Grivina did not respond, nor did Ariston expect her to do so. She was of fewer words than even he was, and he smiled to himself at her beauty, watching her crouch beside him, sleek in her dusky brown fur, her liquid amber eyes watching the trail below him. He was thankful they had been blessed with four kits at a previous mating. He knew that if she were to perish, he would throw himself off the highest cliff he could find. That was the way of the male Wolven. One life, one mate was their way.
"Rolf. Get ready!" he growled softly, and the other nodded. Rolf was his best friend, brother, and littermate. Some might think there was no difference between a littermate and a brother, but in reality, the difference was vast. A littermate simply meant born at the same time by the same mother, whereas a brother was the one who crouched at your back when you were outnumbered, who shared their last bite of fresh haunch with you in lean times, and one who held your secrets and desires close when you needed to talk to someone in secret. In this case, Rolf was also his littermate, so, as far as Ariston was concerned, it was a win-win relationship.
Each crouched behind small boulders, ready to dislodge the rocks from the side of the mountain, where they would impact even larger boulders on their way to the trail below, which was currently lined with Jugazi troops and pack horses. Those same Jugazi were searching for Summit Pack, and Ariston was determined to dissuade them.
"Now," he whispered, and both carefully gave their rocks tiny pushes, just enough to dislodge them from their resting places. They immediately ducked out of sight, gathering under a rocky overhang as the mountain started to shudder from the avalanche they had just created. The trembling was severe enough that small rocks and gravel fell from above, but the Wolven ignored it as they crept along the shelf to where it cut inward, into the mountain and to a place they could climb away from the pass. They had no need to see the results of their handiwork. Nor did they wish to. The screams had been loud and plentiful. To look over the edge might mean discovery by those below who survived. Instead, they would receive a report from pack members who were well hidden and watching from a distance in front of and behind the column of Jugazi. They would let Ariston know how successful the ambush had been and as far as the dark ones knew, what happened was a simple act of nature and no blame would fall on them if the Jugazi did catch up.
"Come, it is time to go," he said quietly as they pulled themselves to the top of the crevice and loped for the rest of their pack hidden in the rocks and trees some distance away. Once there, they feasted on cold mountain deer and swapped stories. Ariston found they had killed over a hundred of the invaders. The rest had decided to camp on the trail while they tended their injured, and as far as the scouts could tell, the Jugazi were not actively looking for Wolven which meant the Jugazi suspected nothing.
"Perhaps we should do their bidding?" said Grivina as they finished their meal and prepared to depart this location, taking special pains to leave no trace though the pack numbered over a thousand including kits.
"Grivina, they broke their promise to us of larger hunting grounds. They refuse to allow us to spread beyond our small area, and our people have been unable to multiply because of this, while their own breed like mice. The Jugazi burn whole sections of forest, killing more than one pack in an attempt to force us to do their bidding. Besides, most of us died in the last two Great Wars. Have you forgotten the stories?"
"No, my mate. I just hate running like some terrified animal recently escaped from the cage." She growled as the hackles on the back of her neck rose. Ariston was about to reply when a deep growl sounded within his head, and he found himself groveling in the dirt at Grivina's feet. From her and the others that tumbled to the ground prostrating themselves, it was safe to say all near him also heard the voice of their god.
[Gather fifty of your best fighters together from different packs. They will go to the games this year in Crystal City, and you will lead them.] To say the god spoke would not be accurate, it was much more of a growl that was simply understood.
What? But mighty Fenrir, we've never attended the human games. They will kill us on sight. Especially those in Illian, whom we prey upon for tools and basic necessities.
[You will find a white cloth and attach it to a pole, you will put my symbol on it, and you will walk proudly in the open, upon the roads man built in Jordache. They will not harm you. The games are a time of truce for one moon before and one moon after. You will need to hurry.]
What will we do there?
[I have not decided, other than I wish to view this new champion of Ares. When you are there, I will occupy your body when you meet him. Perhaps I will kill him, most likely, in fact.]
No, please, it will mean my doom. I have four kits that need my hunting.
[You will not be harmed if you obey me. Disobey, and I will see you and yours suffer long painful deaths. Realize, Ariston, that the Wolven are one of my few remaining followers, and I will not needlessly see you exterminated.] As quick as that, the god was gone from his thoughts, and slowly Ariston and the others rose from the ground, carrying bewildered expressions on their faces. Ariston turned to Rolf.
"Rolf. You will stay behind. I know you wish to come, but when the god has me kill or try to kill this new champion, it will mean my end. I need someone to care for my mate and kits. You are without mate, my brother. You will take her as your own when I do not return. Swear to me now!"
Rolf pondered his words for a long moment, then nodded as the two placed their taloned fingers together in a grip of fists, drawing blood from the each other’s palms, the nails piercing flesh. It was their blood oath, irrevocable. Ariston ignored the wailing Grivina at his feet as he finished his deer. Later, he put together nine squads to send out to the other nearby packs for fighters. He had much to think about this night and even more planning.
Chapter 11
~Dru~
Dru forked a pitchfork full of hay into the mule stall and then another on top of it as he went about his daily chores. He had already fed the horses, giving them one wrinkled winter apple each per the instructions from head trader Oskins of Free Patch Post, which is what they called this trading village close to the Illian pass. It was actually a trading post but had grown over the years to resemble a small village, and Oskins was fond of saying it was a true village, now that they had enough children to tempt the priests into opening a school.
Dru noticed that priests seemed to come in two flavors, the conceited and the humble. Hopefully, when a teacher was appointed, it would be from the humble kind, but he equally desired one for his own learning. If the priest or priestess were of the humble sort, he could rest assured they would not mind loaning him books to further his own education. If the reverse were true, he could count on exactly no help and tithes, which meant he would have to move again. Lately, he had been praying to Dionysus for just this to happen; the part about moving, not the tithing. He knew Dionysus was one of the gods of Chaos, but he was just perverse enough to grant Dru's prayers. You never could tell with that particular god. He was wild and crazy but seemed to have a good heart. The one thing he liked about the god of Chaos was that he was not afraid to talk to his worshipers.
Frequently, almost daily, Dru would get little tidbits from the fun, happy, and crazy god. "Steal the wine from that wedding ceremony,” or set that house on fire. I don't like that man." Actually, it was all in fun, or so Dru thought. He ignored the more outrageous demands and only concentrated on those pertaining to his well-being. Dru only had to be careful that he did not follow any instructions that would put him in the stocks or tied to the post for a whipping.
Dru threw another forkful into the stall and paused to wipe his brow. At over six feet and easily two hundred and forty pounds of thick, heavy muscle, he was a big man. Sharp brown eyes set in thick heavy brows gave him a deformed look, but he was thankful for his appearance because it hid the intelligence within his brain. He had learned from an early age that showing just how smart you were could be a bad thing.
>
Dru had been a wanderer since leaving his home of Frupoint, the village he was raised in. He had also been driven from there by his father at fourteen. Now, at seventeen, he had resided in over a dozen villages, some better than others, but all having one thing in common, the need for manual labor, which he was currently doing at Free Patch Post. The work was hard, working for so many traders at a group rate, but it paid a penny a day with room and board thrown in. Room and board consisted of a meal of barley or rye gruel in the morning, sometimes sweetened with honey, and the same at night before he went to bed, often accompanied by a small piece of bread and a thick strip of bacon as wide as his palm. Occasionally, when he cleaned the chicken coops, he was able to steal an egg or three, sucking them down raw for the extra protein, and then burying the shells or eating them. However, the last trading trips to Illian had been prosperous for the head trader, and every now and then, he received a piece of chicken from their own table.
The thought of their table reminded him of Keepa. Oh, by the god's, she was sweet. She was the only daughter of Oskins and his first wife, who died of the coughing sickness almost a decade ago. Dru had not been there, but the villagers were more than happy to fill him in on the details of the story. The sickness had swept the village, and before a priest could arrive to perform healing, almost forty people had died, including Oskin's wife. His only daughter by that union being Keepa, he was especially protective of her, but that only covered the normal villager boys, for Dru did not even count, being beneath someone of such station as Keepa, daughter of Oskins. Because Dru was the dung sweeper of the trading post, along with half a hundred other tasks, and he was beneath those of normal or superior blood as Oskins was fond of saying. However, his station did not stop Keepa from talking to him. Nor, did it stop Dru from dreaming the impossible.
Sweet Keepa, who smuggled in legs of chicken and an extra few slices of bacon for his meals, the same one who talked to him endlessly about her dreams of becoming a singer while raving about his dreams of becoming a writer. Not that he really wanted to be a scribe, but he did want to write. He enjoyed putting quill to paper, writing his own thoughts in his own way. Dru jerked himself to a halt in his thinking; once again, he was sidetracked in the thought process department.
Keepa was like the sun rising in the morning, a breath of fresh air near a smoking fire and…totally above his station in life, but it was fun to daydream. The summer games were coming to Jordache soon, and he knew Keepa wished to go, but her papa said no, which made Dru even more determined to make it happen, somehow, someway.
[You're about to get your chance, young Dru.] Dru did not ask who it was in his thoughts. He already knew.
What, have you decided to show me a hidden cache of gold? Dru thought with humor as the god was mostly about fun, but would never grant him the means to have that fun. Something about earning it on his own or something, which would usually get him whipped.
[Not exactly, but I arranged quality time for you with your girl.]
Oh God! thought Dru to himself.
[Yes?]
Dionysus. What have you done? Now Dru was frightened, more frightened than he had been in a very long time. Not even being kicked out of the last village just before winter had frightened him this badly, because he knew Dionysus, he knew how the god worked, and if the crazy being that was a god of Chaos “helped,” then mostly likely the outcome would be very bad indeed. Tell me, please. Now he begged.
[Dru, I granted your prayer.]
Dionysus, please tell me specifically how you granted my prayer. If you do, I promise to steal wine from the next wedding. Now tell me.
[Well, since you put it that way. It was simple, so no thanks are necessary. You see, this Illian commander was trying to decide which of two villages he and his men would attack. You know rape, pillage, and murder type attack. Well, then I have you praying to get Keepa alone for quality time, and I thought to myself, why not help the lad out? So, you might wish to collect her because I'm pretty sure the attack will start in a matter of minutes.]
"YOU DID WHAT?!" screamed Dru aloud, throwing the pitchfork down and running as fast as his thick legs could carry him. Practically flying out the barn doorway, he ran full tilt to the house, bursting through the back door before he could stop, only to find Keepa in the kitchen, kneading bread.
"Keepa, we're leaving now. I can't explain. We have no time."
"Make time Dru, I'm watching my brother and sisters. I'm not going anywhere until mom gets back from the market."
"Grrr, then bring them. We have to leave, or we're all dead. You don't understand!" now Dru was almost in tears, tugging on her arm, afraid to use force but knowing the likely outcome of an Illian raid. Just my luck, he thought as Keepa pulled her arm free and rounded on him.
"Dru, what are you getting on about? What is this about being dead?"
"Keepa!" he wailed. "Dionysus told me the Illian were attacking within minutes. We need to leave now."
"Dionysus? You mean the god? Why would a god talk to you?"
"By the twenty hells of Shianna, why are you asking so many questions? I've been talking to that crazy god for over a year. He isn't right in the head, and he just guided an Illian war party to the trading post because I simply asked him to help me spend more time with you. Now, get the kids. We are leaving, even if I have to carry you," he shouted to a face that had paled with comprehension. Then Keepa was running to the front of the dwelling, and, moments later, returning with three children in tow.
[I should be offended by that comment of yours, but I am having too much fun. Besides I am simply fulfilling your wish.] Dru ignored the god. He was busy roping the kids together with the clothesline he'd taken down from a nail driven into the wall next to the rear door, then a knot in Keepa's belt, and he was dragging them out the door after picking up the large wood and stone hammer that leaned just under the rope. "Help Rewa," he commanded Keepa as he pulled them through the yard at a slow run, the fastest pace he thought the children were capable of though all four of them, including Keepa, were keeping up a constant litany of complaints. He ignored them.
They were heading for the front gate when he heard the commotion and screams from ahead. His feet skidded to a halt. Too late, he thought as he turned left and headed between two houses, trying to reach the walls of the palisade. Hopefully, with the axe he could knock loose a few of the logs and slip Keepa and the children through before they were caught. Being caught was not on his wish list. He knew what would happen to them if this was indeed Illians.
[Why would you doubt me, Dru?] Once again, Dru ignored the god, frantic in his desire to get the others to safety.
Rounding the corner of the house, he was surprised to see an Illian in full armor with a sword drawn, coming in his direction. “That tears it,” he murmured to himself as the children screamed behind him, but Dru was already reacting as the Illian raised his sword.
Handling the hammer like a toothpick, he whipped it through the air to bury the hammer in the man's chest. Unfortunately, he had struck too hard, once again not realizing his strength, and the hammer stuck in the breastplate armor of the Illian mercenary.
Oh crap, he moaned internally as, now defenseless, he turned to find six more Illians run towards him. He dropped the rope that linked both he and Keepa together. "Run when I charge them, Keepa," he shouted as he ran towards the enemy soldiers with hands outstretched. Ducking under the sword of one Illian, he grabbed him by the throat, twisting hard while punching another in the face, causing the others to draw back slightly then charge him again.
[Oh well, I suppose it's the only right thing to do.] The voice murmured in his head. Dru felt his cheek burn, and dizziness overcame him for a moment before a feeling of euphoria swept through his body, along with the sense of unlimited strength.
What did you just do? he thought as he punched the first to reach him and watched incredulously as the man flew over twenty feet to hit the side of the palisade, then fall in a crumpled
heap. Idly, Dru noticed the armor on the man’s chest had caved in from his blow.
[I made you my champion, of course. Not an easy task, as that actually took serious energy.]
You did what? he asked as he ducked another swinging sword, then grabbed the armored warrior by his wide leather belt and threw his body into his fellows, knocking them all over. Not hesitating for an instant, he swept up Keepa and the children in both arms and charged towards the fence, turning at the last minute to hit it with his back, feeling wood splinters flying in all directions but trying to keep most of it from those held in his arms. Another quick dash and he had the hammer again before leading his charges onward.
Then they were clear of the village, and he took off running across the field to the nearby woods, a lone horseman being all that stood between them and hopefully freedom. Once again, Dru didn't hesitate, stopping to release those he held and launching himself into the air as the rider galloped towards him, hitting the attacker in the midsection and knocking down both rider and horse. A quick backhand to the head with the hammer and the Illian was suddenly dead with a flattened helm.
"Quick Keepa, get on the horse with the children," he gasped as he frantically searched for any more of the enemy that might come towards them. Seeing she wasn't moving fast enough, he picked her up, tossing her into the saddle. He gathered all three frightened and screaming children in his arms to plop them down in front of her. Keepa, being a thick girl, Dru was surprised at how light she actually was when he had tossed her onto the horse, but then forgot about it as he hollered, “Hold tight to them. We're leaving." With that, he gripped the horse’s bit and dragged it towards the woods, running all out for the tree line and its thick canopy of foliage. He didn't slow down until they were miles away, and the horse was lathered with foam from the hard run. Dru knew he had almost run the horse into the ground, but he could not stop until they were safe. Only the appearance of a woodcutter’s hut stopped him. He knew the children were starting to fall off the animal from exhaustion. He'd had to stop several times in the last few minutes just to grab one from hitting the ground. Now he stroked the mare’s muzzle as he helped the others down one handed. He tied the reins off to a hitching post near the doorway.
The God Warriors Page 15
