His troops had their orders; everything was in place. Valdadore stood waiting, looking out across the field at the enemies who simply stood looking back.
Garret waited. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes seemed to take eternities. Garret paced back and forth, wearing a rut into the grass beneath him. Those around him simply observed the enemy who either did nothing, or milled about seemingly just as anxious as the defenders.
More minutes passed and Garret realized what the problem was. The invaders had no one to call the attack. Simple enough, Garret thought, he would just attack the attackers and draw them out.
Calling upon his blessing Garret exploded in size, sending a concussive wave of air out in all directions. Taking this as their cue, the rest of Valdadore’s blessed called upon their abilities as well and in seconds an imposing wall of giant warriors and beasts stood before the common troops of Valdadore, blocking any enemies from moving upon the infantry and archers. Seeing no reaction from the enemy, Garret did the only thing he could do. He ordered the attack.
A wall of giant soldiers rushed across the field to meet their enemies, each of them fully expecting the blessed champions of their enemy to retaliate in kind. Nothing happened. With orders not to kill the enemy’s common troops, the Valdadorian champions, having closed the gap, simply stopped when they met the enemy unsure as to what they should do. Garret was too late to realize what he had done.
From the middle of the enemy army a surge of troops rushed forward between the giant Valdadorians. These appeared to be common troops, and as such the champions ignored them. Having passed the Valdadorians, however, the enemy troops called upon their blessings as well. With nothing standing between them and Valdadore’s common soldiers, Sigrant’s champions hurled themselves at the wall of shield and spear-wielding infantry.
Garret turned in time to see the first couple of blows as several troops of the likes he had never seen before exploded in size, wearing nothing but armor carved from skulls and bones. These troops, though only twelve to fifteen feet in size, were devastating. There were at least two hundred of the bone-clad warriors, each twice to three times as tall as a man. They hit the wall of spears and shields in a single blow, driving the defenders back all along the line. Spears bristled, but to little effect against the large opponents. The warriors clad in bone were a breed of berserker and cared little for their wounds.
Blow after crazed blow the bone-clad warriors landed, sending men flying in twos and threes. In seconds hundreds were dead as the champions of Valdadore rushed to protect their common troops. Borrik was the first to retaliate and Garret watched as the beast man swooped down among the enemy, hacking and stabbing whilst throwing fireballs as well. It would take a full minute to make it back to the rear lines, and by then thousands would be dead, maybe all of them. Fireballs began to lance from Valdadore’s mages, but it was merely a feeble attempt to scare the enemy away. Neither the mages nor the archers dared shoot into their own troops. As Garret and the other blessed soldiers of Valdadore raced back to their rear lines, they all watched in dismay as thousands were slaughtered upon the weapons of their foes.
One instant two armies faced each other across a field of battle as Garret and his primary force raced to save their weaker allies. The next moment an explosion sounded unlike anything ever heard before as two entire armies were thrown from their feet by the wall of air blasted out in all directions.
So strong was the blast, shields were ripped from the hands of soldiers and were caught up upon the blast and thrown hundreds of yards away. Those closest the blast were dead, and the next nearest who survived bled from their pores. Nearly all bled from their ears.
Picking themselves up off the ground, both attacker and defender alike looked for the source of the blast. None could miss him. Standing near the center of the battlefield was an enormous man that none had even heard tell of in legend. Standing close to ninety feet tall the gray-skinned man raised his four massive arms in defiance, and screamed in rage. Just yards away from the immense giant lay another four-armed man, identical to the first but smaller. This one lay face down, several bones bent at odd angles. Enraged the enormous beast began striding towards the beleaguered Valdadorian line. With each step the ground trembled, and those already fighting to regain their feet were tossed to the ground again.
Reaching the line the enormous four-armed beast began plucking Sigrant’s troops from Valdadore’s line and hurling them back at their own army. The bone-clad warriors began to panic and flee in all directions but the giant beast would have none of it. Some he scooped and hurled, others he squashed beneath his feet as they sought to elude him.
Garret watched as the giant beast singlehandedly destroyed the bone-clad warriors to a man. He knew his brother’s work when he saw it, and was impressed by the massive creation. The giant warrior had saved thousands if not tens of thousands of lives.
Hearing cries from the lines of Sigrant’s troops, Garret spun anew to face the enemy, and again he was too late. Fireballs, lightning, ice, and water flew across the field. Every mage the enemy could muster had singled out the same target. Garret turned again.
More magical blasts than a man of any size could take struck the immense man over every portion of his body. Lightning blasted a hole through his flesh in over a dozen locations as fire blistered and peeled his skin. Giant balls of ice smashed against his skull and face but the enormous man remained upright. Though pain showed clearly upon his contorted face, he glared defiantly across the field at the enemy and began to sing a song of battle that echoed across the land, shaking the very earth beneath them. It was a song Garret had heard the day before and returning his gaze to the great warrior he recognized his father just as the second volley of magical attacks hit. Something inside Garret snapped and his vision turned red.
* * * * *
Seth and Sara stood side by side upon the front lines of Valdadore’s army. Borrik and Jonas were with the pair and together the four of them watched the enemy across the battlefield. The enemy watched back. Seth smiled. He bet the gods were seething right now. If no one was fighting, no one was dying. This was even better than his plan.
For an hour they watched and nothing happened. Looking down the line he could see his brother pacing, even from here, and knew that being patient was not one of his brother’s strengths. Nor was it his own, but Seth was loving this. More time passed and still nothing. Seth, growing amused, thought it might be nice to sit in the grass and enjoy the view from another perspective for a while when he heard his brother’s booming voice echo across the field of battle.
Seth could not believe his brother was calling a charge. Who would they charge? The troops all had orders to leave the unblessed soldiers of the enemy alone, yet the enemy’s champions had not revealed themselves. Sadly, Seth watched as his brother and all of those blessed for melee battle charged into the fight. Turning, Seth nodded to Jonas and Borrik. The latter sprang into the air as the former placed his hand to his chest and muttered a simple prayer as he darted off across the open expanse. Boom after thunderous boom sounded as over a hundred men and woman blessed by Seth expanded in size faster than eyes could witness. The charge fanned out across the entire field of battle, but as expected it was wholly one-sided.
As Valdadore’s champions reached the opposing army, Seth watched as nothing happened. The defenders stared at the attackers and vice versa. Seth was embarrassed. Some of Sigrant’s troops began to spill between the larger opposition, but overall the battlefield remained calm and virtually empty.
As if sensing something was amiss, Sara began to stalk off slowly like a cat who had just located its prey. Seth, looking out from his deep cowl, saw naught but a line of odd looking soldiers slowly detaching themselves from the enemy troops. One moment these men were slowly wandering away, using the Valdadorians’ confusion to their advantage, the next they were openly sprinting as one by one they began doubling in size. Some of Seth’s troops began to notice, as their heads swiv
eled around, but without orders they simply stood their ground. Not Borrik; he realized the threat and began circling lower before tucking his wings and diving.
Seth was already at work and plucking the life from the strangely armored troops. Two vanished, then four more; a few seconds later nine turned to ash. Again and again Seth reached out, but the odd soldiers were already upon Valdadore’s common soldiers. They didn’t stand a chance. Hundreds were dying as their screams echoed across the battlefield.
Valdadore’s champions raced to save them and then the unthinkable happened.
Seth reached out and grasped two dozen of the odd auras belonging to the soldiers clad in bone. Then the world sped below him as a great explosion rocked the battleground. Feeling the impact like he had been smacked in the chest by a castle wall, Seth flew more than a dozen yards straight back through the air. Landing in a twisted heap, he disentangled his robes only enough to see what it was that had taken place. His heart stopped beating. Air fled his lungs. Seth choked.
Upon the battlefield James, the only father Seth had ever known, had called upon his blessing. So great was his size now that Seth had changed him, the explosion he produced when shifting was more than a hundred times stronger than it had been near his entire life. Standing beside James had been his life-long friend Jack. Like Seth, Jack had always looked up to James both literally and figuratively. Now Jack lay at James’s feet, a mangled mess of broken bones. Blood spewed from his ears, mouth, and nose. Even from here Seth knew he was dead.
From across the battlefield Seth watched as his father realized the same thing. Raising his four immense arms, the giant unlike any other upon the world screamed out in rage in a voice that shook the earth and echoed across the world for a hundred miles in all directions. Everywhere eardrums lay wasted from the initial explosion, yet all heard the mournful cry of the giant man. More or less he had just killed his own brother. It was Seth’s fault.
Tears streamed from Seth’s eyes as his heart broke time and again. He had just watched a man that helped raise him die. He had watched his father’s heart break, having killed his own best friend. None of it would have happened were it not for Seth’s meddling. Seth’s life meant nothing in that moment. He would have willingly given it to bring back Jack.
With strength to do nothing but watch the battle unfold before his eyes, Seth lay crying upon the ground, believing himself thoroughly broken. There he lay as James rushed across the field, his footfalls throwing all those who had risen back to the ground once again. Roaring in fury he flung the enemy like dolls across the field at the army who spawned them. Bodies rained down upon Sigrant’s forces killing those below in a symphony of crunches and screams.
James, having removed the threat to a man, turned and roared across the battlefield, unhinged by his rage, daring them to send another assault. The enemy responded.
Seth sobbed as a magical attack that would destroy battalions of men lanced through the cold air where it crashed into this father. Mere seconds later James cried out in pain, but even with his body ruined, he stood defiant. Ignoring his own suffering James opened his mouth again and from it came the unimaginable.
No scream split the air, no howl of defiance. Instead a deep, rumbling, mournful battle hymn issued out of his father’s mouth singing of the glory of Valdadore.
Another wave of magical blasts split the air roaring, snapping, and crackling. The battle hymn ended abruptly. James staggered, his body obliterated. Blood ran from him like water from a bucket without a bottom. Bones were visible where flesh had been blasted away. Organs smoldered within the giant where the attack had penetrated him. James opened and closed his mouth and eyes, lost to the world. He staggered again and began to lean backwards, his shadow falling upon the very troops of Valdadore he had just saved. His toes began to rise off the ground.
From above, Borrik swooped out of the air and struck the giant between the shoulder blades. James rocked forward. His eyes focused a moment and he staggered forward. Snagging a rut in the ground with his toe his center of gravity changed, and over the giant toppled.
Seth watched his father’s massive body crash down upon the ground as if in slow motion. His body seemed to bounce once before settling. For an instant James was lost from sight as a cloud of dust filled the air where he fell. The dust clearing, Seth watched as his father’s mouth moved and came open. Copious amounts of blood spilled from it, drenching the ground. His father worked his four arms as if to rise, but only managed to lift one shoulder off the ground. Both armies stood enthralled.
With his chest off the ground, twisting to one side, James turned his face towards the heavens.
There upon the field of battle, James spoke his last words. So loud were they and with such force, they echoed off the Rancor Mountains over three hundred miles away to be heard again four hours later. James made sure the gods would hear him.
“Gorandor, spare my sons this burden; let them live in peace.”
Slumping to the ground again, his body gave out. The man who had raised the two most powerful men in Valdadore had fallen.
Seth fought for breath. The world closed in upon him. Suffocating, he blacked out.
The army led by King Sigrant charged. Champions, mages, and common men clashed. Valdadore replied in kind, singing the battle hymn James had begun. They would honor him by finishing it for him.
Chapter Eight
Ishanya had felt the shift, and looking into the future she could see how things had changed. Her plan had veered off track. Worse than that, whatever the event had been that altered the collective possibilities of the future, if she did not correct it soon, it could take ages to set right again. If that were not enough already, the shift was not going to go unnoticed in the plane of the immortals. If her brethren had not yet realized she walked among them again, they surely would now.
Ishanya, an immortal being living beyond the confines of flesh and bone, would have trembled were it possible. She was not yet ready to face her peers. The thought of returning to her miserable existence frightened her. The others, together, could silence her once and for all. Her plan would have to change. Ishanya decided to take a risk.
* * * * *
For three long hours Zorbin followed his lifelong friend down the stone corridors leading to Boulder Gate. Though he knew the passages just as well as Gumbi, it was required that he was escorted. He was now considered an outsider to his race. In an event that was virtually unheard of, Zorbin Ironfist, a dwarf born of a family with high station, had left his home and sworn his life and his honor to a human king. More or less he was considered a traitor. Not to his king, but to his race.
Even so, Zorbin was here as an emissary from the human kingdom, and as such had been allowed entry. Dwarves were a race with honor engraved in their bones, and as such he knew he would be treated with the respect due his station. He doubted seriously, however, that this trip would be successful. The king was old and weary of ruling. He was not a man who would be gathering up the citizens of his realm and marching them out to a war they had no business in.
Rounding a turn in the corridor Gumbi stopped abruptly, and waiting for Linaya and Zorbin to join him, he turned and spread his arms.
“Welcome, Lady Linaya, to Boulder Gate, our humble home,” Gumbi smiled.
* * * * *
Linaya stared ahead, her jaw falling slack. She had not known what to expect, but it certainly was not this. Where they stood could only be described as a balcony. Before them a vast chamber, miles in circumference, had been carved out of the mountain’s core. Together Linaya stood with her two dwarven companions looking down upon a huge city of pillars and spires. It was magnificent, a view unrivaled anywhere else in the world.
Carved entirely of the very stone they stood upon, the whole city appeared as an artist’s masterpiece. The giant chamber that contained the city alone was a feat that Linaya imagined had to have been generations in the making. Great ribs of stone started at the base of the outer wall of the
city, and, narrowing as they rose, they connected at the pinnacle of the chamber in a large circle. Inside the circle a flawless vein of quartz was cut into millions of facets. Light shone out of the quartz in every color of the rainbow, sending millions of rays of colored light to dance among the thousands of masterpieces below.
Every façade of every building and spire was a carved scene of past dwarven glories. Buttresses and bridges were held upon the shoulders of massive statues, and fountains made of carved creatures foreign to Linaya were a frequent spectacle between and even atop the buildings. How a city could exist below the ground was a marvel to Linaya. She knew the dwarves had lived here for as long as human histories were told, but she imagined them living in caves, in the dark. Here there was neither dark nor cave, and without even a momentary pause to make comparison she knew that Boulder Gate put Valdadore to shame.
The city of Valdadore was built out of military need for defensibility. Boulder Gate had been born of love. The very buildings spoke of dwarven pride. Linaya was ashamed. In her home she was the most beautiful feature, but here she was but another blemish. Dwarves, it seemed, had learned how to become a part of their home, whereas humans simply took from theirs.
No wonder the dwarves did not care to mingle with humans.
* * * * *
Screams of dismay mixed with grunts of exertion as blood-curdling howls and shouts attempted to drown out the ancient battle hymn of Valdadore. The two armies clashed, sparing neither champion nor common soldier. Both were out for blood, though only one was defending its home.
Garret’s world had altered in a moment, growing smaller, insubstantial, and dark. Though moving, and striking, and dodging blows, his mind had shut itself down and was blank. There was nothing but killing and moving on to kill some more. Action fed reaction and thought was not an option. Garret mindlessly killed anything that entered his path.
Sweeping low with his blade, Garret separated seven torsos from their legs and chuckled as blood was slung through the air off the trailing edge of his sword. Moving forward, as if to keep up his momentum, he smashed the men he had just killed beneath his feet, their blood and entrails squeezing up between his great metallic toes. He located his next target.
Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) Page 113
