He heard the voice of his controller ringing in his head. “Soon they will be finished fusing the plates to the skin before I bring this Titan to life. It's an experiment I hope to see come to fruition soon.” The thing cackled, and if Martell had been in control of his body, chills would have run up and down his spine.
Martell hadn't tried speaking to the being before, afraid that it might abuse him in some way, but his curiosity overcame his fear. “How long? How long have you been doing this?”
Intense pain coursed through him, and Martell screamed in agony inside of his own mind. The pain slowly faded, and he found they were walking out the front of the building. “Never speak to me again. You are beneath notice, and should think of me as a god.” The thing chuckled evilly, “For all you know, maybe I am.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
Annika snarled at the officious oaf across from her. He had a smug little smirk she would Love to wipe from his face, but she needed to control herself. This man, Opah Torak, was the head of this school. His smile infuriated her, full of confidence and cockiness. And the way his teeth stood out from his skin, like a salt deposit on a piece of coal. She wanted to pound his teeth into the back of his throat. His eyes were filled with a love and appreciation for the joys in life. Sometimes it was enough to make Annika sick.
Opah Torak had explained to her why they placed her where the school had. They were trying to teach her to be a priestess. Something, she had tried to explain, that her own people had attempted and failed at. The orcs and Greatmothers had found her lacking, without the gift for speaking to Gruumnsh.
Annika had gone through the basic lessons these people were trying to teach her. How to clear one's mind, and focus one's will to shape what needed to be done. Taking the time to plan and strategize before tackling a problem in your life. Things children learned at the knees of their mothers and grandmothers.
Opah Torak had insisted, saying that she may have learned, but not truly comprehended. It was insulting and took every ounce of physical restraint she had not to act on it. The man steepled his fingers, looking at her over them and considering her. “Truth to tell, you may need to go back farther still to the classes that teach acceptance of anything that comes at you. You need to learn to go with the flow and be like water. As water becomes the cup, so to must you become the cup.”
She couldn't control it any longer. Something inside of her snapped, and she lost all restraint on what she said. “Are you that stupid?” She demanded, standing up from the cold icy chair she had been sitting on to lean over the man's desk and loom over him. “I swear to Gruumnsh, if you offer me further insult again, I'll leave. What is this dung about being water? How can an orc quit being anything but an orc?” Opah Torak sat up, his normally happy expression warping into one of a man used to people bowing to his wishes. His eyes didn't become cold, but the warmth in them chilled quite a bit. “All I want is to return to my future husband’s side. I didn't even want to be here. You want me to play your game, I will. I'll even play by your rules, but you will not offer me insult by putting me in any classrooms below my level of training.”
Torak licked his lips as he considered his reply. He sniffed the air in contempt, counting to fifteen inside his head and calming himself before replying. Once he had mastered his own anger, Opah Torak said, “Two steps forward, one step back. You've presented your case admirably. Told me your skill levels, even demonstrated some basic grasps of dropping yourself into a trance. But you're not as advanced as you think.” The man stood, walking around the desk to sit on the edge of it and to show he wasn't cowed by the muscular and potentially violent orc woman before him. “Your step back though is that temper. How can you expect to hold your own with a dragon? Your loved one will feed off of you and your emotions, so coming at him with anger is the wrong approach. They're known to react without thought, especially as he gets older. You keep looking for insults where none are offered, and yes, you're going to find them. I'm sorry we couldn't find a more advanced class to place you into. But you need to finish mastering our techniques before we can pass you farther into our school.” Opah Torak walked back around his desk, sitting in his seat. He gestured for Annika to sit now that she had calmed herself. “I'm not holding you back to insult you. I'm not trying to stop you from reaching your potential. I just want to make sure you're not going to be a danger to others as you advance in school. You're a very intimidating woman.”
“I'm still not even sure what it is you teach here!” Annika said angrily as she leaned back in her chair. “No one has even explained that to me, just telling me that you're training me to be the beloved of a dragon. What does that even entail?”
“Mostly defensive techniques and ways to solidify the immediate reality around you.” The man carefully positioned himself in his chair, placing his hands horizontally parallel to each other and concentrating. Annika watched as the very fabric of reality itself warped between his two hands. “Things that will catch any surprises he might throw at you, or help you to stop him if he's raging out of control. He may be a dragon, but he's not infallible. He'll be immensely powerful and hopefully he'll become wise and gentle. But that's not always the case, sometimes they're cruel and mean. Other times, they lack control of their own powers. Doesn't happen often, but it happens. And eventually, no matter what you do, they go insane, and become evil. It could happen in ten thousand years, enough time that you'll be long gone! Or it could happen in as little as ten once they reach their full potential. There are other extenuating circumstances that contribute to the transition. We just want to prepare you for anything your dragon lover may throw at you.”
“I told you though, the Greatmothers tested me, and I showed no aptitude for communication with Gruumnsh.” She looked down at her feet, as if the thought shamed her, “I can't connect with the magic of my peoples.”
“That's why you need to finish your training. This isn't the magic of your people. This is the magic of many generations of dragon partners.” He smiled at her as he steepled his fingers again, sitting back in his chair. “Just please, finish the class. If at the end of it you haven't learned a thing, I'll become your personal instructor until you're ready to return.”
Chapter Twenty Nine
Jaxon sat on the glider, goggles across his eyes. He looked down at the bands of stretchy fiber, twisted together in such a way as to make them carry tremendous power. The rope was only as thick as an orc's thumb, an amazing invention by Jaxon's young crazy friend, Fiksu. They were testing this portable glider launcher for the first time. The plan was to send Jaxon a few miles ahead of the army to scout out and mark a central camp. They had loaded his pack and tent on it, leaving him to choose the choicest spot, which made him happy. He carried an old style firework, a whistling rocket that emitted bright red sparks. The army would be able to see it from many miles away.
Fiksu walked back and forth, checking the line and mechanisms of the launcher to make sure it was set just right. Their launch tests with weights indicated this should work simply and easily, but this was their first live launch. The young genius clapped Jaxon on the back before he walked to the lever, “Good luck, my friend. Hopefully, you don't die.”
Jaxon was second guessing his choices, wondering if they should have just one more test launch. He was just opening his mouth to voice his misgivings, but Fiksu had already determined to pull the lever. The orc ripped it back, sending the band springing forward and launching the glider into the air. Once there, all of Jaxon's lack of confidence vanished. Instincts took over, and he looked for birds using updrafts. As he flew, he admired the expansive landscape below. The farmlands stretched for miles and miles, but lined between them were large sprawling forests. Trees swayed in the breeze, and the halfling could see houses spattered between. He caught a nice updraft, rising a good hundred feet before searching for the perfect landing spot.
He felt so free, flying in the air. The way that it supported him, he could see how Tyrosh could fall in lov
e with this. He closed his eyes, feeling the wind whip past his face, glad he'd bared his bald head to the sun. He would have lost his hat otherwise. He opened his eyes, spotting the thin whip-like ending to Tyrosh's tail. Jaxon swung his head around, searching for his friend, but couldn't spot her. Always she danced just out of his vision, as if she were avoiding him. The halfling called out, “Damn it, Tyrosh, don't hide from me! I'm glad you did what you did! We lost warriors, but we weren't prepared and you saved us!” He began to swing his glider around another hot spot, lifting higher and higher in the air, following the tantalizing tease that was his magnificent friend. She had always loved to play hide and seek, and she'd always been a master of it. Jaxon knew she wanted to talk, but also knew her pride probably wouldn't let her.
“Whatever. Let me know when you're ready to talk, Tyrosh!” Jaxon called out, heading back towards the ground. He spotted a lake a couple miles away from the army, seeing they were headed straight for it. The road passed through a forest on the way to Heart, but opened up to another farmland past the trees. A path was cut around the water, and a rope bridge stretched half a mile across it.
He landed, not even bothering to light a firework. The army would reach him eventually, even if he did nothing. Jaxon was a frugal man. He chose a spot, very close to the lake, setting his tent up right next to the water. When he was finished, he pulled out his ancient dwarven relics that he loved. He could transform these rectangles of stone into any kind of tool he needed. Usually he used them as a hammer or a chisel, but they were able to shift into just about anything. He even turned them into war hammers when he was fighting in battle, long spikes sticking out from the solid heads. For now though, he turned one into a fishing pole. Using string, and some candy he'd managed to keep hidden from Nord, he started fishing for dinner. Mushroom soup was nutritious, gave you amazing dreams, but day after day it became monotonous. Jaxon needed a change up.
Nothing was biting. The halfling took the time to set up a fire, preparing for any fish he caught, before returning to his fishing pole. He even took the time to dig up worms, shifting his other rectangle into a small shovel and pulling a fat, long night crawler free. But still nothing. Jaxon gave up with sinking hopes and images of bowls of mushroom soup in his head as the sun began to set.
Seeing it was dark, he began to worry. The halfling pulled one of the fireworks from his pocket, setting it up carefully to shoot into the sky. He lit the fuse with a coal from his fire, and watched as the rocket took off with a loud piercing whistle. It blew apart with a thunderous boom, and red sparks cascaded across the sky. It lit up the area where Jaxon was, even adding some definition to the farmhouse on the other side of the lake.
Silence descended afterward, the boom had scared away most of the wildlife. Jaxon shook his head, going to his fire to keep warm. He sat on the ground, leaning up against the glider and listening to the world around him.
Jaxon was just relaxing, his eyes being glued shut by the sandman, when a deafening screech sounded. The halfling jumped to his feet, so loud and startling the sound was. He looked around frantically, searching for whatever had made the noise.
A large bird was approaching Jaxon's camp from the woods, head bobbing up and down and twisting from side to side. It looked like a chicken, if one of those dirty birds were seven feet tall. Its feathers were the blue gray of the clouds on a rainy day. A large reddish brown comb stood off from its head, two enormous wattles hanging from below its large whitish yellow beak. The creature would be able to look Nord in the eyes, and as it came at Jaxon the short little man had to admit he was intimidated.
It made its way around the glider, and Jaxon moved to stay out of its sight. There was a long spur hanging off of the back of its shank. It clacked that spur against the ground, walking over to the glider to inspect it. Jaxon worked to keep the glider between him and this immense bird.
The chicken bent down next to the glider, smelling the dirt where Jaxon had been sitting. It started to follow the trail, sniffing at the ground as it worked its way around the glider. Jaxon hurried hurried around the same direction of the bird, trying to be quiet at the same time. When they had made a full circuit, the bird stood with its head cocked, considering the cloth covered frame. Jaxon watched horrified as the thing opened its beak, spouting a stream of flame at the glider. Wherever the stream hit, fire clung to the cloth. In moments, it was a blazing inferno and smoke billowed into the sky. Jaxon had to abandon his shelter, leaving himself exposed.
The bird spotted him, considering him for a moment. It clacked its beak two times before loosing another loud screech and charging at the little man. Jaxon screamed like a young girl, turned towards the lake and charged for the bridge. The chicken was hot on his tail, head stretched out and beak clacking. It tried to spout some fire at Jaxon, but the searing flames didn't quite reach. Jaxon was out of breath by the time he hit the bridge, but the creature followed, encouraging him to run onward. He charged across the bridge, eating the distance across it in panicked strides. The blue bird behind him didn't even hesitate, chasing after Jaxon. The bridge dipped into the lake every time the bird landed on it. When it sprang forward the bridge would lift, shooting Jaxon into the air. He was halfway across, but the bird was gaining steadily. Every time it launched him in the air, the fowl gained more ground.
As Jaxon was approaching the opposite side of the bridge, the chicken let forth a spray of flame, the fire spreading out in a wall instead of in a stream. The vines that made the rope of the bridge caught fire behind Jaxon as he hit solid ground. The bird behind him let out another screech before jumping the last fifteen feet of the bridge and clearing the flames. It took a second to steady its posture before continuing its chase after Jaxon.
The halfling tried calling out for help, hoping that someone in the farmhouse would be able to help him. He continued to run for his life, screaming and shouting at the top of his lungs. A redheaded man stepped out from the porch, trying to see what was causing all the commotion. Jaxon heard the chicken preparing for another fire breath. The chicken wheezed at him, but no flame came out of its beak. It pushed itself, trying to gain more footing on the halfling, snapping its beak with a loud clack in Jaxon's ear. The halfling was just resigning himself to becoming a meal when he heard a loud squelch behind him. The sounds of the chicken's thundering feet stopped, and Jaxon turned to see what was going on. The bird lay dead on the ground, blood streaming from its eyes and beak. An arrow stood lodged deep through the bird’s skull. Jaxon watched the last of its death, still sucking in air from the run.
The man from the porch approached, lowering his bow and asking, “Is everything okay?”
Jaxon ignored him continuing to try and catch his breath. When he had enough to speak, he looked to the man and said, “Thank... you.... for your.... help. I almost ...became... manure... for the fields!” The halfling stared up at the man before him feeling that the eyes looked familiar. “Do I know you?” He asked, tentatively.
The man before him laughed, and Jaxon recognized that sound. “I guess this glamor really is effective.” Lov gestured back to the farm, motioning for Jaxon to follow him. “Come have some tea, my friend, you look like you could use it.”
Lov led his short friend into the farmhouse, offering him a chair at the table. An old woman sat there, tapping her foot impatiently. Lov set a steaming mug of water before the halfling and the old woman, dropping a metal tea ball into both of them. The rich aroma of a freshly brewed kettle wafted over Jaxon, soothing the halfling's nerves. He took a deep drink from the cup, listening as Lov explained the peace he had worked out with the other farmers. They would open a corridor across the farmlands to the orc army. Lov's journey amongst the people helped to allay the fear that had been sweeping through the farmlands.
An old farmer came from the rear of the house, hair sticking up straight to the ceiling. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then did a double take, seeing his young friend talking with a child. The farmer shook his head and went
to his pantry, pulling out tea and starting his breakfast for the day. Lov thanked the man, telling him about the large chicken dead in his field before leaving. The old woman, whom Jaxon had assumed was the farmer's wife, left with them.
They walked to the edge of the lake, walking to where it met the road. The halfling pulled another whistling rocket out of his pouch, lighting it off in the morning light. An hour later, Jaxon and Lov watched as the army streamed from the road through the forest. They poured across the countryside toward the three waiting companions. As they approached, Jaxon realized he had lost the glider. Fiksu was not going to be happy. They took days to assemble from scratch, and that had been the last of the portable gliders they carried with them.
Martell was forced to watch his controller's abomination at work. The plates fused to the skin of a man moved with even more ferocity and power than the Titans usually did. A demonstration had been set up, six normal Titans against this monstrosity. The first of what Martell knew would be many. The Titan surrounded the monster, who kept them at bay with wide, sweeping swings of his sword.
The Titans worked in perfect unison, moving as one and preparing for whatever defensive moves this new version might bring. Three rushed in, each focusing on a different part of the body, and attacking in complete synchronicity.
It didn't matter though, as the abomination's sword lashed out, removing one of the Titans from the fight quickly. Two of the Titans standing back from the fight stepped forward to take the place of their fallen brother, while the last held itself in reserve, searching for an opening. The half human/Titan hybrid fought off his two new assailants then dispatched the Titan on the sideline as it stepped forward. The abomination had left an opening, hoping that the Titan would take it.
Breath of the Titans: The False Titanbringer: Complete Trilogy Page 45