The Children of Urdis (Grimwold and Lethos Book 2)

by Jerry Autieri

  The bull went back into hiding, Lethos envisioning a black bull being prodded into a pen. His vision again went red and his body was consumed in heat. This time, when his eyes returned, he was staring up at the sky. Grimwold's face suddenly appeared over his.

  "You did it," he said. "You control the beast."

  Grimwold laughed. Lethos wanted to join him but it would not come. Was there anything funny about being sprawled out naked before your queen and friend? He tried to cover himself by twisting to the side, but Grimwold would not give him the satisfaction.

  "Too late for humility now," he said, slapping his shoulder. A jolt of pain ran through him, for he had struck near the wild stone wound. "We should be able to find something for you to wear in these houses. You're going to have to get used to being naked, like Turo and Kafara did."

  "I will see to that," Valda said. She averted her eyes, and Lethos felt a warmth in his cheeks he had thought would never come again. "You two should have a moment alone."

  She stared at the pile of corpses then shuddered before disappearing around the corner of the house where Lethos had been sitting.

  "Be careful," he said, wincing at the over-worried note in his voice.

  "Danir has marked her," Grimwold said, sitting in the grass beside him. "You need not worry for your high queen."

  "Where was Danir's mark when that demon had her wrapped in its tentacles?"

  "His mark was upon me. He gave me the strength to fight it, and so he protected us all. It's not the first time I've seen such a thing. A creature of Urdis the Deceiver, foul and weak."

  "I won't ask where you've seen one before." Lethos sat up and pulled his legs to his chest, both he and Grimwold facing the stained wall where he had watched a day of horrors unfold. It was better than looking at the death behind them. The prone form of the unconscious Sharatar stirred with a dull moan.

  "I'd like to say it's a story for another time, but it is not. I must tell you of all that has happened to me when I hung between life and the mist worlds."

  "Do I want to know?"

  "Knowing you, you do not. But the story must be told all the same." Grimwold fell silent and pulled off his gray cloak. "Sorry, you are cold. Wear this until Valda finds something better. Listen, I owe you my life. I know you did it because if I die, you die. But it doesn't change what you did, and actions count more than thoughts in this life. You're a true and brave friend, Lethos. When we both pass from this world, I will be glad to have you at my side in Danir's hall."

  The heavy wool cloak was comforting around his shoulders and took the shiver out of him. He pulled it close around his throat and gave Grimwold a weak smile. The big man had a good if barbaric heart. Lethos would rather spend his afterlife frolicking in the Ilyzian Fields than in a smelly hall of barbarian marauders, but he needn't alert Grimwold to this hope.

  Grimwold sighed and went into a fascinating description of his memories after being struck by the arrowhead fashioned from his birth stone. The inky stain that had covered Grimwold's chest seemed more of a curse from the Tsal than anything related to the stone. He was skeptical of Grimwold's encounter with a god, but he had witnessed Valda's transformation. He did feel as if he were living in a time of great changes, and so perhaps the gods may be active again. Yet he also could not help but doubt anything to do with gods. Turo and Kafara had deceived the world into believing the Great Shark had sided with Valahur during the war of the trolls. Could this be a similar deception from other Manifested? He did not voice the doubt and let Grimwold bring his story right up until the present moment. By this time, Valda had returned with a selection of simple clothing for him to wear.

  "I brought extras in case you want to change. I mean, become a mon--bull man, again."

  "In my country we call it a Minotaur," Lethos said. He smiled and nodded as she set the clothes next to him, but inside his heart sank at the unfinished word, "monster."

  He slipped on brown pants first, then pulled on a gray shirt and cloak. "Now I just need to wash this blood off my face and I'll feel better."

  Thinking of Avulash's blood rune made him study Sharatar's body. He did not recognize the bold shapes smeared over the plates of his armor, but they seemed like barbarian runes. The shirt beneath the missing breastplate had torn away to reveal the pallid flesh of a thin body.

  "You say we're going to travel the storm with him. Do you think we can trust him?"

  "I broke the wild stone charm he wore to protect himself from me. You know what I can do to him after that."

  Lethos nodded thoughtfully, imagining a dozen horrors he could inflict on this storm rider. They prepared themselves as Sharatar continued to moan as if aware of the scrutiny he received. Valda had gone to stand by the pile of corpses, and Lethos collected the extra clothes she had carried to him. He joined her by the pile, careful not to look too closely at them. He had stared long enough at their horrid fate.

  "Did you find a bag to pack the rest of these in?" It was a foolish question to ask of a queen, but as she stared down over the bodies, she seemed no more than a young woman who had lost her own family to a similar fate.

  "Is this what they did to my family?"

  Lethos swallowed. "They died quickly. I saw it."

  Valda nodded, her expression inscrutable. She extended a hand and at first Lethos did not know why, then realized she was offering to take the extra clothing. He passed these to her. "These storm riders, Tsal or whatever they are called, must be destroyed. They are too dangerous to merely drive off. They have to be rooted from the world."

  A brief silence continued and Lethos found the guts to ask what weighed on his heart. "Like me, right? When I become a monster, I cannot control myself and cannot be stopped."

  She turned to him, her expression never shifting. "No, you have learned to control the beast. But we must see if that remains so. If not, then I will find a way to help you manage it. That is a totally different problem."

  "But after the lightning strike, Grimwold said I wanted to go off and hide because I feared I would lose control again. Well, I did. I blacked out and when I awoke I was smeared with blood. Some poor man must have crossed my path and I killed him."

  Valda gave a thin smile. "I think you wandered into a bear's territory and it found you. There were bear markings everywhere as we followed your trail here. Then we found a torn up bear and hoofprints in the dirt. I think you just defended yourself when attacked."

  A smile sprung to his face and he could have kissed Valda right there, but then he felt the surge of power pulled off his body. So he instead turned to find Grimwold commanding Sharatar to stand and strip out of his armor.

  "We'll be ready to travel soon. So make your peace with the dead and be ready." Grimwold stood now, his face glowing with anticipation.

  Lethos exchanged looks with Valda. She raised her eyebrow. "Will this truly work?"

  "It does for some, so why not us? We're about to learn what it's like to travel by storm."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Lethos discovered travel by storm was not a pleasant experience, or at least Sharatar had made it so. With blood that sprung spontaneously to his palm, Sharatar had reached toward the sky and pulled down a whirling cone of cloud. He was firmly under Grimwold's control. Lethos felt the taut line of power drawn from his forehead supplying Grimwold with the strength he needed to dominate the storm rider. Yet his control was not refined, and Sharatar took his liberties.

  They were ripped into the air and spun around the inside of the cloud like bits of leaves. Lethos could scarcely hear Grimwold commanding him to calm their spinning over the roar of the wind. But once it settled to a gentle rotation, it was like being in a glass room where a storm raged outside. He could see nothing and feel nothing but a cool, tingling sensation as they traversed land and ocean toward Tsaldalr.

  Valda stared at him with her face shaded green, and Lethos was grateful she was not above him like Grimwold and Sharatar. She seemed ready to vomit at any moment. He
watched her for the journey, which was not as long as he expected. The storm traveled directly and with the speed of the wind. Just when it seemed Valda would at last succumb to her sickness, they all jolted as the storm dropped them rapidly.

  They crashed onto a beach in the shadow of black cliffs where a crack gave entrance to Tsaldalr. Only Sharatar landed with any grace. Lethos made an artless landing on his face, and was glad to have not witnessed what must have been Valda's humiliating landing on her face. She was rubbing sand and tangled hair from her face when Grimwold gathered them together. He did not let Sharatar out of his control. He was like a cobra on a leash, wavering beneath the struggle to defy Grimwold's commands.

  This was the first time Lethos could truly look at a storm rider. He had all the outward appearance of a thin and fragile beauty, but up close it was lost. Sharatar's expression was cold and heartless. His eyes flashed with the disposition of a river crocodile from his home in Rao-Kharos, and he shared the reptile's malevolent smile. He might snap Lethos up in his jaws if given the chance.

  "Takes us to your brothers," Grimwold commanded. "Keep us safe and do not betray us."

  More power pulled off of Lethos's connection, drawing that line between his head and Grimwold's as taut as it had ever been. It occurred to Lethos that he had never seen Grimwold control one person continuously for so long. With considerably less responsibility in the process, Lethos was free to poke into Grimwold's mind and see that even he was not sure how long he could do this. His experience had always been with discreet commands and not extended, open-ended control. He was exploring new territory, and his grip upon Sharatar was not as firm as it seemed.

  Grimwold knew Lethos had glimpsed all this, and gave him a wary look as he let Sharatar lead them into the darkness of the cracked rock.

  Of course I won't say anything to Valda, he thought back. It's bad enough I have to panic. No need to double the load.

  If he slips out of control, I'm counting on you to rip him to shreds. The thought came with a crude image of a massive black Minotaur tearing a bedsheet in half. The attempt at censorship made Lethos laugh out loud, drawing a curious look from Valda.

  You have a lot of faith in that bull spirit. I'd not be so quick to call on it.

  They pushed through the crack and entered into a natural cavern that was lit from another opening to the sky high above. Sea water had settled into puddles here, and they splashed through it to what seemed a man-made ramp of stone that rose to another doorway, a deeper black in the darkness. Sharatar ranged ahead of them, his tall and pale form now like a flickering candle flame as he passed through the shaft of light. "Through here, we will come to the entranceway to the halls below. Our ancestors had to build down to avoid the covetous gazes of the gods."

  What ensued next was a long and confusing journey through the gloom and darkness of stone. Lighting was inconsistently provided by oil lamps or strangely glowing blue globes. Galleries and chambers untouched for centuries lined the path Sharatar followed. He stopped at points to touch his forehead and locate his brothers, and each time Lethos felt the pull on his connection with Grimwold. Lethos marveled at all the history and knowledge he must be bypassing. Sharatar himself had to be dragged back into line several times for pausing to display his devotion or awe at some mysterious finding.

  Any chatter from the group died as they went deeper into the complex. The weight of the earth seemed to press on them as they descended. At last they came to a huge room of what seemed stone sarcophagi that stretched high above where row upon row of low-burning oil lamps lit the room. Bronze doors covered in patina hung open on the far wall. But straddling this was a massive statue of Urdis the Deceiver. He was naked to the waist, where his body became that of a lion. He wore a mask that made him seem almost reptilian, and hid his eyes in deep shadow.

  Sharatar stopped, seemed to struggle, and Lethos felt the tension increase in his connection to Grimwold. At last the storm rider turned with his teeth bared. "They are not far beyond that entrance."

  Grimwold smiled and drew his sword. "Good. Time for some blood-letting."

  Valda lightly grasped Lethos's arm as they all crossed toward the doors. "What will he do?" she whispered to him.

  "What did you think he meant?"

  "I mean, will he force them to kill themselves?"

  Lethos shrugged. He did not know, nor was he overly concerned how the Tsal died. Valda of all people should be happy to see them suffer for what they did to her parents. Still, he patted her hand and offered what he thought she wanted to hear. "We've come to get your brother and Syrus, as well as the sword. He won't waste time with torturing these monsters."

  Sounds of feet sliding over rough stone floors and low voices echoed from the darkness. It seemed Sharatar prepared to do something, either shout or run, but Grimwold's voice boomed out. "Sleep."

  Sharatar fell into a pile with a thud, his mouth open and slack as he slept. Grimwold stood over him and prodded him with his boot. "That'll keep him out of our way for the time."

  Beyond the doorway all was black. Beneath the statue of Urdis, Lethos felt as if the god himself was glaring down at him from behind the mask. The sounds beyond had grown still, and Grimwold laughed. Without any trace of his power, he called into the dark. "Come out, lads, and greet us properly. Time to join your brothers in death."

  Nothing happened, and Lethos suddenly had an urge to step to the side of the doors. He shoved Grimwold toward one side as he dragged Valda with him to the opposite. The cold trickle of ice raced up and down his back.

  At first nothing came, and Grimwold frowned across the gloom at him. Then a belch of fire exploded out of the darkness and rolled into the room. It splashed over the stone sarcophagi, and narrowly missed Sharatar on the floor.

  Five of the storm riders charged out from behind the attack, swords drawn and expecting resistance. Instead, Grimwold stepped away from the wall, his eyes crazed with the power building in him. The line between his head and Lethos's had grown so taut that he wondered why the storm riders had not tripped over it. Valda squealed at seeing Grimwold and hid her face from him.

  "Get on your knees," he commanded. The wave of power from his words struck out, and the charging Tsal stumbled into each other as it crashed over them. Lethos was about to see the dead man's tide in action. According to legend, in Grimwold's raiding days, he pulled men out of the shield wall with his powers and had them kneel for execution. That was the play now, he expected.

  The Tsal faced him, and Lethos felt his face flush with heat as Grimwold sucked as much power from him as he could handle. He had once commanded hundreds of men in one swoop, but they were mortal men. These Tsal were something else, and they poured all their hatred into a tenacious resistance of their order. At the very least, they were trapped wavering between obedience and escape, rendering them useless. Lethos could have run them through from behind while they struggled. But he thought Grimwold should know how far he could take these Tsal.

  Grimwold's face glowed with madness as he repeated his command. "On your knees!"

  The first of them went down, and soon the others followed. Grimwold was slick with sweat and his nose dripped blood, but he had overcome them. Lethos, for his part, also ran with sweat and felt as if he should lie down and sleep. Yet the power ran true from him to Grimwold, and so he held on.

  Valda clung to his back. "You're on fire."

  "So I noticed," he said with a weak smile.

  Grimwold drew his sword, and Lethos noticed it shimmered with a vague violet light. This had been Sharatar's blade. Killing an enemy with his own weapon was the highest insult any Valahurian could think of, but Lethos suspected normal weapons would be less effective against them. Grimwold had apparently planned ahead.

  "My queen, here are the scum that helped kill your family. Would you take revenge yourself?"

  Valda pulled back, and Lethos heard a gentle gasp. She stepped forward, and Grimwold held out the sword.

  Can we have les
s drama here, Lethos thought. I think we're about to run dry.

  If Grimwold heard, he did not acknowledge. He reversed the sword in his grip and extended the hilt to her. She shook her head. "You do this. I ... I will not stain myself with the blood of monsters. I am grateful to you, Grimwold."

  He nodded and Valda retreated from the five Tsal struggling against control.

  "You can kill us, but it is too late," one of them hissed. "Our people are coming. The way through the mists is open. The king has--"

  Grimwold's chop sent the Tsal's head flipping back over his shoulders. Blood jetted into the air, and Valda shrieked. Lethos even flinched away, fearful of what the black blood might bring to him. Grimwold, however, did not worry. He hacked down the line, sometimes taking two strikes to sever a head. With each body that flopped over in death, Lethos felt the demands against his power lessen. When the final one caved to the side like a fallen tree, Lethos was already cooling off.

  A massive pool of dark red blood spread out onto the floor. Grimwold wiped the splatter of blood from his face with the back of his arm. Urdis the Deceiver looked down on his fallen children, and Lethos wondered what vengeance the god might take for this atrocity.

  "I will wake Sharatar and have him witness his future," Grimwold said. He leaned over the Tsal, and with a word raised him from sleep. "Stand then remain still."

  The Tsal immediately began to hiss and spit like the cobra Lethos imagined, and his face grew as ugly as the heart of a demon. "You wretched beasts. Your torment will last forever. I will burn your tongues from your stinking mouths."

  "Silence," Grimwold said. Then he turned to Lethos. "Syrus and Thorgis must be close. I think I remember this place. Let's continue on."

  Valda gave Lethos a frightened look and let Grimwold and Sharatar pass them before following. She grabbed at Lethos as they entered the following room, which looked as though it had once been set aflame. The scent of ash was fresh. "Grimwold's power is terrifying. A man with such power could rule the world."