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

by A. J. STRICKLER

  K’xarr began to laugh as he watched the Slayer deal death as if he were handing out bread to the poor. The black sword cut through armor and bone with no more resistance than if it was cutting through water.

  As Kian passed him, he glanced at K’xarr. The room’s flames danced in his wild golden eyes. K’xarr tossed Crimson Wave through the air. The swordsman caught it with his left hand and gave K’xarr a quick nod. The monster had come to Masaria and it had brought hell with it.

  He had never seen Kian fight with two swords before. K’xarr could only marvel at the massacre, arms and heads flying into the air like embers from a fire. More explosions rocked the throne room from the witch’s powerful magic. Damn, but he wished he could stand. The soldiers had all turned their attention to the two newcomers so he crawled forward to get a better look.

  The smile was gone from the bishop’s face and he shook with fear as Kian stalked towards him. What men he had left had turned and run from the assault brought on by the witch and the monster. “Destroy them, you fools,” he shouted to the monks. They lifted their rods, each choosing a target. A flaming sphere leaped from one tip, streaking at the witch hovering above the battle, while a gout of flame sprayed from the other sorcerer’s rod directed at Kian.

  The witch crossed her arms. The fireball glanced away from her and landed among some of the surviving papal soldiers, filling the throne room with fresh screams. The wave of flame engulfed the Slayer standing at the bottom of the dais. Kian shrugged off the magical blaze like it was no more than a summer breeze.

  The monks looked to the bishop for instruction, but the priest was frozen. The Slayer jumped up the steps of the dais, landing softly just below the bishop and his magical priests. The monks stepped forward to protect their charge. The two frightful blades sliced through the air and the monks’ heads jumped from their necks still in the hoods that covered them.

  The priest put his hand out and backed up, the burning curtains behind him scorching his head. “I am a bishop of the Church, demon, you cannot harm me. Only the pope himself can seek my death.” The dark sword made no sound when it took off the bishop's head.

  ***

  A handful of the city watch entered the throne room at a dead run. Under the order of General Achillus, they helped evacuate the palace. The Masarian general also ordered them to round up any of the remaining papal soldiers they could find and take them outside and execute them.

  Achillus himself returned to stand above Malric with the flames of the throne room’s fire all around him. The blaze was too far gone to have any hope of being extinguished.

  K’xarr hobbled over to where the general knelt over his king, using a fallen sword as a cane. The mercenary’s face was pink and blistered and his knee hurt like hell. He put his hand on Achillus’s shoulder to steady himself. “Achillus, we have to get out the fire.”

  “Are the others out?” the general asked quietly.

  “Yes, let’s go.”

  The general knelt down and pulled out the bolt jutting from the body. Rolling the king onto his back, they saw that Malric’s eyes were open. He still lived. “I wish I could have seen the fight, it sounded magnificent. Unfortunately, this treacherous bolt in my back has caused me to be unable to move, my friend. It’s no more than I deserve, I guess.”

  “Why?” was all Achillus could say.

  “I thought it the wise move, though I think now there was an error in my logic. Sorry, Strom, I believed the Church and I underestimated you,” the king said sincerely.

  K’xarr looked down at the fallen monarch, acknowledging his presence for the first time. “Damn you to hell, Malric, we had them beat.”

  “No, my friend, it was a trick. All the pope wanted was you and Cromwell. I must think now I was not privy to the rest of their strategy, but I do know the papal army’s defeat was a ruse. They will come at Masaria again, I would say, since their promises to me were lies.”

  One of the balconies on the far side of the room fell with an enormous crash, sending flaming debris out onto the throne room floor. “Would one of you kindly dispatch me before you leave? I don’t wish to burn to death and I do not care to live the rest of my days being rolled around like a log, having nursemaids feed me and wipe my ass. Be quick, Achillus.”

  The Dragitan drew his shortsword. His hand shook with emotion as he raised the blade. “I cannot,” he said, dropping his sword arm to his side.

  “K’xarr?” Malric said, eyes shifting to the mercenary.

  K’xarr took the Dragitan’s shortsword from his hand. “Malric, I should leave you to cook for betraying us. You deserve no better than to lay here and burn like the piece of dung you are, but Achillus is a friend and I’m feeling generous today.”

  Malric grinned as K’xarr thrust the sword through the usurper’s heart. Blood seeped from the corners of the king’s smiling lips and his eyes closed.

  ***

  Kian stood at the throne room door, watching as the two men passed. The general had K’xarr’s arm around his neck, helping the mercenary limp out the throne room door. Gabrielle and the Church’s wizards had caught everything that would burn on fire inside the room and the blaze had now spread outside the throne room to the upper stories of the palace.

  The Masarians would be hard pressed to put the blaze out now. He slid Silence back into its scabbard as his golden eyes scanned the room. He felt that the blade was pleased with the devastation. Holding his hand up to block the fire's heat, he took one more look, then went to join the others and return K’xarr’s sword.

  Smoke filled the sky as the interior of the palace burned. The magical fire had ignited all the fixtures and furniture inside the throne room. The heat had caused the upper stories to catch fire and the blaze had spread from there. Some of the city watch and a few citizens tried to fight the inferno, though it was a waste of time. The palace would be a stone shell by morning.

  None of the wounded people in the street seemed to care much about the blaze. Their attention was focused on more important things than the destruction of the Masarian palace, the news of Malric’s death. K’xarr sat on a barrel near the royal stables, surveying his friends as he dabbed a wet rag at his burns. He had pulled the bolt from his knee and wrapped a crude bandage around it. He wasn’t going to bother his healer about it now. Rhys was in no condition to treat his wounds. The healer and Rufio stood over Racheal’s charred body, having covered the horribly burned corpse with horse blankets from the stable. Both men silently wept for the young girl. Cromwell desperately tried to comfort Morgana. The pregnant woman’s wailing could be heard even over the racket of the men fighting the fire.

  The Toran Bull bled from a score of shallow wounds and the broken ends of two crossbow bolts could be seen, one protruding from his massive arm and the other in his heavily muscled neck. The two barbarians exchanged a glance, death was no stranger to them but they had no idea how to deal with their friend’s terrible loss.

  “K’xarr, we need to talk about what Malric said.” He hadn’t heard the general come up beside him. Achillus was covered in dried blood and soot from the fire.

  The Camiran threw the wet rag on the ground and gave the general a dismal look. “What’s there to talk about? He betrayed us and the Church played him false. If Malric’s thinking is right, the Church has another army coming this way and we have truly won nothing.”

  “I care nothing for the country. I served Malric, and now he is dead. Let the pope have Masaria if he wants it, I don’t care,” Achillus said dejectedly.

  K’xarr pulled at the gorget of his armor. The metal rubbed at his blistered skin. “It’s not Masaria he wants, it never has been. That’s why it took him so many years to invade. Ending Malric’s reign was just an excuse to try and kill me and anyone else with the blood. Send a rider north to find out what we are up against, and tell Ivan and your officers to get the army back here as fast as they can.”

  Achillus frowned at his directions. “Command seems to come easy to you,
Strom.”

  “I thought you didn’t care?” K’xarr said smugly.

  Achillus looked at him a moment then put his fist to his chest in a mock salute. “It will be done.”

  K’xarr grinned. “Does this mean I’m in command?”

  “Not on your life, mercenary. I command my Wardogs, no one but me.”

  “Well, I guess you do care after all. We can discuss what we’re going to do after we get some idea of what we might be up against. No sense giving up till we know.”

  “Fine, but I see no reason to spill any more blood for this kingdom,” Achillus said firmly.

  K’xarr looked down at his knee. “I can always find a reason to spill more blood, General.”

  After Achillus departed, K’xarr glanced at Rufio as he gently placed Rachael’s body in the back of a small wagon he had procured from the royal stable. Morgana stood alongside it, one hand over her round belly, weeping uncontrollably. Even K’xarr could see her pregnancy was progressing rapidly. When the baby came, he wondered what Cromwell would do.

  Rhys sat on the ground with his face in his hands. He had removed the bolts from his legs, but K’xarr couldn’t tell if he had used his power on the wounds or not. The healer would blame himself for not sending his sisters home when they arrived in Masaria like he had intended. It was a shame. Rachael had seemed like a good woman, even though she had stolen Rufio from him. There was a bright side. His Dragitan lieutenant would most likely stay with the company now, though K’xarr thought he shouldn’t share the notion of anything good coming from Rachael’s death.

  He would be no help to his forlorn friends and their grief was distressing to him. Leaving the trio to mourn the dead woman in private, K’xarr limped over to where Kian knelt beside Endra.

  The swordsman was trying to bind a wound on the woman’s upper arm with little success. “I didn’t expect to see you again, Endra said you were a prisoner of the Circle,” K’xarr said, clapping Kian on the back.

  “I was,” Kian said without looking up.

  K’xarr drew Crimson Wave and stuck the sword down in the ground to lean on. “How the hell did you escape?”

  “That is a tale for another time.” Kian replied, looking at Endra and lowering his eyes.

  “I would like to hear it. I assume the witch brought you here?”

  Kian nodded. “She did. The sorceress was very concerned for your safety.”

  K’xarr looked back over his shoulder. The sorceress stood a good distance apart from them, watching intently. “I think I have an admirer.”

  “There is something I need to tell you.” Before the swordsman could finish, he was swept up in a great bear hug that interrupted their conversation.

  “By Fane’s beard and balls, I am glad to see you,” Cromwell said, squeezing the swordsman. The hulking barbarian sat Kian down and patted him on the shoulder. “How the hell did you know we were in trouble?”

  Kian pointed to the witch. “It was her. She fetched me from the Synsarian waste, said you were in danger and I had to come.”

  “That’s the second time that woman has help us without being asked,” K’xarr pointed out.

  “Aye, it was her and Scarlett that aided us against prince jackass in Bandara. I think she may desire you, K’xarr. You’ve rutted with one witch, might as well make it two,” Cromwell said with a lewd grin.

  “She is a beauty,” K’xarr said, looking the sorceress up and down. “With that body and those dark eyes, she could easily bewitch any man.”

  Kian grabbed K’xarr’s arm. “I don’t think you should look at her that way. She told me she was your mother.”

  His mouth fell open and K’xarr felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. “What did you say?”

  “When she came for me, she said she was aiding you because she was your mother,” Kian said, looking at the witch.

  K’xarr angrily jerked his arm away from the swordsman and hobbled toward the witch, using his sword for support. “What lies are you telling now, sorceress?”

  The woman wore a sober expression. “I think Kian told you why I came and it is not a lie.”

  “If this is true, why didn’t you tell me back in Bandara when we first met?” K’xarr shook his fist.

  “I know you must have questions. I am willing to explain myself, if you would give me that chance,” Gabrielle said quietly.

  “This must be some kind of a trick. You look no older than I do, how can you be my mother?”

  She reached out to him but K’xarr backed away. “Raven told you in Bandara, we are ancient, my son, nearly immortal. We don’t age like mortals do.”

  K’xarr shook his head. “Yes, I remember, and all of you were servants of the Reaper. I didn’t believe that wild claim then nor do I now.”

  Anger flashed in the Gabrielle’s dark eyes. K’xarr could see he had struck a nerve. “Give me your dagger, Captain?” the witch demanded.

  K’xarr looked at her a moment then pulled the weapon from its sheath and handed it to her hilt first.

  Dramatically slicing the palm of her hand, the witch held it up for his inspection. K’xarr stared in disbelief as black blood oozed from the witch’s palm.

  ***

  They left K’xarr to deal with the woman who claimed to be his mother, promising to meet him later at the Winking Widow tavern. Endra had led Kian to a small beach just north of the harbor. The smoke from the palace fire still drifted lazily through the evening sky. Together they watched the sun sink below the horizon, neither speaking until night’s shadowy hand covered the beach.

  In the darkness, she told Kian of their little boy’s death, saying nothing of how she had offered herself to the priests for Vadin’s life, or what Milara and Benington had done to her. Endra thought it best that she kept quiet about the toll she had exacted from Caleb and his family as well. She alone would have to pay the gods for that evil. There was no reason Kian need know of her dark deed.

  After she finished her story, she prepared for the worst. She waited for the monster to come forth, but Kian only walked to the edge of the sea and gazed out into the dark expanse with the surf lapping at his feet. The swordsman stood there for what seemed like an eternity. She wanted to go to him and offer him comfort him, but Endra could not bring herself to move. Some part of her wanted that great dragon heart in his chest to break just as hers had.

  There was agony in his golden eyes when he finally faced her. “I failed Vadin and you, there is no doubt of that. His blood is on my hands as surely as if I had thrown him into those flames myself. I wish I could go back and…” His voice was too choked with emotion to finish. He stood with his head down a moment. “Are the other children close by? I would like to see them.” he asked quietly.

  “They are most likely dead too,” she said, anger sliding into her voice. Her words had hit him like a sledge hammer. It was clear the shock and pain of her statement overwhelmed him, such a rare thing for the mighty Slayer. She had hurt him and she realized she had meant to.

  “You don’t know for sure?” His voice pleaded for any hope.

  “Bennington sent men to pursue them. He told me that they were overtaken and killed.”

  “You have not searched for them? Why would you take the word of a priest?” he accused.

  Her heart pounded and her hands began to shake. “You don’t understand anything. I couldn’t go look for them, there was no way. I couldn’t bear to look on their little bodies, not after what I saw in that village. I cannot even think on it or I might go mad. You were gone. I suffered their loss alone. It was all I could do just to go on after Vadin’s death. I was broken, Kian, I wished for death.”

  “Why have none of the others helped you? We have to find out what happened to them.”

  He wasn’t listening to her, grasping at any chance that what she had told him wasn’t true, and it made her mad.

  “Let’s go now. We will find out what befell them. I will not believe them dead till I see it with my own eyes.”


  He stepped towards her, meaning to take her into his arms, but she pushed him back. “No, I can’t. I told you, I am too afraid to learn the truth. You did not see Vadin’s tiny body in those flames. I can’t look upon another one of my children’s dead bodies.” Her voice had become frantic and she couldn’t help the rage that had taken hold of her. “You surrendered to those vile men and let them take you away. It would have been better if you would have just let them kill me. Then I would not have to suffer the pain and the nightmares that plague me day and night. My children are dead because of you, half-breed.” She slapped his face again and again until black blood seeped from his nose and mouth.

  He took her blows without a word. Falling to her knees in the warm, wet sand, she clutched his legs and wept. He reached down and brought her to her feet. The raw anguish in his eyes showed her the torment she had delivered to him.

  “I will find them, Endra, no matter where they are, and I will bring them back to you. I swear it. ” He released his hold on her and stormed from the beach, leaving her hating herself for what she had just done.

  ***

  Most of the city was out in the streets watching the last of the flames from the palace light up the night sky. The monster inside his head howled, the wretched creature was in agony. It wanted to be free to inflict its pain on the world for the horrible loss it had suffered. Grasping his head as he walked, Kian tried to hold the phantoms at bay. The beast raged and the dark sword whispered, both spoke of bloody revenge. Using his iron will, Kian pushed back their craving for violence. He needed to keep his mind clear or he would be of no use to anyone.

  Endra hated him now. Her bitter words were worse than any wound he had ever suffered. Despair threatened to paralyze him as he thought on what she had said. All he wanted to do was retreat to some desolate place and hide from the world, but he would not desert the little ones. Even if they were dead, he would never allow their bodies to lie forsaken and forgotten. They deserved more than that. The swordsman threw back his head and squared his shoulders. Alive or dead, he was going to bring them back.