Returning to gather his litter against the protesting yelps and growls of the tiny fur-covered pups, Garret hefted the end of the massive litter and began dragging it back the way he had come. Moving with renewed purpose, he didn’t even look back to see if his companions were following.
* * * * *
Zorbin was no fool, he had noted the alterations of Garret’s blessing, but had said not a word about it since seeing his king with the added spikes, blades, and lightning-like electrical charge. It was his place to question neither the king nor the gods and as such he simply stood witness to his master and ally. It did not take long to realize that not only his abilities had changed. There was something else at work within Garret, though he couldn’t quite pin it down.
Something about the king’s demeanor had changed. It was not as if he were better. No. The signs of self-loathing, pain, and mourning were still there, though somewhat muted. It wasn’t exactly as if the king were improved so much as his mood had simply shifted from outright pain and rage to something less volatile but more dangerous. Garret exuded something completely different than he had just weeks before. The man had changed and it wasn’t for the better. What was worse was that he was still changing, and Zorbin no longer knew what to say around him or how to behave. He needed to get through to his friend before the king was lost to whatever it was that was eating at him.
“Garret,” Zorbin began. “As the appointed head of the knights of Valdadore, I wonder if we should not seek out those who remain with blessings and see if we can work to bolster our ranks.”
Watching as the king turned his head slightly as if to hear him better, Zorbin was not surprised when the king gave a very uninterested answer.
“If you need more to fill your time, Zorbin, you may search high and low for more knights. I doubt you will find many.”
“Tis true, my king, but I wonder if there may still be some within Valdadore who have not yet found their calling. Without the knights to defend the realm, who will stand to protect the people should another army come calling?”
“You mean if my brother returns?” Garret asked, nearly hissing the words.
“No, I had meant another army. I do not think that Seth wishes you any ill will.”
“Think what you like, Zorbin, but should my brother show his face, I will remove it.”
“Apologies, my king, I only meant…”
“I think it may be wise,” Ashton interjected, cutting Zorbin’s apology short. “Perhaps have another Choosing ceremony, but alter the age of those summoned. There may yet be some with blessings who could be trained to protect the realm who simply were not yet old enough for the last ceremony.”
“You suggest we enlist children?” Garret asked.
“Certainly he does not,” Zorbin protested.
“Not toddlers. I’m not talking of stripping a babe from its mother’s arms, only those a few years your junior, my king,” Ashton explained.
Zorbin didn’t trust the healer. Thus far they had worked together to set the king’s mind straight, but the healer had an unsettling interest in military matters and things that should mean little or nothing to the man. It was peculiar, but after the battles they had survived recently, perhaps it was better if more people began thinking about the security of the realm. Maybe it was just the way the healer looked at the king that made Zorbin uncomfortable. Even Xanth stayed clear of the healer, though could not express exactly why. Either way, again they were on the same side of the issue, yet with a totally different approach as to how best to achieve results.
“We have already pulled those from our people who had previously served Valdadore and many were lost, now you want to pull the next generation of defenders into early service? What will that do to the kingdom in the future? We’ll be forced to enlist children again and again for all time if we start now,” Zorbin argued, hoping they would see the wisdom of his words.
“Sigrant had mages and blessed warriors of all kinds and all ages. Why can we not do the same? Don’t just enlist those who are younger, but give rewards to the parents of those who enlist,” Ashton continued.
Zorbin spit as he walked. He’d already lost the battle on this one. Ashton seemed to understand the mind of the king better than he, or perhaps the king simply did not want to hear Zorbin. Maybe it was because he had been the last to spend any real time with Linaya. For that, maybe the king was tempered against him. There was no way to know for sure, and they certainly weren’t about to start talking about their feelings. No, this time he would have to sit back and see what it was that the king decided. He could only hope that the king would come out of this funk and see what he was doing to the kingdom by ignoring that which was important and focusing on his own rage and emotions.
“It is a wise idea, Ashton,” Garret replied. “Zorbin, when we return to the castle, you will arrange for another Choosing ceremony. Enlist all those over the age of twelve. I want to hold the ceremony before another cycle of the moons.”
“As you wish, my king,” Zorbin replied.
At least Garret wasn’t putting Ashton in charge. He didn’t like the idea of recruiting children, but it was true—they had nearly been defeated by a man who had done just that. Would have been defeated in fact had not Seth returned from the dead to save them, a point Zorbin was not about to bring up. Time, Zorbin reminded himself. Time was what the king needed to heal and see the errors of his way. At least he had decided not to slaughter these women and their children. In time he would see too that these other decisions he was making were folly, and Zorbin would be there to help him put it all back together again.
Deciding it better to remain quiet lest he accidentally begin something else that would alter Valdadore’s history, Zorbin pulled the giant litter, glancing back, dragging the women and children behind him as gingerly as he was able. Looking ahead, he frowned as he noted Ashton smiling and silently praying towards the sky. Something about the man wasn’t right, and Zorbin meant to get to the bottom of it before it was too late.
* * * * *
Seth sat upon the throne more for effect than actual liking, when Borrik entered leading the captain of the knights he had just defeated without so much as drawing a blade. The man was a proud one, that Seth could discern with the care he gave his armor and the way he strode with his head and shoulders held high even after such a humiliating defeat. Seth immediately liked the man. He reminded him of Garret.
“So you are their leader?” Seth asked, watching Borrik take up a place beside and behind him, opposite where Sara already stood guard.
He had reassured her that the man could not harm him, but both she and Borrik obviously had a different opinion.
“I am their captain, yes,” the knight answered.
“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.
The Calling (Book 7 of The Blood & Brotherhood Saga) (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) Page 11