The Calling (Book 7 of The Blood & Brotherhood Saga) (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga)

by Jeremy Laszlo

  Fortunately, Seth had already devised a plan, and looking out over the city he could see opportunity. Turning to nod at the two men bearing carts behind him, he gave the signal and watched as they walked up and over the hill towards Drakenhurst. Their job was simple—locate and purchase several large shacks near the edge of town in the dirtiest, filthiest neighborhoods, and a few warehouses if they were available. Seth had given them enough gold to purchase a moderate mansion, but told them to be discreet. Now all they needed was time.

  Climbing down from the hill hoping to avoid being seen, Seth made his way back to where his army hid within the tree line below. No fires were allowed, and everyone had been ordered to remain still and silent. It was difficult to make thousands be silent, but they were trying. Now that his plan was in motion, however, it was time for Seth to do some investigating of his own.

  Reaching out with tendrils of his power, he felt his way through the immense city. Ignoring thousands as he brushed against them, he continued his search for any signs of opposition. Feeling the nagging pulls of those auras with the most power, it took little time for Seth to find what he sought. There, not far from the keep, was a collection of those blessed with magical abilities. Easily recognizable were the healers, and various devotions of mages known to exist in Drakenhurst, but so too were there some auras that Seth didn’t recognize.

  Goldenfingers had told him of the academy where the youngest of those gifted were kept and trained to serve the king. These were not yet battle-hardened adversaries, but as children, they could still be used against him. As such, Seth began to watch each of their movements about the academy and surrounding city.

  Pushing his powers further still, he sought out the keep itself and delved within its walls. It took only minutes to locate a handful of those with gifts. Five blessed warriors remained within the keep, one a follower of Gorandor and four more blessed by Vikstol. Already he knew one to be the captain of the guard, and the others his lieutenants. With his primary targets all located, Seth made another quick sweep of the entire city and finding nothing of note, he withdrew his power into himself, except for those links to those he wished to keep an eye on.

  Smiling as he turned his head, he found Sara watching him and changed course to join her.

  “Why the focused face, love?” Sara asked.

  “Just looking around Drakenhurst for anything of interest.”

  “Find anything?”

  “Nothing we can’t handle.”

  “Good. Then we are waiting until nightfall?”

  “Yes, if all goes well.”

  “Seems like a long time to just wait and wonder. How about I steal you away for a few hours and take your mind off of things?”

  Seth couldn’t help but smile at her. She was up to something, of that he was certain. She had been wiggling, shaking, and bouncing all of her womanly goodness at him for days. He supposed if any time was good to surrender to her, now was just as opportune as any other.

  Taking Sara’s hand, they strolled beneath the broken canopy of the forest, and circumventing the army they walked deep into a dark grotto far from the eyes and ears of their comrades. Seth had a pretty good idea just what Sara had in mind, if the sway of her hips was any inclination, and as such he happily followed, his blood already beginning to boil in anticipation.

  * * * * *

  Thinking her husband beyond extremely satisfied, Sara sat upright upon him, still straddling his naked body with her own. Beneath her, Seth lay with his wings extended to either side, upon his back with a crooked grin on his lips. Unable to help herself, Sara smiled back at him, wondering what was going on behind the expression he wore.

  “What are you thinking in there?” she asked, unable to help herself.

  “I was thinking that of all the marvels I have witnessed and experienced in this world, you are my favorite, and one of the only that I like to enjoy over and over again.”

  “Is that so? So I’m a marvel, am I?”

  “I think so. You are amazing and one of a kind. There is no way I would have made it this far without you by my side. Even when I feel myself wavering, you are always there to give me strength. I am blessed beyond anything any god could give me, to have you, and although it doesn’t do your worth to me justice, thank you.”

  “Do you really want to thank me?” Sara asked, seizing the opportunity.

  “Of course.”

  “I would really like to fly like you and Borrik.”

  “Is that so?” Seth asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and sitting upright.

  Without warning, he pressed his wings to the ground behind him and with one hard thrust he propelled them both upwards and into the air. Wrapping her arms about his neck and legs around his waist, Sara clung to her husband who still pulsed hard inside her. With every flap of his immense wings he drove himself into her deeply and with every lull she clung to him tightly.

  With her body trembling, an unknown amount of time later, Seth settled them back to the earth, his grin returning once again.

  “So, was it everything you expected it to be?” he asked, smirking.

  “You have no idea,” Sara somehow managed between ragged breaths. “Let’s do that again, and soon.”

  Finding love and passion amidst such loss and pain was probably not that unusual, Sara supposed. With such heightened sensations and tensions high, a release was often needed, and boy, did she feel released. Letting her arms fall from her husband, she traced the ridge between the muscles on his chest, down between those on his abdomen, and let her hand fall away. Like her, he had changed immensely in the last few months. Though she had fallen in love with a somewhat sheltered boy, he stood before her now a man who held his power lightly and sought to make the world better through his actions.

  Smiling at her husband in return, she turned and strode away, giving him a little wiggle as she went to retrieve her clothing. She hadn’t gotten her wings, at least not yet, but she had gotten something even more important—time alone with her husband to show she loved and appreciated him. Dressing quickly, she strapped on her swords and tightened the buckles up the sides of her boots. Looking up, she found Seth already dressed in the black robes he preferred, and patiently awaiting her to join him.

  Before long they were back with the army and Sara noted that Seth’s rat soldiers were now standing apart from the humans and wolves, aside from Jonas who presently commanded them. With darkness nearing, Seth’s plan was soon to be underway if, of course, his men had made it back from the city.

  “Is everything going as planned?” Sara asked her husband as they approached Jonas ahead.

  “So far as I can tell. My men arrived little more than an hour ago.”

  Seth seemed to be everywhere at once these days. It would have hurt her feelings to know that a part of him had been keeping track of the whereabouts of other people while they had their passionate exchange, but she knew how much was on the line. Seth felt it his duty to keep all of them safe, and as such he was more cautious than ever.

  “How comes our preparations?” Seth asked Jonas as they neared.

  “You now own several hovels, my prince, and the men are ready to begin.”

  “Good, Sara and I will be going with you. Borrik will stay to help defend the army should it need it. You will communicate with him to coordinate our efforts.”

  “As you wish, Prince Seth.”

  Sara couldn’t help but be excited about the plan. Her husband, Borrik and she had worked hard to develop a means by which to take the city with minimal casualties. If they pulled it off, they could be done with war, at least for a while, and Sara looked forward to a time when they weren’t in danger of being killed.

  As darkness fell, Sara walked between Seth and Jonas, silently leading their troops down to the city below. It was a slow process, but assured that no guards patrolled the streets nor manned the city’s pathetic excuse for a wall, there was little need to hurry. In the darkness without any torches or other light
with an overcast sky, they went unnoticed the handful of miles to the city’s edge.

  Hopping over the short wall that served to keep livestock from overrunning the city streets, their contingent of troops split into two and turned in opposite directions. Following the map provided to them by those sent ahead to purchase property, they traversed the streets of the slums, finally arriving at a small lean-to style house that shared a wall with what appeared to be a small warehouse. Ignoring the home, they entered the warehouse one at a time, each taking a moment to look around.

  Without light, her husband produced a large fireball, showing one large, open space with a dirt floor. To one wall were placed a tidy row of carts laden with buckets and shovels. Now it was time for the real work to begin. Using the talents of the manpower he commanded, Seth put the men to work, tunneling first, straight down nearly twenty feet, before making a right angle in the direction of the keep. Throughout the night, as carts were filled with soil, his men would whisk them away into nearby houses they now owned. Leaving no evidence, Seth’s rat troops worked throughout the night, never stopping for breaks or meals. Designed for tunneling, they made tremendous progress that night. It wasn’t until near morning that they quit in their efforts, laying low during the day when people moved about and were more likely to notice the excavation.

  As the sun rose the next morning, one of Seth’s men climbed out from the tunnel carrying with him a bucket of mud.

  “We’re close to the source, my prince,” the soldier hissed.

  “Good work. Our other team is nearly to their goal as well. Tomorrow, we will complete this phase, and then Drakenhurst will be our new home,” Seth said, walking from one soldier to the next to clap them on the shoulder.

  For the remainder of the day, all was quiet. Sara sat patiently for a time, before turning to pacing and then jumping down into the tunnel to have a look for herself. She couldn’t believe how far the troops had gone, but keeping the size of the tunnel to a minimum with a crew of men to clear the loose soil, they had tunneled very near to the keep, a distance of several miles in a single night. She couldn’t wait to see the rest of the plan in action.

  * * * * *

  Borrik waited patiently the first night and the second as progress was relayed to him via his captain, Jonas. By the end of the third night, the keep’s water reservoir had been drained, and the spring that supplied it was diverted. For the sake of humility, Borrik supposed, Seth let a third day and night slip by to allow those in the keep to get a tad thirsty.

  When morning came the fourth day, and the order was relayed to him to move, Borrik led his misfit army out of the tree line and over the hills to become visible to the keep beyond. Leaving the bulk of his army behind, Borrik proceeded towards the city with two of his captains, carrying a white flag of truce in hopes of a parlay.

  It took less than an hour for a simple messenger to appear, running across the fields towards them. He was young, not yet an adult, but even with obvious fear in his eyes, he approached with a pounding heart and came to stand before the immense werewolves.

  “My master bids me to tell you to leave. No army has ever breached our walls, and we have defenders aplenty, blessed with mighty powers from the gods.”

  “Tell your master to speak to me in person or I’ll raze your city and watch as those in the keep are dried like beef without the water I have taken. Tell your master that I will meet his champions of the heavens with demons from the abyss and when I am finished he will beg at my feet.”

  Without another word the messenger spun and began running back the way he had come. Another hour passed and a large contingent of mounted troops appeared from the city, and rode out in formation to meet Borrik.

  He watched them come in all their armor, armed to the teeth as if Borrik would be cowed by anything less than his own master. On they rode, throwing dust into the air that was carried away on a cold winter breeze. Borrik watched them come and moved not a muscle as they reined in their horses just feet from him.

  A single black stallion stepped forward and on its back was a man dressed in fine armor with the sigil of a raven on his breastplate. Removing his helm, the man sneered down his wide nose at Borrik, and Borrik knew that the battle was already won. This was a man of strength and action, he was neither intelligent nor wise, but would follow orders until death. It was likely that Sigrant himself told the man to hold the keep at all costs and here he was, defending that which was undermanned and now impossible to hold without a water supply.

  Looking up to the man on horseback, Borrik grinned at him, flashing the rows of razor sharp teeth in his maw.

  “What is it that you want, beast?” the man questioned.

  Borrik continued to stare at him, and could see him become a little unsettled.

  “Do you fear speaking to me, creature?” the man questioned.

  Still Borrik kept silent, looking at the man, and past him, awaiting the sign his master promised. Time. He needed a few moments more time.

  “Do I need to beat the words out of you?” the man threatened.

  Borrik tired of this game and watched as the man pulled forth his horse crop, as if he would dare strike Borrik. The leader of Seth’s wolf troops had another idea, however.

  Summoning his blessing, Borrik exploded in size as a pair of arms ripped free from his flesh, fireballs already summoned and singeing him as they were extracted. Pulling his blades free from their scabbards, he leaned forward, dwarfing the puny human, and unleashed a roar in the man’s face spraying him with spittle. Seeing the man cower, Borrik rose to his full blessed height before speaking.

  “If you know who I am, then I suggest you surrender your keep and your kingdom to a real ruler.”

  “Who? You?” the man questioned. “I know all about you. I’ve read the reports. Your prince is dead, and I’ll surrender to no beast.”

  “My prince is a god, you fool, and he’ll make of you an imp that bleeds at his feet for want to lick the sweat off of his toes!” Borrik spat.

  The rider too exploded in size upon his mount, both horse and man tripling in height to again look down upon Borrik.

  “It’s a nice trick you have there, but if your master were a god, then he could not die. And if he could not die, then where is he?”

  Chapter Ten

  For three days Garret had overseen the construction of two giant litters to return the mothers and their mix-breed children to Valdadore, and for three days he pleaded to Gorandor for the return of his blessing. No such blessing forthcoming, he was forced to work and strain in his soft flesh, cutting vines and branches, lashing the bits together to create what they hoped would carry the women and children safely. He had apologized to the mothers he had offended on multiple occasions, but they still gave him looks of disdain and pulled their young close when he was around. He knew he had committed an offence that could not be undone, though explained his plan to help them with suitable shelter, food, and all they would need for their children. He didn’t mention that he intended to breed their offspring for his own purposes, but knew in his gut it was the right path. It was the only path. Seth would pay for his deeds, and this was the instrument to his destruction.

  Dragging the long flexible bough through the underbrush, Garret paused to wipe the sweat from his eyes. Long days of labor were good for him, he knew, but he longed to return home. They would be finished by now if he were able to summon his power, but still Gorandor turned his back upon the king. Garret had explained to Zorbin that although he was free to use his blessing if he liked, Garret would only use his in battle. It was a pathetic lie, Garret knew, but he could also tell that Zorbin had his doubts.

  He did not understand why Gorandor ignored his pleas. Yes, he had done wrong, fighting with anger and not honor. He had even killed a defenseless baby, but he had done it for the right reasons, hadn’t he? Nothing he did was for himself. Was it? He sought retribution in blood from his brother for destroying that which he was sworn to preserve. He had killed
the babe, not for his own hatred, but in an attempt to save his people from the beasts once they grew to maturity. He had since seen his mistake in that matter, and was seeking to help those he had wronged, but still Gorandor refused him.

  With no blessing and no holy power, Garret grew hungry with his labors and tired after hours of strain. He was still a knight of Valdadore and as such in perfect physical condition, but the limitations of humanity wore upon him. As the third day turned to night and he found himself alone, Gorandor’s refusal became too much as the central focus of Garret’s mind. Tilting his head, he peered upwards to the thick canopy above, envisioning the stars and the heavens that he could not see.

  “Why do you neglect me, oh king of kings?” Garret shouted. “Why do you turn your back when I only wish to preserve this nation? Why do you disregard me, a servant of your holiness, the greatest warrior you have created?”

  In anger, Garret scowled to the air above him, neither hearing nor feeling any reply. Gorandor had forgotten him, stripped him, and left him barren. No longer would he be able to fight. He could no more defend the kingdom than any other man and he was no longer fit to wear the armor of a knight. Angered and broken, Garret fell to his knees and screamed out his frustration in an angry growl that spooked the birds in the trees, sending them flapping and flailing to get away as feathers floated down from above.

  “Am I mute unto the ears of the heavens? Does not any god hear my words? Can I not do the will of the heavens here on Thurr? What must I do to regain your favor?”

  “Serve without question,” a booming voice echoed inside his head.

  “I will, my lord, without question. Just tell me what I must do,” Garret yelled.