Breath of the Titans: The False Titanbringer: Complete Trilogy

by Riley Westbrook

  He spotted glass balls filled with a liquid marking the path. He walked over to one and gently flicked it. It shed an eerie blue light that not even the blackness of Lov's scales could absorb. He shined bright blue in the light, glowing like the fairy that had visited him. He continued down the corridor.

  The young half-dragon passed through a doorway and arrived in an immense chamber. It was filled with gold and silver statues, uncut gems, jewelry both plain and ornate, and riches of all kinds. It was an immense vault full of treasure. The hunger in Lov screamed with glee. It took every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to pile some of it up in a high mound and swim in it.

  In front of him, a small clearing with stands showed what Lov assumed were favorites. An ornate chest, gem encrusted and inlaid in gold and mithril, it shone beautifully in the low light.

  Another was a suit of armor old and ancient looking. It consisted of simple plates worn on the body, but Lov could sense a presence in them. A golden statue of a naked fairy moved! She went from standing straight to bending over provocatively, and flashing Lov a kiss. He gave a start and left the room, in search of his uncle.

  He found Nord at the end of the opposite hallway standing in the center of an immense training room. Various training dummies and targets lined one side of the room. Along another was an obstacle course filled with traps and pitfalls and all kinds of moving blades and smashing clubs. But Nord was looking at the weapon collection.

  If he knew Jaxon at all, these were the weapons of the fallen generals of the Orc Wars. Both sides had decided to use an assassination style take-over on the same day. The result was the death of the elven king without a proper successor. They also succeeded in beheading the army as well. Most of the elf generals with any sense of strategy were taken by dark rituals. The council had tried to take the reins in the war, but failed miserably. Amon had been the one to step forward and fill that void.

  Nord and the elves landed their own blow upon the orcs. Suicide teams worked their way deep into opposing lands, killing tribal leaders, and attempting to split the orc alliance. They missed Greatmother Nika in the assualt. She forged the men of her tribe into a hammer that smashed across the whole of the land. Her army pressed at the very walls of Heart itself, the seat of the Titan empire.

  Only the Titans had been able to stop the orcs. The elven resistance, led by a much less experienced Nord and his brother Amon, had joined their intelligence gathering with the might of the Titanbringer Gendry. Once that happened, the orcs never stood a chance. The Titans sliced through the orc army like a blade being quenched in snow. The Greatmother Nika fell in battle attempting to drive her horde through the walls of Heart. The Titans smashedhed her and her army against the walls. What few survivors there were made their way back to their lands to lick their wounds, and for some to claim chiefdoms in the chaos. Nord realized he'd been talking out loud, and gave himself a shake.

  Nord turned to Lov, a smile on his face. "Sounds just like something I'd expect Jaxon to do. Find all these weapons to preserve them. He always did believe in the powers of totems and talismans.”

  "And you don't?" Lov asked.

  "Of course I do." Nord replied, admiring the weapons. There were axes, maces, ornate and plain. There were staves, swords, and everything in between. Some were etched, others were carved. Made of wood and metal. Stacked floor to ceiling, and they all looked beautiful.

  Nord picked up a dagger and a long sword He also chose an ornately carved elven shield. "Pick a couple, I'm sure Jaxon won't mind if we use them to learn basics."

  Lov admired and appraised every weapon. He picked up every club, every sword. Swung every staff, just trying to get a feel for the weapons. One, a broadsword he knew was too big for himself, he gave to Nord saying, "It fits you better."

  Nord pulled the sword from the scabbard, the soft blue steel shone brightly in the light of the bulbs. He swung the sword back and forth, feeling it whistle through the wind as a soft cry arose from the blade.

  "This is the sword of our last king!" Nord said, shock and awe in his voice. "This mighty sword and the elves that wielded it protected our lands. It's fitting that now of all times it should return to the hands of an elf." Nord appraised his nephew. "You have an eye, young one."

  Lov bobbed his head saying, "Cool, I like the soft whisper of a song that comes off it when you wave it." His hunger wished he had swung it before giving it to Nord. "I know it's yours, but can I try it out?"

  As Nord handed it to Lov, it hummed sweetly, but as soon as it hit Lov's hand, all the singing stopped. Lov swung it a few times, attempting to elicit a sound, but the blade remained silent. He handed it back to Nord, full of disappointment. He felt his hunger scream and curse.

  As Lov continued down the wall, he stopped, pulling a scimitar that hummed with power. Ivy vines were etched down the back of the scimitar and it was flexible, but strong. Lov tested the weapon, giving a few swings and liked the feel of how the blade cut through the air. It also balanced nicely in his hands, easy to maintain a grip on.

  He placed it back on the wall to pull a battle ax down. It was all of one piece, blue, yellow, and red metals all alloyed together in a brindle pattern. The ax blade was wide and sharp, while the other side had a hammer head, an eye emblazoned upon it. The shaft was long enough he could use it as a walking stick.

  An eye stared out from the back of the ax head. "Of course," Nord said, a hint of exasperation in his voice, "you have to choose the one weapon that's obviously orc made." Nord fingered the seal on the ax head. "That's the same symbol as our family signet." He said as he reached into his pouch and pulled the ring out. "It's the sign of the orc god, Gruumnsh. He is a god of power and strength. If you're going to wield that, maybe you should hold this."

  Lov eyed the ring, then declined. "How about you hold onto it for me, Uncle. That way I know it’s with a family member." Lov swung the ax experimentally. It was heavy for him, and the haft was a little long, but Lov could appreciate the brutal efficiency of the ax. "I think this is the one I'll ask Jaxon about." He said, setting the haft on the ground and leaning on the pole.

  He continued down the line of weapons, one hand stretched out touching them, the other getting used to the weight of the ax. As he caressed the last one, he inhaled sharply.

  "I don't believe it." He said. Nord looked around to see who he boy was talking to, but no one was around. "Alright." Lov said again to thin air. He lifted the sword as if to test it and then let it go. The blade floated in the air, as if held by some invisible hand. It was a beautiful long sword, the hilt was wrapped in leather, and the blade was made of a bluish alloy. It moved as if it had a mind of its own, floating aggressively towards the tall elf.

  Nord jumped back, startled as the sword attacked him. Lov reached out, snatching it from the air before it could hurt his uncle, shoving it into the scabbard. Nord eyeballed the sword as Lov passed him, battle ax in hand.

  "You can't use that floaty sword tomorrow, that's cheating. And we'll have to see about making some practice weapons. I'll trade the blacksmith for some handles and weight. The good thing about teaching you the ax is it’s just like teaching you a club. All you really have to do is hit your opponent and let the weapon do the work."

  That night Nord fashioned two clubs with flat stones bundled in cloth to simulate ax heads for practice the next day.

  Lov slept well that night. The next morning he rose before the sun, leaving the house and taking his bow and quiver with him. He walked through the town, getting a feel for the day. Few people were out and about, and those that were, seemed too tired to notice the young half-dragon as he blended in with the morning fog. He walked away from the town, hoping to find a small bird or a squirrel to have for breakfast. Lov walked with an arrow nocked, searching for small game. Suddenly, a bird flew from a bush bordering the road. He fired without thought, catching the bird on the fly, and ran over to where it landed.

  The young man winced in pain shared as he saw he h
ad missed his mark. He had aimed for a quick death, but instead, the arrow went through one of its wings, effectively breaking it. Lov ran up and snapped the bird's neck, wanting to end its suffering. Part of him had enjoyed it, his hunger reveled in knowing he had caused that bird to suffer. It called for him to drink its blood after snapping the poor avian's neck. Lov wished he could sever that part of himself.

  He carried the bird home, then gutted and plucked it in the yard. Once done, he then went inside and set it on a spit over the fireplace. He lit some kindling with his flint and steel and built a small fire to cook the bird. He also placed a pot of water to boil for coffee.

  All that finished, he went out and milked the goat. After Lov took the milk filled pitcher inside, he called Nord for breakfast.

  They split the bird Lov had shot, and went out to do what small chores needed to be done. When they finished, Nord went back into the house, and grabbed their practice weapons. He dragged Lov down the stairs and into the training room. The blue bulbs reflected off the smooth stone floors, filling the room with their pale light.

  Nord approached an old training post, cuts and chunks of wood missing from it. He motioned Lov over. "Come here and show me your fighting stance."

  Lov walked over and dropped into what he thought was a loose fighting stance.

  Nord shook his head. "Well, at least it seems you don't have any bad habits I need to beat out of you." He said, stepping around Lov. "But it appears I have to start with the basics." He stepped close to Lov and used his own weapon to force Lov's legs farther apart. "You need to set your base wider... and spread your hands out more, you have them too close together. That will give you more power, but you'll sacrifice control for it. Like all fighting, you'll learn there's a time and place for it all."

  When he was satisfied with Lov's grip and stance, Nord stepped back and assumed his own stance. "Alright, try to hit me."

  Lov gave a half-hearted swing, not wanting to hurt his uncle. Nord caught Lov's weapon with his own, twisting his ax head around Lov's and sending the young one's weapon flying to the ground.

  Nord gave him a good hard thump on the head. "Don't pussyfoot me, boy!"

  Lov snatched his weapon from the ground. His rock head had been torn off. He set up his stance as if it were still there, and fought with everything he had. He managed a short exchange of three blows before Nord landed a solid hit to Lov's arm.

  "You're gonna be sporting some bruises tomorrow, if you keep letting me abuse you like that, boy. Don't try to hit me with the head, just try to hit me. No matter what part of the weapon you hit me with, it’s going to hurt."

  Lov shook his head. "That's the problem Uncle, I don't want to hurt you."

  Nord glared hard at Lov. "Then think of me as something you want to hurt. Picture me as Reggie."

  Lov nodded, "I'll try." He said.

  Nord gestured menacingly at Lov. "That's a crock of shit and you know it. You don't try. You either do it or you don't." He said emphatically to his nephew.

  Lov nodded and assumed his stance. He thought of his uncle as Reggie, picturing him as the mismatched suit of armor that had watched him all his young life. The memory of the council chamber, and finding his beloved father dead on the floor returned to him. A scream of rage erupted from him and he attacked Nord with a ferocity the tall man was not expecting. Lov dove at him, thrusting the club head in his face, then swung the handle around in a wild arc that just barely missed Nord's head.

  Lov let go of his pain and anguish, letting his hunger feed upon it and guide him as he fought. He jumped and twisted, pivoted and slammed the haft of his weapon at Nord's face. It was taking every bit of Nord's skill to keep Lov at bay, and he was growing impressed with his nephew.

  He jumped away from Lov calling, "Enough." Lov ignored him and charged onward. Nord shook his head thinking, when will this boy ever learn? While doing a front flip over Lov, he caught the young one on the back of the head with his practice weapon.

  When Lov came to, Nord stood over him, holding out a cup of coffee. "Here, Lov, get up and let's talk about what I think we need to focus on for you."

  They put their practice weapons up and went inside, looking for food. They walked to a nearby hill and sat in the grass, eating a meal of chicken and spiced potatoes.

  "Your technique leaves much to be desired. You have good balance and fast reflexes, but any opponent that's a decent defender will pick you apart. We need to develop your defensive techniques while not gimping you offensively."

  Lov nodded, knowing what his uncle meant. A few times today he had left himself wide open.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next two days dragged on. They started the mornings doing chores, then spent the afternoons working on Lov's ax technique. He got better every day, and held his own when he gave into his hunger. When he didn't though, he was severely outclassed. At the end of the second day, Lov and Nord were having a furious exchange. They swung and sliced, blocked and dodged. It was an epic contest, until Lov slipped in the dirt. Without thought, Nord swung his ax around, catching Lov with an upward swing. It hit Lov squarely in the eye and sent him flying a few feet. The young half-elf lay on the ground for a second, then shook his head, attempting to rid it of the ringing.

  Nord dropped his practice weapon, rushing to check on his nephew. "Son of a bitch, that looked like it hurt." He said, as he dropped to the ground next to Lov.

  Lov saw his opening and took it. He swung his ax handle around and clocked Nord right between his eyebrows, catching Nord's nose as well, causing blood to pour from his nostrils.

  Nord jumped up cursing, "Dammit, Lov! I know I said hurt me, but I didn't mean for you to kill me!" The giant elf yelped at the impudent whelp on the ground, spitting blood from his mouth while glaring at his nephew.

  Lov cast his eyes downward and dropped his weapon. "Well, Uncle, I was just doing what you taught me. If I had slipped in a real fight, and gotten cold cocked, and my enemy had come to gloat over me, thinking me hurt worse than I was," Lov shifted his eyes from the ground to Nord, "I would do the same thing."

  Nord continued to glare at Lov as he mulled over what the young man had said. Slowly Lov watched the smile creep back into Nord's eyes. Not long after, it was soon on his face. He fiercely hugged his nephew, then held him at arm's length.

  "Just so you know, the next time you pull some shit like that, I'll hit you for real, not just practice." He grabbed Lov's face, turning it to get a look at where his ax head had hit. There was a split next to Lov's right eyebrow, and dark red flesh poked out between the scales. "Looks like I clocked you good. No permanent damage, though." Nord walked from the training room, motioning Lov to follow him. They stepped outside and Nord looked to the dark clouds overhead. A soft thunder rumbled towards them.

  "Looks like rain tonight." Nord motioned Lov back towards the house. Water droplets spattered his shoulders as he reached the building, going through the front door behind Lov. And then the heavens opened and rain fell by the bucketful. A blinding white light lit everything and thunder crashed loud enough to shake Jaxon’s home.

  Nord looked out into the yard. "Talk about a close call."

  Lov watched for a moment listening to his hunger. It was telling him he should go out and enjoy the rain shower, luxuriate in it. And he decided to do it. He stripped to his small clothes and walked out the door. Nord watched and shook his head. "If you're gonna do that, you better go and get the soap, give yourself a decent scrub."

  "That's a good idea, Uncle!" Lov replied, disappearing around a corner of the house, returning a moment later with the soap. He stepped under the eave, out of the rain, to place a good lather on his scales. When he was covered in white suds, he stepped back out and felt the rain wash the dirt and grime, as well as the general feeling of filth, from his body. He padded inside, dripping puddles all over the floor.

  "I know one thing for sure. You better clean all this mess up before Jaxon gets home or he just might give you an ass whoop
ing." Nord said matter of factually.

  Lov chuckled. "You really think he could beat me in a fight?" Lov asked, thinking of his uncle's short friend.

  "Oh yes, I do believe he would use you as a mop, young one."

  Lov laughed as he grabbed a towel and dried himself. Afterward, he grabbed a mop and cleaned the water and mud from the floor. In this time, Nord sat reading a book, absently picking at a roll left on the table from this morning. Lov went to throw some clothes on and when he returned, sat next to his uncle. "What are you reading?" He asked, curious as to what things a man like his uncle would read.

  "This?" Nord asked, raising his attention from the book. "This is Rorchester Wallace's Journey Along the Way." Nord looked thoughtful for a moment. "Reading this makes things not seem so bad. Sure we've lost our homeland, sure our friends and family are scattered on the winds. But at least I don't have a festering wound in my side, and I'm not worrying about having to give my life for the world to survive."

  Lov shook his head unable to believe anyone would read that fantastical tripe. He turned to the fire and picked up some kindling from where it was kept. He placed it upon the table, then turned to his uncle. "So, Uncle, you think there might be something I can use as a focus around here?"

  Nord looked around the house. He spotted a checkerboard on a shelf, and walked over to examine the pieces. The reds were painted wood, but the blacks were made of obsidian, dragon glass. Nord took two of the black pieces, one for himself, the other for Lov.

  As he handed it to Lov, Nord warned his young nephew, "Be careful. It won't be hard to hurt yourself with this."

  Lov took the stone, thanking his uncle. He sat at the table, piling the kindling together. He rubbed the stone, thinking of the wood lighting. He concentrated all of his thought, tried to pour his very soul into it. Nothing seemed to happen and after a quarter of an hour, he felt like an idiot and jumped from the chair. He ran to the door, throwing it wide.