Seth just sighed and pulling his rapier and dagger from his sides, stepping over the small rope barrier and onto the black painted deck of the sparring pit. Officer Ramon was as ever, a big bull of a man, fine mustache and from memory good with that sword. Still Seth was far better now than he had been.
The man lunged at Seth hard and fast with a straight blade. Seth jumped back not ready. He countered with a flick of his rapier and thrust forward. They exchanged cuts the man fighting with such energy and anger. Seth was forced to retreat. It had been so long since he’d used these weapons. He cast his mind to the general and let him take over. Every time the man lunged Seth flicked his blade away with ease, he saw the moment coming. Ramon lost control and charged. He knew he had simply sidestepped the man and choked him to sleep instead of doing the easy thing and letting him run onto his blade. Seth saw him running at him, he stepped to the side and grabbing his thick neck, choking the man, Ramon tried to wrest free but Seth brought him to the ground, alive. Seth turned back and smiled at the lady, but she wasn’t there.
Seth blinked and once again he was standing in front of Ramon and stepping into the pit. The man lunged at him causing him to throw himself back from the fatal wound. What the fuck was happening?
Seth avoided killing the man more than ten times. The battle played out the same each time. It was like a little show now, he knew every move the man would make. Why was he having to do this again and again? This man was an enemy who had raised a blade against Seth, a part of him knew he’d done wrong in letting him live. Was that it? This time, when Ramon ran at him, Seth simply held his blade steady. Officer Ramon ran onto the point of the blade. It entered his unprotected stomach in out through his back, the blade slide in with deadly ease as the man killed himself on it. Ramon’s eyes opened in surprise as he fell back dead. Seth releasing the sword which fell back with the man, sticking out from him.
Seth looked in shock at what he’d done, then casting his eyes to the side saw Elizebetha was there.
“Do you see that?” Seth asked.
“You killed him, why would you do that, you didn’t the first time,” she said.
“I tried not to. I’ve just fought this battle ten times and each time it would start again. Now I kill him and it’s over,” he said.
“How do you feel,” she asked.
“Fine, he was my enemy, he raised the blade, it was right,” Seth said, in truth he hardly felt that way, Ramon was a proud fool but hardly deserved to die, he may have tried to kill Seth in earnest but that was his rage and pride, so many people had tried to kill him now he really didn’t take it that personally anymore.
Seth heard clapping and looked next to the lady. An old Northman stood next to her, he was dressed as a simple farmer but his clothes looked old and worn, he smiled at Seth.
“Good boy, there may be a chance for you yet,” he said in a tongue like Silver’s version of Northern.
Chapter Sixteen.
Grimm rode his stolen horse at a relaxed paced across the sparse countryside surrounding Blackrock. He understood what the desert people must like about this place. It was an easier version of being at home. As a denizen of a harsh landscape, he also knew the joy of getting somewhere a little easier but then the strange sense of lost. Sometimes he missed the cold and the snow. The need for a fireplace, the warm drinks of spiced ale and wine, damn he missed spiced cider, it was such a fine drink.
He was glad to be alone now, he’d been itching to get away since he’d woken up from the hangover of memories and visions. He could feel deep within himself that he wasn’t the same man he’d been. He’d taken in too much of others and now his own ambitions and goals felt small.
Minsetta and the others were so worried about the bloody temple they were quite willing to let these people die. Why? Because they had different skin and features, because they spoke in a strange language and had clung to it for two hundred years of exile? That wasn’t an accident it was by design. Even the king had referred to them as dirt worshippers. Dirt worshippers! It was a fucking outrage, they worshiped the spirit of the sun. The thing that brought them heat and life. They gave thanks to it for their tough skins that could take it. They took pride in being hard people living in a hard land, not that different from the North people, just different climates.
It was strange to Grimm that he now knew so much. His mind had grown and he realized that before he didn’t have the words to express his thoughts, but then again he didn’t have thoughts like these, now he could think clearly. It was like a fog had been cleared from his mind and he now understood much more of why people did what they did.
Now he also cared so much about these people. He cast his mind through his memories and saw many of the Gatherers had lived with them for a while. The basis of the Gatherers’ power was in their teachings. They had learned more and more but these people had been the ones to open the first doors for them.
Grimm was far enough away from the others and had journeyed a good few hours in the right direction. Pulling back on his reins he brought his horse to an easy stop. He checked the ground for any snakes or scorpions, strange creatures, and jumped from his horse. Letting go of the reins, he allowed the horse to wander; it would come back when he called.
Grimm dropped his pack on the ground and sat cross-legged in the yellow dirt. He had so much in his mind now. With Minsetta he was starting to open up to new skills but he now knew that he was perhaps the most powerful summoner left alive, the king was hunting the wrong people he thought with a laugh.
Grimm closed his eyes and started to whistle. It was a thing he’d never been good at before but now he whistled a sweet song. His put his hand out in front of him and waited as he whistled. He thought peaceful thoughts of warmth and safety; he imagined a nice warm burrow and the pleasure of a full belly. He was through his song twice when he felt it, soft animal fur beneath his hard fingers. Grimm opened his eyes and smiled, there nestled under his hand, crouched and breathing softly in the sand was a desert jack. A skinny copper furred creature that looked like a fox where he was from, only they were a lot more scared of people than the ones in his home. It sat calmly as he stroked it, the creature allowing it.
“Hello, little fellow. I’m sorry about this but my friend needs food,” Grimm said as he patted the creature’s soft fur. It seemed quite happy to be around him.
Grimm pulled out a long knife from his bag that sat beside him and looked at the Jack. It had come because he’d told it he was no threat. He’d killed, at least, ten men in the past few days but this was a bit strong, it was like lying to a child then killing it.
He patted it again and reaching again into his pack pulled out a small piece of dried meat. The jack took it in its small white teeth and ran, as Grimm guided it to go. It ran fast across the sand and disappeared down a tiny hole of its burrow, much smaller than he’d have thought possible. The Wolvern could go hungry, that little bastard was a survivor and Grimm wouldn’t mess with that.
Grimm stood and taking his sword drew a circle in the sand with the point. He thought some words in his mind as he drew it and then stood back. He pictured the Wolvern in his mind, its huge form and sharp eyes and simply willed to see it. Within seconds, the air of the circle ripped open and a creature was standing before him. He was unsure if this was the Wolvern, it looked very different. Still on its side of the rift, it raised its head and snarled. Now it looked like the Wolvern but it was covered in soft white fur, bigger than before and a huge brush tail.
It trotted through the rift, tail flicking and clearly annoyed.
Angry one is that you, what is this rift. I can barely see it. It spoke in his mind, there was no pain at its words, it sounded just like normal words to him now.
“I’ve learned a few things since we last met, you look different,” he said with shock. The terrifying creature he’d expected was still terrifying but beautiful as well.
Thank your boy Seth. Now what do you want, it said.
“Yo
u don’t want food first?” Grimm asked.
I’m fine, my appearance is not the only change, now the point. I’m busy, it sounded in his head.
“Where is Seth I think I now have the power to bring him back, or if not, at least, talk to him, learn his wishes, help him,” Grimm said.
The creature laughed darkly in his mind. Too late now, just days too late, he has gone onwards. Let me show you.
The Wolvern opened its mind and pushed its memories at Grimm. It was a tidal flood of thought and images. He saw Seth with a silver woman who was incredible and naked, the girl Seraphina helping him, the Wolvern reborn, a battle for the city of monsters and then the raising of the sun. He felt the cold and hopelessness of the world before and then the life that sprang back with the sun. Finally, he saw Seth through the Wolvern’s eyes. As he and the little princess, got into their small boats and floated away into the fog. He was too late.
Grimm was filled with anger. Why hadn’t Elizebetha let them use this power earlier, he knew he could, at least, talk to Seth now, this rift was strong enough to be a window for the living as well. Grimm thought of all he’d seen. Especially the sun and the changes, he felt what the Wolvern felt. It was sure Seth was going on for a purpose, his role as the Druheim wasn’t finished, which meant it wasn’t finished for Grimm either. He still had a mission; he’d help Seth even if he’d never see his face again.
“One thing I don’t understand,” said Grimm.
Only one? That’s good, said the Wolvern.
Grimm ignored its barb.
“Why are you afraid?” Grimm asked simply.
He could feel inside of the Wolvern like a disease without a name. Lurking inside its bones and blood.
I’m not afraid. I’m never afraid; nothing can defeat me. It shouted in his mind with a snarl.
The worst part was it was right. It wasn’t afraid of anything in particular. Not the black dogs, not the white skinned people or some possible death. It was a truly awful deep-set fear based on nothing. It was pure fear made of fear itself.
Chapter Seventeen.
Seth stepped from the arena and soon Elizebetha had left his side. He’d not noticed her go but then suddenly she had. He stood alone on the deck and watched as the sky became darker and darker. He began to wander the ship and found himself walking to the figurehead. When he saw her he almost stopped dead. She looked as beautiful as when he’d first seen her. Minsetta, her long black hair flowing down her back and the thin white night dress clinging to her body. The perfect Pellosina, soft curves, sexual but self-aware and strong.
She turned as he approached. “Young master Seth, that was quite a show you put on today. How can one so young know so many languages?” she asked.
He replied, near to as he had when they had first met. “I’m actually an old man I just wear this body for the ease of it”
She laughed. “What an interesting thing to say”
He heard her word and saw her but something was wrong. Her words were hollow and had none of their usual charming warmth, like a bad actress reading lines for a play. Seth reached out with his hand and it passed right through her.
“But I killed you, surely you are dead,” he said.
Seth turned to a sound behind him, and standing there was the old farmer, as he walked towards Seth Minsetta simply disappeared.
“Did you kill her boy? Or did the wolf have to save you? Did you thank him for saving you or did you cry out ‘Stop’ and then cry like a pathetic girl-child who’s favourite horse ran away?”
Seth was stunned, it was true enough but he never felt ashamed of it.
“You should feel ashamed of it and, more importantly, you should tell them you are. You acted exactly like any young boy thinking with his cock instead of thinking of his commitment to the rules that govern his people,” the man said “Now pull yourself together. I’ve done all I can, you’re here and it’s time to disembark.”
“Who are you?” called Seth as the man walked away.
***
“You have to run Angeline, you have to run and hide now,” the old woman spoke frantically to her friend. Seraphina looked back at the woman who spoke to her and shuddered, she looked out from the woman’s eyes unable to speak of her own accord.
They were both elderly Pellosi women, dressed in very rough and tattered robes that were made from rough hessian, the type used to make carrying sacks. On their heads over long flowing white hair sat a small garland of field flowers.
“I can’t. I have to try to use the gift to protect the sisters,” Seraphina said back, the voice someone else’s.
As she spoke her visage wavered like the heat lines above a fire and she transformed from the old woman to that of a young man, dressed in simple country garb. She closed her eyes and changed her friends’ guise as well.
“They won’t know who to take,” she said. “We’ll say the women have left, they are on the road and we’ll lead them away. Go get the others.”
The other woman, now appearing as another young man ran barefoot across the rough wooden floor of the room and soon returned with six more women. They ranged in ages, some didn’t have a garland just the simple robes and scared faces to match,
“Sisters it’s happened they have finally come for us, but our goddess will guard us. I will use her power to hide us in her beauty.” The women ran to the front of the room. There stood an altar. It was roughly carved of wood, on it was two faced woman, one old and haggard the other beautiful. This was the cult of Vitanki, she used her powers to turn an ugly cold world to a blessed one. They lived a simple life and delighted in the small beautiful wonders of it. Seraphina watched the door and she knew who was coming.
Suddenly the door at the end of the room burst open, splinters flying. Two men walked in, with rapiers drawn. Stephan the general and the other Dirst, her cousin. They simply stood on either side of the door, guarding any escape. In she walked like a vision of pride and danger. Seraphina saw herself through the old woman’s eyes and felt the fear run through her body. Long blonde hair tied into a tight ponytail, blue eyes blazing with greed and her thin ladies sword was drawn. She heard her own laugh.
“Oh no gentlemen seems we're too late,” she pointed her sword at the collection of young men. “And who might you all be”
She stepped forward. “We just work here, we tend the farm for the women, they have all fled,” she said to herself.
“Oh no, that’s bad,” Seraphina said.
“Here’s the thing. I know you’re lying and seeing your power in all its glory just makes me want it more, seems our spies were right about you all. Have your high priestess step forward and we’ll just take her, otherwise it’s all of you,” she said.
As she spoke. Seraphina felt the emotions of the woman. These women were her sisters. They had lived together for years, had shared their humble days with each other and now truly did feel a sisterly love for each other. She knew this woman would kill them all if she didn’t give herself up. As she looked she saw the older man, he was placing objects in a small circle on the floor, into which all three of them stepped.
She stepped forward and let the guise fall. Showing them for what they were. Eight scared women in rough robes, to show the only gifts they had were the ones the goddess gave.
She saw herself and knew what was coming next, the girl whispered to her uncle who just nodded.
“That’s good. I’m glad that you have made this easier, the only problem is you’re not the only one with power.”
Next to her Stephan was chanting quickly and within moments there was a small black storm cloud in the room, the women screamed and clung to each other, helplessly crying, the only exit blocked. Within seconds the rift was open, three of the black dogs bounded out of the cold and into the room. She heard her own voice screaming, “Take them all and give me the rest.”
She saw the terror in her sister’s face and tried to use her power to change them to other people but the wild animals cared not who th
ey killed, man or woman, farm boy or priestess. The first beast was on her friend, Jessika in a moment, the woman tried to run for the door but it caught her leg. Vicious teeth ripped through her skin and she collapsed screaming. The beast’s teeth were around her throat in moments of her hitting the ground, it ripped her life away in a bloody heartbeat. A large group of women huddled and cried against the altar, it was splattered with their blood as they died crying out to the goddess, she had no power over matters like this.
Angeline ran to the girl, falling to her knees before her and begged for her to stop but then she felt the teeth sink into her own skin and she screamed lunging back. She saw the huge black form bent over her leg and pull her backwards with a sharp turn of its head. Turning herself quickly to face it. She felt the stale breath of a hot meat and then she felt it rip into her ribcage with claws and with horrible teeth, she tried to scream but it was over, the creature ate as the life left her aged body. Seraphina lay in the woman’s body as the dog kept ripping her now dead body she felt the pain of it and the horror of what she had done that day.
As she closed and opened her eyes the pain stopped. She looked around to see she was back in her uncle’s study. She looked once again through eyes not her own. She looked at a much younger version of herself, over some old book. Oh no, she thought she knew this as well.
She heard herself speak in a male voice. “You’re a terrible student Seraphina. You’re not even paying attention,” she said to herself.
The younger version of herself just smiled back. “I know a faster way,” she said in a voice of a spoiled child.
Inside the man’s mind, Seraphina started to scream and scream.
Chapter Eighteen.
Goldie drew his broadsword and pointed it once again at Farirkar. The big man just smiled at him, he held his long handled double-headed axe in both hands.
“Aren’t you sick of this yet?” Farirkar asked.
“Not yet,” Goldie said and ran in. His shoulder was starting to leak blood but it was feeling a lot better, he healed fairly fast now and was much more than an average swordsman, still this man was a giant and had learned his killing arts the hard way, by actually killing people. Goldie brought his sword down hard at Farirkar who blocked it with the metal handle of his axe. Goldie dodged to the side and narrowly avoided a vicious kick to the groin, Farirkar fought with no rules, spinning but too slowly, Goldie swung his sword through the air at Farirkar’s neck and missed widely.
Take My Heart...: Dark Ages - Fantasy (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 3) Page 7