Song Of Fury (Gods Of Blood And Fire Book 2)

by A. J. STRICKLER

  Both women burst out laughing through their tears. Celestia embraced Syann and kissed her cheek. “Let us go back up the stairs and have some tea.”

  Syann wiped her eyes. “Yes, I would like that.” The Goddess of Justice gave one last look over her shoulder at her father’s prison as they walked up out of the dark.

  The wagon creaked and bounced from side to side as it made its way toward Caleb’s village. The terrain had slowly inclined as they approached their destination. The last mile of the road that led to the village on the cliff had been all uphill. Around twenty homes made up the tiny farming community. The small cabins had been built in a circular fashion and constructed from logs taken from a nearby forest that the village lay nestled in.

  Caleb’s description of his village had been accurate. To the south, the ocean stretched out as far as one could see and to the east, the distant slopes of the Scar Mountains rose like silent guardians, proud and strong. The view from the center of the village was breathtaking.

  Smoke curled into the sky from the primitive cabins and several men could be seen lazily tending to a variety of tasks in the early morning hours. Caleb leaped down from the wagon and ran to the men who had begun to gather at the center of his village. “Wait,” Nick called after the boy.

  Endra grinned. “Let him go, he’s excited to be home.” Kian caught her attention and nodded toward the three older children on horseback. She knew what he meant for her to do. She cantered over to where they sat on their ponies talking among themselves. “You three, be on your best behavior while Kian and I talk with the elders of this village. Don’t go wandering off. Understand?” All three nodded in unison. The others would be fine, Nick would see that the younger children who still rode along in the back of the wagon came to no mischief.

  Walking her horse forward, Endra joined Kian as they entered the village. “This looks like a lovely little place, don’t you think?”

  Kian grunted. She could see his attention was focused on Caleb. The boy was waving to them from the center of the village where several men stood and watched their approach. Endra looked back at Nick and pointed to where the boy stood. The cook waved, letting Endra know he understood where to take the wagon.

  “We are in trouble,” Kian said quietly.

  Endra’s brows furrowed. She looked around the sleepy little village. She saw nothing that looked like it posed a threat. “What do you mean? All I see is a bunch of farmers and Caleb.”

  “Look closer.”

  Endra gave the farmers a harder look, but still saw nothing amiss. “I don’t see anything.”

  She watched Kian’s hand slowly slide down to the hilt of his sword. “Farmers don’t wear riding boots like that and I don’t see any elderly people, nor any women or children.”

  Endra looked again. Kian was right, the only villagers she saw were men of fighting age, and when she looked at them with a more suspicious eye, they did not seem to have the mannerisms of common villagers. They were alert, heads up and shoulders back, not the nature of men who toiled for a living, nor did they have the windblown and tanned faces of those who worked outside. Aside from their simple clothing, the men looked nothing like farmers.

  “Be wary,” Kian said without taking his eyes off the men they rode towards.

  Endra looked at Caleb. He was no longer waving at her. Now he was grinning like a hungry wolf. Kian was right, they were in trouble.

  She watched Kian. His eyes darted left and right then he cocked his head. “What is it?” she whispered.

  She got her answer as the warriors of God’s Hand poured out of the small log homes and those men that had been posing as farmers drew weapons that had been hidden around the village.

  “Nick, get the children into the trees to the north,” Kian shouted. The swordsman sprang from his horse, drawing his blade as he tumbled through the air. He killed two of the holy men before his feet touched the ground and he began cutting a bloody path for Nick and the children on the north side of the village. “Forget the wagon, run,” he screamed to the cook.

  Endra didn’t have her lover’s inhuman speed but she was far from slow. She slid from her saddle, drawing the bastard sword she carried from its worn sheath on the side of her horse. She followed Kian’s lead and tried to cover her children’s flight from the village.

  The older children had headed their ponies north and were nearly out of the village when numerous crossbow bolts slammed into the beasts. She watched as all three of the animals went down. Her loss of focus almost made her fail to see the hand ax coming at her head.

  She ducked the blow and buried her sword in the man’s gut. Ripping the blade free, she quickly slammed the heavy sword into another false villager’s ribcage, nearly cutting him in half. She had to dispatch two more of the Hand before she could risk a glance to see what had become of her children.

  Nick Nock was carrying Brigitte and Sabra, and Vadin’s basket was swinging from the cook’s arm as he ran towards the woods. She could see nothing of the triplets.

  There was nothing she could do to help them but kill the men before her. The big bastard sword tore through the air, crunching through flesh and bone as she hurled herself at the churchmen. One by one, her opponents fell at her feet like so much cord wood.

  Warm blood covered her hands and she had begun to sweat. Wrenching her sword from the skull of another of the Hand, Endra felt as if she had been struck from behind. A hot tingling sensation spread all over her body. She stood motionless, sword still raised to deliver a killing blow.

  It was as if her body had been turned to stone. Try as she might, she could not move. The priest in front of her smiled and started to thrust his sword into her chest when she heard a familiar voice. “Stop. Don’t kill her, you fool. I have need of her.”

  Milara.

  ***

  Nick saw that the older children had gotten into the trees. He raced after them as fast as he could. He was lucky that most of the Hand were busy trying to deal with Kian. He wanted to help the swordsman, but he had the children to think of. He was nearly out of the village when he heard the sound of running feet behind him.

  Looking back over his shoulder, he saw one of the church’s assassins bearing down on him. The man was coming fast and the portly cook knew he could not out distance him encumbered with three small children.

  He gritted his teeth and ran for all he was worth, trying to pick up speed, but his pursuer's footsteps were getting closer. He risked another look back. The priest had drawn his sword and was about to swing. Nick tried to run just a little faster, almost causing him to stumble on the uneven ground. The sword cut through the air, missing the cook but cutting the handle of the wicker basket. The weight of the baby tipped the basket and Vadin fell onto the ground. Nick came to a rapid halt, knowing he had lost the child.

  The Hand glanced down at the baby and then ignored the child. Stepping over Vadin, the warrior advanced on Nick, intent on killing the cook. Nick backed away as the man slowly came towards him. He had no choice left to him. He set the two girls on the ground and raised his hand.

  The Hand looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Begging won’t help you now.”

  Nick was sweating and panicky. He needed to calm himself and act quickly. If he didn’t, he was dead. He had never used his magic for anything but cooking, the few spells he knew flying through his mind. There was only one... If he reversed it, maybe it would work. He mumbled the familiar words backwards and squeezed his outstretched hand slowly into a fist, one finger at a time.

  The man’s eyes narrowed at the strange gesture. He raised his sword and took a step forward. His advance came to an abrupt stop as he dropped his weapon and clutched at his belt. “What have you done to me?”

  The Hand of God started to scream, his face turning dark blue. He tried to unbuckle the belt from his waist, but it had shrunk too small for his fingers to release the now tiny bronze buckle. The Hand fell to the ground, kicking and gasping for air. The belt cont
inued to shrink, contract. Blood and viscera sprayed as the thick leather cut into the priest’s body. The man grew still and Nick watched as the belt shrank down to the diameter of a small cup.

  The cook covered his mouth as he looked down on the dead man. Reversing the enlarge spell had worked. He had never tried it on anything besides food before. He had started to go pick up Vadin, who still lay a few yards away, when three more priests came from behind one of the cabins. They were running towards him at a breakneck pace.

  He looked at the baby and then back at the two girls. He couldn’t handle all three men. He had to make a choice. Scooping up the two girls he ran. If he stayed for Vadin, they would have all of them. The little boy would be safe for now. Even the Hand wouldn’t harm a baby. He looked back as he sprinted away with the girls. The men had stopped to pick up the infant. Nick put his head down and ran. He didn’t look back again.

  ***

  The bodies of twenty men lay scattered throughout the village. Kian was about to press the attack when he saw the woman in the tiger mask and green cape step into view.

  The short, dark-haired woman was a sorceress, of that he had no doubt. She thrust her hands above her head and began to chant in a strange language. The men of the Hand that still surrounded him moved away from Kian as the sorceress slowly lowered one arm and pointed her finger at him. An orange bolt of energy streaked across the village, striking him in the chest. The force of the magic bolt knocked him onto his back.

  “Not much of a slayer,” the woman in the tiger mask shouted. She threw back her emerald cape dramatically and put her hands on her hips. Before she could utter another word, Kian bounced back to his feet, seemingly unharmed. The sorceress's mouth hung open and she began backing up as Kian came towards her with his bloody sword in his hand.

  She shook her head. Whispering a word, the sorceress stretched out both her arms. A jet of flame issued from her small hands and engulfed the menacing swordsman. A small yelp escaped her as she watched him continue towards her, indifferent to the flames that surrounded him. The sorceress dropped her hands to her sides and froze in disbelief. “It’s not possible,” she stammered.

  Kian bared his fangs and lifted his sword. The woman in the tiger mask cringed with fear as she looked her own death in the face.

  “I wouldn’t do that, monster.” Kian whirled around and dropped into a crouch. He knew the voice. His eyes quickly took in the scene at the center of the village. Lord Justice Milara stood with a man that had wildly spinning eyes. To their right, a man dressed like a prince with an upturned mustache held a knife to Endra’s throat. “You might be immune to magic, monster, but she’s not,” Milara said, gesturing to Endra.

  Saliva dripped from one side of Kian's mouth. “Let her go or I will kill you all.”

  “You’re not that fast, demon,” the man holding Endra said.

  “Are you sure, priest?” Kian answered, his voice sounding more like a growl.

  Two members of the Hand ran over to the lord justice and handed him a bundle. The Eye of God drew a dagger from his belt and stepped away from the man holding Endra. He pulled the baby out of its blanket and put the dagger to the infant’s side. Milara’s eyes gleamed as he raised an eyebrow. “Even you can’t save them both, Slayer. Throw down your sword and get on your knees.”

  Kian looked at Endra then Vadin. “I will have your oath to the god you worship that no harm will come to Endra or any of the children. Swear it now before all that is holy to you.”

  “I swear,” Benington quickly said.

  Kian looked at Milara. “I will have the lord justice’s word as well.”

  Milara glared at the half-breed and tightened his jaw.

  “Dracen, swear it,” Benington urged.

  “I swear, demon,” the priest said through gritted teeth.

  Kian threw down his sword and dropped to his knees. The lord justice looked at him and breathed a sigh of relief. “Bring the chains.”

  Kian couldn’t move, the chains were too thick for him to break. He could smell the magic that had been used to make the shackles. Most likely they had been enchanted. There would be no escape.

  The extravagantly dressed man with the mustache led Caleb over to where Kian knelt. “Here is your payment, young man,” he said, handing the boy a small bag. “Would you like to say a farewell to the monster?”

  Caleb stood in front of Kian and spit in his face. “I hope all of you die, demon,” the boy said with bitter hatred.

  The man patted the boy on the head. “That’s a good lad. You have my thanks and the thanks of the Holy Father.”

  Caleb smiled and walked away, shaking the pouch of coins. “Well, at least we know what he thinks of you, don’t we, half- breed.” The man chuckled. Kian thought he had heard Milara call the man Benington. He would not forget the name.

  Endra sat with her back to the wheel of their old wagon. She wore a pair of manacles on her wrists and her ankles were shackled. Dried blood and dirt covered her face, but he could see the anger in her eyes and the disappointment. He hated it. K’xarr had been right all along, he was a fool.

  “Well, you were right, Dracen. That monster is too dangerous to live. I understand the pope’s interest in the thing now,” Benington said.

  The lord justice crossed his arms and threw out his chin. “We should kill it while we have it bound. You have seen what it can do, is there any doubt that it is evil?”

  Benington smoothed his mustache and looked over to where their prize knelt. “I have to agree with you this time. Whatever it is, we should kill it, but maybe we should question it first. It’s not going anywhere.”

  Dracen took a step back and eyed their captive. “I have had it captured once before, Alfred, and the beast escaped. Trust me, you can’t be too careful with that creature.”

  The Green Tiger joined the two Church men. It had taken her a little time to regain her composure after she faced the Slayer. “You don’t have to worry about the half-breed. Hex and I will be taking the thing with us. The Circle wishes to study it before it’s destroyed.”

  Lord Justice Milara's face reddened and looked as if it would explode. “The Holy Father hired you to help us kill it and that’s what we are going to do. I was told nothing about you taking it with you.”

  “We will return it to you when we are finished and then you can do what you like. Till then, the monster will be coming with us.” She turned and walked back to where Hex stood with his hand on the creature’s shoulder.

  The lord justice followed right behind the sorceress, too angry to be afraid of her magic. “You can’t defy God and the Holy Father, you pagan scum.”

  The Green Tiger laughed. “I’m not defying your god or your pope, I’m defying you.” With that, Kian and the two members of the circle vanished.

  Bennington’s head whipped around to the lord justice. “Once again you have let the monster slip through your grasp. I don’t think the Holy Father is going to be very happy with you, Dracen.”

  The lord justice stood dumbfounded by what had just happened. “You were here and will be held just as responsible, Alfred. Make no mistake about that.”

  “Calm yourself, the mission wasn’t a total loss. We still have the woman and I have sent a few men after the children that escaped. They will have them soon enough.”

  The lord justice clenched his hands into fists. “We have lost over half the men we brought with us and the wizards sent to help kill the monsters have betrayed us. Do you think the Holy Father will be pleased with the women and children?”

  Benington ignored the lord justice's rage and thought for a moment. “The Holy Father employed the wizards; he should direct his anger at them. We did as we were told. The Circle are the ones at fault in this, they betrayed his Holiness. He will see that. Let’s execute the prisoners we have and be on our way. A partial victory is better than none at all.”

  Dracen glanced at Endra; she looked defiant even in her chains. He knew Benington was right. They sho
uld at least do as much of God’s work as they could. He just didn’t think he could bring himself to order the woman’s death. He had been unable to get her out of his thoughts since the first time he had seen her in Bandara. Her beauty had eaten at his mind over the last two years to the point of obsession. Now that she was within his grasp, he didn’t want to let her go. “We will take the woman back. She can be introduced to the inquisition and questioned.”

  Benington cocked his head and stared at him. “Fine, Dracen. If you want to keep the woman, so be it. Torture her, interrogate her, you can do whatever it is you do when we get back to Asqutania. I’m sure the pope will not object to that, but I think there is something else you want of her.” Benington walked to the dilapidated wagon where the woman sat. “Stand her up,” he ordered two members of the Hand. They roughly pulled the woman to her feet.

  The Fist looked her up and down. Dracen watched as Benington pulled out his knife and cut away the straps to her armor. Then he ripped her clothing away. The monster’s woman stood before them, naked to the waist, yet she glared at them with insolence in her eyes.

  Benington pushed her dirty hair out of her eyes and grabbed her by the face. Squeezing it hard, he turned it first to the right and then to the left. “I see now why you want to keep the woman, Dracen. Cleaned up, she would be magnificent.” Benington gave him a wide grin. Dracen realized his mouth was hanging open and he was staring at the woman as if he was thunderstruck.

  “Dracen, are you all right?”

  The lord justice turned his back to the nude woman. “Cover her please.”

  Benington laughed. “Is it too much of a temptation for you, Lord Justice? I like her bare-chested, just as she is.” The Fist pushed Endra against the wagon. “Come here, Dracen, God's reward awaits.”

  The lord justice didn’t answer; he turned back around and walked over to where the woman stood. It was as if she had bewitched him. He slowly reached out with a shaking hand and touched her breast.