The Crowned (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga, Book 6)

by Jeremy Laszlo

  “Today I’ll be of no use to anyone,” he growled quietly to himself.

  “That is truly a shame, Borrik, I had hoped you could bring me up to speed,” an all too familiar voice responded.

  Borrik could not believe what he was hearing, and opening his eyes for verification he realized that his initial desire to keep them closed would have been preferred.

  With pain lancing into his head, Borrik physically recoiled from the blow, slamming onto his back, and roughly bouncing his head off the stone floor. Once again, everything went black.

  An unknown amount of time later, Borrik awoke once more. This time around, he still felt like shit, but only his head felt hammered, not his entire body.

  With throbbing inside his skull he sat up, relieved that his stomach did not respond with the need of forceful evacuation. Opening his eyes cautiously, he was pleased to find himself greeted by Sara’s mischievous smile. She was enjoying this entirely too much.

  “Greetings, princess, I gather we are not dead.”

  “No, Borrik, though you certainly smell like it,” she replied, her smile broadening.

  “You are in higher spirits than I expected. Who holds us captive?”

  “Considering what we have been through, I have been doing a lot of thinking, Borrik. You are right, I am in good spirits, because you will be reuniting me with my husband in death just as soon as you are physically able, then you are free to go do whatever you like,” Sara responded.

  Borrik wasn’t sure if he had heard her correctly, or if it was the pounding in his head that prevented him from processing what she told him, but in either case he was utterly confused.

  “Sara, I don’t understand.”

  “What’s not to understand? We. Are. Not. Prisoners,” she continued emphasizing each word. “And. As. Soon. As. You. Kill. Me. You. Can. Leave.”

  Reaching up, Borrik was certain that this was the most bizarre dream he had ever had, but raking his claws across the great goose egg on the back of his head in an attempt to itch, the pain that exploded there assured him that this was reality, no matter how twisted.

  “Princess, you will not be dying by my hand. Not today, not ever,” he replied with a fiendish grin.

  “But, Borrik, I cannot bring myself to do it myself.”

  “Good thing too, cause Seth would be pissed if I didn’t bring you back like I promised.”

  Borrik was in no way expecting what came next from the tiny woman.

  Like lightning she sprang across the small chamber, landing upon him bodily, plunging her fingers deep beneath his flesh, grasping his windpipe in one hand and shoulder in the other. A wicked snarl split her face where rage seethed from every ounce of her expression.

  “We may have history, beast, but jokes such as those could be your last! I may not be able to kill myself, but toy with me and I will not hesitate to destroy you! she screamed into his face, her fangs flashing and spittle spraying upon him.

  Instinct, especially his feral side, told him to fight. Kill the woman. Save himself. But his loyalty and understanding proved the stronger. Keeping very still and very calm, he replied the best as he was able with the pressure around his vocal chords.

  “I speak true, Sara, he has returned from the dead, though I don’t understand how.”

  He watched the hatred slowly fade from her features as her mouth worked as if to talk, but no sound escaped. She removed her hands, and Borrik’s wounds began closing. Stumbling back a few steps, her mouth hung open a moment before she spoke again in a voice that sounded far away, broken, and perhaps a little scared.

  “If he has returned, then why not come for me himself?” she asked somewhat meekly.

  “He said Ishanya forbid it. He stands with his brother to hold Valdadore Castle, but I fear the king has lost hope.”

  “And Seth?”

  “Your return would do him much good, but I warn you, princess, his return did not come without a cost. Something about him has changed too, though I do not yet know what.”

  “Then we must go at once, how fast can we get back to the castle?

  “By wing I made it to the edge of the forest in the better part of a day, flying from before sunrise until nearly sunset.”

  “And if you had to carry me?” Sara asked.

  “A day and a night, perhaps?”

  “Then fly me to the edge of the forest, from there I will run.”

  “My princess, you will never be able to keep pace,” Borrik cautioned.

  “Don’t be so sure, Borrik, Seth is not the only one who has changed since last you saw him. I grow more powerful by the minute. Besides, night is approaching quickly, if we leave now we can make Valdadore by morning.”

  * * * * *

  Leading nearly two thousand blessed Dwarven warriors upon the backs of dire wolf mounts, oddly left Zorbin a fair amount of time to think. Throughout much of the day he had remained alert, afraid that they could run into some other unforeseen force. Yet after hours and hours of searching the ground, sky, trees, rocks, and everything else, all he noted were various animal prints upon the soil. The largest of these prints belonged to a pair of great cats that seemed to have traveled in the same basic direction they too now traveled. He had seen the tracks several times throughout the day, and had become quite good at picking them out upon the ground, even bounding at great speeds upon Xanth.

  Finally allowing his mind and eyes to rest a bit, he thought briefly about the months passed as evening turned into night around him. Much had befallen him in the past months, but were he being honest he could easily say that among those he was familiar with, he had it the easiest.

  Though he had lost many brothers in arms, and his leader and mentor Sirus, he at least was lucky enough to not have lost any family up until today. His uncle Ikor had fallen during the battle with the giants. Two cousins too, though he only recognized them by the emblems on their armor, assuming they were significantly younger than he.

  His companion, Linaya, had lost her father, her mother, and now, if they were not too late, they raced to save the man she loved before he too was taken from her. He wanted to come to Garret’s aid just as bad as she. Garret had been Zorbin’s very first friend in Valdadore, and even now that he was the king he treated Zorbin like a trusted friend and advisor, going so far as to trust him with the woman he loved.

  Though he was happy to have been given this opportunity, not only to bring aid, but also visit his ancestral home, he was glad they were headed back to Valdadore. Even if it was being invaded by another kingdom. This mission had done a lot for Zorbin. Finally, after years of being an outcast, some considering him a traitor to his race, he could walk among them proudly. The word of his honorable decline to the throne had spread and it seemed the Dwarven nation approved of his decision. The men following him now were not his men, but they had each volunteered to ride ahead and lend aid under his leadership. To Zorbin, those actions spoke much louder than words. If nothing else, visiting his childhood home in this fashion had given him closure. Even if he lived another six hundred years, and never managed to travel to Bouldergate again, he felt comfortable in the fact that his history recorded among the dwarves would be a favorable one.

  Nodding to himself with a harrumph of satisfaction, Zorbin shifted in his saddle as darkness settled around him and the thundering army behind him. He would lead the men to the best of his ability. Urging Xanth to slow slightly, the Dwarven knight of Valdadore planned to press on through the night at a reduced pace for the safety of his men. If any of them were to die, it should be in battle, not falling from a mount.

  Chapter Seven

  It was late in the night, only hours from morning, when Seth melded the last of his drafted child troops with the large species of rats that were an abundant commodity within Valdadore. Though they were still children at heart, his newest troops had taken on many aspects of the creatures that he blended their life forces with.

  Like the vampires they would be facing, Seth’s new troo
ps could jump unbelievably high. Like their enemies, they too could climb vertical surfaces. Their night vision was vastly improved as well. They were stronger, faster, and more agile than their human counterparts. In fact, they had exceeded most of Seth’s hopes in many ways. Whereas the bloodthirsty troops belonging to Sigrant could bite and infect someone, these new hybrids could chew through concrete. So strong were their jaws and teeth that they could literally snap bones with a single bite, or hang from their mouth like the dogs some trained to fight in pits for sport.

  The process had been an odd one for Seth. Changing children was difficult for him. It felt more than a little immoral. Many of the children came into the room with him frightened out of their minds. Seth had arranged for them to hear that perhaps he was a god, and everyone in the presence of a god should be frightened as far as Seth as concerned. Nonetheless, even after he told them that he served Ishanya, as he had sworn an oath to do, some of the new feral troops came to accept him as their deity. Others accepted Ishanya, and the vast majority left the transformation not sworn to any god. Seth was satisfied with the results.

  Thanking Jonas for ‘spreading the good word’ for him before the kids had entered, he stepped out into the darkness that was rapidly becoming day once more with yet more to do. The night previous he had sent a request to the temple of Ishanya here within the city. From its patrons he sought the donation of a few thousand copper coins. Beyond that he requested that each coin have a hole punched in it and be placed on a cord like a medallion.

  The necklaces had been delivered less than two hours later, the following of Ishanya having spread like a disease in the last months. Rounding the corner of the building, Jonas following in his step, he greeted the remainder of his wolf troops and grinned, satisfied with what they had done. Before him stood a table, probably confiscated from a merchant. Upon the table the coins on strings had been carefully laid out so as to not tangle with one another. The task had obviously been tedious, but they had painstakingly completed it to make his job easier.

  Deciding upon the exact process he would use, Seth waved his hand over the table and the thousands of coins changed in the wake of his hand. Each of them instantly smoothed, and upon them the sigil of a wolf head appeared before the coins turned black as night, the various colored cords changing color as well.

  Beyond the table and the wolves, every one of his new rat hybrids stood and as the coins changed they ooh’d and aah’d. But that was only the beginning of what he had in store. In the hours of changing the children into beasts, he had come upon an idea. Usually when imbuing something, he had to carefully, painstakingly draw out a thread of power from himself and form it into invisible runes, which he then placed upon an item or person before infusing the rune with power to sustain the effect he wanted it to have. But repeating the same process time and again with the children had made him wonder at the possibilities of a more practical way of imbuing a vast number of items at once.

  With nothing but a thought, as no one around him would notice the change, Seth magically smoothed and then carved into the tip of his thumb a small channel that represented the rune he wished, only backwards. Then lifting the first of the insignia medallions he had just transformed, he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger lightly before filling the small void created by the channel in his thumb with magical power and whispering, “Seth, save me”. Just as he had hoped, the symbol was stamped upon the coin perfectly. It was a simple rune. One he had seen upon an enchanted hammer he had studied in the hidden room within Ishanya’s temple, what felt like a lifetime ago. Testing the rune at that time, it appeared to do nothing. Now Seth knew different. The reason it had not worked with the relic, was because the symbol had been bound to something that no longer existed.

  One by one Seth picked up the small insignias, and one by one he imbued them before handing them out to his new soldiers a dozen or so at a time. Then, having received their insignias, they were guided to Jonas to be taught how to invoke the medallions.

  * * * * *

  Jonas had been given fairly specific instructions, but something told him that Seth’s wink when giving the instructions meant that he wanted something different than he said. Of course, logic said, do exactly as Seth told you, and his head said, do what you think is right. For Jonas, with a heart that was largely feral, the contradiction was simple to work out. So instead of using the word Ishanya, who as far as his wolf mind was concerned was a ghost, he replaced it with Seth, who he knew to be true and real. Therefore, when the first group of rodent kids arrived with their shiny new medallions he told them almost exactly what Seth had wanted.

  “This is very important,” Jonas explained in a half growl. “Your medallions are only to be used if you are in dire need, if you are injured, surrounded, or if Prince Seth calls for you to regroup or retreat. When that time comes, if you have no other option, reach up and clasp your pendant and repeat… Not now you fools… If you are about to be killed… Clasp your pendant and say Seth, save me’, and you will be saved.”

  Jonas looked over to be sure Seth was preoccupied with the next bunch of rat troops.

  “Keep in mind, folks, they will only work if you truly accept Prince Seth as the one true god.” He added the last part to them in a near whisper.

  Jonas could almost swear that Seth had cocked his head slightly as if to listen, and when his master turned to point the next group over to Jonas he had a crooked grin on his face. All the giant, mottle-colored werewolf could do was accept that as his master’s approval, and repeat the message over and over and over again until the last of the new troops were prepared.

  * * * * *

  Finished with his new troops, Seth took up the remaining necklaces and imbued each one before shoving nearly twenty of them in a pouch upon his belt for safe keeping. Then kneeling upon the ground, he pulled a thread of power from his own aura and carefully constructed a rune upon the cobbles of the road. Ahead of him the great western gate of the city stood, and beginning in just a few hours the healers would inhabit the tents that stood to either side of the gate.

  It was a slow process, drawing runes this way, but even so, Seth took his time to complete it. This rune was vastly more complex, not something he would dare to mass produce as he had just done. After nearly an hour of constant focus he bound the rune to the road, and rising he released a torrent of power into the rune to be sure it lasted and served its purpose.

  Nearly finished, Seth reached out with his power, both atop the western wall and even here within his own pouch and located each of the thousands of runes he had created this night. With a single thought, he fused them all with enough power to perform at least three times. Satisfied, he turned away from the invisible rune upon the ground as his tendrils of power recoiled. It was at that very moment that Seth, overcome, collapsed to his knees, his head tilting upwards to the heavens as tears began to flow from his eyes unchecked.

  * * * * *

  Garret strode down the street, a mass of knotted muscles. His talk with Seth had not gone as he had intended, making him wonder how he really was feeling about his sibling. He had had no intentions of coming off so angry, but what was said was not untrue. Seth’s actions had cost everyone. Even so, Garret did not leave the conflict feeling good about what had transpired and so had left seeking some solace to sit and think for a while.

  Rounding the corner of the castle complex, Garret eyed his destination with awe. The building itself was inspiring, but the feeling he felt within it could not be matched. Entering the temple devoted to Gorandor, Garret quickly found himself a pew after several nods from other attendees.

  Even with so many people within the building, he could feel alone here with both his thoughts and his god. It was a soothing feeling. One that he thoroughly enjoyed for several minutes before eventually his mind began to spin, throwing thoughts and ideas at him, apparently deciding that this particular time would not best be spent just sitting idly.

  He could not help but thin
k about all the things he had been trying to shove from his mind. He had lost more than anyone should have to bear in a very short time. First the king he served had been taken, and his friend and mentor Sirus too. Seth had killed them. Sure it was an accident, but nonetheless they might have survived if not for Seth. For a while he even believed that Seth and Sara had died, also Seth’s doing, but it had turned out that they were okay. At least for the most part. Both had returned to Valdadore changed, and neither of them for the better. In the time they were gone he had lost his freedom, having been nearly shoved into the position as king. Sure, there were many that wanted the title, but alas it was given up to Garret to shoulder the strife that came with a kingdom apparently condemned to ceaseless war. He lost his father and Jack, and even Rose died, and to this day Garret did not know how, he only knew that she was unaccounted for. All three of them likely died because of Seth. Dad and Jack for certain. As if that were not enough, Seth was killed. Again. And Garret had lost everyone he had loved. Sure, Seth came back, but not really. Seth had been gone a while. This Seth was not the man Garret had grown up with. That much was certain.

  Garret could bear no more loss. At least he had managed to save Linaya and Zorbin from a death at Seth’s hands. Falling from the pew to his knees, Garret pressed his head to the floor.

  “Mighty Gorandor, protect me and guide me to do what is righteous. Lift me up as I choose the honorable path in a world where dishonor rules. Help me to save that which I love, so that I may bring more love to your cause.”

  With those words, the king of Valdadore rose, and turning upon his heel he strode from the temple back into the streets. Morning had come. With enough light to finally see what might have transpired throughout the night, Garret turned to head back to the western wall so that he might look upon his enemy and learn something of use about him.