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

by A. J. STRICKLER

  “I thought you didn’t even want to come out here with me?” Upton was curious why Lucan was so serious and seemed determined to carry it out their orders.

  “I didn’t and I don’t care about this war anymore, but you’re my friend and Ivan has been good to me, I don’t want to let him down.”

  “I know what the lieutenant said, but the dark works both ways, brother. I think it is time to end our exploration for the night.”

  Lucan shrugged his reluctant agreement and started to crawl out of the gully. Upton seized him by the hair and landed a chopping blow with side of his hand to Lucan’s throat. The former stable boy rolled into the gully, thrashing and kicking as he tried to get air into his lungs through his crushed windpipe. This was not the first time the mercenary had killed in this fashion and Upton knew Lucan’s struggle would be a fruitless effort. It was a bloodless way to kill, and he needed to keep this clean.

  His story would not be believable if he returned covered in gore. As Lucan’s movements slowed, his killer knelt beside him. “I am sorry, brother, but I know you would want me to save Ashlyn’s life and this was the only way I could think to do it. Go to the gods, my friend.” Upton took a crossbow bolt from his belt, one he had pulled out of a dead Masarian. He slowly pushed it into Lucan’s throat, taking extra care to keep any blood from getting on his clothing. The bolt would hide the mark from the blow and provide a cover story.

  Ursula screamed from the far end of the gully. Even in the dark, he could see that her face was twisted with rage and heartbreak. He had ended the life of the man she loved. Lucan was lost to her forever. Killing Ashlyn now would gain her nothing.

  The terrible deed was done. Ursula knelt in the darkness and sobbed for her loss. He felt sorry for his sister, but only one of them could have what they wanted this time and he had struck first. “I hope you can forgive me one day,” he whispered to his weeping twin.

  Carrying Lucan's body, he made his way back to where Ivan and the company waited and came upon Beck and Hastings in the darkness.

  Beck pulled up the dead man’s head up by his hair. “Cromwell will not be happy about that. What happened?”

  “We ran right into a group of Quintaran sentries as we approached their camp. We got separated in the dark and when I circled back, I found his body in a shallow gully. He was already dead, there was nothing I could do,” Upton said, trying to sound distraught. “I could still hear the enemy moving around nearby so I picked him up and made my way back.”

  The look Beck gave Hastings was hard to perceive in the darkness, but Upton knew no matter the two mercenary’s suspicions, they couldn’t prove anything. Besides, Beck and Hastings were cold-blooded killers. He didn’t think they would care one way or the other about the stable boy.

  “We saw no camp, the Quintarans we ran into were on the move,” Beck said, taking the body from Upton and slinging it over his shoulder.

  “I guess some must have started out before the others,” Upton quickly answered.

  “We should go. Ivan needs to know the enemy is coming this way,” Beck whispered. Hasting grunted his agreement.

  Upton sighed quietly. He hoped that was all the interrogation he would get. The trio moved quickly through the night without another word spoken.

  ***

  It was nearly morning when they returned from their mission. Ivan and the others were waiting for them and had already troubled themselves to saddle their horses. Many of the company’s members stood alongside their lieutenant, and Ashlyn was among them, obviously waiting for Lucan’s return. The three men jogged back into camp, Beck still carrying the burden of their fallen brother. Lucan’s body swung back and forth behind the mercenary’s back as he trotted up to Ivan.

  Beck laid him gently on the ground at the lieutenant’s feet. They had removed the bolt from his throat, but the ghastly wound was clearly visible.

  Upton watched the color drain from Ashlyn’s face as she looked upon the body of the man she loved. Her eyes met his and she began to shake. She ran to Lucan’s lifeless body and dropped to her knees. Stroking his hair, the young woman slowly lowered her head to his chest and began to sob uncontrollably.

  Beck gave him a look that was hard to read but the girlish-looking mercenary didn’t like it. Ignoring Beck’s gaze, he went to the heartbroken girl and pulled her to her feet as the other mercenaries picked up Lucan’s body and draped it across the back of his horse.

  He held her close as she wept, her face buried in his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered in her ear. But the truth was, he wasn’t sorry at all.

  They watched from a hilltop west of the city as the last of the Masarians marched into Gallio. What was left of the papal army and the Quintaran forces were close behind them, forty thousand strong. K’xarr might finally meet his end here, the war god thought. Fane had donned his red armor for the battle. He struck a powerful and foreboding figure in the heavy plate, with his massive ax slung across his wide back. His dark eyes scanned the approaching army, appraising it strengths and weakness with a practiced ease.

  “Things are going to get out of hand,” he said, more to himself than the woman beside him.

  Syann threw back her silver cape and put her hand on the hilt of her sword. Her blonde hair was braided like the women of the north and she had donned her battle armor. Standing alongside her uncle, the Goddess of Justice tried to see what he saw. “I don’t understand your unease. I see nothing that would cause you such concern? You’re the God of War, Fane. If you don’t want this battle, stop it.”

  Fane waved her words away. “It’s not that, it’s the strange tale of how your Slayer came to possess the sword he carries, and your mother’s interference with the Camiran, arming him with an enchanted sword that I have never heard of and dressing him in the armor of the Red Handed. Not to mention your mongrel sisters. They have much to do with the events to come, entwining themselves with the mortals with sad stories of loss and betrayal. Make no mistake, they have a purpose behind their actions. Octavian should have drowned the lot of them at birth.”

  “I am not close to my half-sisters and do not pretend to know their minds, but I see no reason for them to become involved here. Even if some of the mortals are their children, what would be the gain?”

  Fane chuckled ironically. “To cause trouble, that’s what those vipers are good at. They spread treachery and lies as easily as they spread their legs. We should kill them now that your father is gone. It was only his protection that has kept them alive this long. I am sure if someone were to whisper the idea in your mother’s ear, she would see all ten of them put down.”

  Syann shook her head at Fane’s vicious notion. “No, they are not gods but they carry my father’s blood. I will not see them destroyed because you distrust their motives.”

  Fane walked to the edge of the hilltop. “It’s a mistake to let them live, Syann. They have always been jealous of their betters and hold us in contempt for not allowing them a place among us. I fought alongside Octavian countless times with those women at our backs. Those harlots obeyed him like a pack of faithful hounds. Now they are without a master. Without him to control them, they will become feral, and neither their words nor deeds can be trusted. I have seen them in battle, they are sly and deadly. Even we would be hard pressed to bring them to heel.”

  “Perhaps I should speak with them, they are my sisters after all. Maybe they can be tamed again. It would not hurt to have them on our side, would it? You make them sound like they would be a very valuable asset if one could gain their allegiance.”

  Fane folded his arms across his chest. “Without the Reaper present, I would sooner have a pack of starving wolves at my back, at least you would know what they were going to do. Blood is coming to this world, I can smell it in the wind, and those women will be at its heart. They always have been.”

  Syann put her hand on her uncle’s shoulder. “It sounds like you’re afraid of them.”

  “They learned much from yo
ur father, girl, but it’s not them I fear. It’s what they will cause.”

  Syann rolled her eyes. “They are half-breeds, truly powerful but not gods. What can they really cause that would be a danger to us?”

  Fane pulled at his dark beard and stared down at the city. “Chaos.”

  ***

  The Wardogs didn’t get much rest after they rode in. Achillus let them have a hot meal then set the Masarian troops to work strengthening the barricades that cut the harbor off from the rest of the city.

  Ivan had found him and given his report, then filled them in on Lucan’s death. The Asconan had done well getting the army back to Gallio in less than two weeks. K’xarr was proud of his performance and told Ivan so.

  Cromwell hadn’t taken the stable boy’s death well. The Toran added another slash to the collection on his forearm to represent the young man’s death. He blamed himself for not being there when Lucan needed him. K’xarr could tell he had taken a liking to the awkward young man and felt Lucan was his responsibility. The Toran would see the man’s death as his own failure, it was his way. Cromwell said he would see to Lucan’s burial and vowed to make Ashlyn his Matea, the Toran word for daughter. K’xarr didn’t know if the girl would take the oath seriously, but he knew Cromwell would.

  Ivan followed K’xarr and Achillus to the makeshift headquarters they had set up in an empty building near the wall. The lieutenant informed them of the prisoner they had captured in the north. The two leaders directed Ivan to bring him to them. K’xarr was pleased he would get to see Kattan once more before he sent the bastard to hell.

  The former general of the papal army was brought before K’xarr and Achillus in chains. Kian, Endra, and Cromwell were there when Ivan and a few of the Sons had dragged Kago in. Ivan recounted the general’s capture and how he was found without a uniform and in chains. The Asconan said his guess was Kattan was on the run from his own men, and that the general had been questioned but had given them no explanation and no information.

  K’xarr didn’t think the bastard would ever talk. Kago hadn’t given the impression of weakness. He would have to be tortured and with the Quintarans nearly to Gallio, there would be no time for any drawn out torment.

  The man glared at K’xarr from under his dark matted hair like a caged animal. It was clear that someone had beat him well, judging by the bruises and cuts on his face. Cromwell put his hands on the prisoner’s shoulders. Using his great strength, the Toran forced the former general to his knees, giving the man’s face a shove before backing away.

  K’xarr could see the light of recognition in Kattan’s eyes. The general knew who he was. “Well, you unlucky bastard, what the hell happened? Last I saw, you were leading the papal army and trying to kill me.”

  “Go to hell,” Kago spat.

  “You are going to go first, I just thought you might want to pray or make your peace before I kill you,” K’xarr said with a smirk.

  “I worship no god and I never have, they are for the weak. I am a man of violence and have no peace to make,” Kattan said spitefully.

  “Well, that is fucking fine with me.” K’xarr drew Crimson Wave and raised it above his head.

  “Wait, K’xarr,” Endra said, looking closer at the battered prisoner. “I know this man. He was kind to me when I was Milara’s prisoner. We stopped in his camp for the night and he offered me comfort.”

  “Well, that was decent of him. I will see he dies quick.” K’xarr raised the red blade again.

  Endra grabbed the mercenary captain’s arm. “No, I will not see him killed,” she said firmly.

  “He is our enemy and a minion of the Church. Stand aside. We don’t need a man like this in our camp,” K’xarr said, pulling his arm away from the woman.

  Endra knelt in front of the prisoner, ignoring him. “Do you remember me?”

  K’xarr watch as Kago’s scarred face softened. “I do, and I am glad you won free of Milara and Benington. Both men are little more than dogs. I hope you kill the shit-eating curs someday.”

  “We will spare your life if you help us.”

  K’xarr lowered his sword and pulled Endra to her feet. “I never said anything about letting him live.”

  “I said he was kind to me when there was no one,” Endra said, looking at Kian. “I won’t let you kill him.”

  “She is a brave and wise woman, Strom. You should listen to her,” Kago said, smiling with his broken lips.

  Cromwell smacked the prisoner on the side of his head, his big hand knocking Kago off his knees. “Smile at my captain again, wretch, and I will put my fist through your chest.” Cromwell glared at the former general. “We can’t trust him, K’xarr. The scar-faced pig is just trying to save his neck.”

  Endra gave Cromwell a hard look and the Toran stepped back.

  “Free my hands, Captain Strom, and I will show you how to put a quick end to this Toran slug,” Kago said, lunging at Cromwell. Ivan stepped in front of Cromwell or their prisoner would have died then.

  “Enough,” K’xarr yelled. He looked down at the chained man then to Achillus.

  “It’s you decision, Captain. He’s your prisoner,” the general said with a wave.

  He didn’t believe Kattan was a coward or a liar, and it was clear he didn’t fear death. Maybe Endra could get something useful out of him. “He lives for now,” K’xarr said, sheathing Crimson Wave. “You stay in those chains till I say different, Kattan, and if you even look at anyone wrong, I will kill you.”

  The former general said nothing. K’xarr ordered a man to stand watch with the prisoner before they left the building.

  Cromwell stalked away as they walked out, angry with his judgment. K’xarr ignored him. The Toran would get over it soon enough. “Endra, since you seem to have some pull with our prisoner, wait a bit and see what you can get from him.”

  “I will do my best, K’xarr. I just want you all to know, if not for his compassion, I may not have survived my captivity.”

  “I think it was your looks that gave him cause to help you, Endra. When I look at him, I see no kindhearted man. I see a killer, but I don’t care if it was your feminine wiles or something else. Use whatever you have to and see if he knows anything. And, Endra, if he is of no help, I am going to kill him,” K’xarr said with conviction.

  ***

  The night was quiet except for a few muted conversations of the men as they busied themselves with preparations for the upcoming battle. Glancing up, Endra saw that the moon was full and bright. Kian should be by her side, she thought, walking along the docks of the harbor. There was little that could be done about it now. War was at hand and he was with K’xarr and the others talking over strategy for the defense of the district.

  She had gotten little information from their prisoner. K’xarr might have been right. When she had spoken with Kago, the look in his eyes was one she had come to know. The man was infatuated with her. Many women would be pleased to have so much attention from men, but to her it was a burden.

  It was fortunate that Kian wasn’t with her, she needed to make her decision. Since the healer had brought her the tonic last week, she had done nothing but agonize over what she should do.

  She held the small vial Rhys had given her and looked at it in the moon’s soft light. Leaning against one of the dock’s pilings, she gazed at the liquid.

  Endra wished the children were closer. She would have liked to see them and put them to bed herself. They were always a comfort to her and it would have helped to be close to them, but they were out in the harbor. K’xarr had put them on a ship, leaving Nick to tend them. It was just too dangerous to have them with her, in case things went bad when the Quintarans arrived.

  The fighting would start in the morning or the next day. She had planned to wait, as there was a chance the battle would take care of the problem for her. If she was killed, it would all be at an end, but she couldn’t stand the baby inside her any longer. It had to go. She had tried to imagine having the child and rai
sing it with the rest of her children, but she had been unable to even fathom giving birth to Milara’s child. It would always be the seed of the man who had raped her and killed her son. She thought it possible to get past the vile things Milara had done to her, but there was nothing that could get her past Vadin’s death.

  She pulled the stopper from the bottle. Rhys said his potion might make her feel ill or cramp a little, but other than that, she would be fine. Drinking the vile tasting liquid down, Endra wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and threw the empty vial into the harbor. It was done. There was no going back.

  ***

  The hour was late. K’xarr walked alone down the warped planks of the Masarian docks. He had passed Endra heading back towards the walls. He had said hello, but she had only responded with a wave. The woman had a great deal on her mind and so did he.

  K’xarr was trying to run it all through his head, doing his best to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Rufio had everything well in hand, so there was no need to worry about the Dragitan. He would do what needed to be done. When he had told his melancholy lieutenant what he planned, Rufio hadn’t even batted an eye. Rachael’s death had hardened the Dragitan’s heart, and K’xarr thought the man just didn’t care anymore.

  Endra’s children were on a ship in the harbor. It would be the safest place for them over the next couple of days. It was the best he could do for the little ones.

  The mercenary knew he should have listened to Cromwell and Achillus and just looted Gallio and taken to the sea. He wanted to tell them the reason he was willing to die for a fallen kingdom, but they would never understand.

  It wasn’t a mystery to him. He wasn’t fighting for Masaria or even for his company. It was all about the pope and his Church. He was done running away from them. Kian was right, they would never stop coming.