Serpent Kings Saga (Omnibus Edition)

by James Somers

  A forest of trees lay on either side of us. Many branches whipped at the locomotive as it passed through the overgrowth. I realized now how the tracks, the tunnel and the old abandoned rail yard might have gone unnoticed all these years. I called out to Tobias as the soldiers began to come from the side doors of the boxcar, climbing their way along the sides the best they could in the hope of reaching us. Still, with all limbs occupied holding onto the outside of the metal car, they couldn’t very well shoot at us.

  The train lurched beneath me, and I realized we had begun and uphill run into the surrounding hills. Tobias stumbled for a moment as the train jolted underneath him. Regaining his balance he took a final look at the lock, wondering why it had not separated. He leaped across, catching the ladder below me as the soldiers crawled like spiders across the sides of their boxcar.

  As the engine ahead poured on more power to carry the weight of the train uphill against gravity, the last boxcar finally broke free. The open lock had held enough, with the train’s momentum, to keep the car running with the rest, but not against such a steep ascent. The soldiers scrambled back toward the doors, hoping to get inside as the boxcar began a rapid descent along the rails.

  Building too much speed as it drove back toward the tunnel where we had exited, it shifted sideways with the unbalanced weight of its panicked payload. The rusted rectangular car tumbled off of the tracks and slammed into the left face of the tunnel entrance throwing bodies in every direction upon collision.

  When Tobias reached the top of the ladder, he met me there with a broad smile upon his face. “I wondered why that hadn’t worked,” he said, musing. “Guess it did after all.”

  I grinned in return. “I suppose.”

  I helped pull him up then motioned for him to lie flat on his belly as we approached the boxcar vent. We crawled together toward the lip beneath raised lid. Peeking through below, I found no sign of any disturbance among the men. With all of the noise caused by the train itself, they apparently weren’t aware of the conflict with the car that had been behind them in line.

  I scooted back from the opening so that we wouldn’t risk being seen. Then I removed several daggers from the brace given to me by Helda and waited. In these hills it was only a matter of time before we came to another tunnel. When finally we reached one and the light was blocked out around us, I called upon the gifts for heightened senses: eyesight, hearing, perception, strength and speed. I dropped through the vent opening and took several dozen men down in the ensuing confusion and chaos. When we emerged from the tunnel again, light spilled into the boxcar, revealing my handiwork. My knives and my person were covered in blood. All of the soldiers residing inside the car lay dead around me.

  Tobias dropped through after the deed was done. His eyes took in the scene, his face covered with horror and awe at what I had done. When he looked at me again, his hands were shaking noticeably. All he could manage was, “How?”

  I reached out for him, but realized my hands were drenched in blood. I pulled them back, looking for something to wipe them on, some water to clean myself. I felt ashamed before the boy. He must be in shock at the sight, I told myself.

  But Tobias looked around before smiling at me. “I think you may have taken out more soldiers than I did by derailing them back there.” He picked up a canteen from one of the corpses and removed the cap before handing it to me. He searched and found a blanket then handed it to me.

  I took it with my head low, trying to hide the tear welling in my eye. The dragons had taken me from my family and had reshaped a young daughter into a monster; a killing machine for their vile purposes. But Tobias did not see me that way. I was grateful for that.

  We took the time, before cleaning up, to dispose of the bodies. One by one, we dragged them to the side door and pushed the corpses out. The train moved on relentlessly toward whatever destination Varen intended for it. In the meantime, Tobias and I settled in with the food provisions the soldiers had brought with them in the boxcar.

  As the hours passed, I thought often of Ezekiah. Tobias told of his time with the man and how his father and sister had come to know Elithias through his preaching. Several times I had to wipe tears from my eyes; though not for my unanswered questions. Enough had been answered already. I missed the man with his kind eyes and polite smile who had never shown me any disfavor, even when I had arrived on his mountain intending to kill him.

  Even after darkness fell upon the passing countryside around us, I thought of him and prepared myself for what lay ahead. At some point this train would reach its destination. Then I would confront Varen and Jillian. I would likely face the fight of my life in the woman, not to mention Varen and his soldiers. But I would face it nonetheless and do my best to avenge the prophet whose death now caused my heart such pain.

  PURSUIT

  Ezekiah grabbed the reins as the horse dodged around him. The patchwork mare fought to get away, but Ezekiah swung up onto her back like an expert. Donavan watched from a black mare that had been abandoned still in her saddle. Ezekiah did not want to spook the horse, but time was of the essence.

  They had found the rail yard empty. Only a plethora of burning lanterns had been left to testify that anyone had been among the decomposing relics of the old world. They had been here, but had left in haste.

  Following the tunnel used by the train, for all others leading from the yard were blocked in some way, had taken nearly two hours. They had come out into rolling hills and forested lands beyond. The tunnel itself was well hidden from the city proper.

  “What now?” Donavan had asked.

  “What else?” Ezekiah had said. “We keep walking.”

  Twenty minutes later the trees had opened up to reveal a private farm. The owner had been found dead inside, apparently of natural causes. Among a few other animals still on the farm were the two horses.

  “Providence smiles upon us, my friend,” Ezekiah said as he brought the animal under control.

  “Praise Elithias,” Donavan added with a smile.

  “Indeed. Now, let’s get after that train. I have a feeling Varen may be headed for his old home.”

  “The mines?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But why?”

  “I’m not sure,” Ezekiah mused. “Perhaps a last ditch effort to free his people before the dragons catch up to him. Let’s go find out.”

  After procuring water and food provisions from the farm, they set the horses in pursuit of the locomotive. It would be a long journey, and they would doubtless remain far behind no matter how fast the horses carried them. Ezekiah only hoped that Gwen and Tobias remained safe in the meantime.

  Belial watched as his brother dragons took to the air one by one, heading on toward their patron cities as he had commanded them moments ago. His speech was not so that men might hear, but rather through their dragon minds, connected almost as one in thought. Whirlwinds stirred and died, born of their great wings beating against the air. In moments, all three were mere specks against the deepening red sky.

  He craned his massive head around so that he could take in the sweet devastation he had wrought upon Babale. It had been too long since he had unleashed his fury. His senses burned with excitement at the smell of smoke and blood. Among the ruins he heard the people stirring. Many wailed and lamented their murdered loved ones. Others moaned in agony, pressed beneath fallen wood and stone. Had he been able, Belial would have smiled.

  Still, there was work to be done. The rebels had dared to assault him and his brethren. Such insolence could not go unchecked. He would have to pursue them. His searchers informed him of the old world relics carrying Varen and his ragtag bands toward Urtah. But he would need an army.

  He surveyed the human carnage around him again with new purpose. These weak humans could still be of use to him. Belial stomped out of the rubble of his last destroyed building; one of his own minor temples as it happened. He lifted up his body and roared terribly, intending to shut the mouths of the humans
before he spoke.

  It didn’t quite work. Many screams of terror followed. He didn’t have time or patience enough to make another attempt at quieting them. “Who is there among you rabble that still has faith enough to serve the High Serpent King?” he bellowed. The entire city could have heard his deep, mighty voice resounding across the Muat Plain. “Come to me, my faithful, and hear my command!”

  Gradually, men and women of every age began to filter from the safety of homes and businesses left undamaged. One of the men even came boldly, though he bowed and scraped the ground as he drew quite near. “Oh, my lord Belial, please forgive us our trespasses against you and the other dragon lords.”

  “You would address me, human?”

  “I only wish to express my sincerest desire to serve you, my lord,” the man said. He kept his eyes averted toward the blood-streaked pavement.

  Belial considered the man for a moment. He was bold to speak at all in the presence of the High Serpent King. Such presumptuous behavior would normally end with the offender torn limb from limb. However, he had need of a man who could not only follow his commands but also be assertive enough to give them while delegating responsibility.

  Belial had been aware of the death of Benjamin, his former High Priest, when the telepathic link was lost. He now required a leader who could rally the people to do his will. He was certainly not ignorant to the fact that humans generally broke into sheer panic in his presence. A mediator worked best for everyone involved.

  “What is your name?” Belial asked.

  The man responded instantly. “Your servant is called Delon, my lord.”

  The screams that had died down earlier at his bellowing resumed now in the background. A woman, holding the limp corpse of her young son, wailed and bemoaned his loss a few yards away. Belial regarded her with irritation.

  “Delon,” Belial said, “I have need of a new High Priest to rally the people.” Belial eyed the woman again then looked squarely at Delon lying prostrate before him. “If you are that man, then deal with this disturbance at once.”

  Delon stood, looking up at Belial as he removed a long knife from the sash around his paunchy middle. He grinned then strode toward the woman holding her son. Delon grabbed her by the hair then brought his blade across her throat, ending her cries abruptly. He let her body fall on top of her son as he returned to stand before the High Serpent King. “It is done, my lord.”

  Belial watched as the woman’s lifeblood flowed out around the bodies. Delon was ruthless in his obedience; absolutely without reservation or remorse. He was exactly the kind of man Belial needed.

  “Delon, you will be my High Priest,” Belial said. “Your first duty will be to organize Babale’s faithful citizens. I want you to rebuild the priesthood so that we may create a new army in order to track down and eliminate these rebels once and for all.”

  “My lord,” Delon asked, “how will I know who is worthy?”

  “You will know,” Belial said. “I will be with you as you choose. I expect you all to gather at the main temple by midnight. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, my lord. It will be done.”

  “Now, Delon, open your mind unto me,” Belial commanded.

  Delon did his best to obey, though he was unsure of what passed for appropriate. Belial did the rest. He pushed with his spirit into the human’s mind, filling it at once. Delon nearly fainted at the sudden intrusion into the world only he had ever occupied. Belial made the mental connection with the human. Now he could command the man from afar and receive information in return. It only ever worked upon the extremely willing. But it was enough to provide him eyes and ears in almost every place within his kingdom.

  Delon had been surprised by the ease with which his selections were made. He could feel the dragon’s presence within his mind. In the hours since Belial had called him to service, the intrusion had become less painful. Still, he felt a definite sense of pride in being chosen by the High Serpent King as his primary servant in the kingdom.

  Delon strode into the temple entrance with his newly appointed priests following in four rows of twenty-five. The High Priest felt his way through the grand hall before him, following Belial’s mental leadership. He followed several sets of stairs until they arrived before a large set of doors.

  Delon pushed through and walked on with his men following after. Belial waited within the massive marble chamber. Torches and oil lavers brightly lit the room so that the High Serpent King came fully into view. Delon walked forward, while his priests began to back away cautiously.

  Belial’s head rose slowly as Delon approached. “I have brought the men you requested.” The priests looked as though they would have bolted from the chamber at the slightest provocation. The great red dragon looked beyond his new High Priest to address them directly.

  “Priests of Belial, would you run from my presence when I have called you to service?” He infused his tone with the appropriate amount of menace, warning them of the consequences for disobedience without another word.

  The men all stood still then proceeded forward to join Delon before Belial where he lay coiled elegantly upon a massive altar overlaid with gold. “You have been chosen as representatives of your race,” Belial said. “The rebels have dared to attack my person and my city. Now I have returned, and many of their carcasses lie rotting in our streets for the birds to feed upon their innards. However, many others, including Varen, have escaped. I want them destroyed from the earth once and for all.”

  Smoke billowed from Belial’s nostrils as his eyes flared with light at the thought of vengeance. “This night you will stand before me to recite the Summoning Prayer which will create my new army.”

  The men, including Delon, appeared to be puzzled by the reference, but they kept their tongues out of fear. “Do not fear your own ignorance in this matter,” Belial continued. “I will join with each of your minds as I have already with Delon. You will speak as I bid you. As representatives of my faithful, the words will bind the thousands that still live in Babale to my will. By morning, they will leave all else behind to go forward after my enemies.

  WALKING DEATH

  Andrea had never seen Tarris this bad before. But this was not a matter of civil unrest or of rebellion to the powers that be. The streets were filled with screams of rage. Homes were filled with bloodshed. Confusion reigned in the city. The people were changing; all of them. And it was happening all in one night.

  Voices grew agitated in the room. Felonius, her master, stood before his carved wooden throne, addressing a dozen various crime lords who owned their own portion of Tarris’ black market trade, or were subservient to the five who did. All of these family leaders had their bodyguards with them, as they did each time they met, which was rare.

  However, tonight was different. This was no meeting to discuss a territorial dispute, or any other mundane incident. All had come to Felonius tonight because they feared for their lives and the lives of their families and servants. Felonius happened to own the largest district of warehouses in Tarris. The various family members and underlings of every one of these crime lords were holed up within the largest of these warehouses at that moment, awaiting the outcome of this meeting.

  Only it wasn’t a place to hide that was needed, but a way of escape. “Surely, you can find another way out, if you’re so bent on pulling up stakes,” Felonius mused happily.

  Stanchion nearly flew into a rage, causing his two burly, dark-skinned bodyguards to flinch. Andrea watched them carefully from the shadows behind Felonius. They each possessed the strength of several normal men, but that mattered little to the former High Guard Captain. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, she mused.

  “Have you seen what’s happening out there, Felonius?” Stanchion bellowed. “The entire population has gone mad!”

  Felonius twirled a purple scarf around his bejeweled forefinger. “You seem sane enough, Stanchion. Surely you’re exaggerating just a bit.”

  “Non
e of us are loyal to the dragons, you fool!”

  “Careful with your tongue, Stanchion,” Felonius warned.

  Stanchion continued undaunted. “Those who worship the Serpent Kings are under their spell. Moloch is behind it.”

  Zela, the lone woman among the crime lords, spoke up at this point. “Stanchion is correct, Felonius,” she said. “One of my spies among Moloch’s temple servants saw the priests gathered together for a special prayer ceremony with the black dragon himself. All of this, apparently, is the result.”

  “It’s not like we haven’t known for some time where the death walkers come from,” Stanchion said. “But the dragons have never done anything like this before. The whole city is filled with those murderous things. We have to get out, or we’re all dead!”

  Felonius smiled. While the others in the room were sweating through this meeting, he couldn’t have enjoyed it more. After all, he had what they all wanted. “Perhaps a handsome bribe to the guards of the wall?” he asked.

  “Are you trying to be funny?” Stanchion fumed. “Our lives are on the line, as well as your own, whether you realize or not.”

  Zela remained cool-headed. “Stanchion is right, Felonius. The wraith dancers are nearly as dangerous as the death walkers. They won’t be bribed into getting us out, but perhaps you will?”

  “Me?” Felonius asked, feigning surprise. “Well, of course, if it was for a good cause like saving my dearest friends. I might be persuaded to accept restitution for my trouble.”

  “Stop your blabbing and name your price,” Stanchion insisted. “We’re wasting time!”