Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga)

by Laszlo,Jeremy

  Ishanya knew that the heavens were ripe for the picking. For a while she would need an accomplice. She pondered deeply who to choose. Who would stand beside her to lay to waste the other gods? Who among them had the most greed? It would be a decision that was not quick in the making. Ishanya knew she would need to study not only each of her peers, but also their chosen champions to see which of the other gods was most like herself. Thus she began to tug at puppet strings long in the making to create war on Thurr so that she might study those she wished.

  Chapter 12

  Passed Tests and Unexpected Guests

  This council meeting was much akin to the previous one and didn’t tell Garret anything that he did not already know. Though many within the war room still talked amongst themselves, Garret did not hear the words they spoke. Instead he ran through the mental list in his head for the thousandth time. Though he hoped it would not come down to a siege, the kingdom was abundant in food. As the stores were collected and brought into the city itself it became apparent that Valdadore was a wealthy realm in the way of provisions. Here the land was fertile, and fertile land made for good crops and good herds. So well was the city provisioned that several warehouses throughout the city had to be repurposed to store the excess that was on hand. Spears and shields were in excess as well as of late. People continued to flow into the city, either to help with the war effort, join the army, or to hide in case Sigrant’s forces made it this far. Garret’s councilors assured him, though, that the influx was near an end. In fact, most of the council believed it unlikely that the army would grow by another thousand persons. An army of twelve thousand was formidable, but even so was likely less than half of the enemy they faced. But Garret was informed that, even without proper time to train, if they used the methods shown to them by Seth, his army could face even more perilous odds and survive with the tactics they now used. This was great news indeed except for one small thing. This belief was built upon the understanding that both opposing forces were equally unblessed.

  Much in Valdadore was in abundance, but there was one glaring hole in the defenses that would not be overcome by training. The army had too few champions. The battle mages were powerful, and Seth more powerful still, but as for blessed melee troops the kingdom was lacking. In fact, besides Garret himself, only four others were blessed for battle; two of his own knights, and two blessed by the god Vikstol. Both of the latter were retired soldiers without any real prowess beyond the fact that they were reluctant to fall before their foes. Though Garret knew the kingdom was lacking in heroes, there was nothing he could do about it. Rising from his seat at the head of the table in the war room, Garret was about to dismiss the council meeting when the door to the room burst open.

  Holding his tongue, Garret watched as his twin entered the room flanked on either side by one of his overly large werewolves. Each hairy man carried various armor pieces and weapons, and without so much as a cursory glance to anyone in the room, Seth strode to the head of the table to greet his brother.

  “Is everything in order, brother?” Seth asked, pulling back his cowl.

  “As much so as is possible,” Garret replied, the concern heavy in his voice.

  Every conversation in the room had ended as soon as Seth marched through the door. All eyes now fell upon the king and his brother. Seth had attended none of the meetings as of late; his whereabouts and actions had been much of a mystery. For this reason everyone listened intently as the brothers spoke to one another, hoping to glean some information as to the Death Mage’s doings.

  “I have brought to you what I believe to be the answer to our current troubles,” Seth stated, gesturing to the arms his men carried.

  “We have armor and weapons in ample supply so I must assume that these particular pieces are special in some way?” Garret questioned.

  “I have enchanted each piece with magical abilities, just like the torches and candles here in the palace have been enchanted.”

  “What can they do?” Garret asked, his tone changing abruptly as all in the room leaned closer.

  “A great many things. It would be easier to show you than to tell you, and these are but a few of the pieces I have managed to create,” Seth replied.

  “Show us then.”

  “I can,” Seth said, “but, I need two volunteers, who are unlikely to be hurt.” Seth smiled wickedly at his brother in anticipation.

  “Very well Seth, myself and Horace should suffice, I suppose.”

  “Yes.”

  “What do we need to do?” Garret asked.

  “First we must slide the table aside to make some space, then I will need you each to don a piece of armor,” Seth answered.

  Within moments the councilors shoved the massive wooden table against one wall and stacked the chairs upon it. Lining the other walls, those in attendance watched for over an hour as the king and one of his knights donned pieces of enchanted armor or took up enchanted weapons while Seth first explained the purpose of each enchantment and then had the wearer demonstrate. Some items absorbed magical blasts of fire; some emitted bright blinding light. Others burst into flame or became awash in lightning. One sword when dropped returned of its own accord to the armored glove it had fallen from. Seeing this, Garret threw the sword across the room and watched as several of his council members were forced to duck as the weapon changed course mid-flight, and circled back above their heads to return to his hand.

  Seth showed them each magnificent and unique piece he had created. When the demonstration finally finished he explained to all those gathered that these were the best of his non-living creations. He informed them that though he had more items, they were of lesser abilities than those he had brought. None but his own brother had caught the meaning of his words, and Seth was not surprised when his brother called him over.

  “What do you mean by the best of the non-living creations?” Garret asked as all once again bent in to listen.

  “Your majesty, and fellow council members, if you would join me, I should like to show you one more thing outside the palace,” Seth replied, and without awaiting a response he strode out of the war room, his robes trailing behind him.

  None in the room hesitated, quickly falling in behind the mage to see what it was that awaited outside. Jonas alone remained behind to protect the blessed armor and weapons they had brought into the palace.

  * * * * *

  The courtyard was much as Seth had left it. Dozens of his men stood at attention in a semi-circle as a backdrop to Seth’s newest creation. She stood regally, her shoulders back and her wings stretched straight up into the air behind her. Without hesitation Seth strode to Eve’s side as the rest of the council members spilled forth from the castle’s defensive courtyards. As they exited many made appreciative sounds as Eve’s avian head darted this way and that, her inhuman eyes peering at each person as they began to surround her and inspect her. Many moments passed as the king and all of his trusted advisors surveyed the birdwoman before them.

  “So you have created a new species of troop that can fly,” Garret observed.

  “No,” Seth answered. “She cannot fly. At least, not yet as she still has to adapt to her new body,” he added as he walked slowly away from the avian girl in anticipation of the next question aimed at him. This time it was the grizzled old general Sulvis who spoke.

  “I don’t understand, Prince Seth. We march in the morning. If she cannot fly, what tactical advantage would we gain from such soldiers?”

  “Eve,” Seth said simply and stepped back even further than before.

  All in attendance watched as the peculiar-looking female reached to her breast and began to pray aloud.

  “Lord Seth, grant me the power to defeat my foes,” she chanted as her body shimmered before exploding in size with a concussive boom.

  All those who came to see Seth’s creation cheered except Garret who stood looking at his brother questioningly, his eyebrows knotted in the middle of his forehead.

  �
�It is but a trick, is it not?” he then asked his twin.

  “It is no trick, Garret,” Seth lied. He knew that at least for now this fact must remain a secret. “She is as big as you see her now; it is no illusion. I can have her prove it.”

  Turning back to face his creation Seth looked up into the black eyes of the creature that was once a young woman and gave her another command.

  “Eve, kick up some dust.”

  Nodding her understanding the giant avian woman stretched out her wings to either side and with one mighty flap she brought them together in front of her, throwing up not only a great cloud of dust, but also a powerful gust of air that caused many around her to falter and stagger backwards. Seth watched as the heads around him nodded their approval. He could not help but to wonder who among them would begin to fear him in the days to come. Men were not meant to have the power of the gods.

  “Eve, you may return to your normal size,” Seth commanded.

  With a pop the girl with giant wings shimmered and shrank, resuming her normal stature once again. Though Garret did not understand how his brother could do such a thing, with his kingdom at the brink of destruction, he asked the only question that seemed relevant at the time.

  “How many blessed warriors can you create like this, Seth?” the king asked.

  “I can make as many as I wish, though I cannot sustain many for a long period of time. I can also diversify their abilities. I plan to bless a few of my own men, as well as more of your army, if that suits you,” Seth replied with a smirk.

  Garret simply nodded his reply, and turned as if to leave, then thinking better of this he paused mid-stride and called to his brother over his shoulder.

  “This is a war, Seth, not a game. Lives are at stake. Do not play with the men as if they are some experiment. Keep it simple. In the days to come we must be both efficient and responsible or all who rely upon us will fall before the failures of our sins.”

  With that the king strode off back into the palace. It was obvious he was uneasy about this turn of events, and Garret’s mood put Seth in a tough place. He had already made plans oh how he would alter some of his champions, but Garret was right. He needed to be efficient.

  Grabbing Eve’s wrist, Seth turned to his werewolf troops surrounding the area, and without a thought for the council members who stood admiring his work, he ordered them all to return to the temple telling them that there was much to be done before morning.

  * * * * *

  For nine days Sara had spent every daylight hour reading through Jud’s journals, memorizing every tidbit of information she could about the man. Sara was not surprised to find that he had lived an amazing life. He had been born in the land of the elves, but being a half-breed his mother was shunned until Jud was exiled upon reaching adulthood. Having grown up amongst elven culture, even though he was despised, Jud had written much about the elves in his journal. Sara longed to learn more about these mysterious people with each page she read. She was fascinated by the half-elf’s ability to record his life in such a way that as Sara read the pages it felt as if she had actually witnessed the same deeds the guardian had. Sara shared through the written word Jud’s own Choosing ceremony, his training as a gray-robed guardian mage, all the way up to his first battle beside the previous King Valdadore. In that same battle the old man had lost the sight of one of his eyes. The life of the half-elven mage was thrilling, and finally finishing the first tome, Sara immediately started the second.

  Sara’s night-time endeavors on the other hand were completely the opposite. As darkness fell over Valdadore each night, the wife to Prince Seth found herself upon the sparring grounds of the Knights of Valdadore. At first she trained with one man, fighting hour after tireless hour until daylight threatened to come once again. However, apt a pupil as she was, Sara learned well how to use her blades, her body, and the enchanted armor her husband had given her. By day three, in an attempt to match her inhuman abilities, Malik was forced to split into two replicas of himself. By day five Sara could handle four replicas of the knight though they fought of one mind, each enhancing the other’s efforts perfectly. Tonight was the ninth night, and Sara would be facing eight replicas of the same man, a task that it was said to be impossible for one not blessed by the gods. Sara had her doubts; so too did Malik. He had years of battle training and experience, but Sara was stronger, faster and more agile. Add to that her ability to wrap her movements in shadow with the blessing of her armor and Sara felt she had a chance.

  As Sara approached the center of the sparring field she watched as the knight stepped out from his own body, creating his first replica. Then the pair of identical men stepped outside themselves once again, creating a quartet. The process repeated once more as four turned to eight just as Sara reached her destination. Without so much as a casual ‘hello’, Sara pulled forth her wicked enchanted blades from the belt at her waist and leapt high into the air above her opponents. Looking down, Sara saw one replica looking up to monitor her progress while the other seven sprang into action, each preparing for her landing. Sara smiled. Twisting through the air as she began to plummet downward, she invoked the power of her breastplate.

  “Hide,” Sara commanded as shadow enveloped her, making her all but invisible against the backdrop of the night sky.

  Down she gracefully fell, driving one blade down through the armor upon a replicated knight’s shoulder and into his lung before, using the power of her legs, she sprang from his falling body, expertly extracting her blade with a twist. All eight Maliks cried out in pain. Rocketing through the air between two more replicas, Sara hit the ground and rolled, coming to her feet to face her second opponent. This time, however, the knight replica had anticipated her move. As she rose to her feet, he drove his blade down with all his might in an attack that, had she been unarmored, would have removed her left arm. As it was, the blade simply dented her armor deeply as pain exploded beneath the dent, running down the full length of Sara’s arm. Nothing was cut, nothing was broken. Sara dropped to the ground with the blow and as she fell she kicked the replica in the knee with all her might and watched as his leg folded before her blow. With a yelp the knight fell bodily upon her, a final act that it turned out was good for neither of them.

  Twisting to escape his fallen body, Sara extracted herself as quickly as was possible. Avoiding his hands that sought to restrain her, Sara lashed out with one of her short swords. The blow struck the bottom edge of the knight’s helm, driving it up and off his head, her blade flaying flesh from bone the whole way. As the helm toppled from his head, it carried with it the entire right side of his face, including flesh, ear, and hair. Taking with it also skin and muscle, nothing was left behind but bare bone. Though blessed by the god Gorandor, the knight replicas could not help but to each scream out in pain as the injuries were shared by each replica. Sara was incredibly fast, but the delay of the knight falling atop her had been enough for two more replicas to lend themselves to the fight.

  Blow after blow rained down upon Sara but with her speed and strength she parried or blocked each one with seemingly little more than a thought. Again and again she avoided blows that would have felled many a warrior, but seconds into the fight a third replica made its way into the fray, lending two more swords and another direction that Sara had to defend herself from. Twirling and twisting Sara danced within the circle created by the three knight replicas and the ring of metal upon metal sang out through the air repeatedly. Dodging yet another wave of strikes as the fourth replica joined in, Sara crouched to the ground, bending her knees, and flung herself forward.

  “Jump,” she yelled as she was about to make contact with one of the replicas.

  Like a bolt from a giant piece of artillery, Sara exploded forward through the air smashing bodily into the replica and driving it backwards more than fifty yards with the velocity of her magically propelled jump. Alone again with a single opponent, Sara took little time driving the copy of her instructor further from the fight befo
re leaping back into the fray.

  Sara was born for battle, and with her new body, she was able to prove it night after night as her injuries seemingly vanished, and she moved like water one second, and a rampaging bull the next. Like a nightmare creature born into the night, Sara sprang back into action, this time putting her opponents on the defensive.

  Dancing from one adversary to the next like a whirlwind of blades, Sara managed to drop another replica to the ground with a powerful strike before Malik managed to land a blow that evened the odds a little.

  Rushing Sara from all sides the nearest four replicas began to batter the woman like crazy berserkers, but the attack was only a ploy. Leaving Sara an opening on one of his replicated selves, Malik waited until Sara took the bait, and as she did, he struck out at her from the three remaining sides all at once. Though two of his attacks turned up fruitless, with Sara managing to block them both at the last second, the third drove a blade through her armor, deep into the side of her knee, seriously limiting her use of one leg and slowing her tremendously. Malik was not a fool, and released the blade, leaving it in the wound as the woman shrieked in sudden pain. With the blade stuck in her joint she would be unable to heal. However, the move had cost him another blow to his already injured shoulder.

  Sara managed to fend off the three remaining replicas’ attacks for several moments as the remaining five closed in once again, but further injury was inevitable. Without the ability to remove the blade from her knee, having to constantly defend herself, Sara ended up taking a knock to the side of her head. It did not hurt so much as distract her, the sound echoing in her helm causing her head to immediately begin to ache. The distraction led her to sustain yet another injury; Malik effectively disabled her remaining viable leg by slicing through the tendon at the back of her heel. As Sara fell, the three replicas closed in on her, each thrusting a blade in her direction. With three blades pressed to her throat, Sara was forced to surrender the match.