Gods Of Blood And Fire (Book 1)

by A. J. STRICKLER

  On the morning of the fourth day of the siege, King Havalon called his sons to him. “What is happening out there? You have the entire army, why can’t they take a castle held by less than a thousand men?”

  “I haven’t been able to get enough men on top of the wall, Father, we have been close. After every attack the Bandarans are fewer, just give me a little more time,” Griffyn said as he wiped the sweat from his face. “If Donovan could put more pressure on the gatehouse, it wouldn’t be so hard for my men to take the wall.” The older Prince threw his sweat soaked towel at his younger brother to make his point.

  “You’re not fighting that Toran and the monster,” Donovan said, raising his voice. “We have tried everything. Every day we have to clear the dead just to get at them. If we use bows, they go behind the barricade they built and wait. I have no choice but to send my men in to cross swords with that devil. If you’re so brave, why don’t you clear the gate of those two bastards for me?”

  Havalon held up his hand. “Enough excuses, Griffyn, continue besieging the wall. Donovan, take some of my personal guard with you today, send them in to kill that abomination. My guards are the finest swords in all Abberdon. The half-breed will stand no chance against them. Now go both of you. Take that castle and stop whining.” The Princes saluted their father and walked towards the front. A hard fight was good for them, the King thought. It would make them stronger when they ruled. The half-breed would fall sooner or later and when he did all he would have to do was capture the Queen and hunt down Prince Cain, and Bandara would be his.

  Again, Donovan’s attack stalled at the gate. They saw the King watching in the distance as his Abberdonians fell back, stumbling over each other, and Cromwell was sure Havalon could see his personal guard lying dead at the swordsman’s feet.

  Kian’s hand was covered with blood, making the hilt of his sword slick. He flicked his wrist sending the excess gore and blood from Malice’s blade to splatter on the ground.

  Cromwell reached down and ripped a tabard off one of the dead men and tossed it to Kian. It bore the symbol of King Havalon, a great bear with crossed war hammers. Kian wiped the blood from Malice’s hilt and his hands then dropped the Tabard on the ground in front of him and stomped on it, making sure the Abberdonian soldiers and their King saw him.

  “You are bold my friend, you should have been born a Toran,” Cromwell said. The Half Elf glared coldly at his friend. Cromwell could see the primal fury behind his Kian’s eyes. The others didn’t understand, not even Endra, but he did.

  Kian was at war with the beast that lived inside him, and the swordsman was losing. For all his talk of humanity and morality, Kian could not resist the savage soul his brother had put inside him. He was no longer the honorable Sunblade Gildor had taught him to be. In the heat of battle the Half Elf became a merciless killer, and Cromwell could see it was tearing him apart. He felt bad for his friend. He hoped one day Kian could learn to live with the wild spirit that lived within him, but for now it wasn’t so bad to have the ferocious slayer at his side, he thought, as the Abberdonians came on again.

  “K’xarr, help.” He could hear Endra shouting over the battle’s clamor, but he could not see her. K’xarr ran down the battlements to where he had last seen the female fighter. He came upon Endra, lying on the battlement’s blood-stained walkway writhing in pain. K’xarr looked around for help and saw his captain. “Rufio, cover.”

  The Dragitan lead several men down the wall. They surrounded the woman and the general, shielding them as best they could from the battle.

  K’xarr dropped to his knees beside Endra and pulled her helmet off. “Where are you wounded?” he asked, looking over her body.

  She grabbed his wounded arm and squeezed drawing the general’s attention. “I’m not wounded, it’s the baby.”

  K’xarr and one of the Bandaran soldiers had carried Endra down to the makeshift hospital in the castle’s small abbey. The healer had taken over from there. “How is she, Rhys?”

  “She’ll be fine, K’xarr, someone should tell Kian. The baby is coming.”

  K’xarr sighed and rubbed his wounded arm. “I need him at the gate, he and Cromwell have stood their ground for days. I don’t want to change our luck now. Can’t the child be born without him?”

  “Of course it can, but Endra said she promised to tell him when the time came.”

  K’xarr thought a moment. “I will bring him when the Abberdonians pull back to regroup.”

  Rhys rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t be too long, the child is coming quickly. There isn’t much time.” K’xarr hurried out of the abbey to fetch the soon-to-be father.

  K’xarr and Kian walked into the abbey together, K’xarr was almost pushing the Half Elf along. Kian seemed almost frightened. K’xarr thought the birth of his child was scaring the Half Elf more than Havalon’s army.

  They went through some makeshift curtains Rhys had put up, so Endra could have some privacy from the wounded Bandarans. Their groaning was the only sound in the large room.

  Rhys held up a hand at K’xarr to stop him from going in any further, the healer looked shaken. He pulled K’xarr to him as Kian passed into the area where Endra lay. “Let him go alone, K’xarr,” Rhys whispered. The general nodded in agreement.

  Kian went to Endra’s side, she laid on a small pallet Rhys made for her on the floor. She looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “As fast as you are, you missed it.”

  “I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?”

  Endra smiled. I’m just tired. I want to sleep, Rhys gave me something. He has the baby. He took her away to clean her up. Go see your daughter, my love.”

  Endra’s eyes slowly closed. She had fallen asleep. Kian stroked her hair and held her hand, concern written all over his face.

  “What happened, Rhys?” K’xarr whispered.

  “I gave her a sleeping draught after she had the child. I wanted Kian to see the baby first.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see, General. Follow me.”

  Rhys led Kian and K’xarr through another set of curtains, where a small makeshift crib had been placed. The three men walked slowly towards it and gazed in. The tiny girl lay curled into a ball. She had small upswept ears like her father. Her eyes were closed and her head lay on her tiny hands. Her body was covered with very fine light-colored hair, yet the hair on her head was long and dark, and it fell all the way down to her small shoulders.

  She opened her eyes as if she sensed the men. The child’s eyes were big, golden, and full of life.

  The little girl stretched and yawned, displaying a mouth full of kitten like teeth. The baby uncurled and stood up in her crib on shaky legs, startling the three men. She blinked her eyes at Kian. The swordsman reached down for her. The girl sniffed his hand, then raised her arms.

  The Half Elf picked her up and cradled her in his arms. K’xarr shrugged. “At least she doesn’t have a tail.”

  “K’xarr, really,” Rhys scolded.

  Kian looked at his daughter with pride. “I think she is perfect.”

  He played with the little girl for an hour until she had fallen back asleep. “When Endra awakes I will return,” Kian told Rhys. “Is K’xarr gone?”

  “Yes, I think he went back to the wall.” the healer said.

  “I need to find him. I need to leave the castle,” Kian said, as he handed his sleeping daughter to Rhys.

  “Why, where are you going?”

  “To end this war.”

  ***

  Rufio watched as Kian walked out alone towards the Abberdonian camp. “Do you think this is a good idea, General?”

  K’xarr readjusted the sling on his arm. “I don’t know, Rufio, but he was determined to do it, he wouldn’t tell me what he wanted to talk to Havalon about though. Once he gets something in his head, a horse can’t kick it loose.”

  Rufio folded his arms, he could see Kian entered the Abberdonian camp under a makeshift flag of truce. “He is
a scary man, General, I don’t think I would want to be in Havalon’s shoes about now, even though Kian is unarmed.”

  “Aye, keep an eye on the camp, Captain, if there’s any disturbance or it looks like trouble send Kian whatever help he needs. I’m going to let Rhys take a look at my arm while I have the chance.”

  Rufio put fist to chest in salute. “Yes, General.”

  K’xarr headed off to see the healer, Rufio turned his attention back to the camp. He had met with Havalon before; the King was no fool. Kian was taking a big risk going to see the old man. He wished he could be down there to see what kind of reception the Abberdonians were going to give the half-breed.

  King Havalon had agreed to see this freak of nature only because Donovan had told him such fantastic things about it and he was curious. He too had watched as it destroyed half of his personal guard. He was very interested in what kind of being the creature could do such a thing. Maybe he could find a weakness to defeat the beast.

  Havalon leaned back in his bearskin-covered chair flanked by his sons as his guards brought the swordsman in.

  It was dressed in dark leggings and a simple black sleeveless shirt. The thing sported a pair of dark iron bracers, and a black cloak was draped over its wide shoulders.

  The creature walked in and kneeled before the Abberdonian King. At least it showed proper respect, Havalon thought.

  The Half Elf’s dark hair hung loose and fell to his shoulders, but it was its eyes that Havalon couldn’t take his gaze away from. They were like the great cats he had hunted in his youth, golden and predatory.

  “Majesty, I thank you for seeing me.”

  It spoke well, Havalon thought. “You may rise.” The King gestured for Kian to stand up. The monster had come unarmed to the meeting. Havalon had been surprised at this, given what Donovan had told him about the killer. “I must be honest with you half-breed, my stance is the same as the Church’s on your kind. You are an abomination that should be destroyed. Under most circumstances I would not bother to even speak with you or observe the tenets of a flag of truce, but the messenger said you wanted to talk about putting an end to the hostilities. Does K’xarr wish to surrender?”

  Surprise showed on the creature’s face.

  The King gave an icy grin. “Yes, word was sent, he escaped from Turill. It is of little importance, he will soon be recaptured or killed.”

  “I don’t speak for K’xarr or the Queen of Bandara. I am here only for myself.”

  King Havalon sat forward in his chair, the Princes both looked at each other, appalled by this half-breed’s nerve. “You mean to tell me that you weren’t sent to me by K’xarr or the girl Queen? How dare you ask for an audience with me without any authority? You have no power to negotiate any Bandaran surrender.”

  Kian looked at the King and both Princes. “I’m not here to talk about a Bandaran surrender. I don’t think K’xarr or the Queen will ever surrender to you. I’m here to ask you if you would simply leave Bandara in peace, I have a woman I love within the walls of this castle and a newborn child and there are several other little ones I am responsible for. I ask you to just take what you have and go in peace.”

  The Abberdonians were silent a moment, then they burst out laughing. “Are you completely mad? Did you just say you want us to abandon the conquest of Bandara when our victory is all but secured and go back to Abberdon just because you asked us to?” The men continued to chuckle. “Guards, get him out of here. Two guards stepped forward, one on each side of the swordsman.

  “Wait, Majesty, before you reject my request I must tell you, if you don’t leave, I will do what I must to defend this castle and the people inside.”

  King Havalon stroked his beard. “Do whatever you must half-breed, now go, I should have never given you audience in the first place. Abberdon will be the only victor here.”

  Kian bowed his head, true regret in his voice. “There is more important things than victory, Great King, remember that I gave you fair warning.”

  “Your deformities don’t frighten me, Elven scum. Get that thing out of here, before I forget I’m a man of God and cease to honor his flag of truce.” Kian let the guards take him by the arms to be led out. Behind him he could hear the Princes laughing.

  “We should have never honored the flag of truce anyway, Father, he’s not even human.” Griffyn walked up and spit on the ground near Kian’s feet. “We will have your woman monster and throw your children from the walls when we take the fortress.”

  Kian looked over his shoulder at the Abberdonian King. Havalon could see the rage in its eyes. “Get that thing away from me.” The King shouted. The guards led Kian back out into the camp.

  King Havalon decided then he would let his son carry out his threats when this arrogant creature was dead. He would have its devil family killed when he breached the walls of Castle Blackthorn. The Church would look kindly on the act and it would please him to do it as well. It was time to finish the Queen and her monster. Then he could turn his attention to bringing the rest of Bandara to its knees.

  ***

  Endra watch in awe as the little girl ate the ground meat Rhys had given her. When she finished the meat, the child nuzzled Endra’s ample breast.

  “She wishes to nurse,” Rhys said.

  Endra looked at him, eyes wide. “I know what she wishes, but have you seen her teeth? We have to find another way.” Endra gently pushed the girl away from her breast and began to stroke the child’s lovely dark hair. “By all that’s holy, Rhys, I think I hear her purring”

  The healer rubbed his chin, ignoring the woman. “Well, we could try to put some cow milk in a water bladder and let her suckle, that it might work, frankly Endra, this is all new to me. I don’t know what should be done.”

  “And you think I do?” Endra tried to hold the child, but the little girl squirmed away from her, still trying to get at her mother’s breast. “By the Gods, she’s trying to devour me.”

  Rhys covered his mouth knowing Endra would not find his laugher amusing. “She is beautiful, look at her features and those eyes, if not for the body hair and teeth, she would look like a sweet Half Elven child.”

  Endra picked up the girl and looked into her golden eyes. “You are going to be handful, aren’t you?” The baby smiled and snuggled herself against her mother’s neck. A tear slowly ran down Endra’s cheek.

  “Kian said she was perfect,” Rhys said, trying to comfort the emotional young woman.

  “Did he say where he was going?” Endra asked as she pulled the infant from her neck and cradled the child in her arms.

  “He said he was going to stop the war or some crazy thing.”

  Endra looked distressed then her eyes grew wide. “Rhys, he’s afraid for the child. He plans to protect her any way he can.” The young mother bowed her head, “May the Gods be merciful.”

  Rhys gently touched her shoulder. “I’m sure he will be fine.”

  Endra took the healer’s hand in hers. “It’s not him I fear for, it’s Havalon and the Abberdonians.”

  Chapter 30

  The sky was dark, there would be a storm today. The rain would be cold, the wind would blow, and the sky would rage. Already the men of both Kingdoms could hear the thunder in the distance.

  The rain would affect how they fought, the ground would be slick, a misstep could cost a man his life. Their weapons to would be hard to hold on to, wet with the rain they could easily slide out of a warrior’s hand, leaving the man defenseless. Experience would play a large role in the battle today. Those who had fought in these kinds of conditions before would have the advantage.

  The weather was not what would be different for many of the warriors arrayed around Castle Blackthorn this day. What would make this battle unique was the God of War had come to watch.

  Fane smiled, it would be a good day. The God of War loved unconventional combat. Rain, snow, and hail, the weather could make battles much more interesting. It had been centuries since last he took par
t in a battle. It felt good to once again take the field.

  He glanced at the blonde Goddess standing by his side frowning, arms folded across her plentiful chest. “Why are you even here, Syann, you have never been one to enjoy bloodshed? It must be my company you crave.”

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Fane was not unhandsome, dark hair pulled back in a warrior’s braid, beard full like the northern warriors of the Harsh Coast, and he was encased in his elaborate red armor from head to toe. She had always liked it.

  No, he was not unhandsome, but he was arrogant, vain, and lecherous, she hated him. “I have taken an interest in some of the men that will fight today. That’s why I am here.”

  Fane grinned like a wolf. “I see, I was informed that some of the warriors defending the castle are of some account, they might even be hearty enough to survive your uh … charms.”

  Syann glared at the War God. “I’m not interested in them in that way, they are being used as pawns, and I don’t like it. Besides I thought we had all decided it was best if we didn’t satisfy our carnal pleasures with humans?”

  Fane set his great helmet on the ground near his feet and gripped the blood-red hilt of his sword. “Pawns are needed as well as all the other pieces on the board, my dear, they serve their purpose, and you’re fooling yourself if you think everyone is staying out of the human’s beds.”

  He stepped closer to the blonde woman and put his gauntleted hand on the small of her back. “Maybe we could take care of each other’s pleasures, if you’re willing, Syann. I have heard things about you, my dear. I would be very interested to find out if the stories are true.”

  The blonde woman drew her silver sword with lightening speed, but Fane blocked the blow with his armored hand. “Just like your father, so quick to kill. Besides it was just a suggestion, no need to be offended.”

  Syann sheathed her blade. “If my father was free, you would not have made that ‘suggestion,’ Uncle.”

  The God of War frowned and stepped away from her. “That might be true, but he is not here to defend your precious honor anymore Syann. Perhaps you should tread a little lighter now that he is gone.”