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

by Laszlo,Jeremy

  Minutes later Garret entered the palace and climbed to the room he once shared with the woman he loved. Reminders of her were everywhere, and even now her scent clung to the sheets and pillows. A fact that Garret looked forward to each time he entered their chamber. Stripping down to remove from himself the odors of the crypts, he fell onto the luxurious feather mattress and enveloped himself within her memory. She had been here and she had loved him. Nothing would ever change that, and none could deny it. But, unknown to everyone else, she still loved him, only she could not yet return to the palace.

  Garret reminded himself that it was okay. Soon she would return and they could lie together again. He missed the heat of her flesh upon him, the press of her wet lips on his skin. He missed their late night passionate love-making, and looked forward to when he could once again press her small body into the mattress beneath him. Soon. Soon he could bring her back to the palace and everyone would see.

  Pulling the covers up over his head to breathe her in more deeply, he hugged her pillow tight before finally drifting off to sleep, comfortable in the knowledge that soon he could prove himself to Gorandor once more and regain his blessing. All he needed to do was be brave in battle and do the right thing.

  With the morning, Garret sprang from his bed feeling more invigorated than he had in weeks. Though just the night before he had loathed the idea of leaving the castle, he knew that it was the right thing, even Linaya had assured him it was so. Pulling on his clothes and the armor that marked him a knight of Valdadore, he left the room, heaving the door closed behind him.

  With a journey filled with fresh air and friends ahead, Garret took the stairs two at a time, nearly colliding with a servant halfway down. Apologizing as he passed, he struck the stone floor below with a steady stride and grin to match. Reaching the main entrance, he threw it wide as the cool morning air struck him full in the face. It would be a good day, of that he was certain.

  Passing through the series of gates outside the palace, Garret took to the courtyards of the castle structure, admiring the rising towers and spires just as he had on his very first visit what seemed a lifetime ago. Only once did he spare a fleeting glance towards the crypts, but his stride did not falter and he continued on to the stables ahead.

  * * * * *

  Zorbin had no idea what to think of Garret’s sudden shift in mood, but it certainly had to be for the good. With his and the king’s supplies gathered, he carefully fitted Xanth with his armor before donning his own. There was no telling what they might encounter on the road these days. In the last months he had seen the impossible—blood drinking monsters, flying men, and mutated warriors to name just a few. He wasn’t about to take any chances with Garret’s life. More likely than not, there were some who might use this time of weakness and confusion to try and assassinate the king. Not on Zorbin’s watch though.

  Snatching up his helm and saddlebags, Zorbin exited his room within the knights’ barracks and stalked down the hall with Xanth on his heels. Reaching the common room he pressed the immense door open, allowing Xanth to exit before him, before stepping out into the morning himself.

  From across the courtyard a booming voice called out to him and immediately he recognized the king. Turning towards the source of the sound, Zorbin watched as Garret thundered across the cobblestones at breakneck speed atop one of the realms royal stallions. Taking the hint, Zorbin slung the bags he carried across Xanth’s armored back and leapt onto the giant wolf in a single movement. Leaning low and holding on tight, he didn’t even give a command before Xanth was off. Tearing across the stones after the king, Zorbin Ironfist grinned through his beard. It was going to make for an interesting journey. Of that much he was certain.

  Winding around one corner and the next, Xanth nimbly guided them around bystanders in the street, sometimes scratching and clawing to change direction at the last moment. Though there were some whom they startled along the way, he dared not let the king out of his sight ahead. Finally reaching the main avenue that would lead them all the way to the southern gate, Zorbin let loose his reins and let Xanth run free. Loping with unimaginably long strides, the giant wolf carried them down the gentle slope towards the outer city wall like a bird borne upon the wind. With Zorbin’s braided hair and beard flapping behind him, they gained on the king’s steed until at last gaining his side.

  “Do we hurry, my king?” Zorbin shouted.

  “Only if you find this too fast, my stout friend!”

  Onward they raced upon mounts with pounding hooves and paws. Reaching the gate they didn’t bother to slow, as pedestrians leapt aside to permit them. It wasn’t until they were more than a hundred yards clear of the city when Garret reined in his mount, as Zorbin followed suit. It was good, this carefree and joyous behavior by the king. Perhaps he had finally made peace with all that had befallen him.

  With his thoughts cut short, the sounds of pursuit lent themselves to the air and Zorbin looked back over his shoulder to see another royal stallion thundering from the city to intercept them. From atop the beast, white robes whipped and snapped in the air and Zorbin turned to face the king once more with one bushy eyebrow raised.

  “It is Ashton, the healer I traveled to the Choosing with,” the king explained.

  “Tis a wise decision to bring a healer in these perilous times,” stated Zorbin.

  “True, his skills may come in handy, but I’ve brought him as a friend, rather than ally.”

  Either way didn’t matter to a mind such as Zorbin’s. With talk of women giving birth to beasts and demons, who knew what evil and witchery they might come to face? Even with the king’s and his own blessing, they were still susceptible to injury. Druids were peculiar people as it was. What kind of sane person danced around in the woods naked singing songs to the moon and feeding wild animals?

  Shaking his head as the healer approached at a reduced pace, Zorbin turned his attention back to his friend.

  “What of us, then? Do we go with all haste, and ride straight through, or stop along the way to see what tales we might hear?”

  “We’ll ride through. Once we’ve seen for ourselves whether or not the rumors are true, then we can return at a more leisurely pace. Zorbin Ironfist, I’d like for you to meet Ashton Rayne,” Garret introduced.

  With introductions complete, it was only moments before they were all three off across the fields south of Valdadore.

  * * * * *

  Ashton rode on in silence for the first few hours, not that he could shout over the hooves of the horses anyhow. The ride was thrilling, even more so, knowing that they were traveling back to where his story truly began. Perhaps not quite that far… but close enough. If they were headed towards Raven’s keep, he couldn’t help but wonder if he could convince Garret to continue on a little further in order to see the battlefield they had fought upon just months prior.

  Since that time, he had adjusted to his life rather well after rejoining the rest of the humans on their return journey to Valdadore. There was much to learn, including his abilities and limitations, but with his stubbornness he had done well to master the art of blessed healing. He had been praying every day for an opportunity such as this one, and now it had arrived. At last he would be more or less alone with the king of Valdadore and could use his knowledge of the king and his newfound understanding of his purpose in life. This was it. It was now or never. The goddess had warned him to be diligent in his watch for an opening beneath the king’s steel skin. He had, and now he was being rewarded.

  Glancing across the fields, he spotted a pond a short ways off of their current course. Thinking to use it as an excuse, he cleared his throat and turned towards the king.

  “My mount is frothing, I think he’s thirsty!” he shouted, pointing towards the pond.

  With a simple nod, Garret assured him of his understanding and he followed as the king and dwarf veered their mounts onto a new course. Nearing the pond within moments, they climbed down from their mounts and guided them each
to the water’s edge. It was a bit intimidating, being so thin and frail among the thick and armored, but Ashton shrugged it off and did his best to relax.

  “What do you think we will find, Garret?” Ashton asked as his horse began to drink.

  “I suspect we will find what the rumors say. All rumors start with some truth. This stinks of my brother’s sorcery and Ishanya’s corruption.”

  “If it is true, then I imagine it is tied to your brother, however, I’d not be so quick to blame a goddess,” Ashton replied.

  “Why? She has done our kingdom no good. She has corrupted even the hearts and minds of children who now blindly follow my brother into ruin.”

  “What you say is true, Garret, but it can also be said that were it not for the power lent to Seth by Ishanya, Valdadore would have fallen not far from where we travel now and would be under the rule of orcs and goblins.”

  “I suppose that argument could be made.” Garret said, spitting on the ground.

  “So perhaps it is not the goddess that is at fault, but the vessel through which her power was channeled.”

  Ashton watched Garret shift from one leg to the other, the subject making him a little uncomfortable. Good. He needed to be on edge.

  “You know, I did a lot of studying on Ishanya after Seth revealed his powers and once, long ago, she was known as the goddess of lost souls.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” Zorbin chimed in, sounding gruff and angry through his beard.

  “According to our histories, in the past, she blessed warriors such as yourselves, and often accepted worshippers that other gods had denied. Perhaps she intended well by allowing Seth the power that he wields, but he has used it for ill purposes, twisting and abusing it.”

  “Would she not, then, strip the power from him?” Garret asked.

  “Perhaps, but look at what it has done to her following. Yes, his deeds go awry and we face demons brought to life, but they have also given the goddess renown. Everyone knows of Ishanya now, and maybe through the increase in her following she is seeking new champions to right the wrongs your brother has committed in her name.”

  “You think this could be true?” Garret questioned, his face scrunching up slightly.

  “Anything is possible, especially where power is concerned.”

  “Then from here on I will sing a different tune. Ishanya cannot be blamed, but Seth must be held accountable for his crimes. If he ever so much as sets foot in my kingdom again he will pay for his misdeeds.”

  “I think you wise to declare as much,” Ashton said with a nod. “Though it is a shame that you must lose your brother in such a manner.”

  Inwardly he was smiling wickedly. The seed had been planted. He knew of the king’s impotence. The goddess had told him this much and more. Now all he needed to do was nourish the information he had planted in Garret’s mind and find a way to remind him of his weakness.

  Noticing that his mount had stopped drinking and now was lazily chomping on the half frozen, brown grass at the pond’s edge, he turned the beast around and climbed back into the saddle. Both the king and the dwarf followed within seconds and again they were galloping south. Eventually the farmlands turned to wild plains and Ashton rode in a half dream, imagining what power he would be granted when he accomplished the task given to him by the dark queen.

  Chapter Five

  Hearing the yells of alarm and screams of panic from below, Seth had no doubt he had been spotted. Perhaps it had been ill-advised to go in closer for a better view of what they could potentially be facing. Even so, he had learned much using both his eyes and his vision. There were many armed men down there, but they weren’t soldiers. They carried no banners and wore mismatched armor. No. These were sell-swords—mercenaries hired to protect something or someone in the line of wagons, carriages, and carts. Armies like Sigrant’s had mercenaries, but this was not an army.

  Among those below were two blessed by the gods. Immediately Seth locked onto the aura of one blessed by Zeranthil, knowing well the god’s love of gifting power over fire. If the man invoked his power, Seth would sever his connection. The other blessing was unfamiliar to him. He could feel and see the power there and it was obvious that the man’s blessing was invoked and his connection with his god already in place, but Seth knew not the man’s gift. He didn’t like not knowing, but presumed that whatever it was, should it be turned against him, he would be able to defend himself.

  Having already been spotted, he swooped low again for another look. Carts, wagons, and carriages, all surrounded by people. This wasn’t an army, it was a trading caravan, or perhaps a supply run to Sigrant’s army several weeks too late.

  With the twangs of bowstrings below, and the beginnings of an organized defense building, Seth tucked his wings and plummeted down towards the ground like a wayward missile thrown from a siege engine. Spinning as he plummeted, he struck the ground hard, bending low and catching his balance with one hand pressed to the soil. Stretching his wings out to their full span, he tucked them in quickly to decrease the size of target he made. Then, using his power to enhance his voice, he spoke out above the screams and shouts.

  “I do not wish to harm you,” he stated loudly, but calmly.

  “It’s a demon! Loose arrows!” a voice came from the crowd as twangs filled the air once more.

  With a flick of his wrist a transparent wall of green flame leapt up from the ground, creating a barrier that consumed the wooden shafts with little more than a hiss and a snap. Dropping the barrier once more, Seth tried yet again to reason with them.

  “I will not harm you if you put down your weapons,” he announced more sternly.

  It took more than a minute of shouted confusion, but eventually one voice carried back to Seth, above those of the other fearful men.

  “What are you, demon? Why’d you block our path?”

  “I am Prince Seth of Valdadore, and I only came to ensure that you were not my enemies,” he answered truthfully.

  “Hey,” another voice lent itself to the night, “I thought yous was dead.”

  “Yeah, King Sigrant killed the demon prince!” another more angry voice added.

  “I was killed, but have returned from the dead to claim what is owed to me.”

  “If you are really he that you claim to be,” a burly man said, stepping free from the crowd, “then where be all yer monsters and creatures and such?”

  Without even giving him time to formulate a response, an explosion rocked the ground from the air above as a great wave of dust blasted out in all directions. Grinning at Borrik’s showmanship, Seth watched his trusted friend drop from the sky in all of his blessed glory. Now more than twenty feet tall with four arms and immense wings, Borrik summoned into his hands two great fireballs and crouching low he fanned them with his wings, growling just inches from the man who questioned Seth’s honesty. If that were not enough to prove his point, not three seconds after the burly man had urinated on himself with Borrik’s hot breath in his face, then Sara dropped nimbly to Seth’s side with a wicked grin as her blades and teeth shone in the moonlight.

  “Do you wish to see more proof?” Seth asked as those opposing him began to slowly retreat towards their carts and wagons.

  No one replied. No word came. No orders were given.

  “We will not harm you, we only wish to speak with your employer,” Seth said, tracking both the fire mage and the other blessed man as they approached from somewhere near the middle of the convoy.

  “I am their employer,” a voice came from the crowd as a path began to open.

  There before Seth, nearly fifty yards away, was a man unlike any other Seth had ever seen. He was tall and lean with olive skin and dazzling green eyes. From head to toe he was dressed like royalty, with sparkling gems and rope of gold and silver draped around his neck and chest. His fingers were encased in gauntlet-like fashion, but instead of steel they were wrapped in gold and decorated in filigree. Even from his ears, eyebrows, and nose, ri
ngs of sparkling metal hung. Seth knew in an instant that the man was of great import, even without the ability to see that he was blessed by an unknown god.

  “And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” Seth asked.

  “My name is Gazoo Goldenfingers,” the man replied, wiggling his metal-clad hands.

  “And what is your purpose upon this road at night?” Seth asked.

  “Are the roads not free to travel at any time?” Gazoo raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps there is some new tax that I am due to pay?”

  There it was. Seth had barely noticed as the man’s aura swelled. He hadn’t noticed the man pray, or anything else for that matter to invoke his blessing, but he could see the power pour from the man’s lips and into the air. His blessing was his words. He could feel the man’s bribe upon his mind like a serpent’s cold skin crawling across his flesh. The man was a merchant and his blessing was the ability to strike a deal. Seth shook off the sensation and absorbed the power.

  “Your words have no effect on me, Goldenfingers. Nor do you owe me a bribe to pass. I simply want to know your business here,” Seth said, watching the man’s expression fall.

  The man turned slightly and whispered to his companion, and Seth watched as his aura also flared to life. Grinning, Seth reached out with his mind and ripped the mage’s magical umbilical away, sucking at the severed end, adding further to his own power.

  “I’m afraid, I won’t have any of that either,” Seth said, grinning as the men exchanged hurried words.

  “It seems you have us at a bit of a disadvantage,” Goldenfingers smiled, “We are but simple merchants on our way to the town behind you.

  “There is no need for an advantage, Goldenfingers, and if you are simple merchants you would not be dressed so extravagantly or be able to afford a personal mage, let alone a small army.”

  “Well, I suppose what you say is true. I certainly do not like to think of myself as simple. Tell me what is it that you really want, Prince Seth, and I will tell you what it is that I am really doing.”