They stopped in front of him. Cromwell jammed his sword into the dock to keep his weight off his injured leg, his large frame was covered with numerous cuts. Endra’s black hair was plastered to her face with sweat and grime, and black blood oozed from a gash above her eye. Kian's dark hair was stuck to his head as well and his chainmail was black from smoke and dried viscera.
K’xarr grinned but his friends did not return the gesture. “Where have you three been?”
“When the wall fell, we led some of the Wardogs against their reserves troops. Kian killed the prince and after the witches hammered them, what was left took flight. The sorceresses followed those that ran for a time, slaughtering them with their magic. I don’t know how many got away, but it was few.” When Endra finished, K’xarr saw that Cromwell was giving him a dark look.
”What’s on your mind, Bull? Say it now before you let it fester.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about the ships and the witches? We could have been ready.”
“I was going to. Things just got away from me before I could let everyone know what was coming, and I don’t think any of you would have approved of what I had devised.”
“We might not have liked it, but you damn well know we would have stood with you. It was wrong not to tell us,” Cromwell said, almost sounding hurt. Kian’s look showed he shared the Toran's sentiments.
K’xarr didn’t know what to say, so he changed the conversation's direction. “Let's see if we can find any survivors, there is bound to be some out there. And has anyone seen Rhys?”
Searching through the thousands of twisted and burned bodies was gruesome work. Smoke still rose from the battleground and the stench of burning flesh was heavy in the air. Those who volunteered to look for anyone who still lived stumbled through the ashes of what was once a thriving harbor. Sweat ran down their faces like small rivers from the heat that still radiated from the charred ground. Some had tied cloths around their face in hopes of keeping out the stench of the dead, though it did little good.
The fire had succumbed to starvation. The harbor had nothing left to feed it. Not one building stood, and the area from the docks to the wall looked like a charnel house. At least fifty thousand dead men lay throughout eastern Gallio. Some were interwoven in great piles of misshapen carnage, while others laid alone. They had been running, some crawling, in a futile attempt to escape the massive blaze. Their bodies lay blackened and cracked, smoke still rising from many of the unrecognizable corpses.
It was getting hard to see in the falling light of evening. Just before K’xarr was about to call a halt to the search, they found Rhys.
He lay near his makeshift hospital, sorely wounded but alive. His hand still clutched Ivan’s wrist. It looked like the healer had been trying to drag the former knight back to his hospital.
Ivan was dead. A broken spear still protruded from his belly. Beside the two lay Kago Kattan, surrounded by a score of dead bodies. The former general was still breathing, but K’xarr didn’t know for how much longer.
Kian picked Rhys up and carried the healer outside the walls where the wounded where being gathered and tended to by some of the healer’s aids. K’xarr had Tench and Hastings take Kago along as well. The mercenary captain thought if the bastard had survived this battle, the warrior would not die by his hand.
After finding Rhys alive, they continued to search through the fallen, and a few were found to still be among the living. When night fell, they used lanterns to walk amidst the dead. The bodies looked warped and perverted in the shadowy light. The hour was late when the search finally ended, and not one of them complained when K’xarr called it quits.
What was left of the Wardogs gathered outside the wall where the wounded had been taken. Those that had lived through the day of fire sat in the dark quiet, trying to wrap their minds around the events of the day. Completely exhausted, many lay on their backs and stared at the dark sky.
K’xarr didn’t know exactly how many men still lived, but decided to count them in the morning. Many of the wounded would not survive the night. Some slept and some guzzled water like they had never had a drink in their life, while still others helped the injured trying to keep their minds off the bitter day, but none offered to light a fire. Only a score of lanterns lit the somber camp.
Late in the night, Beck came towards the silent group of mercenaries carrying a body over his shoulder. “Hey, Cromwell, I have something you might be interested in.” He tossed the body down where the leaders of the company sat binding each other's wounds.
Ashlyn’s eyes were closed, but it was clear she was breathing. “Found her down near the water. A half-dozen dead Quintarans lying around her, killed by her own hand. I think she took a knock on the head. I didn’t see any other wounds on her.”
In the lantern's soft glow, K’xarr could see a bloody knife still clutched in the young woman’s fist.
“By Fane’s balls, K’xarr, you were right about her,” Cromwell said proudly. “My Matea is a fighter. I knew there was a reason Fane brought her under my protection.”
K’xarr feigned a smile and nodded. He was too tired to argue with the Toran's sudden religious insights.
Gabrielle strolled into the dark camp right after Beck had taken Ashlyn over to a pile of horse blankets to rest. Covered in a dark cowl and robe, the lantern’s glow was all that exposed her identity. “I have news, son.”
K’xarr rose up, holding his sore back. “Well, I hope it’s good because we are too spent to do anything about anything bad.”
“It’s not good. A Quintaran fleet will be here soon, tomorrow or perhaps the next day, and they carry soldiers with them.”
“How many ships?” K’xarr said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“At least fifty, Scarlett was unsure of her count in the dark. If you wish to fight, you should prepare. If not, I would find a quick escape. The Quintarans won’t be happy when they find their army destroyed and the city they planned to claim barely standing.”
K’xarr looked around the camp and made his count early. He guessed less than a thousand Masarians remained that could stand another fight and only forty of the Sons still lived, and all of those were exhausted, wounded, or burned, and some all three. The Quintarans would take Gallio. There was nothing he could do to stop them, but they would get little more than ashes. “We will leave at first light.”
“A wise decision,” the witch said.
“I thank you for your help, Mother, but I thought only five of you were coming?”
“It was a surprise for me too. I am going to see what caused Raven’s change of heart right now.”
***
She joined her sisters on Gallio’s scorched battlements. Raven looked at her without expression. “Why did you come? I thought you were dead set against helping them,” Gabrielle said with a hint of a smile.
“We should stand united, sister, in all things. Besides, I have been told these mortals will be of use to us in days to come.”
Gabrielle's chest tightened. She didn’t like the look in her sister’s eyes. “He would use them then?”
“Of course, and you know we will too. If it is necessary, I would sacrifice every one of them tomorrow. There are greater things at stake than our mortal children. For now, I will do as I am told.”
Gabrielle sighed. Raven was right, some things were more important than blood.
“I don’t need to tell you there will be hell to pay for what we did here,” Scarlett pointed out. “Hesperina will be furious, as will be many of the other gods. We will need to be wary.”
“Let them rage,” Raven said angrily. “Soon enough, the gods of Shadow Dragon Mountain will be put in their place.”
***
When morning came, the ship carrying her children, Morgana, and Nick Nock was loaded with those who would travel with the company.
K’xarr stood on the gangplank still wearing his armor, with Crimson Wave at his side. It was hard to believe by looking at him that the m
ercenary captain had watched fifty thousand men die yesterday, but then K’xarr had always been a callous man.
She watched them carry Rhys and Kago onto the ship. Everyone had found out just how valuable the healer was now that he was down. Rhys’s powers would be missed until the man got back on his feet again.
K’xarr had offered to take any of the Wardogs that wished to join the company along with them. A handful of the nastier ones took him up on the offer, but the rest wanted no part of the mercenary captain or his hellish company. Things also might have been much different had they known he killed Achillus. Then again, perhaps they didn’t care. They had truly been Malric’s men after all. K’xarr had said he had little choice but to slay the general and he regretted it, though Endra thought he did seem too broken up about the Dragitan’s death.
There was little time for anything other than carrying their belongings onto the ship. No one wanted to get caught by the Quintaran fleet.
The woman from the circus trudged up the plank. Ashlyn was her name, if Endra remembered right. She was pretty with her brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Even with all the grime, the young woman was quite comely.
It was the expression on her face that Endra took the most notice of, and she knew the look well. Heartbreaking loss, the girl reeked of it. Beck and a few others had escorted her back to the circus before the sun had come up, but Ashlyn had returned with them. The mercenaries told K’xarr that most of the Wheel survived but the circus had burned to the ground and the owner, a man called Ergan, had died in the blaze. It had been clear by the young woman’s actions back at the camp that the man had meant something to Ashlyn.
Endra touched her on the arm as she passed. “If you have need of anything, just ask.”
Ashlyn turned her dirty face towards her. Eyes downcast, she slowly shook her head. “All I need is to be gone from this place. I hope I never see it again.”
Endra touched her cheek then let her go without further comment. The woman was heartsick and nothing she could say would help.
Everyone had boarded the ship. Only she and Kian yet stood on the plank, staring at one another. K’xarr stomped towards them, shaking the timbers of the ramp. “Well, we're ready to go. Are you two coming?”
“Kian is taking Ivan back to Ascona,” Endra said without taking her eyes off the swordsman.
“He deserves to be buried with honor, not in a mass grave or left to rot in this killing field,” Kian said.
“I can’t argue with that, Ivan was a good man. When you are finished, find us. The company won’t be the same till you return,” K’xarr said, clapping Kian on the shoulder. “What about you, Endra?”
“I am taking the ship with you. I plan to hold you to your word on avenging Vadin.”
“That might take some time,” K’xarr said, scratching his head.
“I will wait as long as I must to see it done and I will hold you to your oath…Captain.”
K’xarr nodded and left the two alone.
She embraced Kian and kissed him on the cheek. She had steeled herself for the moment and vowed not to cry, but it felt like she would never see her golden-eyed warrior again. “Take care, don’t do anything foolish, and watch your back for the Church. The pope hasn’t finished with us yet.”
“I know and I will heed your words. I have said my goodbyes to the children, they will come to understand what I must do.”
She nodded. “I love you, Kian. Don’t forget that. I know there are things that need to be settled between us.” Her hand touched her stomach instinctively. “But never forget that I am yours.”
He reached out, touching her cheek and gently rubbing it with his thumb. “How could I ever forget your love, Endra? I give you my word that we will be together again. The gods themselves could not keep me from you for long.”
She smiled sadly and a single tear rolled down her cheek. They embraced again, then she turned and walked up the plank.
***
The rest of the Masarian warships were sailing west. They had decided not to stay and fight the Quintarans for a city of ashes.
Endra watched from the railing as Gallio slowly disappeared behind her. Bodies bumped the hull of their ship like chunks of ice as they slowly made their way out of the harbor.
Touching her belly, she regretted not telling Kian about the baby. Hell, if she had done that, she would have stayed with him. It was just an impossible situation. It wouldn’t be long until everyone else aboard noticed her condition. They would accept whatever explanation she chose to give, but it was best to face the truth now and live as best she could. Kian had been her only concern; the others would accept her regardless of whose child she carried.
Cromwell and Morgana joined her. The woman looked like she might explode with child at any moment. It wouldn’t surprise Endra if she gave birth aboard ship.
“We will see him again,” Cromwell said, more to himself than her. “It is a fine thing, taking Ivan back home. I would expect nothing less from the Arradar.”
Endra smiled at the Toran’s observation. He loved Kian like a brother and would miss the swordsman nearly as much as she would.
“Cousin, I have something to show you,” Cromwell called out as K’xarr came towards them from the bow of the ship.
“I told you not to call me that. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up when I think of being your kin,” the captain said sourly.
“All of you, come below deck.” Everyone followed the limping Toran down below. They passed the quarters where the children were staying. Nick was trying to cheer them up with a few tricks, but they all looked terribly solemn. They would miss Kian, but time would ease their hearts.
Cromwell led them into the hold. Throwing back a dirty tarp, the Toran revealed his secret. Two chests sat side by side. They all stared at the Toran, mouths hanging open, as he reached down and flipped the chests’ lids open. Both were filled to the top with Masarian gold coins.
Cromwell grinned from ear to ear. “I snatched them from the palace. When I put the little ones on the ship, I stashed the chests here just in case we took to the sea.”
K’xarr put his hand on the Toran’s shoulder. “Well, cousin, since we are kin, I will give you a hand spending all this.”
Kian watched from a distance as the ship sailed towards the far horizon. It reminded him of the ship that had left him on the rocky shores of the Blue Dagger Mountains so long ago. He was alone again, but this time it had been his choice.
He gripped the hilt of the dark sword at his side. Silence would be little comfort. The blade was quiet now, though he knew the forces inside it would never stop conspiring to find a way to replace his lost soul.
He didn’t know if he would see the others again, but he wished them well. It would be safer for them traveling without him and the enemies that followed in his wake. Endra and the rest of them had enough trouble without him adding to it.
He found two horses. Tying Ivan’s body to one and gathering a few provisions from the ruins of the harbor, he swung into the saddle. Leading the other horse, Kian headed to the north, never looking back.
Siro watched his master standing in the light. The sun was no longer a problem since the Beast had removed Tavantis’s vampiric curse, though the one he left the wizard with might be worse.
All the master's hair was gone, even his eyebrows and the little amount of hair he had on his body. The evil god had taken away his vampiric healing abilities before Tavantis had a chance to fully recover from the sun’s damaging rays. Now, the master’s scars ached him night and day. He was right back where the Beast wanted him.
To make matters worse, the left side of Tavantis’s face bore the brand of the dark god. His master’s eye stared out from between the thumb and fore finger of the Beast’s mark. The rest of the talon’s print was emblazoned on his face, with the palm on his cheek and the three other talon-like fingers running along his neck and bald head. It was as if darkness itself had grabbed him.
Tavantis had not spoken since it happened and this was the first time the wizard had gone outside. “Master, what are your plans? Do I need to do anything for you?” Siro asked quietly.
“No, Siro, but I will be leaving soon. The Beast hinted that my mother may still be alive. If that is true, I mean to get her back.”
Siro froze with terror. “Master, that is impossible. Even as powerful as you are, you can’t fight a god.”
Tavantis glared at him. The handprint on his face made his menacing stare all the more terrifying. “I will find a way, Siro. There must be something out there that is powerful enough to defeat a god.”
Siro was beside himself with fear. Malaiss had been one thing, but there was no way he would go with Tavantis to face the Beast.
“Master, I…”
“No, I am not taking you with me this time,” Tavantis said as if he had read Siro's mind. “My brother will accompany me.”
Siro shook his head. “Master, you are mad?”
The wizard shrugged. “That is what I have been told.”
***
Syann hurried down the stairs to the bowels of Shadow Dragon Mountain. She was late for her meeting, but it couldn’t be helped. Queen Hesperina had held a formal court and there wasn’t any way she could have not been in attendance.
The queen had declared that the gods would once again choose champions to represent them and their interests on Saree. It was clear the queen hadn’t wanted to reinstate the tradition, but she had given the edict to keep blood from being spilled on the mountain. Now if the gods quarreled, the dispute could be settled by mortals. Her mother was at the heart of Hesperina’s decision and everyone knew it. It would block the Mistress moving against any of the gods herself. There would be no reason to shed divine blood.
Song Of Fury (Gods Of Blood And Fire Book 2) Page 45