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

by A. J. STRICKLER

  K’xarr saluted the king and walked out of the throne room, leaving the king and his general alone.

  ***

  “What do you think, Achillus?”

  “Too early to say. I can see the arrogance in him, but whether his pride is warranted I can’t attest to yet. He has a touch of renegade in his demeanor though, of that I have no doubt.”

  Malric smiled and slapped his general on the back. “As do we, Achillus. In case you have forgotten, we stole this throne and I have no intention of giving it up. I need as many men like Strom as I can get. The pope will never legitimize my reign. I have no choice but to fight if I want to keep my crown. I will need men like the captain, men with an iron heart to do what must be done. Besides, from what I have heard, the pope wants Strom and his lackeys more than he does me. If worst comes to worst, the captain might be a good bargaining chip. In either case, this mercenary captain might be what saves my throne.”

  “A war with the church is said to be unwinnable,” Achillus said, emotionless.

  Malric crossed his arms. “The pope will have to prove that to me.”

  ***

  K’xarr returned to find that Rufio and Ivan had already gotten the men settled in. The makeshift barracks had been equipped with bunks and a few tables and chairs. Basic and clean, K’xarr liked it. “Where is Cromwell?” the captain asked.

  “He’s off with Morgana somewhere,” Ivan said.

  K’xarr cracked his knuckles and snorted. “By the gods, he is just about worthless lately; all he wants to do is rut with Rhys’s sister and drink.”

  “I don’t see anything different in his actions. Drinking and shagging big-breasted women has been all he has ever wanted to do,” Rufio said with a straight face.

  All three men broke into a fit of laughter at the Dragitan’s jab.

  The joking abruptly came to a halt when they noticed Rachael standing in the doorway. The woman’s face had turned a bright shade of red. “Sorry, girl, you will have to excuse our foul mouths. I will ask the king tonight about separate quarters for you and Morgana,” K’xarr offered.

  “Are you meeting with Malric tonight?” Ivan interrupted.

  “Yes, he invited all of us to dinner at the palace. Said he wanted to hear the tale about the Bluff. Rachael, you and you sister are welcome to come with us if you wish. You might tell Rhys you’re coming, though; you know how your brother is about such things.”

  “Thank you for the invitation, Captain.” The young woman turned and hurried off to find her brother like she had just been released from prison.

  “I guess next time, we should take a look around before we discuss our Toran’s exploits,” K’xarr said.

  Ivan snorted. “Yes, I don’t think Rachael has a taste for our special brand of humor.”

  “She’s just shy, that's all,” Rufio said quietly.

  K’xarr’s lips tightened and he looked knowingly at Rufio. “I hope you aren’t going to start becoming as hard to find as Cromwell, Lieutenant.”

  The Dragitan’s ears turned red as he shook his head.

  K’xarr let the matter drop, he had made his point. He stretched his arms above his head and let out a big breath. “All you officers get cleaned up. We will finally have a hot meal tonight.”

  “I know his general,” Rufio blurted out. K’xarr turned and folded his arms across his chest.

  “Why in the hell didn’t you say something? Who is he?”

  “He is a Dragitan; his full name is Achillus Fabius Corvus. The man was a grand tribune in the Dragitan army. He commanded three of the finest legions in the empire. He was one of the emperor’s best young officers and he had a bright future, till he threw it all away.”

  “Do you know what happened?” K’xarr asked.

  Rufio raised his hands. “No details, only soldier’s talk. He came from a wealthy family. His father was a friend to the emperor. He had been groomed to become a very important man to the empire. It is said that he defied the emperor and later killed his own father in a heated argument. I don’t know much more than that and that is only rumor, but I do know he is an outlaw in Dragita.”

  K’xarr nodded. “Interesting story, Rufio. It’s good to know what kind of man we are taking orders from. Now get ready, you’re having dinner with that Dragitan outlaw and his king tonight.”

  ***

  The sound of the applause had died and the theater was quiet. She loved nothing so much as to hear the people whistle and clap, but the Falcon’s shows were done for the day.

  She walked across the sawdust-covered floor with a gentle sway in her hips, stopping momentarily to look up to the ceiling. She could see her trapezes hanging from the top of the three story building.

  It had been a wise move adding the dangerous flying routine to her repertoire. Her new act was good, maybe even great. Ergan had said so himself, it would make her one of the circus’s top performers.

  The tumbling and knife-throwing performances had earned her a good living over the last few years, and made her well known among the people of the Wheel, but the aerial act would make her famous throughout all of Gallio. Not bad for a nineteen year old circus orphan, Ashlyn thought.

  She made her way to the side of the stage. The large old trunk, containing her costumes and props, squeaked as she lifted its lid. She pulled out a thick leather belt that held six small throwing daggers, a hand ax, and shortsword. Ashlyn strapped it around her waist and adjusted it down on her slim hips. Grabbing a grey cloak and wrapping it around her shoulders, Ashlyn Sweet--better known now as Ergan’s fearless Falcon--headed for the door.

  The sun had just sunk below the horizon and the evening was cool, but the cloak kept her free from the chill as she stepped out onto the dusty street. The Wheel was quiet tonight, but it was still early. A few courtesans plied their trade on the corners and several questionable men moved in the shadows of alleyways and side streets of the city’s dubious district.

  The killing and stealing would start later, after the residents of the Wheel had guzzled enough ale and beer to put them in a nasty mood. It was like that most nights. She had learned long ago never to walk the streets at night without being armed.

  There was little to worry about, though. She was known in the Wheel, many had seen the skill she displayed in her act. There was easier prey in the city than the Falcon.

  Ashlyn was carful; she had grown up in the treacherous streets of the old harbor district and knew very well how to keep herself safe. Many people that frequented the area weren’t as cautious as she was and the Wheel would claim one of them as its victim tonight. It always did.

  Ashlyn didn’t care about any of the lawless goings-on of the district. She was headed to the stable to see the man she loved. Well, Lucan was mostly a man. He was two years younger than her, but had raised himself on the streets of the Wheel and that was saying something.

  Moving smoothly along the street, she quietly entered the stable. The smell of horse manure was strong and the fine dust from horse’s stalls threated to make her sneeze.

  Ashlyn stayed low as she looked around the stable for Lucan. She skulked through the many sections and stalls of the old stable, being extra careful not to spook any of the horses.

  Peering around a doorway, she spotted her beloved. He was taking a wheelbarrow of dung out the back door that led to the corral. She jumped up and grasped the wooden beam that ran the length of the old barn. Pulling herself up effortlessly, she stifled a giggle while she waited for Lucan to come back in.

  The young man came back through the rear door whistling an old tune to himself. He stopped the wheelbarrow near the next horse’s stall and made ready to fill it again, Ashlyn crept down the beam like a spider and dropped behind the stable boy without a sound. She quickly ran up and covered his eyes with her hands. “Guess who,” she said in a silly voice.

  The startled young man let out a little squeal and almost fell into the wheelbarrow. “Damn it, Ash, I told you not to do that.”

 
“I couldn’t resist,” she laughed.

  Lucan picked up an old shovel that was leaning against the wall and tossed it into the wheelbarrow. “I’m trying to get finished so I can go into the city before the hour gets too late.”

  “For what? I thought we could go get something to eat. Ergan paid me today so I have money, you don’t have to worry…”

  “I have money,” Lucan barked before she could finish.

  Ashlyn cocked her head. “Are you angry with me?”

  Lucan sighed heavily. “No, I’m sorry. I just have something to do, that’s all.”

  “What could be more important than spending the evening with me?” she asked, flashing her smile.

  Lucan looked at his feet. “There are mercenaries in town. I was going to go talk to them about a job.”

  Ashlyn rolled her eyes. “Not that again. You said you were finished with the idea of joining the army.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to join the army. I wouldn’t join the ranks of that butcher at any price, but a band of mercenaries is different.”

  She leaned against the wall and threw up her hands. “The army, mercenaries, it’s all the same, and any sellswords here will be serving the king.”

  “Only for a short time, then they will leave here and when they go, I want to go with them. I’m done with the Wheel and this city. I want to do something besides work in a stable and shovel shit the rest of my life. If I have to fight for Malric a short time so be it, as long as it gets me out of here.”

  “You're no warrior, Lucan, you don’t even know how to use a sword.”

  “I can learn, everyone has to start somewhere.”

  “All you’ll do is get yourself killed. You're just not a fighter, my love.” She tried to touch his face but he pushed her hand away. She had wounded his pride. “Will you at least let me go into the city with you?” She batted her eyes.

  He tilted his head and smiled at her. She loved it when he did that.

  “Sure you can come. Does this mean you’re ready to leave with me if I go? That is, if one of the companies will have me.”

  Ashlyn flipped her hair and looked up at the ceiling. “Of course. How could I live without you?”

  “Promise?” Lucan asked softly, taking her by the shoulders

  “Yes, I promise.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. She was lying, but it made him happy, and she would never have to honor her promise anyway. No mercenary captain in his right mind would let Lucan sign on; his plans were just foolish dreams. And that was a lucky thing for her, because she could never give up performing. She didn’t think she could live without the sound of a cheering crowd.

  “I love you, Ashlyn,” Lucan said.

  She ran her finger through his thick brown hair then pinched his cheeks. “I love you too. Now hurry up so we can go. I would like to stop and get something to eat on the way. I’m starving.”

  The table had been quiet during the bloody story of the Phoenix Queen's rise to power. Each dinner guest had been lost in their own thoughts as Rhys, K’xarr, and Cromwell took turns telling the account of their time in Bandara.

  K’xarr had just finished when Malric slapped his hand against the huge dining table. “Well, that’s a fantastic tale. I had heard the story and thought it sounded a little farfetched, but apparently the rumors were true. So, K’xarr, where is this half-breed swordsman? I would like to meet the man,” the king asked enthusiastically.

  K’xarr cleared his throat. “He and Endra went north to clear up a problem for a village in Quintar. It seems they were being raided by some brigands and needed some swordwork done.”

  The king leaned back in his chair. “Fighting bandits? Why, that seems a waste of time for a warrior of such prowess. He should be here with us. It sounds like the Church is as much an enemy of his as it is of mine.”

  “He plans to come to Gallio after he is finished in Quintar. Kian thinks the village is as important as your kingdom. It is just his way,” Cromwell said with his mouth still full of pheasant.

  Malric’s eyes narrowed as he cocked his head. “I see your swordsman is a do-gooder. I have seen the type. Most die penniless and bloody. Don’t you agree, Captain?”

  Before K’xarr could answer, Cromwell came to his feet, shaking the plates and goblets on the table. “Kian is my sword-brother, Highness. I will not listen to him talked about like he is some kind of fool.”

  “Sit down, Cromwell,” K’xarr commanded.

  The big Toran glared at his captain as he slowly sank back down in his chair.

  K’xarr wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. “Please forgive my friend. He is Toran and they are a hot blooded race, Your Majesty. Many open their mouth before they think.”

  Malric waved his hand dismissively. “It was I who misspoke. I meant no offense. Helping others is a noble pursuit. I was just pointing out that it is dangerous and not very profitable to help the peasantry of this world. I meant no slight towards your friend,” the king said, looking at Cromwell.

  The Toran seemed placated and gave Malric an accepting nod. “If everyone is finished, let us retire to the sitting room for some wine,” Malric said as he rose from the table.

  The small dinner party moved into one of the large sitting rooms inside the palace. There was a bit of small talk and the wine flowed freely. The king strolled through the room talking to each guest in turn. He acted if they were all close friends and he had known them for years. He even offered to let Morgana and Rachael stay in the palace after the company rode north.

  It didn’t escape K’xarr’s notice that the king had several of his royal guardsmen inside the room. Their host was no fool and K’xarr was glad of it. He wouldn’t be giving the orders this time around and he was pleased that Malric seemed like a man who knew what was what.

  “Excuse me, Captain K’xarr, but may I ask you a question?” the king said, clapping him on the shoulder.

  K’xarr took a large drink of the king’s fine wine and bowed slightly. “Of course, Majesty”

  The king looked at Achillus and rubbed his chin. “I heard a rumor, Captain Strom, and I would like to know if it’s true or not.”

  “I will answer whatever I can,” K’xarr offered.

  “It has been said that you and some of your companions have black blood, and the rumors say the Church believes you’re the spawn of the Beast. What say you to that, Captain?”

  K’xarr smiled and reached his hand out towards Achillus. “May I borrow your sword, General?” Malric’s guests had been asked to leave their weapons with the captain of the guard before dinner had started, so none of them had so much as a hunting knife on their person.

  Achillus looked at his king. Malric nodded and the general slowly handed K’xarr his sword. The mercenary captain faced the king and slowly drew the sword across the palm of his hand. Black blood seeped from the shallow wound as K’xarr held up his hand for the king to inspect. Malric stared at the blood and took a step back.

  K’xarr handed the general back his sword and gazed down at his own palm. “My blood is black, Highness. It has been this way since the day of my birth. I know not why nor does anyone I have come across. And I don’t give a beggar’s fuck what the Church thinks about it…Highness.”

  Malric glanced at Achillus then squared his shoulders and met K’xarr's fierce gaze eye to eye. “Captain Strom, I too don’t give a beggar’s fuck what the Church thinks.”

  Both men burst out laughing and the king slapped K’xarr on the shoulder. “I’ll be damned, black blood, but you're no fiend from the dark, Strom. I had hoped the Church’s story was true. I would have liked to have a score of demons in the ranks of my army.”

  K’xarr took another swallow of his wine and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You do, Majesty, you do.”

  ***

  Achillus accompanied the king’s guests to the front doors of the palace and bid them a good night. When he returned to the sitting room, Malric was pouring another goblet of wine. “They're
gone,” the general said.

  Malric sat down on a sofa and lifted a single eyebrow. “Well?”

  “They are dangerous. Now that we know the stories are true, I think you should pay them and send them away,” Achillus said.

  Malric chuckled. “Achillus, that young man commanded the entire Bandaran army, on the whim of a girl, defeated Havalon’s Abberdonians, and laid waste to her brother’s army as well. Why in the world would I send the man away? I should give him a commission.”

  “Strom’s victory sounded more like an act of fate than it did a gift for tactics. You don’t have to listen to me, but there will be trouble from that bunch in the future. You can smell it on them.”

  The king leaned back on the sofa and put his hands behind his head. “You're one to talk of trouble, my friend. You helped me kill the royal family of this house and you’re guilty of patricide on top of that. No, I will keep them. We need troublesome men right now. You will be glad we have them in the months to come. Besides, I like K’xarr. He would make a fine drinking companion.”

  Achillus started for the door.

  “Wait, General,” the king commanded. “I want you to take your time about sending any of the mercenaries to the border.”

  “Why?” The general shrugged.

  Malric sat forward and rubbed his chin. “Let us see how they all get along down there.”

  Achillus frowned. “You know what will happen. In a few days, they will all be at each other’s throats. You’re the king, but what you’re ordering is asking for trouble. There is no true discipline among the companies. You could start a bloodbath down there keeping those sellswords pinned up together.”

  “Indulge me.” Malric smiled.

  Achillus saluted stiffly and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  The king crossed his legs and folded his hands on his stomach. Malric liked K’xarr, but he needed to see if the captain would live up to his reputation.