Gods Of Blood And Fire (Book 1)

by A. J. STRICKLER

  He was weak and out of breath and hundreds of horsemen were roaring towards where he stood. The young Bandaran was afraid, he didn’t want to die but it was inevitable now. If the Abberdonians didn’t kill him, he would most likely bleed to death. Vandarus knew he would not see another day. He began to shout at the others that had not made it back to the city in time. “To me, you bastards, let’s make Havalon wish he had never seen the walls of Turill.”

  Rufio climbed the stairs and joined K’xarr and Cromwell on the wall. “Everyone’s in that’s getting in, General.”

  “How many would you say we closed the doors on?” K’xarr asked. “Not many more than a hundred I would say, better than we thought. I thought for sure that damn snow would cost us a lot more.”

  The three men watched the stragglers as the Abberdonian cavalry surged towards them. One of the doomed soldiers had taken charge and had the others forming a rough line before the Abberdonian onslaught.

  Rufio looked closer. “It’s Vandarus, K’xarr, it’s Vandarus we have to get out there.” Rufio turned to go down the steps of the battlements, but Cromwell grabbed him in a bear hug, it was all the bigger man could do to hold the stocky Dragitan back, the Toran whispered quietly to him. “Easy, Rufio, don’t worry, he will make us proud.”

  The snow had started to fall again as the Abberdonians crashed into the ragged line of men. Knee-deep in snow, the stragglers did what they could, but on foot with many of them exhausted and wounded, most died quickly.

  Vandarus side-stepped a horse that was coming towards him and cut the leg off its rider, only to be knocked down by a horse passing behind him.

  He thought he would just lay there, it wasn’t so bad and he was very tired. The white snow started turning red around him. He raised his head and looked at his back. It wasn’t a horse that hit him but a lance. It had gone through him and broken off in his back, he felt his mouth filling with warm salty blood. He struggled to his feet, weaving back and forth. His knees starting to buckle and he couldn’t keep his feet. He looked up in time to see a second line of Abberdonian cavalry bearing down on him. He grinned at his bad luck. Blood seeped through his teeth and dribbled down his chin. “You were right, Rufio. I should have been a farmer.”

  Rufio had watched the rider bury his lance in Vandarus’s back and his friend fall into the snow, he thought it was over, but he saw the young man stand back up and raise his sword in defiance of the second wave of horsemen, only to have another lance driven through his chest.

  He fell and lay still. One tear dropped from Rufio’s eye and fell on the cold stone of the battlements, it had been a long time since anyone’s death had hurt him so much. The last time had been when he was just a boy in Dragita. His young sister had drowned and it had been his fault.

  Rufio saw K’xarr bring his fist down on the parapet. “Fire,” he yelled. The Bandaran archers rose up and let loose, the Abberdonian cavalry was covered in a blanket of arrows.

  They fired three more times before what was left of the horsemen hobbled back to the Abberdonian camp.

  Cromwell clamped his big hand on Rufio’s shoulder. “He died well. Tonight he will dine with the Gods of battle in Vinteytium.” Rufio didn’t believe in the Gods, but if there were a place for good men, Vandarus would be there.

  The Dragitan watched as Cromwell slowly pulled his Voltakar from its sheath. The Toran drew the blade across his forearm. Rufio gaped as black blood oozed from the wound. “What the hell are you doing, Cromwell?” The Toran quickly ripped a piece of cloth from his cloak to hide the oddity of his blood from the men on the wall. “I honor Vandarus with my blood. When the wound heals the scar will always remind me of his courage. It is the way of my people.”

  Rufio could only stare at the Toran in wonder. Then he drew his short sword and cut his own forearm. “I too will never forget,” he whispered.

  ***

  Rhys was working as fast as he could. K’xarr had commandeered the homes and buildings closest to the northern gate and made them in to makeshift hospitals for the wounded.

  Rhys was astonished at the horrible wounds men could inflict on each other. It would be well into the afternoon before he could even slow down, many men would owe their lives to him before the day was out, and the Bandaran’s would hail him the greatest healer ever to grace their city. By nightfall, he would not care.

  K’xarr spent most of the rest of the day trying to figure out how many men he had left. As near as he could tell about seven thousand could still fight, a thousand men lay dead outside the walls. With the loss of the troops from Braxton Bluff, that left him only the men he had conscripted from the city. They had almost no training and after today’s events their morale was low. He could never hold the city with so few.

  “Rufio, how many do you think Havalon lost?” The Dragitan had said little since the death of his friend. “Rufio, did you hear me?”

  “Maybe four or five thousand, we hit them hard.”

  K’xarr took his helmet off and rubbed the sweat from his head. “Not enough, we would have evened the odds if Greyson hadn’t been a turncoat, damn him to hell, get Cromwell and start assigning the men to shifts on the wall, pick some of the men who show promise and make them officers and divide what we have left into companies. If what I have heard about this Abberdonian King is true, he won’t wait long to attack.”

  Rufio raised his fist to his chest in salute and walked off to find Cromwell.

  The sun was starting to set and no one had told her anything about what had happened, all she knew was it was over and her army was back inside the walls.

  Raygan had not eaten lunch, her stomach had been to upset, this baby was not making it easy on her. She was hungry now and decided she was going to try and eat something.

  She opened the door of her quarters to tell the guards to summon her servants and found no one there, curious, she stepped into the hall and looked around. She saw nothing, “I’m ready for my supper now,” she called out. No one answered.

  The Queen stepped back into her room shaking her head, she would have to mention this to K’xarr, he told her that the men guarding her were two of the best he had. Raygan closed the door, looking up she saw a man sitting on her bed, his face covered with a black leather mask. “Good evening, Your Majesty.” She screamed.

  ***

  Kian and Endra sat in one of the large marble baths in the west wing of the palace; no one had tried to stop the blood-soaked pair when they walked in.

  Endra thought Kian might want to talk to K’xarr after the battle, but he had stayed with the common troops, she thought he was trying to find some camaraderie among them, a bond of men who had been in battle together. All he found was fear and apprehension. When he walked through their ranks, they stepped aside many turning their backs. They were afraid of him now. Many had seen what he had done to the Abberdonian soldiers. To his credit, he had said nothing. He merely took her by the hand and went to the palace.

  They had bathed and washed the blood from their hair, turning the bath water a gruesome pink color. They had the servants draw another bath of clean warm water. He had made love to her then and now they sat soaking their weary bodies. He had said nothing of Vandarus’s death but she knew it troubled him. Endra would miss the Bandaran’s infectious smile and crude jokes.

  “I will find us some clothing, do you need anything else?” He shook his head. Endra gathered up their bloody clothing and armor, so it could be cleaned later and headed to her room.

  She went to her quarters and changed into a simple shirt and a pair of soft doeskin pants and strapped her sword around her waist. She opened a shutter and looked out, night had fallen. The day had passed quickly after the battle. She could see snow falling gently down through the moonlight, the city had turned white while she and Kian had sat in the bath. It was beautiful, reminding the young woman of her home.

  Endra gathered up Kian’s spare clothing and started back down to the baths, she met Rhys coming up the stairs, and
he looked bone tired. “You look ready for sleep,” she said.

  Rhys grinned at her. “I am, it’s been a long day. I have never seen anything like it, I take it you and Kian fared well?”

  “We did, my arm is a bit sore though.”

  Rhys yawned. “See me tomorrow. I will take a look at it. Have you spoken to Kian about your last visit?”

  Endra shook her head. “No, not yet, I’m waiting for the right time, I will tell him soon.”

  Rhys touched her arm “Please do, he should know sooner rather than later.” Rhys gave her a solemn look. “I hated to hear about poor Vandarus, he was a good man. I will miss him a great deal.” Endra nodded her agreement.

  “If you will excuse me, I’m ready for my bed. Remember talk to Kian.” Rhys gave her a sad smile and continued on up the stairs.

  Rhys was right, she thought Kian should know about the baby, she would tell him first thing tomorrow.

  “Cromwell, are you drunk?” K’xarr stared at the Toran dumbfounded. He had gone to the throne room to see if the Queen was there, so he could tell her about the battle and Greyson’s treachery. He was stunned to find the big Toran sitting on the phoenix throne, drinking from a large bottle of wine.

  “That I am, your generalship.”

  K’xarr went up the steps of the dais and slapped the bottle out of Cromwell’s hand. “Get off that throne, you stupid oaf.”

  Cromwell surged up and grabbed K’xarr by the throat and lifted him off the ground. “You should never waste good wine, General.” He tossed K’xarr down the stairs of the dais. The Camiran tumbled down to lay sprawled out in the floor. Cromwell walked slowly down the steps toward him.

  K’xarr got to his feet. “You drunk bastard, what the hell are you doing?”

  “What you should be doing, why aren’t you drunk too, General? We fought, we won, and we lived, is there a better reason to be drunk? Tell me, General, did you see my friend Vandarus die today? Will you not have a drink to his courage?”

  K’xarr was livid. “You idiot, get back to your men and get there now, Havalon could attack in the morning, we have a city to defend, don’t you understand that?”

  Cromwell bowed low and swept his arm out in a grand fashion. “Of course, General, I hear and obey. Tell me, my lord, have you seen my comrade K’xarr anywhere? I need to find a man to drink with.”

  K’xarr’s hand balled into a fist and he slammed it into Cromwell’s face, breaking his friend’s nose.

  The Toran staggered back and wiped the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand. “Oh wait, there he is now.”

  K’xarr looked at him perplexed. Cromwell grabbed him by his cuirass and slung the general across the throne room.

  K’xarr got to his feet and saw the giant Toran charging toward him. “Oh hell” was all he got out. Cromwell hit him like a battering ram and both men landed in a heap on the floor, fists flying.

  “Enough, I yield,” K’xarr said. They locked eyes and both burst out laughing.

  “Let’s go get another bottle of wine and I’ll help you drink it,” K’xarr said.

  “You’re a hard man to talk into having a drink, General.” Cromwell grunted as he rose to his feet.

  He helped his friend up and they walked towards the great doors of the throne room, both heard a commotion in the hallway and saw Rhys burst into the room. “The Queen has been taken.” The healer held out his hand, in it was a black leather mask.

  Chapter 21

  The room was quiet; the crackling of the fireplace was the only sound. All the authority left in Turill had been brought to the council room. Everyone was just looking at one another, at a loss on what to do or say. K’xarr could see none of them had any idea what should be done about the Queen.

  “Someone say something. I don’t have long to decide, Havalon is bringing his catapults into range and positioning his siege towers, do any of you have any suggestions on what we should do?” K’xarr asked the silent table.

  “We have to go after her, there is no decision to make, we just have to find her as quickly as we can. We have already seen what that evil man is capable of,” Rhys said giving Kian a brief glance. The Half Elf had told them whom the mask belonged to.

  K’xarr knew the healer was dead on his feet, they all were. Rhys’s feelings for Raygan would not allow him to be objective. The healer’s usually brilliant mind would be little help to him this time.

  K’xarr shook his head and gave the healer a stern look. “We all just can’t leave the city to search for the Queen, Rhys. The weather is terrible and there is an army out there bent on taking Turill.” K’xarr gave Rhys a look of resignation. “We don’t even know where he has taken her.”

  Endra put her hands on her hips. “We damn well know where she is, that evil bastard took her right back to that tower of his. She’s in the Adorn. I would stake my life on it.”

  “Are we sure of that?” Bishop Lyfair asked.

  K’xarr nodded. “If I had to guess, I would have to agree with Endra, but we don’t know for sure it would be a foolish to just charge off to the Adorn Forest without even knowing if she is there. It could cost us the city as well.”

  “I’m afraid someone must retrieve her, without the Queen we might be in a bit of trouble here. Even if King Havalon is defeated, we could never hold the city without her. I hate to say it, General, but if the people find out she’s gone you will have no authority. They will never listen to a foreigner without her backing. The people wouldn’t have it, and neither would the Church for that matter. The Pope would order Prince Cain crowned King if his sister cannot be returned to us.”

  “I thought he was already claiming to be King?” K’xarr asked puzzled.

  Lyfair chuckled. “Without the Church’s blessing, he cannot be King. Not in the Eyes of God or the Pope. Cain was never officially crowned, his sister was. According to Church law, she rules Bandara, no matter what her brother might think.”

  Cromwell was leaning back in a chair with his feet on the table. The Toran took a big draught of ale from a tankard that looked like it was made for a giant, and then he belched. “Who gives a stray dog’s ass what the Church thinks?”

  “Cromwell,” K’xarr bellowed slamming his hand on the table. “What?” the big man said innocently.

  “What did I say?” K’xarr gave the Toran a look that could melt ice. “If you don’t have anything to add, then just be silent.”

  “I added no one cares what the Church thinks, that’s what I added,” Cromwell said with a grin.

  K’xarr gritted his teeth and started around the table toward Cromwell. The big man started to put his feet down and stand up to meet the general head on.

  Kian kicked the legs out from under Cromwell’s chair sending the large man to the floor, his ale splashing up onto the table and all over the front of Bishop Lyfair.

  “Can’t we have a little decorum for once?” the Bishop said exasperated.

  Cromwell lay on his back and looked up at the swordsman. “Why are you on his side? I know you don’t care about the Church either.”

  Kian looked down and offered his hand to the Toran. “No, but I do care about the Queen.” He pulled Cromwell to his feet as the Bishop tried to dry his robe with his handkerchief.

  The Toran looked at K’xarr and shrugged. “I will be quiet unless I have something to add.” Cromwell sat back down looking sheepishly at the others.

  Rufio had been lost in his own thoughts until Cromwell had hit the floor. The ruckus brought his mind back to the problem at hand. “We can’t spare any men to go get the Queen, General, and I’m sorry, Rhys, but she might already be dead.”

  Rhys put his hand over his mouth and stepped away from the table. It was clear the healer hadn’t even considered the idea that Raygan might be dead.

  “You might be right, Rufio, but we are going to assume that she lives, I don’t know why the wizard would take her other than to help the Abberdonians. So we may also be facing sorcery on the battlefield
now.” K’xarr looked at Kian. “The only other reason I can think of is revenge for what happened at the tower. It really doesn’t matter, whatever the reason we seem to have made an enemy.”

  The swordsman looked at K’xarr but said nothing and his expression didn’t betray his thoughts.

  Rufio faced his general. “What do we do, go find the Queen or fight the Abberdonians?”

  His eyes were burning; he was tired and need to get a little sleep. K’xarr knew Havalon was going to test their defenses soon and he wasn’t sure they could pass the test. He had to tell them now.

  The fact was he knew what he going to do two hours ago when Rhys showed them the mask. K’xarr wanted everyone to realize there were few options and comprehend the situation before he told them what he was going to do. It might help them to understand the predicament they were in, because they weren’t going to like what he was about to suggest at all. “Kian, will you go get her and bring her back?”

  Endra’s mouth dropped open. “You’re going to ask him to go back there?”

  “I am.” K’xarr said with a certainty that they had come to know all too well.

  “He’s not going alone,” Rhys said with resolve. “I won’t let Kian go alone, he might need me along the way and Raygan’s with child. Kian won’t know what to do if there are any problems.”

  Endra went over and stood by the healer. “I’m going too, if you want to try and stop me, General, go ahead.”

  “You three aren’t going to leave me out.” Cromwell chimed in.

  “I haven’t even heard Kian say he would go yet,” K’xarr said looking at the swordsman.

  Kian faced the three volunteers. “I will go, if she is there I will bring her back, and I will go alone.” He stood up and walked out of the council chamber in silence.

  “Why, K’xarr? By the Gods, why? You know what he suffered there, and how he has struggled to overcome it.” Endra put both hands on the table and locked eyes with the general.