were savage and blessed with size. All Borrik had to do now was hold the man off. Taking another blow to the head with a mailed fist, and then a hit to the ribs with the axe’s handle, Borrik began to rain punches on the still burning man pinning him to the earth. Though his blows had little effect, they kept him alive as a cacophony of roars began to blend together around him, all becoming one sound.

  His flesh burning, the steady assault of blows from above threatened to consume Borrik, but he’d not allow himself to fail before an enemy that would dare insult his master. As his vision began to return, Borrik was yanked to the side as a mass of snarling teeth and claws ripped his attacker from above him, driving the giant flaming warrior away. Knowing his men could not grapple with the burning man for long, as they did not heal as he did, Borrik staggered to his feet, and launched towards the snarling mass. Slamming one foot upon the man’s back, the Alpha werewolf struck down with a clawed hand with all his might, driving his fingers through flesh, meat, and tendon. Grasping the man’s spine at the base of his neck, Borrik reared back, pulling with all his might, tearing the man’s head and spine from his body.

  Turning the blessed warrior’s head about in his clawed hand he peered into the man’s eyes, knowing that the warrior did not yet know he was dead.

  “You can join my god and tell him of your sacrilege!” Borrik roared and as if to give his words credence, a black mass struck the ground next to Borrik, and even with his own scent and sight, and the images sent to him by his men, Borrik could hardly believe what he saw. He had watched his master’s body fail with his own eyes, for a second time he had failed his god and watched the man perish. Yet here, standing before him, was Seth himself, returned from the dead yet again. In Borrik’s hands, the blessed warrior’s eyes opened wide as his mouth peeled back in a silent scream, his blessing fleeing him with a pop as his immense head shriveled to look like an apple in Borrik’s hand.

  * * * * *

  Using his vision, Seth began to sort through all those blessed upon the field of battle. This army had many with gifts, but most were small and simple things he’d seen a hundred times. Looking up to his immense second-in-command, Seth nodded to Borrik who grinned like the cat who ate the canary. Unable to resist, Seth smiled back, before once again leaping into the air.

  From the sky, Seth had a wide vantage with his normal human senses, and curiosity demanded he see the man he sought as well as simply locating his aura. The danger of flight, however, was that all his adversaries on the ground could see him as well, and it was proven within seconds as more than a hundred missiles of various magics were cast up at him from all across the battlefield. And again, just as before, the opposing army was gone. Seth had again failed to locate the assassin. How, he was not certain, but he began to believe that perhaps the man did not appear with the army each time it came. Was it possible the man was held in reserve in hopes of catching Seth off guard again?

  For many long moments Seth pondered the implications and it became obvious to him that in order to catch this assassin, he would have to make himself accessible. The last time the assassin appeared was when Seth had been on the ground, and in the same spot for several appearances of the enemy forces. If it worked once, it was likely to work again, but first he needed to get his people back inside the city, and assure them that he was alive.

  * * * * *

  Wuk Shin sat in an ornate chair, leaning back with his feet upon the table when his son arrived in a congelation of smoke and mist. He eyed his son’s face, seeing the surprise and the fear, and knew that as of yet his work was not done.

  “And the army?” Wuk asked his boy, lifting a mug to his lips.

  “I’ve returned them, Father. The demon king remains.”

  “But you reported him dead.”

  “I know, Father. I am so
rry. His body remains on the city wall, yet he has come again, in a new body.”

  “I see,” the assassin acknowledged. He knew the demon king would be difficult to kill, but this was something he had never encountered before. He’d killed thousands over the years, but none so blessed as Seth Derringer, brother to the king of Valdadore. It was lucky coincidence that Valdadore’s king was willing to pay him to kill someone already in his sights. For many years Wuk had coveted Drakenhurst, but King Sigrant had too many blessed warriors, and knew of his abilities. This new king, however, had a puny army, few blessed champions, and no knowledge of Wuk’s powers. Even so, it seemed the demon king had thwarted his first attempt.

  “Do you have my marker?” Wuk asked his son.

  “Yes, Father. I brought it in case you wanted me to move it,” the boy said, pulling the small wooden figurine from his pocket.

  “Good. Do you think you can get close to the king? Perhaps put it on his person?”

  “I will try, but he is watched over by his queen and the winged wolf.”

  “I have faith in your cunning, Gulteth.”

  With no more than a nod to his son, he watched the boy shift across space, becoming insubstantial before vanishing altogether. It was a risk, sending his boy that close to the king, but he’d done it before. This time, however, would be the last. The new king of Drakenhurst would die for once and for all, and he could claim the kingdom for himself.

  Rising from his chair, Wuk Shin left the tent to look over his army’s camp several miles below in the clearing to the east. Great fires blazed below billowing columns of fire as the multitude of bodies milled about, filling their bellies and getting some rest. Soon, he would shift them again, and then claim his much deserved victory.

  * * * * *

  Shouting to the city’s defenders below, Seth called them to return to the relative safety found behind the city walls. After fingers began to jut up towards him in the sky, his words were relayed and slowly the people of Drakenhurst began to file back through the gates whence they had come, leaving the battlefield to the crows. Assured that they would be safe, at least for a time, the king of Drakenhurst settled to the wall where his previous body lay, looking too much like smoked meat for his comfort. Summoning his power, he watched as the corpse was consumed in magical flames, leaving nothing behind but a pile of ash which he kicked into the breeze, over the wall.

  “Don’t want any evidence?” Sara asked with a slight hint of mischievousness from behind him. Seth had seen her coming, her aura was hard not to notice. Even so, he turned on his heel with an attempted grin of his own.

  “No. I just don’t like a reminder of my vulnerability.”

  “You are human, so it’s kind of undeniable.”

  “I thought I was a god?” Seth asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “You’re both, oh mighty king of Drakenhurst.” Sara curtsied as Borrik settled to the wall next to Seth.

  “Is it play time now?” Borrik asked, a toothy grin splitting his muzzle in two.

  “Time to plan, actually.” Seth admitted, his mood turning serious in an instant.

  “You have something in mind?” Borrik asked, his eyes taking on a menacing glow.

  “I do,” Seth said, before beginning to explain. “The last time we were attacked, when the assassin showed himself, wasn’t until after I had remained on the battlefield for several of their appearances. I think that is why he appeared, and I think it is he that allows the army to vanish and reappear.”

  “So you’re just going to go stand out there and hope he comes back?” Sara asked, looking more than a little skeptical.

  “What other options do we have?” Seth asked.

  “Wait in here, eventually they will lose too many men or simply give up.”

  “I could end the battle in seconds if I wished for them to lose men, my love. If they wanted the city, they could have easily taken it by simply reappearing inside its gates.”

  “Then why haven’t they?” Borrik asked, now beginning to pace.

  “Because if they kill me, really kill me, how much of a battle will they have to face?”

  “We’d still put up a fight,” Sara said, almost as if offended.

  “I know you would, but that is not my point. The two of you could do a lot of damage, there is no denying that, but we’ve just seen what can happen, didn’t we, Borrik?”

  “I had it under control,” the great beast retorted.

  “You nearly lost your life.”

  “So we just go outside the gates and wait?” Borrik questioned.

  “Not we. Just me,” Seth said, before turning as another aura joined them.

  Looking down the wall, Seth watched as the boy raced behind the city’s defenders to join him, shouting all the while.

  “King Seth! King Seth!” the boy Seth now recognized, continued to shout. He had met the boy before, had given him a lift, so to speak. He was one of the city’s many gifted children who so far as he could tell had not yet been blessed. The ability was there, but no godly power coursed within him, and as such it was difficult to ascertain what his blessing might be.

  “King Seth, I saw you. I saw you die. You can’t die, we all need you. We love you,” the boy proclaimed, coming directly to Seth’s side. “Take this, I made it. It will keep you safe,” he added holding out his small hands.

  In the boy’s grasp was a small carved figurine of a man dressed all in black. No taller than his thumb was long, it was not overly ornate or detailed, but even Seth could tell that time and effort had gone into the small figure. He could also tell that the figure was more than it appeared, for within it was a weak aura, and not of that of the tree whence the wood once came. Studying the small aura, Seth knew he had never seen its like before, and wondered if this was perhaps the boy’s gift. Was it possible the boy could imbue things naturally, with whatever he desired? Was it an emotional blessing, allowing him to imbue protection or wards?

  Bending down to be on the boy’s level, Seth reached out and accepted the gift, patting the lad on his shoulder. “Is this a figure of me?”

  “Yes, King Seth. I just finished it.”

  “Thank you. I love you and all Drakenhurst’s people as well. I promise to keep it safe.”

  “You don’t have to. It will keep you safe. Just don’t break it or it won’t work anymore.”

  “You have my word that I will be careful, and cherish it,” Seth said, smiling at the boy who was already turning to run off, his cheeks rosy from embarrassment.

  “That was sweet,” Sara said, with a look of the likes that Seth had never seen on her face.

  “Yes, it is a kind gesture from the boy.”

  “Not him. You.”

  Seth didn’t know how to reply, and as such simply stood in an awkward silence for a moment as he pondered Sara’s words. Thinking it better to change the subject, he looked out over the battlefield, not wanting to meet the eyes of his wife.

  “I’ll go and wait for them to return. It will likely be several appearances before the assassin makes another attempt. You two should see to the people, make sure they are prepared for another assault.” Without awaiting another reply, Seth tucked the figurine in his hand into the pocket on his breeches and leapt from the wall, winging out over the battlefield.

  Chapter Seven

  As evening began to cast long shadows upon the vast city of Valdadore, Zorbin was forced to reluctantly admit to himself that the Lycan troops now at his disposal were having a drastic impact on the city already. Reports of unruly children and vandalism had all but stopped coming in, and the added eyes upon the battlements meant that the human defenders could finally get some much needed rest. Thinking that he had been blinded by his own bias, the dwarf shook his head, sending sad ripples down his braided beard. He could not believe that he had judged the Lycans so harshly when they had done nothing to give him such a negative opinion of them.

  Walking across the small guard chamber, Zorbin turned his eyes up, off
the floor, to Kanth, who stood silently in the corner, bobbing slightly as he breathed. It was not the Lycans’ doing which had brought them to Valdadore. It was not the Lycans’ fault that their numbers were expanding so rapidly. It was not their desire or decision to be bred for an army, yet Zorbin had seen no signs of complaint. The creatures were slaves, more or less, and yet they willingly and happily carried out their master’s orders without a single word to dispute what they were told. Even so, Zorbin had judged them harshly, to the point of hatred, and there would be no forgiving himself for such an indiscretion.

  “What do ye think of when ye be standing there, Kanth?” Zorbin asked the beast-man, having not heard a word in hours. The Lycan captain simply followed in silence much of the day as he gave the creature orders. Yet every time orders were given, the Lycan troops carried them out without so much as a spoken word.

  “Kanth listen to men. Give men orders.”

  “They be talkin’ to ya in yer head? Don’t that be gettin’ confusing?”

  “Kanth not hear. Kanth see. Kanth show.”

  That was not what Zorbin had expected. It sounded as if Kanth shared the same bond with his underlings that he and Xanth shared. No matter his thoughts about judging them wrongly, Zorbin found it creepy to be having something so intimate in common with the creature. “What they be showin’ ya?”

  “Kanth see city. See people. Watch patrol through eyes. Watch city, watching men.”

  Zorbin was surprised the Lycan had such a vocabulary. He expected to have more trouble communicating, but he supposed being the king’s favorite had some advantages.

  “What have you learned?” Zorbin asked, genuinely interested.

  “People afraid of Lycan. Move for Lycan. Go inside homes.”

  “You just need to show them that there is no reason to be afraid.”

  “Like afraid. Make people act good. No problems.”

  Zorbin had to admit that it made sense so long as there were no confrontations; why not use the people’s fear of the unknown to their advantage? Knowing that night was upon them and morning would come all too soon, he decided that the only way to see if the Lycans could maintain peace was to let them try. Turning towards the Lycan and the door, Zorbin looked to the new captain under his command. “I appreciate yer dedication, Kanth. Can ye take it from here?”