The God Warriors

by Sean Liebling

  Oh, I will! Thank you, Mother.

  [You are welcome. They only breed once a year, and it will be your choice whom to give the offspring to. Now go see your king! You are out of time.] With that, he felt his connection with Hera cut off, like a feeling of loss within his being and he turned to the priestess who was already talking.

  "My name is Tamara, and I'm the High Priestess of the Order of Ares. Take these two as your own. The God Ares informs me if you do not leave now you will be late. I also understand someone will be sent to help you acclimate to this world and to deliver additional history not generally known. However, you must hurry. Impressions are everything. Have you named them yet?" she inquired.

  "They are already named. This one is Korth and this other sweetheart is Kirth," said John fondly, stroking each head. "Call me John, Tamara. I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other often." John smiled at her and patted the heads of the two Lorr. It was true that in the moments of their bonding, they told him their names.

  "Most likely this is true, but you need to hurry, or you'll be late." With a clap of her hands, a young boy ran up to them, and Tamara said quickly, "Take the Champion to the castle as fast as possible." He did not respond, but simply grabbed John's hand and pulled him out of the temple to his horse. Korth and Kirth were on his heels as John quickly pulled himself into the saddle and followed the boy, who took off running.

  The two Lorr kept pace with John's horse, their silver grey fur and size unique, drawing exclamations of wonder as they hurried on their way. Over three foot tall at the shoulder, they were the size of small ponies, and the four-inch incisors visible when they panted left no doubt in anyone's mine the devastation they could cause if provoked. As they hurried to the castle following the boy, the two Lorr raised their heads to John, gave a soft whine, then growled at any passerby who tried to touch them.

  It felt like only minutes, but in reality was almost a half hour when they finally reached the gates of the castle. Alvaldi was there to meet him and ushered John in quickly. When the guards attempted to block the wolves from entering, deep growls arose from both, causing the men to stumble back.

  "Do not touch them. They are my companions and will follow me wherever I choose to go," snarled John as he dismounted, then strode past the guards into the outer chamber before the inner sanctum where the king would be holding court.

  "May I pet them, please?" asked a tiny voice to his right. A small girl, possibly six years of age in a frilly pink dress smiled up at him, peeking from around the corner of a double column that fronted the huge portal doors guarding the king’s domain. She was beautiful, with curly brown hair and a rosy-cheeked smile. All happiness and sunshine, John thought, as he could not help smiling back.

  "Why don't you ask them?" he said kindly. "This is Kirth, and that one is Korth."

  Slowly, the girl walked up to the closest, which happened to be Kirth, and bowed slightly in respect to the large animal. Kirth bowed back with a dip of her head, and the girl asked politely, "May I pet you, Kirth? Please." The question was timid; the response was not, as Kirth woofed in a soft tone, then proceeded to lick the little girl’s face while Korth moved up behind her, licking the backs of her arms. Giggling, the little girl wrapped her arms around Kirth's neck and hugged her tightly. "Oh, you're so beautiful," whispered the girl as she buried her face into the white neck.

  Enjoying the spectacle of the little girl’s happiness, John sent a mental command to Korth, who gently gripped the girl by her waistband, causing an intake of breath from the child and a hiss from the nearby guards, then moved to the side of Kirth who stood sideways, unmoving. With a flip of his head, he tossed the youngster onto Kirth's back, causing her to squeal in delighted terror as her tiny hands dug into the fur on each side of the neck. Then, as Kirth walked in a circle, the little girl held on for dear life while screaming in joy. John laughed. Even the guards were smiling as they watched the two Lorr and little girl scamper around the entryway.

  [You constantly amaze both Ares and me, my son. You scored some points there. Keep it up. Kirth and Korth love little Alicree.]

  "Ok, little one. I need to go see the King, so I'll have to set you down for now," he said with a smile.

  "Why can't I ride her in when you go to see my father?" asked the girl, still astride the huge animal. John did a double take.

  "And you're the daughter of whom?"

  "Why, the king, of course, silly! Now open those doors!" She squealed in delight again as Kirth moved towards the large and ornate double doors. However, the guards had not moved, and, seeing the little girl grow angry, John quickly laid a hand on her shoulder to calm her, saying "Let the guards do their jobs, little one. Your father is the King, after all, so let them announce us properly." The little princess sat silent for a long moment then nodded curtly causing one of the guards to direct a quick look of gratitude at John before stepping forward.

  "Thank you, Sir. She can be quite a handful. May I ask your names and the nature of your business?" he inquired.

  [At this point, it might behoove you to make up some form of formal address from your world, or even a few of them. You want to instill respect from the beginning, even if they do not understand the rank,] Ares’s quick voice cut into John's thoughts just he was about to speak. He considered for a moment then answered the guard with the names and titles of his companions, along with a borrowed few from his own world and gaming.

  "Very good, Sir. One moment, please." The guard turned, lifted the heavy knocker in the center of the right hand panel, and let it fall which resulted in a deep boom that filled the outer chamber. He repeated this twice more before the guards swung both doors wide open, the first guard stepping forward to address those assembled.

  "Your Royal Majesty, Rechar Letre the 8th, Sovereign of the eight states of Korath, and protector of the lesser nations of Omnis and Mulder! May I present Sir John Stone, Knight Commander of the Realm, Warlord of the West, Protector of the Irish Isles, and Champion of the God Ares, the God of War. In his company is Princess Alicree of Korath, Captain Alvaldi of the Guard, and the two Lorr wolves, Korth and Kirth. They seek an audience with your Majesty."

  "Bid them enter!" boomed out a deep, but seemingly friendly voice, the guard immediately beckoned them in.

  "Enter, please," he said. John strode forward and soon found himself in an opulent chamber of large dimensions. At the end of the room was a large raised platform upon which two thrones sat. To the right and left benches lined the tapestry-covered walls, all of which depicted scenes of battle. On the main lower floor area, there were scattered divans and benches lining the central aisle, and a thick burgundy carpet covered most of the marble floor.

  "Well, well, a new champion." boomed the deep voice. John looked up to see what had to be the king wearing simple elegant clothes, but with a circlet on his head. Large, and portly, his presence dominated the room. The deference he received from those in attendance, of which there was many. "I don't know whether to shout with joy or run screaming in terror at what's about to befall us. Especially one with two Lorr wolves bonded to him. What, pray tell, is a Knight Commander? The other titles I understand somewhat, and I read the forwarded reports, so I understand you are from another world, simply inhabiting the body of one of my captains."

  "Sir, a Knight Commander is the highest rank a general of my world can hold while still remaining in the field to direct troops. There is the Grand Master, which is a rank higher, but the position is mostly that of an administrator. He would be the one to tell a Knight Commander to take the troops and get the job done by any means possible, then leave it up to him to accomplish the task," John responded with a smile, causing the king to laugh.

  "I see. That is a position similar to our own Supreme General here in Korath. So, why are you here?"

  "I suppose you could say I'm the gods’ new champion, Sir. We are not exactly plentiful, and from what I understand, tend to follow, or be followed, by momentous events. The Lorr, by the way,
were a gift from the Goddess Hera," responded John drily. "I must also point out that this body of your former captain is now mine, as his soul was stripped from this shell by an Illian wizard. The goddess was able to insert me before the shell of Onias perished," he finished.

  "Yes, young man, I understand that. However, the last known champion to my recollection was more than three-hundred years ago, possibly as many as five hundred. At that time, the northern races attempted to wipe out those of us in the south. My history tells me the champion at that time bound together the southern factions and not only held the north at bay but also practically decimated them. I also understand the champion died during the final battle of that war. Is that your destiny, Sir Champion? To unite the south as the north attempts to exterminate us again, and then die in the end?"

  "Well, if it's all the same too you, your Majesty. I think I will hold off on the dying part just as long as I can. Otherwise, you almost have it right. The way Ares explained it to me, the forces of the north will rise against the south again and soon, but I have a feeling that it will be harder this time for the gods of Chaos have an ally. Something called Entropy or the Devourer. An acolyte of the temple will arrive to instruct me further."

  "How were you able to bond two Lorr wolves to you? Do you have any idea how rare they are? I've never heard of them leaving the Lorr woods. I only know what they look like because I actually visited there on a peace mission with the Jordache King several years ago. It was an attempt to convince them to join the Alliance. An attempt that failed."

  "They were a gift to me from the Goddess Hera. I know all these other things, but not that you visited them personally. Yes, I realize they are not part of the Alliance."

  "Simply amazing. In effect, a champion of both gods at the same time," the king breathed as he gazed at the two wolves.

  "However, in response to your question a few minutes ago, that is not my only purpose here, nor the one I am to perform first. I am to protect your daughters," replied John as the king slowly walked toward him. Finally coming face to face with each other, the king nodded while John inclined his head slightly.

  "Both? Are you sure it's not my eldest, Milsanna? I could believe Mil might need protection, but not Ali, whom you've met. Everyone loves her. She could escape the castle and spend all day by herself in the city and a large group of happy city folk would simply bring her back, smiling and full of too many sweets. But Mil? I suppose it is possible, and you will understand what I mean when you meet her, young man."

  "Well, here comes Milsanna now, and I'll let you be the judge." With that, the king pointed to the side and back into the room where there was a loud banging before a door flew open with the entrance of a partially dressed young woman.

  "Who ordered me woken up at such an ungodly hour!" she screeched. With unkempt hair and what looked like smeared makeup, the woman made her way to the king while suffering what appeared to be a permanent wardrobe malfunction. Through the loose gaps in her robe, John saw long slender legs, frilly undergarments, and entirely too much flesh before she was quickly covered by a furious father.

  "Your daughter, I presume?" inquired John as he gazed at the angry young girl who couldn't have been a day over seventeen.

  "Yes," the king said sadly.

  "She seems to have a temper," said John dryly.

  "You might say that. This could be a good day for her though," replied the king with a smirk.

  "Stop talking about me as if I'm not present. What's going on?" Princess Milsanna shouted as her father tried to tie her robe more tightly around her, while she batted at his hands, trying to push him away.

  "Do you, or did you have children, Champion?" inquired the king as he continued to fight with his daughter and had wisely enlisted the aid of two younger girls, both obviously handmaids, because they wore similar outfits of sturdy homespun sleeveless dresses over white cotton blouses. Similar to the medieval style of John's own home world.

  "One, Sir, a daughter, now older than your eldest. She turned into a good daughter…eventually. I do have some ideas on how I can help, and please call me John," this comment caused the princess to scream in rage then break away from her father to bolt back through the door she had entered. Both men stared after her, shaking their heads sadly.

  "So how will you protect them? Do you act as a bodyguard, where they never leave your sight? That might prove very difficult with Milsanna."

  [I will let you know when you need to be within their company. At that time you must seek them out immediately, for haste would be of the essence.]

  "Ares says he will inform me when protection is needed. At that time. either I must be brought to them or them to me, right away." The king nodded at his words.

  "Champion, or John, as you prefer, we must talk again soon. I've read the reports and would have the gods’ opinions on how to proceed. You can explain your goals at that time and also inform me how to keep Mils under control. However, at this time, I must attend to business of the kingdom."

  "We have a lot of work ahead of us, on all accounts, your Majesty. But if I may make a request, I would like permission to retain Company Allard. Even as champion of the gods, an assassin can still kill me with an arrow, spear, throwing knife, or any number of means. It would be a shame if the man sent to help prepare you for the next Great War died before he could get started. "

  "Why would an assassin be after you?"

  "Sir! Surely you're not saying everyone on this world wishes the safety and well being of the southern countries, are you?"

  "Your request is granted. In the meantime, I will have the general of my guard bring you up to speed on our military, its doctrine, and deployment. I also think it might illuminate you to speak with our wizards. You seem to have some control over magic, according to the reports I have read."

  "Sounds like fun, Sir, and I look forward to our next conversation." Seeing the dismissal, John turned on his heels, followed closely by the Lorr wolves, Alicree still riding Kirth. Captain Alvaldi accompanied them closely behind.

  Chapter 6

  ~Ulf~

  Ulf gazed out over the barren plain, his eyes squinting against harsh sunlight and windblown sand, watching for signs of the enemy. Around him, partially buried in the sandy dunes, was a squad of his brothers and sisters in the clan of stone, village of Sarth. Almost half hidden, the other men and women hidden, they perfectly blended in with their surroundings.

  The people of Sotar were uniformly brown in color and of slightly shorter than average height. Sotar, situated in the far south of the great continent was a land of many varieties. The northern part was comprised of partial desert, sandy grass, and scrub brush. The middle section was plains and a fertile ground for crops and grazing, while the south contained vast orchards bearing fruits, grapes, and berries of all varieties.

  "How close are they, my Nas?" The words whispered on the dying ends of a tail of wind reached his ears in gentle notes and he responded in kind.

  "Very close. Stay ready. The Kuthari will appear shortly, from that direction." One brown arm pointed to the east. Tattoos covered every inch of the arm. In fact, tattoos inked in black adorned every visible surface of Ulf's body, for he was not only of the Sotar, he was a shaman or Nas.

  A Nas was many things: village elder, spiritual leader, marriage counselor, best friend of the villagers, feeder of the poor and the weak, but in many respects, a warrior. The Nas was also effectively the village leader, and it was his job to conduct the test of manhood, which was as much a test of strength and skill as it was an affirmation of their border with the Kuthari. It was the test of battle through blood.

  Though the rite of each man and woman was unique, they all involved combat, and this one was no different. Currently, the thirty youths and one shaman waited for a wandering patrol of the Kuthari, which guarded several miles of the Sotar side of the border. Ulf knew if an overwhelming force of Sotar confronted the Kuthari, they would surrender and simply claim being lost. Yet, if like-s
ized forces met, they would attack. These tests of adulthood took into account the number of enemy approaching, verified by scouts that had been tracking the Kuthari for several days.

  The Sotar were different from other peoples of Corvalis because they worshiped Shianna, the goddess of death, fire, and war. While many might think this meant the Sotar were an evil people, the reverse was actually true. The Sotar, above all else, knew that there was life after death. For them, leaving this plane of existence meant a new journey and experiences.

  The Sotar took great pleasure in life and did not let the thought of death scare them or turn them from their path of honor. Honor was a mainstay of their faith. Honor in all things was their creed. Sotar parents did everything other parents across Corvalis did. They prepared meals, taught skills, nursed a child back to health, and protected their children from the beasts of the wild and roving bands of predators like the Kuthari. In other words, they loved their children and their people.

  The Kuthari were approaching. Ulf could see the tops of their misshapen heads approaching over a nearby rise of earth as they wandered deeper into Sotar territory. Huge in form, dwarfing to even the largest Sotar, the Kuthari were a menacing and despicable race. Made mostly of dense bone and thick muscle, the Kuthari were considered the scourge of the southern wastes, routinely attacking the smaller villages of lands adjoining theirs.