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

by Laszlo,Jeremy

Seth had been slaughtering common troops by the multitude now for what felt like hours. He dared not hazard a guess as to how many lives he alone had ended this very morning. Each life was precious, yet at present, sparing them was not much of an option if he wanted his home, and those he loved, to survive.

  In the days past, and this very morning, Seth had lost innumerable soldiers. Both his blessed and unblessed troops had fallen in battle, filling him with their power and expanding both his mind and abilities. Seth felt vast power coursing through him, so much so that now when siphoning the lives of hundreds at a time he felt no pleasure from it. It was as if he had built a tolerance to the euphoric effect the power had within him, yet he still longed to feel it anew. Like an addict, Seth realized he simply needed a higher dose, but dared not reach too far and consume too many lives at once. He alone was aware of the consequences of straining his abilities. Instead he sought out a stronger drug. Those blessed by the gods still brought him pleasure, and presently there appeared to be an abundance to be had.

  Seth steeled his resolve, tearing his focus away from the form of his retreating wife and troops. Exhaling loudly, Seth sought those who concentrated their powers in an attempt to destroy Valdadore. Reaching out with his vast consciousness Seth could locate them all quite easily. Over four hundred mages sworn to Sigrant had worked their way into the battle without detection. Now, however, as they began to pray and call upon their blessings, Seth found them. With his mouth watering, and heart hammering in anticipation, Seth reached out to the mages nearest him. Just weeks ago a single blessed opponent had been a challenge to strip of his power. Now he had grown and Seth felt comfortable grasping at the swelling lives of a dozen blessed mages, and latching onto their magical umbilicals.

  Bracing himself both mentally and physically he tore away all twelve auras, pulling them into himself and luxuriated in the bliss that followed. For a moment the umbilicals remained attached and Seth’s reserve became bloated with the power of foreign gods. His body spasmed in ecstasy. Shaking his head to clear it, Seth located his next targets and unleashed thirty unnatural blue-green fireballs incinerating even more would-be wizards.

  Thrilled to yet again be infused with power and pleasure, Seth sought those he would next siphon from. He decided to up the ante slightly and test his increased abilities. A fraction of a second later another fifteen mages vanished into piles of ash, trampled upon by their own comrades. Naught but their belongings remained. Seth fought the urge to moan as again his body was momentarily wracked by pleasurable fits. A smile dared creep across his lips, and for it he felt guilty. All life was precious and valuable.

  Trying to focus himself again Seth used his vision of the gods and immediately threw up a protective barrier of pure energy. Magical attacks by the hundreds were being flung from all corners of the battlefield. Lightning, fire, ice, magically summoned stone and wind lanced at him, and even things Seth could not recognize. Seth braced himself, unsure of his ever changing limitations. One on one Seth knew he could stand before any mage upon the field and be his better. Yet even Seth was unsure if he could withstand the onslaught of over three hundred mages at once.

  Already filled with stolen power, Seth hid behind his magical shield for the first round of attacks. The entire battleground seemed to take on an eerie silence as magical fire roared and lightning snapped and crackled and then the attacks hit. Like a tidal wave crashing upon a shore, the attacks pummeled Seth’s shield. As they struck, great blasts of power exploded as pieces of Seth’s protective wall began to disintegrate beneath the assault. Everyone remotely near to Seth retreated for fear of being caught in the crossfire, for all knew that the death mage would not stand idly by and let these lesser mages harass him. Little did they realize, however, that Seth was tiring beneath the assault.

  Though the onslaught came as a raging river of magical attacks washing over him, Seth prepared to do the unthinkable. With so many standing in opposition to him, his shield could not hold. It was thinning and tearing, and repair it as he could, Seth could not keep up. Though mightier than his foes man to man, together they could defeat him. Seth knew that if he did not even the odds, he and Valdadore would fall in the moments to come.

  Seth dropped the magical shield for an instant and sought to absorb the maelstrom of attacks thrown at him. He took and contained hundreds without harm. Within moments the power within him began to fight him, seeking an escape. Seth continued to collect the power.

  He was taking a risk since he knew full well that the outcome of such a gamble was unpredictable. History was proof enough of that. Even so, Seth absorbed the power until he felt as if he were bulging at the seams, ready to split from the strain. Instead of restoring his magical shield, bigger and better than before, Seth went on the offence.

  Gathering all of the stolen power he had acquired, and was still acquiring, Seth focused himself inwards as he had learned how to do months before. Raising his hands before him, palms out, he unleashed all of the power simultaneously.

  In that instant, many upon the field of battle thought the world had ended. Such was the force of the magic Seth unleashed that it could not have been described as anything aside from unholy. Like the world itself was splitting in two a great splintering sound rent the air as the ground began to crack at Seth’s feet and widen as it exploded ahead towards the frozen lake a thousand yards away. Above the shattered ground a great whistling wind lent itself to the fray. So great was its force that men were torn from their feet and cast upon its currents, its tendrils stripping flesh from bones and bark from trees. Bodies rained down upon the ground like hail as those who fell into the great chasm in the ground screamed for what seemed an eternity before their sounds snuffed out.

  The ground buckled and rolled and thousands were tossed from their feet and still Seth was not done. Just when everyone thought the end had come, a great blast of wicked green fire, a wall of evil inferno, blasted forth from Seth’s palms, roaring out in an expanding wave before him. Those who had somehow been spared by the great chasm or the deathly wind were now set ablaze by magical fire. Smoke and the scent of burnt flesh and hair filled the air as those set afire screamed their agonizing screams and wandered about blind until the flames consumed them.

  The assault upon Seth had stopped momentarily. Sigrant’s remaining mages must have begun to second guess themselves. With the sudden expulsion of power Seth felt nauseated but otherwise unharmed. The forces of Sigrant were not so lucky. The direct attack from Seth had killed near fifteen thousand troops. Now, however, the newly formed lake that Garret and the wolfmen had created was draining into the great chasm caused by Seth’s spell. The sudden drop in the lake’s water level caused the ice upon the surface to begin breaking and pieces were beginning to buckle and heave, sending yet more of the invading forces to their graves.

  Those swept beneath the ice either drowned or were crushed by the great sheets of frozen water. Those who managed to survive that, were swept over a great waterfall that plummeted into unknown depths beneath the world’s surface, never to be heard from again. Sigrant’s ice mages began working immediately to repair the damage lest the entire army be lost. A moment later, against their better judgment, the remaining battle mages under order of the invading king began their assault on Seth anew. This time Seth let the attacks come. He watched with his vision of the gods and estimated that in his retaliation he had managed to destroy more than sixty of the opposing mages. Minute after minute the barrage of magical attacks came and Seth consumed each and every one.

  Though the opposing sides continued to fight on some fronts, the vast majority stood immobile, waiting to see the outcome of this epic battle of magic. Valdadore’s mages replied by hurling fire at the attacking magicians but so few were the former’s numbers now that they had little effect. Seth waited as his power reserves grew and, once again, as he felt the power becoming too much to contain, he focused himself.

  Spreading his arms above his head, the black-robed death mage ra
ised his palms to the heavens. He was so consumed by the power within him, and concentrating with his vision of the gods on targeting those who opposed him, that Seth never even saw it coming. Though awash in magical ballista of every shape and form, Seth had mastered the art of absorbing the power without harm. Through the magic, however, came a physical attack that he had not anticipated. Not once upon this field of battle had a war machine been seen. Nor had there been any evidence that King Sigrant’s rear lines had finally caught up with the rest of his force. Yet through the magical onslaught a single ballista bolt near eight feet in length arced down out of the sky catching Seth full in the chest.

  The moment seemed to slow to a lurch as Seth was driven over backwards slightly before suddenly stopping. He was completely off balance and yet something held him up from behind. Looking down, a full foot of shaft still penetrated his chest and Seth realized that the bolt had gone clean through him. Leaning him over backwards precariously, the bolt had become lodged in the ground, effectively propping the death mage upon his feet for all to see. The whole of the battlefield sighed. A great howling sound arose as if the world cried. As Seth’s vision began to blur, Sara leapt from those nearest him, stripping off her helm in the full light of day. Everything went dark.

  * * * * *

  Sara landed between two of Sigrant’s troops whom she thought to be officers. They both wore full armor and carried the emblem of the skull upon their chests. Each of them shouted orders even now as Sara dropped from the heavens between them. Twisting as she landed she reached out to each side with an enchanted blade designed to siphon life, and twirling she rose from her crouched position.

  Both officers had registered her now and fear showed plainly in their eyes. Their hearts began to race and Sara smiled wickedly beneath her helm. Her entire suit of armor dripped with blood, both inside and out, and the princess could not have been more comfortable.

  Sara leapt at the officer to her left without warning and wrapping her legs about his face she drove the large man to the ground. Then, without a second’s hesitation, she thrust not one but both blades down through the top of his skull. Wrenching them apart to either side she destroyed her foe as a trickle of life joined with her own.

  Without so much as looking for the other officer, Sara leapt backwards, somersaulting through the air. Before landing she twisted with the grace of a feline and landed lightly in a crouch not a pace in front of her foe. He raised his sword to strike her, thinking he had the upper hand.

  Sara shot to a standing position faster than the human could blink and drove the pommel of one small sword under the man’s chin with devastating effect. So forceful was the blow that both her hand and pommel tore through the flesh under his chin and neck up into the cavity of his skull. With a jerk Sara removed the man’s head as his body still stumbled a step before falling twitching to the ground. She leapt into the air once more.

  Twisting and leaping, striking and dodging, Sara spent the morning bringing death to one feeble human after another. Though she related to them on many levels, Sara had begun to realize that they were no longer her people. She had become more, or perhaps less, and now there were a growing number of others like her. She could feel them. She knew when they fed. She knew each time a new member of her race was created. She had started a process that she might never end, and because of it she had brought a plague to the world. From such an action there was no redemption and though princess to Valdadore, Sara felt more like the queen of the damned.

  It was odd, the vast mix of emotions within Sara. For as unnatural and inhuman as she felt, she could never remember feeling so alive. Perhaps her alteration was both a blessing and a curse. One thing was for certain: Sara needed to find a way to stop the spread of her condition. She needed a plan.

  Passing the day killing like a graceful predator, Sara thought mostly about how she might stop those she had created. It was not until near midday when Borrik landed nearby that Sara was broken from her anguished thoughts of self-redemption. Seth it seemed had called a regrouping of his troops. Sara knew better than to ignore his warning and immediately turned and began working her way back to her loving husband. She wondered how she could continue helping him with the struggles and burdens he had, when her own threatened to drown her. If nothing more, she would at least do her best to assist him here upon the field of battle.

  It was not long after receiving the order to fall back that Sara approached Seth. Growing ever nearer, she was within a hundred yards of him when the enemy’s mages unleashed a magical storm of attacks unlike anything she had ever seen. So relentless and furious were the attacks that Seth was completely lost from view for many minutes. Not daring venture any nearer, Sara simply stopped to watch how things unfolded. Nearly the entire battlefield came to a screeching halt. None had witnessed a display quite like this. Even James, Seth’s own father, had faced less than a third of this power.

  Sara watched as suddenly the barrage appeared to break through an unseen barrier and then Seth became visible. Sara smiled. Her husband was a man of immense power. Some thought him invulnerable to any attack. Some thought him a god. Literally thousands of magical projectiles were snuffed out at having come into contact with the death mage. After a moment of him just standing under the assault, obviously focused, he raised his arms, his hands becoming visible from his sleeves.

  Sara realized he planned to direct whatever attack he had prepared, and being directly in front of her husband, she decided to move before he obliterated her. Crouching low, Sara sprang to the side at the same time invoked her enchanted boots.

  “Jump,” she shouted and rocketed into the air over the heads of thousands of men. Landing, Sara watched as her husband unleashed more death than he had ever done before. With an immense tearing sound the ground was rent apart and thousands fell instantly into a giant chasm created in the earth. While the chasm swallowed those who stood where once there had been land, a great howling magical wind sprang forth, tearing thousands more off their feet. The currents within the wind were so violent that those caught upon its currents were torn limb from limb as flesh was stripped from bones and body parts were thrown to rain down upon those who survived.

  Next, from even further away, screams arose as more crushing and cracking sounds tore through the air and the giant frozen lake began to break up, the water beneath the ice spilling into the chasm Seth had opened. Sara thought that it was over, her husband having obliterated over ten thousand men, but she was mistaken as a tidal wave of fire was unleashed to quench the life of those who remained near to her husband. Those were the victims that had the worst of the situation. None of them died immediately, their screams turning to clouds of smoke as they wandered about like living torches until their lives snuffed out.

  For a moment, after Seth had single-handedly dropped near fifteen thousand men, the battlefield appeared calm as almost no one moved. Then the mages loyal to Sigrant unleashed their will upon Seth once again. With lower numbers of opposing mages, Seth remained visible under the onslaught this time and Sara could not believe the enemy mages were naive enough to repeat the same mistake twice.

  The attack lasted only a minute or two before Sara watched her hopes and dreams, as well as those of her nation, crumble beneath a single bolt fired by an invading siege engine. Sara saw the bolt before it penetrated the magical blasts of all the enemy mages, though it vanished for an instant before the magical attacks slowed and then ceased.

  There stood Seth, impaled upon the ballista bolt that had hit him square in the heart and pinned him in a near standing position to the ground. Sara’s heart skipped a beat. Her husband’s troops saw their god, injured as he was, and it appeared they went insane. Roaring and howling like mad beasts the werewolves began tearing anything that moved to pieces in an effort to get to their fallen master. Sara, though in disbelief, needed to be at her husband’s side. She crouched and again summoned the power of her enchanted boots. In less than a second she stood before Seth, watching hi
s life blood trickle down the wooden shaft.

  Not knowing what to do, Sara ripped her helm off her head. As the sunlight began to burn her flesh, for just an instant her eyes and the eyes of her husband locked before his became unfocused and rolled back, lifeless. Sara strained her senses. Seth’s heart had ceased beating; his breathing had stopped as well. Her husband, the most powerful man upon Thurr, was dead. She shrieked in both anger and pain, tears streaming from her eyes as her flesh burned away from her face.

  * * * * *

  Borrik stomped a path through gore and bodies to the fallen king. Heaving Garret off the ground, Borrik wrapped his two left arms around the king and together they slowly moved towards the rear lines. Borrik could feel the king failing and made a suggestion.

  “Your majesty, if you will release your blessing I can fly us to the healers and get you treatment,” Borrik half growled loudly over the battle.

  “I…can’t,” Garret replied. “My blessing is all that is keeping me alive.”

  Borrik damned his luck, and unfortunately he did it prematurely. No sooner had the king replied, than he collapsed. Not even the strength of two of Borrik’s inhuman arms, even in his blessed form, could keep the huge man upright. Like a sack of boulders the king fell, and so heavy was his body in its blessed form that when he hit the ground he left an impression almost a foot deep in the already trampled soil. The king lived, but was unconscious.

  Borrik did the only thing he could do. Reaching down he grabbed the king by his ankles and began dragging his near lifeless body across the battlefield. The inhuman leader of Seth’s inhuman army could never have imagined how hard his task was going to be. The beast of a man had dragged the king less than fifty yards, and already he was forced to pause to catch his breath and relieve his cramping muscles. The giant steel king weighed more than he had thought possible, but even so Borrik did not have much time to rest.

  Just moments after he stopped, the battlefield changed tremendously as mages by the hundreds began flinging spells from everywhere. It was at times like these where being taller than everyone else upon the battlefield was a disadvantage. Grabbing the king again Borrik pressed on and began dragging him anew. Only a second passed and Borrik knew telepathically that his master was the focus of the fury of the mages. For now, however, Borrik could be of little help to his master and as such he continued to drag the king.