Gods Of Blood And Fire (Book 1)

by A. J. STRICKLER

  Kian missed his brother. He had asked some of the people they passed on the road that would trouble themselves to speak to him if anyone had seen any Elven travelers but no one had. Many said they had never even seen an Elf before. Disheartening as it was, he would not give up. He would keep looking no matter how long it took to find them.

  “What are you thinking about?” Kian looked up to see K’xarr standing above him. “I was thinking about home.”

  “Your home is on the back of that horse now, just like the rest of us.”

  Kian stood and brushed the grass from his breeches. “I know what you’re saying and I know it’s not likely that I will find my family but I’m not ready to give up on them yet.”

  K’xarr shook his head. “You might as well get use to the fact the world is cruel and unfair. No one cares about your family. The fact is you’re a Half Elf. You should know by now no one is going to help you. There are people that would not tell you if they had seen your mother and brother even if they had. I’m not telling you to give up, I’m just saying don’t count on other people to help. There are very few people in this world you can count on and even fewer you can trust.”

  “Thank you for your opinion but I don’t think everyone is as unkind as you think, some of us can be trusted.” Kian turned and walked away.

  “I can trust you to get me into trouble half-breed, that is what I can trust in.” The Half Elf’s optimism irritated the hell out of K’xarr and he didn’t know why.

  Cromwell joined K’xarr. The Toran was still eating the half-cooked chicken Vandarus roasted. “What’s his problem?” K’xarr said.

  “He misses his family and worries about them. You should not give him so much trouble for it just because you don’t have one.”

  “Cromwell, what would you know about family, yours cast you out because of the color of your blood.”

  “You are right, my friend, I know nothing about family and I most likely never will. There is one thing I do know: Kian is right, he is someone you can trust, he will not betray you, K’xarr, I know that is what you fear about everyone you meet. The Half Elf is different, he is a man of honor.”

  “I fear nothing, my friend, and I learned that if you don’t trust anyone you’re never betrayed.”

  Cromwell licked the chicken from his fingers and threw the carcass into the dark. “A hard way to be, my friend, with no trust you will always be alone. Even you had family once, didn’t you trust them?”

  “I did and they tried to kill me, that’s what you get for trusting.” K’xarr said his voice rising.”

  Cromwell put his big hand on his friend shoulder. “You trust me.”

  “You’re too dumb to be a traitor,” K’xarr said, without looking at the Toran.

  The young warrior looked back towards where the others sat around the fire talking and lowered his voice. “You’re right though, I should ease up on him. I just wish Kian would understand his family is lost and start thinking about what we’re going to do about making some coin.”

  “He will be ready when the time comes, K’xarr, trust me.”

  “I hope you’re right; he has a good sword arm. It will be a benefit if we ever find a band that doesn’t hate half-breeds.”

  “Never fear, my friend, we will find our place, you just wait and see. Now let’s see if Vandarus has anymore chicken.”

  Kian had walked alone for a while. He felt good with the night wrapped around him. He knew he had grown melancholy the last few days, too much time to think while he rode. With each new land he saw he wished his mother and brother were there to see it with him. He could not help but be concerned about them. K’xarr just didn’t understand that. He knew K’xarr was a hard man and Kian respected him for it, but nothing was going to stop him from finding out what happened to his family.

  Kian looked up toward the east and thought he could see another camp fire in the distance. It was hard to tell how far away it was, the night was so dark. He was trying to judge the distance when a child’s scream pierced the night.

  Kian sprinted back to where they had picketed the horses. “Did you hear that?” Kian yelled, jumping astride his horse.

  K’xarr stood up from where the men sat talking. “It was coyotes or a wolf, you should get off that horse right now. Don’t go looking for trouble, Kian. Kian! KIAN! Son of a bitching half-breed,” K’xarr said as Kian galloped out of the camp. “Damn it all to hell, here we go again, get the horses,” K’xarr spat. The rest of the men grabbed their weapons and they followed Kian into the night.

  Kian thundered toward the fire he had seen in the distance without thought about the safety of himself or his horse. He didn’t know if the others followed or not. It didn’t matter, he knew he had heard a child, it was no coyote. He saw a line of trees in the moonlight, the fire was just inside the trees, he could smell the smoke now.

  As Kian closed he could make out shadows moving in and out of the trees. He pulled the horse to a stop and slid out of the saddle, hitting the ground running. When he got close enough to see, he stopped to take in the scene. A tall woman was fighting three men in white robes and chainmail. The three were pressing her hard. He saw that two more of the men lay dead near the fire.

  The woman’s sword was a blur striking left and right, she held the men at bay for the moment, but she was unarmored fighting in only her under clothing and riding boots. She would not last long against the three armored men.

  Kian did not hesitate; he attacked the robed men instinctively. He yelled out, not wanting to attack the men from behind, all three looked and it cost one of them his life. When he glanced at Kian the woman delivered a backhand blow to the side of his her opponent’s head, killing him instantly.

  One of the robed men turned to take on Kian, the other stayed on the woman. Kian could tell the man was good and well trained, but he had not been train by the greatest Elven swordsman of the age.

  Kian blocked an overhand strike, turned his wrist, and buried his blade in the man’s neck. He looked over to find the woman had already killed her remaining attacker.

  Kian had a better chance to see her now. Waves of black hair wet with sweat hung in her face and fell well past her shoulders. The woman’s eyes were as dark as her hair. She stood staring at him, broad shoulder with a body that was hard and lean. Her face looked like it belonged to a blood-splattered angel. Kian had never seen anything or anyone so beautiful in all his life.

  “Were you stuck in the head or have you never seen a woman before?”

  Kian realized he was staring at the half-naked woman’s ample breasts. He could feel his face heat up with embarrassment, he was glad it was dark.

  “I heard a scream and came to see if you needed help.”

  The woman walked over and picked up a cape off the ground that appeared to be made from some kind of animal hide and tied it around her neck. “As you can see, I didn’t need any help, but I thank you for the thought.”

  Kian heard horses coming, he knew it was K’xarr and the others. The woman heard it too and stepped into a fighting stance.

  “They are friends; you don’t have to worry.” The woman didn’t move. She looked ready to fight again. His companions charged through the brush into the light of the fire.

  “Kian, what the hell have you done now? I … what do we have here.” K’xarr lowered his sword eyes drinking up the woman like a man dying of thirst.

  “These robed men were attacking her when I got here. I dealt with one of them, she killed the rest. K’xarr, did you hear me?”

  “Yes, yes, she was attacked, looking at her I understand why. My question is what she’s doing out here all alone. What does she look like to you, Cromwell?”

  The big man walked around the side of the woman then back. “I would say she was a Goddess of war, if it weren’t for that mammoth hide cape. Only the hunters of Sorrack wear such a garment. She is either from there or she stole that cape from a Sorrackan.”

  “Where is Sorrack?” Kian asked.<
br />
  Cromwell’s eyes narrowed. “It lies to the north and east of Camir, K’xarr’s home, deep into the Harsh Coast. It’s a frozen waste; only crazy tribes of hunters live there, killing the local great beasts in order to survive. It’s an ice-covered shit hole. Is that where you come from, woman?”

  The woman did not move, but her eyes scanned the entire group, gauging each one. Kian could see the muscles in her smooth legs ready to spring any direction at a moment’s notice.

  Rufio was kneeled down looking at one of the dead men. “K’xarr, you’re not going to like this.”

  K’xarr moved over to Rufio without taking his eyes off the woman. “What is it?”

  Rufio rolled the dead man over on his back and pointed to the symbol on the dead man’s robe; it was of an open hand. “He is a Hand of God, K’xarr, a warrior priest.”

  Vandarus spit on the ground. “More like an assassin priests. They kill people for the Church, people I have known. They are only sent out of Tyro for very special missions and their missions always involve murder. The Church must be hunting this woman and its death to hinder or harm a Hand of God.”

  K’xarr looked at Kian. “How many did you say you killed?”

  “He killed but one,” the woman said. “Go now, I will tell no one that he helped me, you have my word.”

  K’xarr closed one eye and looked at the woman. “I bet you stole something from the Church, and it must be very precious for them to sic their dogs on you. Am I right, woman? If you are from Sorrack, you know my people. Camirans have no problem killing women.”

  The woman began to shift back and forth on her feet. “Just go, I have nothing of value.”

  K’xarr continued, “It must be nearby, you’re in a very big hurry to have us leave.” The woman glanced behind her and K’xarr slowly smiled. “Just hand it over and there will be no trouble, even as dirty as you are you are a true beauty. It would be a shame to have to take your treasure from you by force and spoil your looks.”

  Before anyone could move the woman attacked, her blade striking out at K’xarr like a serpent. Kian started to intercede, but Cromwell held him back. “I want to see this. K’xarr was bluffing about killing her, but I don’t think she understood it was a bluff.”

  K’xarr was blocking blow after blow doing his best to look like the woman was no match for him, but Kian was beginning to worry. The woman was good, very good.

  She drove the Camiran back step by step until they were right next to the fire. K’xarr stomped down on a burning branch sticking out of the blaze sending embers into the woman’s face.

  The distraction was all he needed, he beat her blade aside and slashed her forearm.

  The woman dropped her sword and K’xarr sent an elbow into her jaw knocking her to the ground. Kian didn’t like it, but the woman had attacked first.

  “Not the best swordsmanship I have ever seen, but you’re one of the best dirty fighters I have ever known, my friend,” Cromwell called out.

  K’xarr smiled and put his blade back in its scabbard. “Now, woman, show us the treasure or whatever it is you have. There’s no need for any more bloodshed.”

  Three children burst from the bushes behind the woman screaming like banshees; they were two boys and a girl, none looked more than five or six years old.

  K’xarr was so shocked he took a step back and tripped over his feet, the three wild children jumped on him and began to bite and kick as hard as they could.

  “Back children, run. Run into the dark,” the woman cried out, but it was too late the group of men had grabbed the little ones off K’xarr and held them back like a pack of small angry dogs.

  The woman reached for her sword, but Kian stepped on it. “We don’t mean you or your children any harm, trust me.”

  The woman looked angrily up at Kian. By the look in her dark eyes he didn’t believe she would ever surrender.

  “Put the children down. They are frightened.” Kian motioned to the others and they lowered the children slowly to the ground.

  The children ran to the woman; they looked at the men and growled. The little girl stuck her tongue out at K’xarr.

  “See, we mean you no harm. Calm down and we can talk.” Kian offered his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her up on her feet. She clutched her wounded forearm to her chest. Kian saw she was in pain. “Let me see it, we have a healer and...”

  Kian’s eyes went wide with surprise. “K’xarr, look.” They all gazed at the beautiful woman’s arm and the black blood seeping through her fingers.

  Chapter 10

  K’xarr had asked Siro to bind the woman’s wound. Vandarus rode back to camp and gathered what was left of the chicken he had roasted to give to the children.

  There was little left so the Bandaran made a stew adding wild onions and some salt. The children looked at the young man as he cooked like he was a saint descended from heaven. When it was finished they fell on it like wild animals, cleaning up every last drop.

  Kian and Rufio built the fire up and tended to the horses, then they helped Cromwell drag the priests’ bodies away from the camp.

  “I am finished, K’xarr, her wound was minor, just a few stitches. I find the blood very intriguing though.”

  He didn’t answer the healer. K’xarr stood with his arms folded, his focus was entirely on the woman. “Okay, sit down, I need some answers, let me ask my questions and we won’t trouble you anymore.”

  She shook her raven black hair out of her face K’xarr could see the defiance in the woman’s eyes. “Will you at least give me the chance to put my clothes back on?”

  K’xarr smiled. “If you must.” He gestured to a pile of clothing he saw laying on the ground.

  The woman pulled on a pair of soft leather pants and a short-sleeve chainmail shirt then a leather vest with steel pauldrons laced onto the vest’s shoulders. “May I have my sword back?” The woman asked as she strapped a pair of steel bracers to her wrists.

  “As you please,” said K’xarr. She picked up the sword, it was a beautifully made bastard sword, a weapon few women would have the strength to use. She slid the blade into the scabbard on her side. Sitting down on a fallen log, she pulled on her high boots.

  K’xarr watched as she stood up, hand on her sword hilt, mammoth cape waving slightly with the night breeze and those eyes like cold black steel. K’xarr thought she looked like a woman no man would ever conquer.

  “Now that you’re more comfortable, first things first; what’s your name?”

  “Endra Korlest of Sorrack.”

  “You’re a long way from home, Endra. Why is that?”

  The woman narrowed her eyes. “I want to know why what I am doing is such an interest to a bunch of mercenaries.”

  “Who said we were mercenaries?” Cromwell asked.

  “I know a sell-sword when I see one, Toran.” She shook her head. “I think that’s all the questions I want to answer. The children and I will be leaving now.”

  K’xarr stepped in front of her as she started to walk away. “You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers, wench.” Endra’s hand shot to her sword hilt and before K’xarr could move she drew the blade straight up and hit him under the chin with the pommel, busting it open and causing K’xarr to bite his tongue.

  He put his hand over his mouth but it was too late, black blood dripped down his chin. Endra stepped back, leveling her sword at K’xarr. “By all the Gods, what evil is this? You are like the one that did this to me?” Endra raised her blade to strike a killing blow to K’xarr’s head. Cromwell grabbed her arm just in time, holding her back from his friend. As strong as she was, her strength was no match for the Toran’s.

  “What in the hell are you doing, you crazy bitch? None of us have done anything to you,” K’xarr said holding his busted chin.

  Cromwell wrenched the sword from the woman’s hand and pushed her away. “Calm down, woman, and tell us what you’re talking about. K’xarr and I both carry the same blood curse as you d
o. All we want to know is if you can tell us anything about where it comes from?”

  As he finished, Cromwell looked around and saw Rufio and Vandarus both staring at him. Siro stood just out of the fire light with a look of amusement on his face.

  Their secret was out, now Cromwell gawked at K’xarr with an apologetic look on his face. “They would have found out sooner or later, K’xarr.” The Camiran closed his eyes and shook his head.

  Endra backed away from them. “You two were cursed by the man in the black armor?” K’xarr could see the woman was confused and for the first time fear crossed her face.

  Siro handed K’xarr a rag to hold on his chin, the cut was wide but not deep. “If you would stop attacking me for a few minutes, I will tell you our tale and we can sort this all out. You are the first we have ever seen with the blood.” K’xarr’s bleeding had all but stopped. He handed the rag back to Siro. The little healer casually tucked the rag into his pocket.

  K’xarr turned to his companions. “Rufio, Vandarus, and Siro, you all should hear this too. Kian, you already know, but you should listen, I will tell this tale only once. When I’m finished, Endra, I hope you will tell us your story and what you know of this curse.”

  The woman did not answer, she only looked at him and sat down on the other side of the fire, the children gathering around her, the girl sitting on her lap and the boys to either side.

  K’xarr watched as the men in the group all found a place around the fire to listen. “When I’m finished any of you who want to leave can go with no hard feelings, if you chose.”

  K’xarr began pacing back and forth. He had tried to forget all of it, now like a malevolent ghost the past had come back to haunt him. The tale was painful for him, though he would never admit that.

  “Neither Cromwell nor I know why we have this cursed blood. We were both born on the Harsh Coast, I in Camir, Cromwell in Tora. I will not attempt to tell his story. I can only tell mine.

  “As long as I can remember my blood has been black. I know of no other consequence to the curse other than our blood is a different color than other men. I lived among the Camiran’s until I was seventeen. I always lived under the suspicion of our village elders since I was a child. My parents were never kind to me, only caring for me as much as they had to, to keep me alive. To this day I’m not sure if they even were my parents.