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

by A. J. STRICKLER

  He had chosen to stay and let the king pass judgment. Malric was a warrior; he had fought his way up through the ranks of the Masarian army to become its general before he stole the throne. Perhaps he would understand what had happened and show some leniency.

  K’xarr was optimistic in this regard due to the fact he wasn’t in chains nor was he being escorted by the royal guard. He had simply been asked to come to the palace and report to the king. He would need to be careful. Malric wasn’t the Phoenix Queen. He could bully and bluff the little queen of Bandara when things got a little out of hand, but Malric was a hard man, and had seen his share of bloodshed and intrigue. K’xarr knew he wouldn’t be able to deceive or intimidate the King of Masaria and if he tried, he might find himself hanging from the end of a rope. Even if he wasn’t executed, Malric could still decide to imprison him or break their contract and if that were to happen, it would finish his company. He had no choice but to tell the truth and hope for the best.

  Two members of the royal guard swung the throne room doors open for him. K’xarr entered with his head held high. He had prepared himself for the worst and if this was to be the end, he was going to face it like a man.

  The huge courtroom had been cleaned of its former clutter. The tables and maps were gone, replaced by fine carpets and several brass braziers. The staircases that lead to the balcony above the throne room had been swept and polished. Banners and flags were hung from the walls along with some very expensive tapestries. The room now looked like it belonged to royalty.

  K’xarr had heard that Malric hadn’t held an official court in the last three years. He didn’t know if it was because of the king’s tyrannical way of ruling or the fact that none of the nobles left in Masaria recognized his right to the crown. Rumor had it Malric had not only murdered the royal family but several of the noble families as well. Gossip around the city said those who escaped the coup were in hiding, refusing to bend a knee to the vile pretender.

  The king sat alone on his throne at the end of the great chamber, not even his royal guardsmen were anywhere to be seen.

  The usurper stepped down from the dais where he had been sitting calmly on his throne. He held his arm out to offer K’xarr a seat at a very small table that had been placed near the dais. The king appeared relaxed, but K’xarr knew Malric was ruthless and more than a little cagy. He would have to tread lightly.

  “Sit down, Captain Strom. Let us discuss last night’s events.”

  K’xarr pulled out one of the chairs at the table and eased down into his seat, the king did the same. “Well, Strom, you had quite the night.”

  K’xarr’s heart began to beat faster. “Things didn’t go as I planned, Highness.”

  “So you didn’t intend to kill captain Eyes and his men?”

  “Yes, Majesty… I guess I did. I just didn’t intend the fight to be so showy.”

  “It was quite an exaggerated affair, and I told you to dispense with the formality when we are alone, K’xarr. We are just two fighting men talking over a few things. So you can be at ease.”

  The captain cautiously nodded his understanding.

  “Now I heard some of what transpired. One of your men was attacked, and you ended up killing an entire mercenary company over a simple fight. Is that about the size of it?”

  K’xarr said nothing. Malric was right. He had gotten a little overzealous. Cromwell’s idiocy with the Dragonfire hadn’t helped, but in the end, it was his temper that was the culprit. It always seemed to get the better of him. “That is what happened; I will take whatever punishment you see fit to give me. I just ask that you keep my men out of it, they were only following my orders.”

  Malric looked at K’xarr for a moment then began to laugh. “I heard you had a nasty side, but really, I had no idea. This is why I was holding you back from going north, Strom. To see if the tall tales about you were true.”

  K’xarr narrowed his eyes. “Why”

  “I want you to take command of all the mercenary forces in Masaria. I want you to aid Achillus in destroying the pope’s army.”

  K’xarr looked at the king, confused by what he had just said. “I have a company, and I mean no offense, but I don’t think Cade and Fews are going to hand over command of their men to me just because you wish it.”

  “I have seen to that. You have to only do one minor thing and the men of both their companies will be yours.”

  “What?” K’xarr said suspiciously

  “Challenge Cade and Fews and kill them both.”

  “I don’t understand?” K’xarr said, shaking his head. Malric quickly explained the old mercenary code. K’xarr thought it the most foolish thing he had ever heard. “I still don’t know why you picked me to do this. From what I have heard, Cade and Fews are good men. Why not one of them?”

  The king leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. “Well, about a year ago, I had a chance meeting with an ambassador sent from Bandara. I’m not a fool. The Phoenix Queen is no friend to me, it was just a formal act on her part, seeing that neither us are in the Church’s good graces. The ambassador wanted to barter a trade agreement, both of our countries needed the gold, but let me get to the point. After the treaty was drawn up, I had a few drinks with the Bandaran ambassador. He told me quite the tale about you and your men and this half-elven swordsman. He said you saved the whole bloody country from the queen’s insane brother and the mighty King Havalon himself.

  “The man told me you had more tenacity than any man he had never seen. He spoke as if you and your compatriots were all but invincible, but most importantly, he told me you were enemies of the Church… The blood thing and all. Well, I decided then if the Church wanted a war with me, I would send out the call for mercenaries and see if you would show. You see, Captain Strom, Cade and Fews might be good men, but I’m not looking for good men.”

  K’xarr took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest. “May I ask who this ambassador was?”

  “His name was Ansellus Fox.”

  “Well, I’ll be dammed.” K’xarr slapped the table.

  “He said you were that too,” Malric said, tapping the table with his finger.

  Achillus came through the door with a handful of papers and tossed them on the table. K’xarr frowned at the stack of parchments and looked at the king.

  Malric rose from his seat. “Sign those and you and your men will be members of the mercenaries’ guild, then you can challenge Cade and Fews and take their men by rule of law, and we will both get what we want.”

  “What makes you so sure I can win?” K’xarr asked suspiciously.

  “I have faith in you, Strom. From what I heard, you’re nearly unbeatable. I need men with iron in their spine, men who are unafraid to do the things that must be done to achieve victory. I plan to win this war with the Church no manner what the cost. You should feel the same when it comes to this fight. Do whatever must be done to win.”

  K’xarr thought for a moment and then signed the documents. “I will go back to the barracks and prepare.”

  “Let me know when the duel is to take place. I would like to be there,” Malric said as he picked up the documents.

  “I will see it done.” K’xarr walked out of the throne room.

  The Masarian general waited until the door had closed, then stepped out of hiding and turned to his king. “Well, Majesty, do you really think he can win?”

  “How should I know? The whole thing is a gamble. If what that old Bandaran said is true, Strom will win and I will have what I want: a bloodthirsty killer to command my mercenaries and a scapegoat to take the blame for any atrocities that might be committed during this war.”

  “And if he is killed?”

  The king shrugged. “We will be short one mercenary captain and I will know Ansellus Fox is an accomplished liar.”

  It was already hot when the sun climbed to midday. K’xarr’s officers had gathered in the shade of the barracks to watch their captain finish donning his armor. T
he warm winds that blew in from the Sea of Fins made the summers in Gallio notorious for their sweltering heat. The day’s rising temperature assured the residents of the city that spring was coming to an end.

  K’xarr had done as Malric suggested and challenged the two captains. He had found them both drinking at the Wayward Pony. Fews had taken the challenge with quiet and admirable anger. Saran Cade, however, had flown into a rage. They had gotten into a screaming match that earned them both an undignified removal from the tavern. He had given the captains two days to make their choice to fight or yield, and today their time was up. In little more than an hour, he would know if it had been a wise decision to go along with the king’s proposition. He would either dramatically increase the number of men he commanded or he would be dead.

  “You sure about this? You’re taking a big risk. This whole thing could go very wrong for all of us,” Rufio said as he tugged at the straps on his captain’s breast plate. “Do you really trust Malric? I mean, the challenge, joining the guild, it all seems…designed.”

  “I only trust the king to a point. I think he does want me to take command of all the mercenaries, but I don’t know the real reason he wishes it, and there is no doubt he conspired to make this happen.” K’xarr moved his arms up and down to make sure the armor didn’t hinder his movement. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t care for the situation, Rufio. Fews and Cade didn’t like it much either. Fews was madder than hell, though he has agreed to the challenge, but Cade threw a fit and outright refused to go along with any of it.”

  “What happens if that pigeon-livered dog won’t stand and fight?” Cromwell asked, leaning back against the barracks wall and gnawing on a leg of a roasted goat.

  K’xarr shrugged. “Perhaps he just loses his company. Malric told me according to the code, he has little choice but to comply with the challenge. I really don’t know what the consequences are or what the guild will do if he won’t cross swords with me.”

  Ivan dipped a rag into the rain barrel at the corner of the building and wiped the sweat from his face. “What’s stopping Cade from just gathering his men and riding away? I mean, he could just break his contact with Malic and leave Masaria.”

  “Cade’s in a tight spot. If he leaves and breaks his word to Malric, it will tarnish the self-important ass’s reputation, his precious Silver Swords will always have a cloud of suspicion hanging over their head with any future contracts. Not to mention refusing the challenge will make him look a coward. Not honoring a law his own grandfather wrote into the mercenary code would make him a laughing stock among the companies, and his pride would never allow it. His only chance to come out of this whole is to kill me.”

  K’xarr finished strapping on his armor, noticing his officers had grown silent. Belting on his sword, he glanced at each one in turn. “Why do you all look like you just swallowed a handful of rat shit? This is good for us, more men means more gold. Besides, winning this will make our name that much more well known.”

  “We don’t have a name,” Cromwell muttered.

  “Shut up, I will think of one soon enough,” K’xarr snapped back.

  Rufio stepped between the two with hands raised. “I have a question. How loyal do you think these bastards from the other companies will be? I mean, even if they do stay after the fight, how could we ever really trust them?”

  “That is going to be my officer’s job,” K’xarr said, glancing at each of his lieutenants in turn. You're all good judges of men, see who among them looks like they will embrace the company. The ones who don’t, we will shed like a worn out cloak. I won’t have any man with us whose loyalty can’t be counted on.”

  The conversation halted when they saw Rhys trotting up the street; K’xarr had sent the healer to check on the activity of the other two companies. “Men are beginning to gather around the little square at the end of the street where those craftsmen hawk their wares. It looks like all the Wolves and Silver Swords plan to watch the proceedings, and a number of people from the city are beginning to congregate up and down the avenue as well. If I didn’t know what was about to happen, I would say they were waiting to see a parade.”

  K’xarr picked up his helmet by the nose guard and set it on his head. “Well, Rhys, how do I look?”

  “Like a greedy mad man going to fight a duel with two men he doesn’t really have any quarrel with.”

  “So Cade is there?” K’xarr asked eagerly.

  Rhys nodded. “He is, though he doesn’t look very happy about it. You really gave him no other option but to fight you. Don’t take these two lightly, K’xarr. Fews doesn’t look nervous at all and I have heard that Cade is an accomplished swordsman.” Rhys put his hand on K’xarr’s shoulder and pointed to the other officers. “I know they won’t tell you, but fighting both these men at the same time is absurd and likely to get you killed.”

  K’xarr took a deep breath. He understood the healer was worried, all his men were, but Rhys was no warrior and didn’t know any better than to speak of defeat. “Well, my friend, I will just have to fight twice as hard.”

  Cromwell put his arm around the healer and patted him on the chest with his massive hand. “Don’t worry, the gods will be watching and Fane favors those who fight against the odds.”

  Rhys' nose wrinkled up as he struggled to push Cromwell’s hand off his shoulder. “For God’s sake, would you start bathing a little more frequently? I don’t know how Morgana stands the smell.”

  “That’s her you smell on me…brother,” Cromwell said, ruffling Rhys’s neatly combed hair.

  “You are the most uncouth bastard I have ever known. Someone should…”

  “Enough, you two,” K’xarr commanded. “Let’s go see if I can improve our lot in life.”

  ***

  “Look, it’s the king,” Ashlyn said, standing on her tiptoes and pointing to the procession of soldiers coming down the street. Masaria’s monarch sat astride a large white charger; horse and king were both garbed in the nation’s colors of blue and silver. The king rode at the head of a small company of newly recruited Wardogs. Now that nearly all his army had been sent north, the king had conscripted a small number of young men from the city to bolster the diminished ranks of fighting men in Gallio.

  Ashlyn hopped up and down trying to see over the heads of the people that surrounded her. She got a glimpse of the king’s soldiers as they pushed into the host of spectators and began clearing a space at the edge of the human ring for their king. Royal guardsmen quickly surrounded the monarch to keep the noisy crowd from interfering with their ruler’s ability to watch the event in peace.

  Ashlyn’s eyes were bright and she was smiling, even though the event was going to be unpleasant. She loved people and to be at the heart of the crowd delighted her to no end. It looked like half the city had turned out to watch the mercenary captains battle with one another.

  Merchants moved through the crowd selling baked goods and some type of meat on sticks. Children laughed and ran to and fro among the mass of onlookers while their mothers gossiped and prattled on with one another. It reminded her of the festival that King Godfen used to hold on the summer solstice.

  The celebration had been her favorite time of the year. The king would hire one of the traveling carnivals that move through the middle continent in the warm months. They would come to Gallio during the holiday, bringing with them their wonderful foods and exciting games. Ergan, not to be outdone by the carnival owners, would have his performers take to the streets during the weeklong celebration, entertaining the people of Gallio free of charge.

  There was always a parade with music and strange animals from the circus and the king’s royal menagerie, and musicians played in the market square daily so the people could dance late into the night. It was well known that nine months after the festival, the population of Gallio would increase considerably.

  She and Lucan had loved the festival when they were children; it was where they shared their first kiss. It was her fav
orite memory from those wonderful summers.

  The festivals had stopped when King Godfen’s life ended. Malric was not much on celebrations. The city had changed since the rogue general had stolen the throne. It had grown as dark as the heart of its new king. Now instead of carnivals and parades, she and the people of Gallio flocked to the streets to watch men try and kill each other. It was disheartening to see what the city she loved had come to.

  The mob of citizens continued to grow as word spread about the captain’s duel. People had even begun to climb onto the tops of the nearby buildings to get a better look at the upcoming combat. “This is turning into quite the social gathering. I would have dressed better if I had known,” Upton said sarcastically. The sellsword still sported a slight discoloration from the two black eyes he had acquired at the hands of the Scarred Serpents. He was still moving like an old man from the beating, but he had managed to dress himself and hobble out with them to watch his captain.

  Much to Ashlyn’s dismay, Lucan had invited Upton to join them. The two young men seemed to have struck up a fine friendship. It wasn’t surprising, really. They were similar in age and more than likely shared some common interests. She should have been happy that Lucan had made friends with the pretty mercenary. Upton seemed educated and well-spoken and was always very polite. He had told them he had grown up on the Island of Pantorini. Neither she nor Lucan knew much about the place, only that it was part of the Dragitan Empire and was known for having one of the largest slave markets in the world. She knew little of the slave trade. The Church had abolished it in the lands that had embraced the teachings of Holy Tome long ago. Most of the vile business was conducted in the kingdoms to west and south, though on occasion, slave ships came into King’s Head Harbor with their pitiful cargo. King Malric tolerated the wicked slavers for the sake of Masaria’s weakened commerce and his general dislike of the Church.