Breath of the Titans: The False Titanbringer: Complete Trilogy

by Riley Westbrook

  Lov looked back on the past few months that had led him to this moment. His home city, Elvenhom had been destroyed by the Titans, the professed protectors of all under Heart's banner. Lov's birthday had been just the week before, and returning to the city with his uncle, Nord was a nightmare he still fought against.

  They had traveled to Hobton to meet a friend of Nord's. Jaxon the halfling had let them into his home, giving them a safe haven to be in a dangerous world. Lov had stretched out his feelings, looking for help to save his mother.

  A dragon had come to get him. Orange and blue and majestic, Tryton, Lov's grandfather, had come to help his grandson. He had dropped Lov on a deserted island, forcing him to establish contact with his latent dragon powers.

  After releasing a shield that had held Lov's powers in check, Tryton had dropped the young half-dragon back with his uncle. Nord was happy to see his nephew, and after a period of adjustment, they began to train for war.

  Lov had thrived in Gobekli Tempe, the seat of the Anuunaki. There he had become a formidable, if inexperienced fighter. The Anuunaki, ant-like beings, had taught him that if you wanted to battle you were going to get hurt. His body had slashes and dark marks where they had managed to cut through his scaly skin with their whip tails and chitinous weapons.

  His grandfather had come back, bringing Lov to a creche of dragon hatchlings. Lov had to kill a beautiful dragon, black and purple springing green life beneath its claws, in order to survive. The young half-elf had learned that as a dragon, you never truly died. Lov had taken the skull of this dragon deep into the heart of the earth, adding it to a totem of skulls built by dragons over the eons of existence.

  When he had awoken, he had been on the shores of a strange body of water. And as he walked the beach, he saw a shaved orc staked out. Lov had given the orc water, getting directions to the nearest town. The leader of the camp had attacked the young half-dragon for his ax, and Lov killed him. In one stroke, the inexperienced boy had become a chieftain in orc society.

  And now, he stood with four other tribes at his back, ready to demand an equal voice on the Greatmothers’ Council.

  Lov turned to The'oak. “So how do we get down there?” He asked his elder advisor.

  The old shaman looked at Lov and shook his head. “We don't, you and the young one are going down. I am scarred, and not a chief, so they won't let me in.”

  “Well, that's not right. They aren't realizing the potential of their resources.” Lov shook his head disappointedly. “Don't worry, my friend, I'll be opening the city gates to our people any day now.”

  Manatua grabbed the young chief by the shoulder. Lov growled at the small orc, and Manatua let go. “Come, let us go,” the orc said, leading the way away.

  He led Lov past a guard detail. They stopped and checked anyone who wished to pass into the city, male and female alike. If they had even one scar, they were denied entry and told to move along. Those that refused were effectively driven away with whips.

  A guard stopped Lov, demanding he take his leather tunic off and show his chest. Manatua came and explained that Lov was a chieftain and the young half-elf was let through. The short shaman turned and asked Lov, “Where is it you wish to go? Food? Drink? Pleasure?”

  “I wish to go to the Greatmothers’ Council Chambers.” Lov said, spotting a cart vendor selling meat pies.

  “I wouldn't eat that if I were you.” Manatua told Lov as he prepared to bite into a flaky crusty pie. “You don't know what meat is in it.”

  “It can't be poison. He risks getting scarred and thrown out of the city.” Lov replied, getting ready to bite the pie again.

  “If you say. Just because someone has no scars doesn't mean they aren't a criminal, though. It just means they haven't been caught.” Manatua pointed to the cart vendor spearing a rat covered in sores. The orc stuffed it into a box near his cart, and Lov noticed blood running in a tiny river towards a drain.

  The young half-elf shook his head in disgust, throwing the pie on the ground, disappointed because the golden crust had looked so promising. They headed towards the center of the complex. Paxtal, Poit and Makarak had already spread out through the city, leaving Lov and Manatua to walk alone.

  A large complex stood cut from the surrounding granite itself. It presented an awe inspiring focal point against the rocky boulder strewn landscape. Animal carvings covered everything. Statues of wolves and big cats were predominant, but there were others in dozens of different animal species. Stags and snakes were the second most common. Mixed in were short figures, fat, hairy, and happy looking. All of the statues seemed to have jewel settings that were empty. Runes connected the empty settings and filled the stone with a sense of power. Every monument, every building, even the numerous statues all appeared cut from one single piece of city-sized granite. The half-dragon couldn't see a single seam anywhere between stones. It was smooth as if someone had polished a granite tabletop.

  The multistory building they entered was immense, the bottom floor could fit Lov's entire first camp in its walls. They entered a large colonnaded room. The floor was open but for the pillars that supported the ceiling. They came together in large overreaching arches over the room, making the ceiling look dome like. It all still appeared cut from a single large block of granite. Only where the orcs had made crude repairs were there any seams.

  Manatua led Lov to the stairs, and they began the long climb to the fifth floor. Every floor was patterned off of the lower floors with crude cloth walls set up to separate rooms for privacy. Orc women peeked from behind the curtains, curious to see the new chief. Lov appreciated the simplicity of rearranging rooms this way, but knew he would never be able to wrap his mind around the lack of privacy. It would be like living in a multifamily tent.

  They reached the top floor, the walls pulled in and there were no curtains splitting the room. There were fewer columns here, and the Greatmothers used the space to awesome affect. The room was neat and orderly. Large orc guardsmen stood on the outer edges of the room. They held impressive two handed bastard swords straight up as they stood at attention. Here was the organization Lov had searched the society for.

  Orcs stood, watching the proceedings as one claimed suit against another. Lov couldn't tell what was being said, but caught the gist from the way they acted. The Greatmothers listened to both sides of the issue, and meted out judgment. Neither orc appeared happy, nor unhappy either. They left, and as another claimant stepped forward to voice complaint, Lov took over.

  He strode down the aisle between astonished onlookers. He marched past the orc getting ready to speak, and stood proudly in front of the gathered Greatmothers. Thirteen intimidating women glared at him. If looks could kill, Lov would have taken many crossbow bolts to the throat.

  “Who are you?” The central woman asked. She was thin but beautiful for her age. The women all wore multicolored robes, the hues bright and almost painful on the eyes. Lov had to admit though, the colors looked appealing against their varying skin colors. They contrasted nicely with the earthy pastels of orc skin. At least they weren't hairy like the men.

  “I'm the man who will lead the tribes to greatness again.” Lov said pacing confidently. “I have five tribes under my control, and I want you to know that I plan on bringing the rest of you in line. There's a cancer on this world and I need your help to stop it.”

  The Greatmothers rolled their eyes in unison, hardly shocked at this arrogant upstart. Others had come in claiming the same thing, but few had been lucky enough to escape with their lives. A fat and wrinkly old woman stood up, waving her arms aggressively. “Foolish boy! We have serious matters to attend to. If you hadn't shown yourself to be such a fool, we would have you scarred and staked out. As it is, you'll just have to carry your shame in your nakedness, for the whole world to see every second of every day. Now begone, and let us do our work.”

  Lov took a step back, baffled. Never had anyone treated him as less than them, and it was not a good feeling. As he prep
ared to blast the Greatmothers, the orc Lov had interrupted stepped up.

  “Greatmother Kahia, an army of Anuunaki approaches the city. We've been trying to drive them off for days, but they are stubborn and refuse to leave.” He said before bowing his head to wait for instructions.

  Lov's eyebrows raised, an unexpected development might prove useful in his plans. “Greatmothers! I stand here before you as nothing in your eyes. Let me prove my greatness to you. I'll go out, by myself, and stop this army.”

  The central Greatmother's green skin deepened a few shades. Her almond shaped eyes flashed brightly, and her mouth twisted and contorted in rage. “Your arrogance is something unmatched among the orcs. Look at your friend, cowering at your side.” Lov flicked his gaze over, seeing Manatua bowing his forehead to the ground before this woman. “But you are young, and ignorant. I can't wait to knock you off your pedestal, and throw you in with the rest of the elves.” She waved her hand, shooing him as she said, “Go take care of this army, and show us what you are capable of.”

  The half-elf had the opening he needed. He bowed, striding from the chamber, Manatua hot on his trail. “What the hell was that, Lov?” the young shaman asked, all but running to keep up with Lov's longer quick strides.

  “That was me setting us up for power.” Lov replied, following the orc that had come to deliver the message to the Greatmothers. “Trust me, she has just given me a way to seize it.”

  The young half-dragon passed through the packed streets, dodging through the tight crowds, eager to reach his uncle and the Anuunaki. He passed through the gates to the city easily, the guards were there to keep people out, not in.

  Lov looked back at the Greatmothers' Complex as he made his way across the rocky plain. In the distance, he could see the dust cloud kicked up by the orcs defending their lands. The young man headed for them, not entirely confident in how he was going to stop the fighting. When he reached the back lines, he demanded to speak to the commanders. After a bit of arguing, the army began to split apart. They headed towards different areas of the land and left Lov alone before the Anuunaki army.

  Slowly the area empty of orcs widened as more worked themselves free of the slick goo and rushed after their tribes. Lov calmly approached the Anuunaki, calling out, “Where's Nord?” as loudly as he could.

  The tall elf heard someone calling his name and pushed through the ranks, demanding to know what was going on. When he saw Lov standing there, the big elf let out a cheer. He slipped and fell in the goo, eager to get a hold of his nephew. Carefully, he rose to his feet, asking an Anuunaki to propel him forward. Nord slid along the goo, grabbing Lov in a tight hug when he reached him. “Whoop! Lovonian! I thought we were going to have to track you down. Since you're here, we can get out of here quicker!” the giant elf said excitedly.

  “That's not going to work, Uncle. In fact, I need you to come with me back to the city.” Lov replied, pointing back towards the Complex.

  “Do you have a death wish, boy? Orcs may be stupid, but they're violent. And damned good at that violence.” Nord tried to grab Lov's upper arm and drag him towards the Anuunaki, but the young man yanked his arm free aggressively.

  “I'm not kidding, Uncle. We need to get back to the city. I'm going to turn the orcs into the greatest fighting force the land has ever seen, with the help of you, Sanche, and the Anuunaki. Speaking of Sanche, where is the old man?” Lov craned his head around, looking for his teacher.

  Sadness settled over Nord's deep blue eyes. “We lost him. He was killed by a nasty black slick. It tore through half the camp before it was able to be stopped.”

  Lov refused to believe it. “He's not dead, I need him for my plan! He's the one I was going to ask to teach the orcs to fight together! Like an army, and not a rabble.”

  “It's true. All the more reason to escape now if your plan is ruined.” Nord said sadly.

  “My plan isn't ruined, I'll just have to modify it some. Come with me, Uncle. The Anuunaki can quit spraying. We'll be safe until we hit the city.” Lov turned, trotting across the rocks towards the lights and smoke of civilization. He left Nord to lead the Anuunaki army after him.

  The tall elf shook his head before pointing after his nephew, directing the Anuunaki to follow the little blue gray storm cloud.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Anuunaki set up camp a few hundred feet from the walls of the city, and Lov headed inside to talk to the Greatmothers. Nord tried to follow him, but was denied entrance until a runner was sent to the Greatmothers for permission. Once received, Lov and Nord headed towards the council chambers.

  Lov strode purposefully through the city, heading into the council building and bringing Nord to the top level. The room was empty, but for the council members. Thirteen chiefs and Greatmothers surrounded the chamber. Manatua flashed Lov a smile, the half-elf glared when he saw the small shaman held his ax.

  “What is this?” Lov demanded, striding to the center of the room.

  Kahia smiled wickedly at Lov. “One of your subordinates thinks you cheated in their fight, using orc powers against us. He doesn't believe you're strong enough to lead us without the power of this weapon.”

  Lov shook his head, and began to laugh, a hint of madness entering the sound. The Greatmothers all looked around at each other uneasily. Paxtal and Makarak signed an apology for the deception of their brother, before showing a solid face with the rest of the orcs. When the young half-dragon had collected his breath, he shook his head again, and turned to face his accuser. “So this is you, Manatua. I thought we were becoming friends. We've talked about spirit traveling and speaking to beings on other planes. Why? Why would you betray me?”

  “This weapon belongs in the hands of an orc, not some upstart half-elf.” Lov watched as elven slaves passed drinks amongst the Greatmothers and chiefs as Manatua continued. “You didn't understand the power you held.”

  “You're right, I don't know the power of that weapon. If you want to fight me for it, Manatua, fine, but you should realize what I'm going to do if you challenge me.” Lov began to pace the room looking at Kahia who seemed to be the leader of the Greatmothers. “If you challenge me and you win, you'll be able to save your people from the upheaval I'll cause. Think of my dreams I've told you about. Imagine the possibilities you stifle. And if you lose, I will take over your whole society, and force harder changes upon you. Are you Greatmothers prepared to deal with those consequences?”

  “Bah, you cannot beat an orc in a fair fight. Without your ax, Manatua should have no problems fighting you. If you win, we will agree to consider your demands, if you lose, well, it won't matter.” Kahia's smile deepened, thinking of the blood sport that was preparing to be unleashed.

  “No deal. Either I win and I get what I want, or you can all die, and I'll impose my rule from a dictatorship. I'd rather have the support of the Greatmothers. It would make things happen so much smoother.” Lov strode to the top of the Greatmothers' dais, stopping in front of Kahia and sticking out his hand. “Is it a deal?”

  The thin Greatmother looked around the room, getting unspoken communication from the other mothers. They all agreed. Stopping this upstart was of utmost importance. But if they failed, the consequences would be horrific. The votes ended up being eleven mothers for, two against.

  Manatua's two brothers' tribes, the Mailua de Gruumnsh and surprisingly, the Garta de Gruumnsh were Lov's supporters. Poit and Paxtal moved with their Greatmothers to stand behind Lov showing support for the young man.

  “Then it is settled. A fight for supremacy. Reminds me of the stories Greatmother Nika used to tell me from her lap.” She looked from Lov and Manatua, settling on the small orc before she spoke. “Whichever of you two wins, you will have powers unfounded in orc society since Jarltal.” She gestured to the other Greatmothers. “You will speak with our voice, full support, and your word will be as law. The battle will be set up for tomorrow. We'll toss you into the pit, and whoever comes out will be our leader.”

/>   Nord standing next to Lov asked his nephew, “So what just happened? I didn't understand a single word, but it seems they aren't exactly happy.”

  Lov smiled at his uncle. “I've forced them into a position they don't like. Either they support the short orc there with my ax, hoping to keep the old ways. Or they support me, knowing that I plan to overturn their entire society. I'm building the elves a new homeland, Uncle, here deep in the heart of the Orc Lands.”

  The tall elf shook his head. “You sound just as crazy as your father used to.”

  Hakim sat under a tree, staring at his opium pipe. He felt the insidious pull of the only thing that had given his life light for the last few months. The chunk of black tar in his pouch carried a blissful promise of everything being alright. But since he started to follow Tyrosh, it had felt different. More a surrender to himself, a giving up against the onslaught that the world brought. Following her filled him with more courage, but more sorrow for the past. Smoking his opium dulled the pain of loss, at the sacrifice of not living.

  He shoved his pipe back into his pouch, pulling the slug of opium from it. Hakim walked to Jacob, a large man who had started following Tyrosh for food, and handed the drug to him. “Please, take this away from me. I don't want to remember its power over me.”

  “Alright.” Jacob replied, pocketing it. He could give it to his family. Surely amongst his relatives there would be someone who used it for pain.

  Hakim went back and leaned under the tree, looking to the lady who sat above him. She still didn't talk much, but the brown man had learned it was relaxing to just let go. Not to worry about time, or what was happening, and just be. It built one's soul. Left one to think, about past happenings or one's future. Both aspects, positive, negative, and all of the consequences.

  He knew when Tyrosh was ready to climb from the tree without her moving a muscle. Her presence filled the air above Hakim's head, and he prepared to catch her should she fall climbing down. Slowly the petite woman made her way down the tree. He could see a vicious scar across the back of her heel. A part flopped free from the ankle, never having healed properly. She sat on her rump at the base of the tree grunting in pain, and Hakim rushed forwards to bind the old injury with a cloth.