Song Of Fury (Gods Of Blood And Fire Book 2)

by A. J. STRICKLER

  “Dracen, the baby, do you want it?” Benington asked, stepping away from the wagon.

  “No, I have no use for it,” he said without taking his eye off the woman’s breasts.

  “Bring me that child,” the Fist ordered the warrior holding the baby. The Hand passed it to his commander. Benington drew his dagger and made a small cut on Vadin’s tiny arm. The child whimpered but didn’t cry out. Black blood seeped out from the small nick. Benington looked into the baby’s blue eyes. Then he unceremoniously dropped the child to the ground. “It has the Beast’s curse, just like the rest.”

  ***

  Endra watched in horror as the priest called Benington dropped Vadin on the ground. The little boy began to cry, the fall had hurt him. She tried to go to him, but Milara slammed her back against the wagon, still trying to fondle her with the skill of a clumsy child. Her little boy tried to raise his dirty face from the dusty ground. She could see Vadin’s red-rimmed eyes searching for someone to comfort him.

  Endra head-butted the lord justice and shambled toward her baby. The over-excited priest grabbed his head and let out a yell. She was halfway to Vadin when a member of the Hand stuck a spear shaft in her shackles and tripped her. She fell hard, the manacles on her wrists making it difficult to break her fall. She crawled on, trying to get to Vadin, but the Church’s warriors blocked her from getting any closer to the infant. She lifted her head from the ground and looked at Milara. “Please help my baby, Lord Justice. If you do this small mercy, I will let you do whatever you wish with me. I won’t fight you, I promise.”

  The priest rubbed his forehead and looked over his shoulder as if he hadn’t even noticed what Benington had been doing. He gazed at the child, then gave her a flat look. “You are a man of God. He is just a child, he can’t hurt you,” Endra pleaded.

  Bennington reached down and picked Vadin up. “There, there, little demon,” he cooed to the child. He walked close to the lord justice with the baby wrapped in his arms and a wicked grin on his face. “Go ahead, Dracen. She made a fair offer, I won’t tell a soul. Take her into one of the houses if you're shy. I will keep this little, blue-eyed baby happy till you’re finished.”

  “I can’t,” Dracen stammered.

  The Fist looked at Endra. “If you don’t, Lord Justice, I will.”

  Endra swallowed hard, her mouth had gone dry.

  “No, you will not touch her,” Milara bellowed. Endra thought he sounded like a selfish child. “Order the men away.”

  Benington smiled. “All you men, go start a pyre for our fallen.”

  Dracen pulled Endra up by the arm and led her into one of the small cabins as the remaining members of the Hand saw to their dead.

  He pushed her down gently onto a crude bed. His hands trembled as he cut her pants off. He left the manacles on her wrist and ankles. Her stomach sickened. She had hoped he would have removed them. She might have had a chance if he had. Endra could see Benington standing in the doorway of the small house with Vadin in his arms. Still shackled, the Fist could easily kill her boy before she managed to get off the bed.

  Both Endra and Bennington watched as Milara removed his robe of office and stood above her, naked and wide-eyed.

  Endra was sweating and shaking all over. She had no choice. She had to do this for Vadin. “You must promise me that no harm will come to my child.”

  Dracen swallowed hard. “I promise,” he squeaked out.

  Endra nodded and slowly parted her legs. The priest fell on top of her like a starving animal. He rammed himself inside her and began pawing at her breasts, licking at her face like a dog. Endra shut her eyes and endured the humiliation and shame like the warrior she was. It was a small sacrifice for Vadin’s life.

  When the priest finished, he climbed off her and pulled on his robes, quickly fleeing the house.

  Endra got up from the bed, biting back the tears that threatened to fall. The bastards would not have the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

  Benington met her at the door still holding the baby. She reached for her child. “Not so fast, my girl,” Bennington said, taking a step back. He lowered one hand and unbuckled his pants. They fell down around his ankles. “Get on your knees, wench.” Endra’s stomach lurched and she felt a wave of despair descend on her, but she did as she was told.

  The leader of the Hand pulled up his pants when he had finished. She started to rise but he kicked her in the mouth, busting her lip and causing her to bite her tongue. Thick, black blood dripped from her mouth as she got to her hands and knees. She was dizzy and her head was ringing from the blow. Her belly twisted and cramped, she gagged and threw up all over the cabin’s floor.

  Benington smirked and walked out of the cabin, still holding Vadin.

  Vomit and blood dripped from her mouth. The warrior woman’s hair was a tangled mess and her body was battered and bruised, but Endra staggered to her feet and followed the Fist out of the house. She shuffled along in her shackles behind the man who had her child.

  Glancing over, she saw Milara standing near the wagon. He turned his head when she looked at him. She hoped his god would make him pay for what he had done.

  Following Benington as he strolled across the village was making her ankles bleed. The shackles were too small for her and they cut into her skin with each step. Endra didn’t care about the pain or what she had suffered, all she wanted was her son back in her arms.

  Smoke rolled into the sky and she could smell the sickening stench of the bodies of the dead burning in their crude funeral pyre. Benington walked over to where his remaining men stood watching their fallen as they were consumed by the bonfire.

  “May I have my baby now?” she asked weakly.

  The Fist stared into the flames. “No, you may not. He is the son of a demon and a child of the Beast.” He nodded to his men with a fiendish look in his eyes. “Hold her,” he said, nearly whispering.

  Endra hit the first man that put his hands on her with the manacles she still wore. The blow cracked his head wide open, dropping him to the ground. She kicked and fought like a wild animal until finally the holy warriors subdued her.

  “Do not let her look away,” the Fist ordered. One of the men grabbed her thick hair and pulled her head back. Benington threw Vadin into the fire without a word. Endra saw her son roll into the red hot coals of the pyre.

  He let out a brief scream but then the little blue-eyed boy became silent. She watched in horror as her son’s flesh blackened and blistered.

  The Hands let her go, the deed done. Endra fell to her knees, staring into the unforgiving flames and the little charred corpse that had once been her and Kian’s son. She threw back her head and screamed. The sound was like nothing the men in the village had ever heard.

  Nick Nock was exhausted and just couldn’t run any farther. The cook knew he had started out heading north, but now he thought he'd got turned around and was moving west. Brigitte sniffed the air and blinked at Nick; she seemed content that no one was following them. “When can we go back to Mommy?” Sabra asked, her dark eyes looking back the way they had come. The little girl didn’t seem afraid, just confused by their flight from the village.

  Nick could see smoke rising from the village. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. “I don’t know, Sabra. Kian and your mother were fighting some very bad men, it might not be safe to go back right now. We will look for Tressa and the boys, then we can decide what we should do.”

  “What if she is not there when we go back, Nick?”

  The cook shook his head. “I don’t know, little one. Let’s just try to find your sister and brothers, and then we’ll see.”

  He held Brigitte’s hand as she walked along beside him and he carried Sabra on his shoulders. Nick wasn’t sure what to do. He knew if Kian and Endra had won, they would find them. It didn’t seem likely, though. There were too many of the Hand in the village and they had been prepared. The Church had sprung its trap and they hadn’t been ready. Kian and Endra were
most likely prisoners of the pope, or worse.

  He hoped Vadin was okay. He replayed what had happened in his mind. There hadn’t been any way he could have saved both Vadin and the girls. All he could do was hope he had made the right choice. Nick took a moment to get his bearings and then headed to the north.

  ***

  The triplets had run out of the woods into a large expanse of open field. Grasshoppers and small insects flew into the air with each step they took through the knee high grass. Looking back, the children could see black smoke rising from the far side of the woods, marking the village’s location. They all knew it would not be a good idea to go back. Kian and their mother would come for them when it was safe.

  Tressa was still crying for her fallen pony. She had loved her horse dearly and would not soon forget the loss.

  “Stop being a baby, Tressa. It was just a horse. You’ll get another,” Payton said.

  “She was not just a horse, Rose was my friend,” Tressa moaned.

  “You’re a stupid girl. When we get back, I'm going to tell Mother how weak you are. She told us we had to always be strong, remember?”

  “I don’t care. Rose is gone and I want her back.”

  Payton stopped walking and took his sister by the shoulders. “The horse is dead, Tressa. It will never come back.”

  Tressa wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do without Rose.”

  Payton looked at her with cold eyes. “ You’re going to walk.”

  “I hate you,” Tressa screamed. Payton started to respond but a noise pulled his attention away from his sister. All of them saw the three members of the Hand of God breaking from the tree line in the distance.

  One of the men pointed at them. Their argument was forgotten as all three children turned and ran. Payton looked over his shoulder and saw that the men from the Church were gaining on them. There was nowhere to hide and it would not be long before they were caught. He stopped. “Vinsant, get Tressa away. I will try to slow them down.”

  Vinsant’s brows furrowed. “No, Payton, you can’t do anything to those men.”

  “I know I can’t fight them, but I can slow them up some. Just go, go now.” Vinsant looked at his sister; Tressa was hugging herself and whimpering. He took her by the hand and ran on, leaving his brother behind.

  Payton watched them go. The boy knew he would die, but he was only a little afraid. He stood in the grass, waiting until the warriors came upon him.

  When they got close, he ran in circles around them, ducking and twisting from their grasp, giving Vinsant and Tressa as many precious minutes as he could.

  One of the men grabbed the back of his shirt. He jerked away, but the move caused him to stumble; one of the Hand’s drew his sword and hit him with the flat of the blade. Payton felt blood running down the back of his neck. His legs wobbled and he fell to the ground.

  “Get the other two, I will take this one back with me,” he heard one of the men say before his eyes closed.

  ***

  Vinsant looked for somewhere to hide, but it was useless. There were no trees or low areas anywhere to be seen. “They’re still coming,” Tressa said, trying to catch her breath. Vinsant could see that the men were not too far behind, but he saw only two of them now.

  “Do you think they got Payton?” Tressa asked

  “Yes, now come on.” The two ran but they were getting tired, and Vinsant could see that the ground ahead rose sharply, turning into a steep hill.

  His legs had begun to ache and Tressa was starting to fall behind as they ran up the small knoll. Vinsant could see that the men were going to catch them before they reached the top.

  He decided to do what Payton had done. Maybe Tressa could get away if he slowed the men down for her. The boy stopped on the side of the hill halfway up. “Go, Tressa, I will try to get you some time.”

  “No, I won’t leave you, Vinsant.” Both children stopped arguing and looked at one other, perplexed by what their senses detected. The air had grown cold and they could both smell cinnamon.

  The air shimmered and two women appeared before them, clad in beautiful gowns of black lace. One was a redhead, the other's hair whiter than snow. Neither one was very tall but Vinsant felt much safer by their puzzling appearance.

  “Stand behind us, children.” Vinsant and Tressa did as they were told.

  The two women held hands and each put their other arm straight out. The women turned their outstretched hands palms up. Tiny balls of black smoke swirled in their hands. The two children watched as the women blew on their palms as if they were throwing the men coming up the hill a kiss.

  The smoke flew from each of their hands at great speed. Vinsant could see the puffs of smoke grow bigger as they traveled toward the men. The tiny black clouds grew to the size of large wagons as they raced through the air. Any grass or plants the clouds of smoke passed over withered and died, making a dark path down the hill.

  The clouds hit the men like a great gust of wind, Blowing armor, clothing, and flesh from both their bodies. The dark gale even blew their bones into the sky, scattering them like gruesome leaves in a fall breeze. “Are you two alright?” the red-haired woman asked.

  Vinsant and Tressa nodded.

  “Nick Nock and your sisters are just to the west of here,” the woman said, pointing. “You should go find them.”

  “Who are you?” Tressa asked.

  “My name is Scarlett and this is my sister Winter. We know your mother and Kian. You have nothing to fear from us.”

  Vinsant’s eyes narrowed. “Are you some of those witches?”

  The white-haired woman threw back her head and laughed out loud, amused by the boy’s revelation. The one called Scarlett just shook her head. “Yes, we are, Vinsant. Now you should be on your way.”

  “What about my brother Payton? Is he dead?” the boy asked hesitantly

  “No, he will be fine.”

  Tressa put her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you going to go help him?”

  “Don’t worry, Tressa. I promise you, Payton is in good hands,” Scarlett replied, tapping the little girl on the nose.

  ***

  Payton’s eyes fluttered open. The man who had hit him was dragging him back towards the village. He instinctively tried to pull free. “Good, you're awake. Get on your feet and start walking,” the Hand commanded.

  He looked around, trying to get his wits back. Payton saw no sign of his siblings or the other two men. He thought maybe Tressa and Vinsant had gotten away.

  “Stop dawdling, boy.” The Hand slapped Payton to the ground. The man put his foot on his chest and the warrior’s weight nearly crushed Payton’s ribs. He tried to slither out from under the man’s booted foot, but the Hand was just too heavy. “You like that, little demon? You can either start walking faster or get a bit more of this. Which will it be?” the man said, grinning down at him.

  A strange feeling came over him that he couldn’t quite understand, but it calmed him. The Hand from the Church screamed and Payton found himself drenched in the man’s blood. He saw his captor’s legs fall to one side and his body the other.

  Looking up, he saw a giant man standing above him. He was easily as tall as Cromwell. Dressed in black armor and carrying a huge ax, the man was the most imposing figure Payton had ever seen.

  He looked at Payton; his gaze was piercing and dark. He swallowed hard but tried to show no fear as the armored warrior slung the great ax over one shoulder and he extended his hand to help him off the ground.

  “He will trouble you no more, boy,” the newcomer said in a deep voice.

  Payton took a step back. “Who are you?”

  “I am the Lord of vengeance. You should kneel before me, boy, and show the proper respect for a god.”

  Payton looked the man up and down, and then knelt reverently. “Can you help my brother and sister and return us to our mother?”

  The dark-haired god glanced to the right then to the l
eft. “You cannot go back to the village. A great tragedy has befallen your mother and the half-breed she travels with.”

  Payton’s throat tightened and his breath grew rapid. “Are they dead?”

  “Stand up, child, and I will show you,” the god said in a hushed tone.

  Payton stood up, he was dizzy and his legs nearly buckled. He clenched his fist and steadied himself before the dark god. The Lord of Vengeance placed his massive hand on Payton's injured head, causing him to wince. A tremor went through his body and he forgot about his injury.

  Payton’s mind swirled at the god’s divine touch. In his head, he could see what happened in the village after he and his siblings had fled.

  The God of Vengeance took no mercy on the boy, showing him every detail of his mother's rape and the horrible death of his infant brother. Not since he had been a baby had tears rolled down Payton’s face, but now his cheeks were wet with them. His lips were tight and he wrapped his arms around his body, trying to keep it from trembling, yet he did not cry out or make a sound.

  The god removed his hand from the boy’s head. “Let what I have shown you burn into your memory. Let it turn and twist in your guts till the day you find vengeance. Now go find your sisters and brother. They are not far.”

  “No,” Payton said insolently. “I will go to help my mother, you can’t stop me.”

  The god quickly grabbed him by the neck and lifted him off the ground as if he weighed no more than a feather. “How dare you speak to me that way, you tiny piece of dung. I should skin you and make myself a new pair of boots, impudent little bastard.”

  “Nikodemos, put that boy down this instant.”

  The Lord of Vengeance raised his head and dropped the boy to the ground. Turning around, he saw Scarlett and Winter standing behind him. The white-haired witch helped Payton to his feet. He rubbed at his neck. The god’s iron grip had bruised him.