Victor Deus (Heritage of the Blood Book 1)

by Brent Lee Markee

  They started to head for the door, but Victor stopped and looked up as they walked under the the trap door that Victor had popped out of. “Hey Nim?”

  “Yes Victor?”

  “Think we can take the stuff they have up there. There's a whole lot of equipment. If nothing else we could sell it.” Victor said, his face pensive.

  “You know, the boy is right. We are getting old, we almost forgot adventuring rule number one. Always take all the treasure. You never know what you'll need later.” Zander chuckled.

  After a moment of thought Nim said, “Ok, you go find us a wagon Zander, Victor and I will loot the place. We can take whatever money we find to the churches before we leave, and everything else is for us.”

  “No, not for us Nim.” Zander said calmly.

  Nim looked at him surprised. “Not for us? What do you mean.”

  “For him.” Zander pointed at Victor. Nim nodded in concession a moment later.

  “For me?!” Victor said confused.

  “Aye, your gonna need it sooner or later. We might as well start your hoard now. It's in our blood lad.” As he left the two to start their search he added quietly to himself. “It's in our blood, and stronger in you than any I've seen before.”

  Chapter 15

  The Constant Struggle

  Year 3043 AGD

  Month of Ragnós

  Second Day

  Continent of Terroval

  Northwest of Asylum

  Protectorate Base Camp

  Victor's body was still tingling as they reached the Knights camp. The act of being transported by the lines of power was a singularly invigorating experience. It had lasted mere moments, but in that time, his consciousness had perceived the rolling fields of gold and the looming mountains that bordered them to the north. As he passed over the forest, he saw thin creatures on four legs frolicking through a clearing. Then, with a blink of an eye, it was over. When he told Nim how beautiful, it had been his mentor had simply looked at Victor and blinked.

  The camp was in a state of, what Victor thought to be, ordered chaos. The tents and all of the equipment were neat and tidy. He looked down the rows of tents in the vast camp and whistled. It looked like someone had put a line down and the tents had followed that line perfectly. Among that perfect order there were thousands of people moving in every direction. He knew that each had a job to do and was going about it in the quickest manner possible, but it still looked like everyone was moving around with no idea what to do next.

  “Is it always this busy?” Victor asked in a loud voice so that he could be heard over the steady cacophony of a busy army encampment.

  “Not always,” Nim said grinning, before his tone turned a bit more solemn. “Sometimes the camp is so quiet that the only perceptible sound is the crackle of the fire. That seems to occur most after a heated battle. When the men want to order their thoughts, and watch the flame as it dances carelessly within its confinement. That's when man envy's the flame most of all I think.”

  In the middle of the camp, there was a tent the size of a large house. Unlike the tan tents that made up the rest of the camp, this tent was black, with the purple and gold of the Protectorate trimming its borders. The symbol of the Protectorate adorned the front flap. Guards were posted around it's perimeter, and in the few minutes it took Victor and Nim to reach the tent he saw a dozen messengers run in and out of the tent.

  “Halt, state your business.” One of the two guards guarding the entrance intoned.

  “Soldier, I know you're doing your job, but if you don't move out of my way I'll gut you where you stand.” The guard bristled visibly at this, and started pulling his sword, but before he could clear the first inch of the scabbard his partner was holding the man's hand in place. The second man leaned over and whispered in the first ones ear, and the man who had begun pulling his sword blanched visibly before sliding his sword back home.

  “Master Mithriannil forgive me, I am from the city of Freeport, and though I have heard of your exploits I have never seen you in person.” He moved out of the way hastily, looked quickly at Victor as if he might bar his entry, but then thought twice about it and kept quiet.

  The tent was one big room with desks spread out along the edges, and the center held a large table with a map of the area upon its surface. There were translucent figurines placed about the map, some were a shade of blue, some were a shade of gray, and the rest wore a red tint. Their entrance to the tent went seemingly unnoticed, no one visibly acknowledging their presence, that proved to be no deterrent to their detection however as they were spoken to a moment later.

  “Nim, come here a moment.” The squat figure standing at the map with is back towards the door said, somewhere between and order and a request.

  Nim walked up to the map on the right side of the man. “Yes High Commander Cantel?”

  “Oh none of that rank nonsense in here, at least until I start issuing orders. “ Stewart Cantel grinned. “I would however like it if you didn't gut my soldiers for doing their jobs.”

  “Ah yes, well I wouldn't have gutted the lad. I might have given him a black eye and a few bruises, but he would have been good for duty after a visit with a healer.”

  “That is beside the point Nim, it's bad for morale if the soldiers think you might gut them on a whim.” Commander Cantel said with a straight and serious expression.

  Looking stricken Nim put on a mock tone of Suffering. “But Stewart, I have a reputation to uphold, surely coming from me it can't be anything more than motivation.” Nim grinned at the smaller man as Stewart began to laugh.

  “Nim, you're nothing but trouble, but I suppose you are right. It's better that the men fear and respect you, that way their unadulterated respect for their superiors can be nothing but strengthened by your callousness.”

  Looking even more hurt than before Nim stated flatly. “You're a cruel man.” Victor wasn't sure he was acting anymore.

  “Yes, I am. Now, let's get down to business. Zander is out with a scouting party on the other side of Asylum. This is the positions of the encampments he has seen thus far. It is a large force, about two hundred fifty thousand strong. It is compromised of mostly goblin-kind and Blood Orcs though. A few frost and fire giants have been spotted, So far there have only been a few Blood Mages and two Dracair warriors amongst their numbers. A Dracair patrol was spotted, but they will no longer bother us.”

  “How many did he lose?” Nim asked.

  Cringing Cantel said “Half, five men to take care of one Dreadnaught and two warriors. I'm afraid what would happen if they ever came at us in force Nim.”

  “We have a lot of good men, and some the best Mages anywhere Stewart. We'll be able to make them rue the day they decided to test our tenacity.”

  “Yes, but I'm afraid that we'll lose that battle anyway, they also have some good Mages. Some of whom were academy trained. Those traitors could tip the balance. Even if they do not, there is no telling what other monstrosities have been bred, or what devices they have created for just that occasion. We need a spy Nim, and I'm afraid none of us have enough of the pure Draconic blood running through us like those half-breeds.”

  “We have enough of our base natures left not to be corrupted by the power that our Draconic side wishes to acquire.” Nim said, before frowning. “Well at least some of us can resist it more than others.”

  “Nim, it is not your fault your father was a Dracair assassin. You have proven yourself a thousand times over. We all hoard treasure, its part of our nature, there is nothing to be ashamed of in that. Your skills at some of the darker things have helped us just as much as your love of life for those that deserve it. Never doubt that you are above the Dracair. They kill remorselessly, anyone that gets in their way be they soldier or a civilian. The quest for power and prestige amongst their ranks is all that matters to them. They would never have found homes for orphans, yes I know about that. There are too many amongst our ranks that you personally have saved from fates th
at no one would choose for it to go unnoticed. Your reputation is not as cruel as you think it is Nim. Those men out there, they fear you yes, but they respect you more. Your exploits with Tetriarch Halcyon and Colonel Theromvore are legendary.”

  “Retired Colonel, and don't say legendary, we aren't dead yet.” Nim said with a grimace.

  “You know as well as I do Brigadier General Mithriannil that you never quite retire from the Protectorate. Ashur knows this as well as you do.”

  “Wait a minute!” Victor cut in. “Ashur is a Theromvore too?” Victor looked at Nim accusingly. “That's interesting.”

  Nim had enough courtesy to look ashamed of leaving that information out of his notes. “Yes Victor, I guess he and I are cousins of a sort.”

  Stewart laughed. “Yes Victor, Ashur is brother to the King. I assumed that you knew this. Of course, his family didn't like Nim taking him out on his adventures, but there wasn't much that they could do to stop them either. In fact, they even acquired one hell of a reputation amongst the Protectorate. Enough to give them code names at least…”

  “That will be enough of that.” Nim said tartly. “We are getting off subject here, what do you want me to do?” Victor knew that Nim had not missed the look he had given him that said this conversation was not yet through and they would talk about it later, and at great length.

  “I'd like you to take command of the three twenty third…”

  “No” Nim said.

  “… Come on Nim…” High Commander Cantel pleaded.

  “No” Nim stated, his tone growing stronger.

  “Would you at least think about it?”

  “No” Nim replied.

  Stewart Cantel sighed. “Fine, I'd like you to take command of the first squad of the first company of the third platoon in the three twenty third.”

  “That I can do. Now, I'd like to go take command and get them ready for scouting before you put me in charge of a corps again.” He said this and turned to leave, but a grin crossed his face before he was halfway turned, and quickly turned back for a crisp salute.

  “Nim you are never going to grow up are you?”

  “Sir, is that an order to grow up from the High Commander Sir?” Nim asked, his smile not quite leaving his face.

  “No Nim, if you grew up I wouldn't have a job.” He sighed and returned Nim's salute so he would put his arm down.

  “Now, Stewart that's not true. You are the most qualified to command the Knights.” Nim stated seriously.

  “Be that as it may Nim, your exploits are known far and wide, while mine have all been in the background. I think if you hadn't retired four years ago you would be here instead of me.” The High Commander stated, his voice full of regret.

  Nim put his hand on Stewart Cantel's shoulder. “My friend, not only have you been High Commander for the last seven years, but had they tried I would have turned it down. You know I hated being promoted as far as I had been. They tried to restrain me to a desk job. None of us can handle being out of the action for long, but you have a lot more patience than I would. Have no doubt that you are the right man for the job. Now, you do your job and I will do mine. Come on Victor.”

  “You're not taking the boy with you are you?” Stewart asked in a shocked voice.

  Nim looked thoughtfully at Victor. “Tell me Victor, what you would do if I were to leave you here.”

  Victor shrugged and stated flatly. “I'd follow you.”

  The two men laughed and Stewart Cantel looked at Victor. “You keep him out of trouble then Victor.”

  “Oh, I donno about that High Commander, I figure if anyone starts the trouble it will probably be me.” Victor grinned from ear to ear as he slid his finger across the hilt of his dagger.

  Stewart Cantel raised an eyebrow and looked at Nim questioningly. “You sure you want to take him with you? I could have him thrown in a holding cell.”

  “No, we learned the same way.”

  “You were thirteen and I was fourteen when we learned on the field though Nim, and even that was considered taboo. Don't you think he's a bit young still?”

  Nim shrugged. “Maybe, there is only one way to find out.” He turned and walked out of the tent and Victor followed.

  Twenty minutes later, they located the squad that Nim was going to take charge of. The men in camp they found were all hardened soldiers used to recon missions. The first man Victor saw was Sergeant McDowell, a Mountain Dwarf with dark red hair, and a scar on his grizzled face. Victor wondered how anything that big could be called a dwarf.

  “McDowell! You're still a sergeant?” Nim said clasping arms with the Dwarf who was nearly six feet tall. His shoulders were as wide as an oxen, and seemingly twice as thick. Despite his size, he moved with a fluid carriage of one who was death in motion.

  “Ah Nim, ye be knowin' that them commanders would never allow a simple sort such as meself in command of more than a dozen men.” McDowell said with a feigned sadness.

  “Oh yes, I seem to recall something about a border tower exploding a few years back.” Nim grinned as the sturdy dwarf flinched.

  “Ye be knowin' that tweren't me fault lad. Them mages shoulda told me what them kegs was full of. Can't be blamin' a thirsty dwarf fer lookin' inta a keg now can ye?” McDowell grinned as Nim began laughing at the last part of the dwarfs statement.

  “No my friend, one cannot blame you on that count. It would have been a great loss to the Knights if you would have been found in a dozen pieces however.”

  “Oh lad, don't give me that horse dung. There are thousands in this camp more skilled than meself, Stronger than meself, and smarter than meself.” The Dwarf's voice carried a tone that let Victor know that this was a man who didn't take any nonsense from anyone.

  Looking critically at the dwarf Nim stated flatly. “Yes, and they didn't survive three hundred years in the Wardens and another hundred years in the Knights. Many with more skill, strength, and intelligence have died in that time, yet you are still here. Be that as it may though, it's not the point, and I'm not here to argue. I have been given the charge of overseeing the operational procedures of this unit.”

  Scowling the dwarf said. “That's just a fancy way of sayin' that yer takin' over me unit General. Don't be tryin' ta blow smoke up me arse. As ye said yerself I'm a bit too old fer that nonsense.

  Nim grinned sardonically. “Fine, I'm here to take over for awhile. Now, assemble the men so I can see what I have to work with here.”

  About a minute and a half later, by Victor's calculations, there were nine of the dourest looking individuals Victor thought he would ever see in his life. The unit was comprised of three humans, two Dwarves, two Gray Elves, a Half-elf, and what Victor thought must be a half-ogre. Sergeant McDowell stood in front of his men giving them scowls and barking commands. When everything seemed to be to the powerfully built Dwarves satisfaction he briskly turned and saluted Nim.

  “All present and accounted for General Mithriannil.” With that a murmur went through the troops that was quickly stopped with a sharp head turn from the sergeant.

  Nim returned the salute and said, “I'm retired” as he overlooked the men.

  Victor noted McDowell's grin as he watched Nim appraise his men. “Aye General, yer retired, and all me an' me boys are gonna be doin' is campin' out under the stars enjoying each others company for the next few months.” Victor noted the sharp intake of breath by the Half-Elf in line when McDowell had said 'me boys', and after a few moments of further study realized that it was in fact a woman. After a few more moments of consideration Victor thought she might even be considered attractive if she took off her leather armor that restrained and mostly hid her curves.

  “Where on Terrazil did you ever acquire such a multiplicity of men?” Nim was obviously impressed by whatever it was he saw in this group. Victor wasn't quite sure if Nim had heard the half-elf clear her throat slightly when Nim used the term men, but it made Victor grin a little.

  Grinning enough so that Victor
thought the man's head might split right in half McDowell said. “Well laddie, that's one of the perks of bein' around so long an' not bein' promoted. The brass allows ye to pick and choose on occasion. One or two of 'em actually requested transfers to this squad, only Ragnós would know why anyone would want that. Each one is accounted the best soldiers I've ever worked with though. A true soldier every one. They don't want ta be in command, they just want ta be in the field doin' their jobs.” The dwarf's tone sounded very satisfied as he talked about his soldiers. When he continued his tone was more whimsical than anything. “Oh I miss those days General.”

  Nim rolled his eyes at the dwarf's need to use his title. “We all miss those days sergeant McDowell. Now, introduce me to the… soldiers.” Victor caught the grin the little elven woman shot at Nim. It was as if she had won a victory. It was a small victory, but as Victor would soon find out, every victory, no matter how small was to be appreciated, because every defeat no matter how insignificant weighs heavily on ones consciousness.

  Chapter 16

  A World at War

  Year 3043 AGD

  Month of Ragnós

  Seventh day

  Continent of Terroval

  Southwest of Stalwart

  Where do you think those two are going?”

  “Well by their grim faces, I'd say that they were going to tell whoever is in charge in that cave that their fifth patrol that they sent out this week hasn't returned, just like the rest of 'em.”

  Shawnrik looked at the two men who had taken on the burden of his 'real world' training just two months ago and grinned. “Think they'll send out another?”