The Calling (Book 7 of The Blood & Brotherhood Saga) (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga)

by Jeremy Laszlo

  “We’ll be outside waiting, and don’t you try to keep something for yourself,” Sara added, pouring a handful of coins from the purse on her belt into her hand.

  “You heard the lady, folks. We’re closed for business until further notice. Now get your tab-running, broke selves up out of here!” the woman shouted, turning to wink at Sara as if proving her power to cow drunken old folks.

  Dropping fifteen coins upon the tabletop, Sara poured the rest back into the pouch and pulled its drawstrings closed. Turning, she made for the door, allowing the drunken patrons to exit before her.

  * * * * *

  Borrik swept low for the fifth time, hoping to garner Seth’s attention with his proximity. Watching below, he was caught off guard as a black mass rocketed up from the shadows between two of the town’s buildings. With a few powerful flaps his master rose like a bird of prey to level off nearly upon the same plane as Borrik himself now hovered. Though he himself had been altered beyond measure from the man he had once been, it was still odd to see Seth flapping his monstrous wings.

  “What is it, Borrik?”

  “There is a large contingent coming this way from the west.”

  “Troops?” Seth asked.

  “Many are armed, though not all. Perhaps some of them are mages. I figured you would want to check it out personally.”

  “You were wise to retrieve me. I’ll go and have a look. You stay here and keep an eye out below for Sara. I know she can handle herself, but if we’ve somehow fallen into a trap, I want you to get her out of there. No killing if it is possible.”

  “Understood,” Borrik replied simply.

  Something in Seth had changed. He still looked like hell, but his demeanor was completely different. Kind of like when they had first met. He seemed happier, more carefree. Borrik could only guess what had gone on in the tavern below, but whatever Princess Sara had done to him, it had worked wonders.

  Watching as his master winged away upon a stiff current of air, Borrik settled into a circling pattern and watched the streets below. Here and there people walked, but no sign of any plot was detectable so far as he could see. Sniffing the air, he tasted it for any signs of an enemy, but nothing to give him alarm was found. If there was a plot, it was well carried out and elaborate. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that someone tried to assassinate both the prince and princess. Last time, Borrik had been without blessing or enchantments. Though it had nearly killed him, he had managed to catch the perpetrator and certainly was better prepared for the task, were he needed again.

  Scanning the darkness surrounding the inn, he noted a dull shine in the shadows and began to circle lower. There, in a narrow alley between the inn and its neighboring structure, Sara stood looking back up at him. Even from this distance he could see her predatory eyes reflecting the starlight from behind him. It was a wicked gaze, for it was both unnatural and beautiful. To be honest with himself, there had been times he feared Sara and thought her mad, but his worries were unwarranted. She had managed to pull herself back from the brink of madness driven by bloodlust, and had never once failed Seth. In the final battle to save Valdadore, Sara had volunteered herself to be the instrument through which a victory could be won. She had taken a risk to her own life to save those weaker than she -- the very people she had fed upon. She had learned from her errors and had grown. She belonged at his master’s side and he was proud to know and serve her.

  Having located Sara, Borrik scanned the air and ground in all directions looking for any sign that they were in danger. To the east he could see where a small dome of light was increasing in brightness where their makeshift army was camped. To the west, he could see the dark serpent-like movements of the ever nearing contingent coming down the road towards the town. He tried to estimate their numbers, but those in the body of the contingent were in constant flux. If he were to make a wild guess he would suppose there were near a thousand. If it was a trap, Seth’s army had the numbers, but lacked skill, weapons, or even fighters for that matter. If it came down to it, it would be hard to protect such a large gathering of ill prepared humans.

  North and south Borrik looked, and found nothing in either direction that concerned him in the least. Something here seemed out of place, but perhaps it was a trick of the mind that warned him so. It had been months of seemingly nothing but battle after grueling battle and he had honed himself to always be on the alert. With his senses and those of his greatly diminished pack, he could see, smell, and hear things unlike any other being on Thurr, and even so, he didn’t trust those senses at this particular moment. Then the screams started, and Borrik turned back to the west.

  Chapter Four

  It had taken Garret several hours just to make himself leave Linaya’s crypt. He didn’t want to leave the city. He didn’t want to leave her behind. Knowing that he wouldn’t see or hear her for more than a week was like twisting hot pins into his soul. She was all that held him together--her and his hatred for the foulness Seth had brought to his kingdom. And when he finally mustered the resolve to stride away, he first reached beneath her mask. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for what was to follow, and grasped a handful of her hair. Pulling, gently at first, and then more roughly, he both heard, and felt when the flesh of the scalp began to give way. With tears brimming in his eyes, he yanked free the memento with a silent promise to return it just as soon as he came back. He couldn’t leave without her. He couldn’t leave her behind, not all of her.

  Rising from the granite slab that was her resting place, Garret scowled as he heard a rodent scamper somewhere in the darkness. Foul things, these rats. He couldn’t help but feel that they were the eyes and ears of his brother. When he returned, he would offer a reward for their eradication. His kingdom could not afford to harbor spies in its midst.

  Turning to wish Linaya farewell, Garret bowed low before tucking the gruesome keepsake he had stolen into a pocket upon his trousers. He knew it was wrong. He knew it spoke ill of his mentality. He knew beyond a reasonable doubt that what he had done was disgusting on moral grounds, not to mention any other grounds. But he couldn’t help it. He needed her.

  Holding his head high with his shoulders back, he strode away from her vault without another look back. As he stomped yet another path through the dust, his demeanor began to change as each step felt more labored. The further he got, the less he felt he could leave. Reaching the exit of the tombs, he looked back into the musk-filled darkness. There, beyond the edge of his vision, he could feel her looking back. He could feel her smiling at him, telling him it was okay. Reaching into his pocket to caress her silky hair, he closed and locked the crypts with his free hand. He had to do this. He had to take back his kingdom and protect it from the likes of Seth and others like him for all time.

  Minutes later Garret entered the palace and climbed to the room he once shared with the woman he loved. Reminders of her were everywhere, and even now her scent clung to the sheets and pillows. A fact that Garret looked forward to each time he entered their chamber. Stripping down to remove from himself the odors of the crypts, he fell onto the luxurious feather mattress and enveloped himself within her memory. She had been here and she had loved him. Nothing would ever change that, and none could deny it. But, unknown to everyone else, she still loved him, only she could not yet return to the palace.

  Garret reminded himself that it was okay. Soon she would return and they could lie together again. He missed the heat of her flesh upon him, the press of her wet lips on his skin. He missed their late night passionate love-making, and looked forward to when he could once again press her small body into the mattress beneath him. Soon. Soon he could bring her back to the palace and everyone would see.

  Pulling the covers up over his head to breathe her in more deeply, he hugged her pillow tight before finally drifting off to sleep, comfortable in the knowledge that soon he could prove himself to Gorandor once more and regain his blessing. All he needed to do was be brave in battle and do the righ
t thing.

  With the morning, Garret sprang from his bed feeling more invigorated than he had in weeks. Though just the night before he had loathed the idea of leaving the castle, he knew that it was the right thing, even Linaya had assured him it was so. Pulling on his clothes and the armor that marked him a knight of Valdadore, he left the room, heaving the door closed behind him.

  With a journey filled with fresh air and friends ahead, Garret took the stairs two at a time, nearly colliding with a servant halfway down. Apologizing as he passed, he struck the stone floor below with a steady stride and grin to match. Reaching the main entrance, he threw it wide as the cool morning air struck him full in the face. It would be a good day, of that he was certain.

  Passing through the series of gates outside the palace, Garret took to the courtyards of the castle structure, admiring the rising towers and spires just as he had on his very first visit what seemed a lifetime ago. Only once did he spare a fleeting glance towards the crypts, but his stride did not falter and he continued on to the stables ahead.

  * * * * *

  Zorbin had no idea what to think of Garret’s sudden shift in mood, but it certainly had to be for the good. With his and the king’s supplies gathered, he carefully fitted Xanth with his armor before donning his own. There was no telling what they might encounter on the road these days. In the last months he had seen the impossible—blood drinking monsters, flying men, and mutated warriors to name just a few. He wasn’t about to take any chances with Garret’s life. More likely than not, there were some who might use this time of weakness and confusion to try and assassinate the king. Not on Zorbin’s watch though.

  Snatching up his helm and saddlebags, Zorbin exited his room within the knights’ barracks and stalked down the hall with Xanth on his heels. Reaching the common room he pressed the immense door open, allowing Xanth to exit before him, before stepping out into the morning himself.

  From across the courtyard a booming voice called out to him and immediately he recognized the king. Turning towards the source of the sound, Zorbin watched as Garret thundered across the cobblestones at breakneck speed atop one of the realms royal stallions. Taking the hint, Zorbin slung the bags he carried across Xanth’s armored back and leapt onto the giant wolf in a single movement. Leaning low and holding on tight, he didn’t even give a command before Xanth was off. Tearing across the stones after the king, Zorbin Ironfist grinned through his beard. It was going to make for an interesting journey. Of that much he was certain.

  Winding around one corner and the next, Xanth nimbly guided them around bystanders in the street, sometimes scratching and clawing to change direction at the last moment. Though there were some whom they startled along the way, he dared not let the king out of his sight ahead. Finally reaching the main avenue that would lead them all the way to the southern gate, Zorbin let loose his reins and let Xanth run free. Loping with unimaginably long strides, the giant wolf carried them down the gentle slope towards the outer city wall like a bird borne upon the wind. With Zorbin’s braided hair and beard flapping behind him, they gained on the king’s steed until at last gaining his side.

  “Do we hurry, my king?” Zorbin shouted.

  “Only if you find this too fast, my stout friend!”

  Onward they raced upon mounts with pounding hooves and paws. Reaching the gate they didn’t bother to slow, as pedestrians leapt aside to permit them. It wasn’t until they were more than a hundred yards clear of the city when Garret reined in his mount, as Zorbin followed suit. It was good, this carefree and joyous behavior by the king. Perhaps he had finally made peace with all that had befallen him.

  With his thoughts cut short, the sounds of pursuit lent themselves to the air and Zorbin looked back over his shoulder to see another royal stallion thundering from the city to intercept them. From atop the beast, white robes whipped and snapped in the air and Zorbin turned to face the king once more with one bushy eyebrow raised.

  “It is Ashton, the healer I traveled to the Choosing with,” the king explained.

  “Tis a wise decision to bring a healer in these perilous times,” stated Zorbin.

  “True, his skills may come in handy, but I’ve brought him as a friend, rather than ally.”

  Either way didn’t matter to a mind such as Zorbin’s. With talk of women giving birth to beasts and demons, who knew what evil and witchery they might come to face? Even with the king’s and his own blessing, they were still susceptible to injury. Druids were peculiar people as it was. What kind of sane person danced around in the woods naked singing songs to the moon and feeding wild animals?

  Shaking his head as the healer approached at a reduced pace, Zorbin turned his attention back to his friend.

  “What of us, then? Do we go with all haste, and ride straight through, or stop along the way to see what tales we might hear?”

  “We’ll ride through. Once we’ve seen for ourselves whether or not the rumors are true, then we can return at a more leisurely pace. Zorbin Ironfist, I’d like for you to meet Ashton Rayne,” Garret introduced.

  With introductions complete, it was only moments before they were all three off across the fields south of Valdadore.

  * * * * *

  Ashton rode on in silence for the first few hours, not that he could shout over the hooves of the horses anyhow. The ride was thrilling, even more so, knowing that they were traveling back to where his story truly began. Perhaps not quite that far… but close enough. If they were headed towards Raven’s keep, he couldn’t help but wonder if he could convince Garret to continue on a little further in order to see the battlefield they had fought upon just months prior.

  Since that time, he had adjusted to his life rather well after rejoining the rest of the humans on their return journey to Valdadore. There was much to learn, including his abilities and limitations, but with his stubbornness he had done well to master the art of blessed healing. He had been praying every day for an opportunity such as this one, and now it had arrived. At last he would be more or less alone with the king of Valdadore and could use his knowledge of the king and his newfound understanding of his purpose in life. This was it. It was now or never. The goddess had warned him to be diligent in his watch for an opening beneath the king’s steel skin. He had, and now he was being rewarded.

  Glancing across the fields, he spotted a pond a short ways off of their current course. Thinking to use it as an excuse, he cleared his throat and turned towards the king.

  “My mount is frothing, I think he’s thirsty!” he shouted, pointing towards the pond.

  With a simple nod, Garret assured him of his understanding and he followed as the king and dwarf veered their mounts onto a new course. Nearing the pond within moments, they climbed down from their mounts and guided them each to the water’s edge. It was a bit intimidating, being so thin and frail among the thick and armored, but Ashton shrugged it off and did his best to relax.

  “What do you think we will find, Garret?” Ashton asked as his horse began to drink.

  “I suspect we will find what the rumors say. All rumors start with some truth. This stinks of my brother’s sorcery and Ishanya’s corruption.”

  “If it is true, then I imagine it is tied to your brother, however, I’d not be so quick to blame a goddess,” Ashton replied.

  “Why? She has done our kingdom no good. She has corrupted even the hearts and minds of children who now blindly follow my brother into ruin.”

  “What you say is true, Garret, but it can also be said that were it not for the power lent to Seth by Ishanya, Valdadore would have fallen not far from where we travel now and would be under the rule of orcs and goblins.”

  “I suppose that argument could be made.” Garret said, spitting on the ground.

  “So perhaps it is not the goddess that is at fault, but the vessel through which her power was channeled.”

  Ashton watched Garret shift from one leg to the other, the subject making him a little uncomfortable. Good. He needed to be o
n edge.

  “You know, I did a lot of studying on Ishanya after Seth revealed his powers and once, long ago, she was known as the goddess of lost souls.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” Zorbin chimed in, sounding gruff and angry through his beard.

  “According to our histories, in the past, she blessed warriors such as yourselves, and often accepted worshippers that other gods had denied. Perhaps she intended well by allowing Seth the power that he wields, but he has used it for ill purposes, twisting and abusing it.”

  “Would she not, then, strip the power from him?” Garret asked.

  “Perhaps, but look at what it has done to her following. Yes, his deeds go awry and we face demons brought to life, but they have also given the goddess renown. Everyone knows of Ishanya now, and maybe through the increase in her following she is seeking new champions to right the wrongs your brother has committed in her name.”

  “You think this could be true?” Garret questioned, his face scrunching up slightly.

  “Anything is possible, especially where power is concerned.”

  “Then from here on I will sing a different tune. Ishanya cannot be blamed, but Seth must be held accountable for his crimes. If he ever so much as sets foot in my kingdom again he will pay for his misdeeds.”

  “I think you wise to declare as much,” Ashton said with a nod. “Though it is a shame that you must lose your brother in such a manner.”

  Inwardly he was smiling wickedly. The seed had been planted. He knew of the king’s impotence. The goddess had told him this much and more. Now all he needed to do was nourish the information he had planted in Garret’s mind and find a way to remind him of his weakness.

  Noticing that his mount had stopped drinking and now was lazily chomping on the half frozen, brown grass at the pond’s edge, he turned the beast around and climbed back into the saddle. Both the king and the dwarf followed within seconds and again they were galloping south. Eventually the farmlands turned to wild plains and Ashton rode in a half dream, imagining what power he would be granted when he accomplished the task given to him by the dark queen.