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

by A. J. STRICKLER

  Endra stepped back and squeezed K’xarr’s arm. “I wish I had.”

  ***

  Kago had been summoned to his own command tent, being told some priest or other had a message for him. He had never liked answering to priests; he found most to be pompous, arrogant fools. Nevertheless, he had to suffer their demands. The priests were the power in the Church. Every general in the papal army and all the commanders of the knight orders had to cower to them. They possessed the strength of the masses, and much of the world looked to them for direction and guidance. The pope and his priests could destroy a man with little effort, and Kago hated them for it. None of them had ever shed a drop of blood to earn the power they wielded.

  He pulled the flap back on his tent to find two monks in white cassocks and a half-bald priest with a stupid smile on his face. “Ah, General Kattan, I am Bishop Hanson Carter. Pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”

  Eyeing the two monks suspiciously, Kago took the man’s outstretched hand and kissed his ring of office. “What brings you here, Bishop Carter?” Kago asked flatly.

  The priest smiled shrewdly, putting his hands behind his back. “I have a message from the Holy Father himself. He wants you to allow the Masarians to push you out of their kingdom. Next time you engage them, have your men appear to be routed and retreat to the border. You will receive further orders from there, oh, and try to keep the papal army’s losses to a minimum.”

  It was all Kago could do to keep his voice even. “Why? That makes no sense, you want me to let the Masarians win.”

  “The pope wants you to make it appear that you have been defeated, yes. You will use the ruse to link up with a force of Quintarans that should be arriving soon.”

  The scar on Kago’s face was purple and he could not hold back his temper. “I will not do it! I will destroy the Masarians and their upstart king myself, I don’t need any slack-jawed Quintarans to help me. My honor will not be tarnished for anyone, including His Holiness.”

  The smile faded from the bishop's face. “It is a directive from the Holy Father himself and you will do it, General, or the consequences will be dire, I assure you.” The bishop smirked at him. “Let’s not forget the matter of Captain Gladwin. I don’t think the pope will protect you from the king’s wrath once he finds out you killed his man. If you refuse to follow the Holy Father’s orders, I don’t have to be a fortuneteller to see a noose in your future, General.”

  “Gladwin was a buffoon and stood in my way. I have no regrets killing him and I will stand before King Farran and tell him so, if I must. What I will not do is be made to look a coward by the pope or anyone else.”

  “Then you will simply be relieved of your command and be taken back to Tyro in chains, General. Now how would that make you look?”

  Kago’s rage got the better of him. He was finished talking to this smug bastard, and reached for his sword. The two monks stepped in front of the bishop. In the close quarters of the tent, their shorter weapons were faster. The strange rods touched the general before his sword was clear of its scabbard. It was as if something had taken hold of all of his muscles. Kago felt his body jerk twice and then he fell to the ground, quivering and convulsing.

  The bishop looked down at him, the smile gone from his face. “You have been relieved, General.”

  ***

  Stripped to the waist, the prisoner was being taken back to the supply train by two of his own men. One led him by a chain attached to his manacled hands, and the other followed along behind.

  Kago was enraged. Inside, his blood boiled. These priests with their plots and conspiracies, he hoped they would all burn in hell. Throwing away soldiers for what? Not victory or glory, but for the whims of a scheming old man.

  None of them were real men, they knew nothing of pride or honor, and their blood had never even run hot with passion for a woman. They were nothing.

  That smiling dog Carter had ordered him arrested for murdering Gladwin as well as sedition. He was being sent back to Tyro and would most likely be executed in the grand square in Asqutania, but they had to get him back to the Holy City first.

  As they passed the supply train’s picket line, he jerked the chain out of the soldier’s hand. Whipping it around, he struck the man behind him in the face, the heavy iron links destroying the bones in his face. His other escort tried to pull his sword free, but Kago kicked him in the chest and knocked the soldier to the ground. Kago stomped on the fallen man’s head and neck until he lay still.

  Some of the men guarding the supply train saw him break free and began shouting and running in his direction. Still dragging the length of chain, Kago ran to the first horse in the picket line. Yanking its tether loose, he swung into the saddle. Turning to the southwest and kicking the animal to speed, Kago fled his own men, the horse carrying him deeper into Masaria.

  Ashlyn was shaken to her very core. Never had she seen the horrors of war. As she and Upton rode past the thousands of bodies rotting in the sweltering heat, the circus performer leaned away from her horse and vomited the entire contents of her stomach.

  It wasn’t the dead men. She had lived in the Wheel all her life and seen death many times, but nothing like this. It was the sheer enormity of the atrocities she could not comprehend.

  It was the buzzing of the flies and the stench the summer sun pulled from the bloated corpses, the utter and vulgar savagery inflicted on the bodies. The horrible wounds she saw on the twisted and broken soldiers would give her nightmares for the rest of her life.

  Upton patted her leg reassuringly. “I was no different the first time I saw a battlefield. It is something one must get used to.”

  Ashlyn wiped her mouth and took a big drink from the water skin hanging from her saddle. “How could anyone get used to this? It’s the most ghastly thing I have ever seen.”

  “I must agree. Even though it is how I make my way in the world, the barbarism of war isn’t lost on me. Come, let us find the others.”

  Ashlyn was terrified now. Had Lucan been one of those bodies she had seen? Had he died out on that terrible field all alone with no one but the dead to comfort him? She didn’t want to think about it. If something had happened to Lucan, it would destroy her.

  It didn’t take long for them to find where the mercenaries were camped. The wicked banner their captain had devised flew proudly above their location. What was left of the company was busy going about the daily routines and attending to the chores that came along with the rigors of war. Ashlyn could see that the papal army had taken a toll on their numbers, for there were far fewer than had left Gallio.

  Dismounting near the company’s pickets, Upton took her by the hand and led her into the camp. The sellswords began to cluster around them when they realized who had arrived. “Well, if it isn’t our long lost brother.” They both looked in the direction of the voice. Beck stood grinning from ear to ear, displaying his meager array of teeth. “I thought you were going to stay in Gallio and let us do all the killing,” the shabby mercenary said with more than a touch of sarcasm.

  “I really thought you might be finished by now, but as I can see, I will have to take care of your shortcomings again,” Upton jabbed back.

  “What’s with the circus girl, blondie, couldn’t you find us on your own?”

  “She wanted to ride along with me when I came north, that’s all.”

  Beck grinned and looked her up and down. “I hope you shagged that pretty little bird on the way here, the lass was as nimble as a cat when I crossed swords with her in Gallio. I’d bet she could show a man a very good time.”

  Ashlyn’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Beck’s vulgarity had stunned her into silence. The man was simply appalling; for god’s sake, she was standing right there.

  Upton gave the snaggletooth mercenary a deadly look. “She is Lucan’s woman and he is my brother, as well as yours. You should take more care with that mouth of yours, Beck, or you will lose the few teeth you yet have.”

  The g
rubby mercenary spit on the ground near Upton’s feet. “Kiss my ass, you girly-faced worm. I would like to see you try and make a move on me.”

  “You would never see me coming, you filthy piece of dung.”

  Beck stepped forward. “One day, I will kill you, Upton. Plan on that.”

  “You should get to it now then, you might not live to see that day.” Ashlyn jumped back as both men drew their blades. The other warriors that had been watching the offensive exchange of slurs moved back and formed a rough circle.

  Ashlyn could believe the two men were going to fight over such childish insults. Couldn’t they see there were enough dead men out on that battlefield without killing each other right here in their own camp?

  Before the hasty duel could start, a huge form crashed through the ring of spectators. Beck turned in time to meet the huge fist that smashed into his face. The blow lifted him off the ground and landed the mercenary flat on his back. Cromwell turned, pulling a large two-handed sword and pointing it at Upton. The Toran wore a violent look under his heavy brow. “You want to fight, you little cur, fight me.”

  Upton dropped his sword and held up his hands. “I don’t wish to fight anyone.”

  Cromwell backhanded him across the face. Upton’s eyes rolled back in his head for a moment and he staggered back two steps, falling on his backside. “Why is your sword out then? Now all of you get ready, those church bastards are forming up for an attack. If you’re so eager to kill someone, get your asses ready to ride.” The Toran stalked away like a great bear looking for any of the other Sons who were less than ready to go to war.

  Upton got to his feet, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. “What the hell is wrong with him?”

  Beck squeezed his broken nose, staunching the blood flow. “He has been that way since Endra returned and told us that the Slayer had been taken by the Circle of Thirteen and all her children had been killed. He is looking for someone to take his rage out on.”

  Upton winced as he smiled. “I’m glad I could accommodate him.”

  Beck pointed to several large tents set in a circle. “Lucan is with the wounded, little bird. If you would have just asked in the first place, I would have told you where he was.”

  Giving the mercenary a dirty look, Ashlyn headed in the direction Beck pointed.

  Ashlyn asked around the makeshift infirmary if anyone could tell her where to find Lucan. No one would offer any help and all acted like she was a member of the city watch looking for a cutpurse. She really hated the sellswords, they were very clannish and would lie in a second to protect their own. If you weren’t one of them, they offered no assistance.

  She began looking feverishly in every tent trying to find him. How bad was his wound? Had he lost a limb? Was he dying? Her mind went back to the corpses lying on the field and the devastating condition they were in. What had they done to Lucan?

  The longer she looked the more frantic she became. There was one last tent. Running inside, Ashlyn quickly walked down the row of wounded men and studied the face of each man she passed.

  “Ashlyn, what are you doing here?” Spinning around, she found Lucan staring at her bewildered. She grabbed him by the shoulders and began looking his body over, it didn’t look like he had a scratch on him.

  “Ash, what the hell are you doing?”

  “They told me you were with the wounded,” she said, beginning to sniffle.

  He stepped to her and crushed her in his arms, covering her face in kisses. Ashlyn’s chest heaved as she started to sob with relief.

  “I was assigned to help with the wounded. I’m fine. Calm yourself, let's go over here and talk.” Lucan led her to a small wagon behind the tents that had been used to transport the wounded. Its wooden bed was covered in dried blood and it had somehow lost a wheel. “Why did you come up here? It's far too dangerous.”

  It took her a moment to get herself under control. She took a deep breath and shook a little as she let it out. “I came to tell you I changed my mind. I’ll go anywhere you wish. I can’t live without you, Lucan. If this is the life you have chosen, then I choose it too.” Ashlyn smiled through her tears and caressed his face. Lucan’s eyes were haunted now. For a moment, it was as if she were seeing someone else.

  He frowned and looked over his shoulder before he spoke. “I was wrong, Ash. I listened to the bards and storytellers’ tales of ancient wars and heroes and the glory heaped on their names. War is nothing like they said it was, and I want no part of it. I knew there would be death, but not like this. The warriors on both sides are nothing but killers, and there is nothing heroic about any of this nightmare. I have never seen men as brutal and barbaric as K’xarr and the Sons, they are even worse than Malric’s Wardogs.”

  “Then let us go back home now,” she pleaded. “Let K’xarr and Malric finish this war by themselves, I am sure they wouldn’t miss one man.”

  Lucan shook his head reluctantly. “I would like nothing more, but I can’t leave now. I owe many of these men my life, Cromwell especially. If not for him and some of the others, I would be dead. As soon as this war is over, I will tell Captain Strom I’m done. Then I’m going back to Gallio to stay. We can get married and raise a family just like you wanted. Maybe Ergan can find me a job with the circus.”

  Ashlyn didn’t know what to say, everything she had hoped for was coming true. “I love you, Lucan.” She threw her arms around him and wouldn’t let go.

  ***

  Ashlyn and Lucan found Upton saddling his horse and gathering his weapon. “I see you found your wayward sellsword,” Upton said, tightening the girth on his saddle.

  Ashlyn took Lucan’s arm and squeezed it, shyly smiling. “I did, and we have marvelous news. Lucan has decided to leave the company after this vile war is over and go back to Gallio, and we are going to be married, Upton. Can you believe it?”

  The pretty mercenary smiled mirthlessly. “Congratulations.”

  “Ash told me what you did for her. You know, bringing her here and all. I just want to thank you and ask if you will stand with me at the wedding.”

  Upton checked his stirrups then patted the horse’s flank. “I will be more than happy to, my friend,” Upton said, slapping Lucan on the arm. “Now I best go find out what I have been missing. I will see you two soon.”

  Ashlyn smiled and touched his hand. “Take care, Upton, and thanks again. You are a true gentleman.” The slim mercenary nodded and led his horse away.

  “I must get back too,” Lucan said, lifting her up off the ground. “You, dear girl, stay in camp. I will return after the battle.”

  A touch of fear tickled her heart. “Be careful and come back safe. You have a wedding to attend.”

  “Nothing can keep me from you, Ash.” She smiled at him but not enough to hide her worry.

  ***

  He had nearly vomited when Ashlyn had told him about her impending wedding. He loved her and now he would never have a chance with her. He liked the stable boy and would not cause any trouble for the two lovers, but he wasn’t concerned with himself.

  Ursula was not so resolved. She was screaming in his head and pounding her fist on his brain. She loved Lucan and was furious about the wedding. Upton knew her thoughts would turn to murder, they always did. He wouldn’t let her hurt the only two people that had ever really been friendly to him. He would have to keep her locked up somewhere until the wedding was over or Ashlyn would be in a great deal of danger. He wished he could tell someone how hard it was to live chained to the crazy woman inside his head, but who among the Sons would even want to listen?

  ***

  The Masarians meet the forces of the Church again on the stony ground of northern Masaria. An hour into their confrontation, the Church lines buckled. Achillus, seeing the weakening segment of his enemy’s defenses, drove his infantry into the jugular of the papal army’s line. The forces of the holy army were routed. When the church’s disciplined formations broke into a full retreat, K’xarr led the cavalry ag
ainst their exposed flank and rode through the fleeing foot soldiers, killing with impunity. Achillus reformed the infantry and through a short forced march, captured the Church’s camp.

  Through the night, K’xarr and the mounted troops harassed their defeated enemy, never giving them a chance to even catch their breath. By the end of the week, what was left of the papal army had been driven out of Masaria. K’xarr had even managed to capture half of their supply train.

  The Sons rode back with the spoils they had seized and rejoined the infantry. The Church had been defeated. The Masarians cheered as the horsemen rode in.

  Achillus, now mounted, pulled up alongside the Camiran. He sported a crooked grin, a rarity on the face of the grim Dragitan. “Near as I can tell, they have less than ten thousand men left. It won’t be enough to come at us again, at least till they send to Tyro for reinforcements, and that could take months,” the general said as if reassuring himself.

  K’xarr leaned forward on his horse. “I didn’t see Kattan out there, did you?”

  Achillus thought for a moment. “No, I didn’t see that ruthless son of a whore. He may have been killed or wounded, who knows, but I am glad for his absence.”

  “He must be dead. I don’t think he would have let them rout like that if he was still breathing.”

  “It doesn’t manner, Strom, the papal army has been defeated and we have bought time for King Malric. We should celebrate.”

  “You're right, I guess, it’s just a shame though. I wanted the privilege of killing that bastard myself.”

  Achillus looked back to the north. “No need to worry, Strom. Someday there will be plenty more of those papal boy lovers to kill.”

  A messenger from King Malric was waiting for K’xarr when they returned to the general’s command tent. The captain pulled it from the scroll tube and quickly read it. “Malric wants me and Cromwell to return to Gallio for an audience.” He held the parchment up so the general could see it bore the king’s personal seal. “I wonder what this is all about,” K’xarr said, handing the dispatch to Achillus.