Gods Of Blood And Fire (Book 1)

by A. J. STRICKLER

The Dark One backhanded the little necromancer across the mouth. “I don’t need you to tell me what I should and should not do. Find him, he must be taken alive.”

  Siro wiped the blood from his mouth. He had rarely seen his master lose his temper. The wizard usually remained calm under any circumstances.

  “I have worked on this too long, Siro, and I will not have what we made get away from me now.” The Dark One composed himself and looked at his assistant. “If we don’t find him quickly, we may have a problem.”

  “What do you mean, Master?” Siro was frightened, he had never seen his master so concerned about anything.

  “It’s obvious I needed more time to build his trust to make him more controllable. I don’t know what he will do or really what he can do. In the condition he is in now, he is just as dangerous to us as anyone else.”

  ***

  His mind was jumbled, he couldn’t think. What was his name? He thought it was Kian. Did that sound right? What he did know was that he must escape this place; he had to get away before the pain returned.

  He had wandered down the stone stairs, passing many doors on his way. When he got to the bottom there was a tunnel. He followed it. After a little way the tunnel became a natural cave. He found a small pool of dark water, it was cold, he drank from it.

  He raised his head from the water. He knew it was dark in the cave but he could see. He walked on until he came to large cavern. The cave continued on branching off into three different directions, but something had caught his eye here.

  Two braziers burned in front of a natural alcove in the wall of the cavern. A small altar sat inside the alcove covered by a silk sheet. Above the altar was a mirror with small shelves to either side. The shelves held small items he was unfamiliar with. He looked in the mirror. There was something different, but his mind wouldn’t let him focus on it.

  He reached down and pulled the silk sheet off the altar. There lay a long sword. The hilt, cross piece, and pommel were made from one solid piece of strange black metal. On the pommel was an inlay of silver, the design was arrows bursting out in all directions from a circular center.

  He picked up the weapon, it felt good in his hand. He knew what this was. The blade seemed to almost move in the firelight, swirling colors of black and gray, the strange steel almost looked alive. He had never seen metal like it before.

  Kian turned and headed back up the way he had come. He felt much more at ease now as if he had found something he had lost.

  A woman stepped from the shadows unseen. She was dressed in a black gown, her face covered by a dark-laced funeral veil. “Yes, my little monster, take my blade and introduce yourself to the world.”

  ***

  The Dark One was going down the stairs quicker than Siro could keep up. “Master, I can’t move that fast.” “He may have gotten to the cave, you little runt.”

  Now Siro knew why his master was running: the sword. “Master, the sword is warded he can’t touch it.”

  “It was warded when I stole it from the temple in Sidia as well; wards are made to be broken.”

  They came down the stairs into the dining hall when Siro saw his master taken off his feet, the wizard flew through the air and stuck the wall on the other side of the hall with a thud.

  Siro couldn’t stop, he slid across the stone floor to come face to face with his experiment. The Half Elf grabbed the little wizard by the robe and hurled him one handed down the steps he had just ascended from.

  The Dark One slid himself up the wall and tried to cast a spell. Before he could get it off, his creation had crossed the dining hall and began slamming him against the wall over and over. Only his cloak ripping away saved his life. He stumbled backward and fell to the floor.

  The monster leaped high into the air. With his sword pointed downward the beast was coming right for him. The Dark One whispered a word and vanished. The Half Elf hit the floor where his enemy had been a second ago, driving half the uncanny sword blade into the solid stone floor. He pulled it out and headed up the stairs.

  Endra was coming to. She saw K’xarr and Cromwell helping Ansel to his feet. The woodsman was shaking his head try to rid himself of the green smoke’s effects. “What was that?” Ansel asked.

  “That was magic used by the little bastard that betrayed us. I knew he was no good,” Cromwell said. The Toran continued to curse Siro under his breath. It was easy to see the big man was angry at himself for being tricked. They all were.

  Endra got to her feet. “He fooled us all, Cromwell. I just wonder if he was lying about Kian being inside.”

  “Endra, look,” K’xarr shouted. She looked to where the Camiran was pointing. There, thirty feet up, was Kian standing on top of the battlements of the tower.

  He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of leather leggings and a sword clutched in his hand.

  “Wait, we will find a way to get you down,” she yelled up to him. Kian then simply jumped, landing on his feet like he had just hopped down off a horse. Endra started to go to him.

  “Wait, look at him,” K’xarr cautioned.

  Endra saw Kian’s eyes under his wild black hair. They had changed color. Once a soft green, now golden with just a slight hint of green, and his pupils were no bigger than the head of a pin in the sunlight.

  He seemed a little taller too. His once lithe body was now much heavier and covered with sinewy muscle. He was also covered with terrible scars. One running from his neck down past the waistband of his leggings. Most of the wounds looked healed, but a few still had stitches in them. He bared his teeth at her. Inside his mouth she saw two small fangs on top and two smaller ones on the bottom.

  “What have they done to you?” she whispered.

  He looked at her as if he didn’t know her. K’xarr, Cromwell, and Ansel noticed the look in his eye, their weapons were drawn, and they began to circle Kian.

  He watched them from the corner of his eye, his muscles tensing, he looked ready to spring. Endra held up her hand for the others to stop.

  “Kian it’s me, Endra, look at me, don’t you know me?” Faster than she had ever seen anyone move he was on her grabbing her hair and forcing her to her knees. She looked into his eyes and held both hands up to keep the others back. His eyes looked similar to the eyes of the great cats her father had hunted back in Sorrack.

  He started to raise the sword in his hand. “Kill me if you want, I will still love you. I don’t think even my death could stop that.”

  A look of confusion came across his face and the sword lowered. “That’s it, remember, it’s me, Endra, you love me and I need you to come back to me.”

  “Endra,” he said with a much deeper voice than he once had. “What, where am I?” He released her hair and she jumped to her feet and began to stroke his cheek with her hand.

  “It’s going to be all right, you’re here with me and K’xarr and Cromwell, we are going to take you away from this accursed place.”

  She pulled him into her embrace as tears ran down her cheeks. Kian pushed her back, clutching his head, he let out a terrible scream and collapsed to the ground.

  Endra fell to her knees pulling his head into her lap. “K’xarr, what has happened to him.” The men gathered around the two. “I don’t know, Endra. Let’s just get moving before the wizard returns. We can take him to Rhys, maybe he can help,” K’xarr said, shaken by the Half Elf’s state.

  Cromwell shook his head. “The Dark One has changed him into a monster.” The look Endra gave Cromwell sent a chill up the Toran’s spine. “Then I will find a way to change him back.”

  Chapter 15

  The great tan and green pavilion had been set up in the middle of the three armies of Abberdon. King Havalon Taylin of Abberdon had called his sons to council.

  Havalon was dressed in his plate armor, not gilded like many other Kings. No, his was servable like all the other knights in his army. His green tabard bore the coat of arms of Abberdon, a tan bull’s head flanked by two crossed war hammers.
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br />   He was no longer young, he didn’t possess the narrow waist of his youth, but his shoulders were broad and his arms strong. Havalon was still a very powerful warrior. Gray hair and thick beard, a distinguished looking man to be sure, but it was his icy blue eyes that saw his orders followed to the letter. He could make his servants quake in their boots with a dissatisfied gaze.

  His servants were hurriedly setting up his war table and rolling out a map of Bandara on top of it. He hated the pavilion, the smoke from the braziers made his head ache. He should be on his horse out in the field fighting for the future of Abberdon, not cooped up in this silken den. He had to remind himself he was a King and had to project an image for his subjects or he would put a torch to the whorish pavilion.

  Havalon had never thought of himself as a King, he had always pictured himself as a warrior or conqueror. He had never gotten used to the grandiosity that came with wearing the crown. However, he did love the power that the crown brought with it.

  Griffyn and Donovan both entered the pavilion his sons were both dressed in the same armor as their father. “Hail Father, what news do you have?” Griffyn said. The King’s thin lips tightened, he was trying to suppress the smile that threated to spread across his face.

  His wife had died when the boys were very young and he had raised them alone. No servants or nannies, he had done it on his own. His chest swelled with pride when he looked at the two fine warriors standing before him now.

  Griffyn, the oldest, was carefree and fun-loving, but he was all business when it came to a battlefield, he had taken to combat like a duck to water. He had his father’s eyes but his mother’s straw-colored hair.

  Donovan was younger but you couldn’t tell it. He was a serious young man and a good general. He was dark haired and powerfully built. Havalon knew he would make a fine King. He would just have to win a Kingdom for the boy to rule. Griffyn was his heir, but Donovan deserved a country as well and Bandara would do nicely. Abberdon was his pride, but his boys were his joy. There was nothing in the world he loved more than his sons.

  “Come, look at the map, and I will show you how we will defeat young King Cain and his Bandarans.”

  The Princes moved over to the table, one on either side of their father. “How long do you think it would take for your armies to drive the Bandarans to Northham?” the King asked.

  “I’m not sure, Cain was just reinforced by Bradford and Fox, that will give him at least ten thousand fresh troops,” Donovan said.

  “It doesn’t matter how many troops they give him, he is very predictable and any offensive he mounts should be easy to counter. The new King of Bandara lacks imagination, Father. I would not think it would take us long to herd him anywhere.” Griffyn said with confidence.

  Donovan looked over the map then shook his head. “Why, Northham, Father? I don’t see the point of it, there is nothing in the town of consequence.”

  The King glanced at his son. “Listen and I will tell you.” Donovan pursed his lips and looked at his brother. Griffyn shook his finger at him and smiled.

  “I want you to press the attack. Cain has help now, Fox and Bradford are no fools and the young Blackthorn will also realize what I’m doing if he has enough time to think. So keep the pressure on them, attack, attack, attack and keep driving them toward Northham Fox’s castle near the city. If you can rout them and do enough damage, they will take to the castle. Lay siege to it and hold them there, you don’t even have to take the castle, just keep them inside until winter. They won’t move after the snows come.”

  Griffyn folded his arms across his chest he looked at his brother then his father. “What will you be doing while we bottle up the King and his army?”

  Havalon pointed to Turill. “I will take the capital. Old Lord Blackthorn hasn’t sent his army north or so our spies say. They are camped just north of the capital, ten thousand men just sitting there while we are chasing the rest of their army all over northern Bandara. I don’t know what he is playing at but his troops are all that stand between Turill and us, if you can pin down Cain’s Army at Northham. I will defeat Duke Blackthorn and take the city.

  I have been told by our spies the King has sent for the Royal Guard to bolster his ranks, leaving only the city watch to take care of the capital. How many men will that give the boy King?”

  “He lost four thousand in our last battle with Bradford and Fox’s men and the Royal Guard, if they arrive in time, may be twenty-five thousand, give or take a thousand.” Donovan replied.

  The King picked up a jug of wine and poured himself a cup. His sons said nothing, they knew when their father was thinking.

  “Take ten thousand men each. I will take the rest and the five thousand mercenaries we hired, that will give me well over twenty thousand men. I will head east and wait for word that you have trapped the King, then I will ride on Turill. We might even get lucky and Blackthorn will send his men to try and save his King and I will take the city with no resistance.”

  “Cain will slightly outnumber us, Father,” Donovan observed. “I thought you said the Bandarans would be easy beaten?” The old King grinned. Donovan frowned and said nothing.

  “I know he outnumbers you in men. He and his general are inexperienced and our troops are far superior. I have no doubt you and Griffyn can handle them. If you get into trouble send word and I will reinforce you.”

  “Father, I have a question.” Donovan said grinning. “Ask it then Son, I am tired it has been a long day.” “When we defeat Cain and you take Turill, which one of us gets Princess Raygan?”

  “Yes, Father.” Griffyn said, excited by the turn of the conversation. “She was quite attractive when we saw her at the joust two years ago. She was a bit young then but her breasts were almost as big as Donovan’s head.”

  All three of them laughed, Havalon held up his hand. “I know the little Princess is beautiful and would give either of you a fine heir but there is not enough of her to go around and she has married the King’s general. So we will have a contest. Whichever one of you kills Talorn Blackthorn can have the girl.”

  ***

  Her thin legs quivered only a little when he raped her now, and there was hardly any screaming when he hurt her. The girl was done. The rat bites on her body had begun to fester and her hair was matted and full of lice, he was finished with her.

  The handmaiden had served her purpose. They needed nothing from her now anyway. Once Cain had been told the healer came poking around the palace looking for Raygan’s servant, it was all the reason he needed to order the foolish man’s arrest.

  William had kept the girl for fun, besides Cain never said anything about releasing her. The King and his son were gone now and he could do as he pleased. Not that he couldn’t before, there was just little need to cover it up now.

  He dressed himself and waited for Arn to come and unchain the girl, he thought he would let the executioner have her, no need to let the last bit of the little bitch go to waste.

  He smacked the girl on the backside. “It’s been a pleasure, my dear.” The duke was ready to get out of the foul-smelling dungeon. He only needed to wait for Arn to come back from feeding the other prisoners, so he could award the executioner his prize.

  “Still torturing and raping little girls I see.” William spun around drawing his dagger. The man grabbed his hand as he thrust his dagger and slapped him so hard across the face it knocked him to the floor. He noticed the man had taken his dagger away from him as well. The bastard was quick.

  “It’s you … how did you get in here?” The Dark One offered his hand to William and helped him to his feet. “I come and go as I please, you know that, Willy.”

  William gritted his teeth and said nothing. He wanted to live. This was the one man Duke Blackthorn feared. “I thought I was to contact you when things were settled here?”

  The wizard handed William’s dagger back to him. “True, but you also said that Bandara would belong to you by now. I did my part, the Kingdom was ri
pe for the taking, but I have seen nothing you promised me for all my work.”

  “It is all but mine now. The Abberdonians have invaded and that has to be dealt with before I can take full control.”

  “I take it you have arranged for the Abberdonians to be defeated after they solve your problem?” the wizard asked.

  “I have made a deal with King Braklan and the Illairians. If the Abberdonians defeat Cain, Talorn Havalon’s troops will be weakened from the war. On my order Braklan will attack with his allies and destroy Havalon.

  “All I have to do is allow the Illairians to extend their border fifty miles into Bandara and the Abberdonian problem is solved.”

  The wizard rested his hands on the two short swords that jutted from his cloak. “You must trust King Braklan, what would stop him from just taking all of Bandara with both armies decimated?”

  “My agents acquired certain information about him that he doesn’t want his Queen to know or his people for that matter.

  “What if, by chance, the King and your son win the war?”

  The duke slide his dagger back in to its scabbard. “Well then, so much the better. I won’t need Braklan and I will take care of Cain myself. Talorn is married to the Princess now and he will rule alongside Raygan if Cain dies. Their child will begin the royal line of the Blackthorn family. So you can see, I have been dealing with several situations, but there is no reason for you to worry.”

  The Dark One walked into the cell and lifted the girl’s head, he eased it back down and looked at William. “It looks like all your dealing with is your own perversions, Willy, and that causes me to doubt your commitment.”

  Arn came down the stairs and into the light. “Arn, kill him, tear him apart.” William yelled pointing at the wizard. He was tired of being afraid of this sorcerer. He didn’t need him any more anyway, he hastily decided he should kill the man now while he had the chance to catch the mage unawares.

  Arn lunged at the smaller man, arms out stretched to strangle the duke’s enemy. The Dark One pulled his twin short swords with practiced speed. The dark steel blades sliced through the air cutting both the hulking executioner’s hands off. The sorcerer twirled the blades in his hands and slammed them back into their scabbards.