The blonde woman’s eyes narrowed. Syann didn’t find her mother’s joke funny. “You will see him dead, you will use him and trick him until he is killed, then you will just find another.”
The Mistress held up her gloved hand. “There is no other like him, I assure you, he won’t be treated like the others. His insane brother could not produce another if he had to, and I don’t think even Shiavaka could craft a creature like that. Now the Forever Sea flows in his veins and he yet lives. He is a true prize. I will see he is well taken care of.”
Syann turned her back and folded her arms. “You’re no better than Father.”
“This whole thing is entirely your father’s fault, girl.”
Syann turned around pointing her finger at the Queen of the Dead. “At least he’s not a schemer and a liar. It was wrong, what we all did to him, it should not have happened.”
“You always were a daddy’s girl, Syann, his little blonde Goddess. It was he who slew King Cem for no reason, then made war on all of us, we had no choice but to imprison him, he had gone mad.”
The young woman shook her head with conviction. “That’s not true, no one knows why he killed Cem and made war on the rest of us, and he is no madder than you or I. Sometimes I think…”
The Mistress cut her off. “Don’t even think it, Daughter. He must never be released. Your father would kill us all, perhaps even you, my noble little girl.”
“I betrayed him. I deserve no better.”
“You think too much of him.”
Syann wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “He is my father. I love him.”
“I’m your mother, what about me?”
“You are evil, Mother, it’s very hard to have those feeling for you.”
The Queen of the Dead’s arms fell to her sides. “He is evil too, you know that.”
Syann walked over and embraced her mother. “He is not evil, Mother, he is just death.”
***
Smoke filled the air on the north side of the city, even though only a few building were burning. He ordered the fires to be put out. King Havalon wanted his prize intact. Turill would bring a great deal of coin to the coffers of Abberdon. Now he would have a city on the Gold Road. With the important trade route, he would be able to afford to replace the troops he had lost in Bandara. Abberdon would become one of the richest and most powerful Kingdoms in the world. After all these years, the city was finally his.
He sat on his warhorse in the heart of the Grand Market as he watched his two sons riding down the famed Gold Road to meet him. He smiled at them in spite of himself. Donovan and Griffyn had both done well, they were the future of Abberdon. The old King felt that the future was secure now. He was proud of both his boys, no one could ask for better sons. Now one could rule Abberdon, the other Bandara when his time was done. The war was all but over and his legacy was assured. The Bandaran army in the north did not concern him, what was left of them could easily be destroyed. The only fight left would be between his sons over who got King Aaron’s little whore. He was sure it would prove amusing to hear his boys fighting over which one would take the little Princess.
“Father, we have news,” Donovan said.
“Well, spit it out, we need to finish things here.”
Donovan nodded. “The Queen and her court fled to Braxton Bluff, reports say she has a thousand men with her.”
The King thought for a moment. “The Bluff is strong, but if that’s all the men she has left, we should be able to take it with in a week, what else?”
“We captured some of their leaders, what do you want done with them?” The old King grinned, “Take me to them.”
Havalon and his sons rode over to the Queen’s garden where the prisoners were being held. There were perhaps two hundred regulars and maybe fifteen officers.
“Who is the highest rank among you?” the King shouted.
A man stepped out, stripped to the waist, Havalon could see bolts from a crossbow in his leg and arm. Blood ran down the side of his head and had caked in his short cropped beard. The King thought the darkness of the man’s blood was very odd.
“I’m K’xarr Strom, I command here.”
King Havalon leaned back in his saddle. “So, you’re the infamous General Strom, may I remind you that you command nothing now sir, but I’m pleased you lived. Care to make any more of your threats now, cur?” K’xarr said nothing. “I thought not.” The older King appraised the young man. “You are nothing but a barbarian from the north and will not be granted any leniencies accorded to those of noble birth.”
Donovan interrupted the King’s berating of the enemy general. “Father, his blood is black, look.”
Havalon looked closer, his eyes were not as sharp as they once had been. He had thought the man’s blood looked strange, now he saw why. “What devilry is this? Are you human?”
K’xarr spit on the ground. “I’m as human as you are, you fat old bastard.”
Havalon laughed, “You are brave, but a fool. Bind his wounds and place him in the dungeon, give him a taste of the whip first, so this devil can learn some respect. I will hold him for the Church, they may have a few questions about the magic he used against us. They may also have an interest in that strange blood as well.”
“We have another one, Majesty,” a soldier shouted out. Havalon watched as five men were shoving a huge Toran in chains ahead of them, the King could see the big man favored his left side, he was bleeding from a score of wounds, and the Toran’s blood was black as his commander’s. The guards stood him next to K’xarr.
“How many of the devils are there?” Havalon said throwing up his arms. “Who are you, Toran?”
“I am Cromwell Blood of the Blood Clan, King of dog shit.”
Havalon sighed, he detested these uncouth marauders, but they might serve a purpose yet. “They both seem to still be very defiant, my sons, give that one the whip as well and lock him up with his pagan general. Hang the others. Find someone with the Church and see if they might be interested in these two with their magic and black blood. If the Church doesn’t want them, we will hang them later.”
King Havalon turned, his horse flanked on both sides by his sons. “They are little more than savages, Father, why not just kill them now?”
“Well, Son, if I did that when the Church asks why I attacked Turill during the winter, I would only have my word when I explained what happened. Now I have these two to prove my case. I can claim I was provoked by their evil and had no choice but to seize them and the city in the name of God.”
Both Princes nodded their heads, acknowledging their father’s wisdom. “Now let’s see what treasures the palace holds.”
Chapter 28
K’xarr could tell something had changed in the city of Turill. He kept track of time by the meals that had been brought to them. Now the food had stopped coming and they hadn’t seen any guards for the last couple of days. “They’ve gone after the Queen,” he said quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeping Toran.
“What do you plan on doing about it?” Cromwell mumbled without opening his eyes.
K’xarr looked at his cell mate lying on the lice infested mattress. He thought the big man had fallen asleep. “I didn’t say I was going to do anything about it. I think that’s why the food stopped and the passing of the guard is less frequent.”
Cromwell yawned and sat up. “You think too much, K’xarr. We are prisoners, most likely we will die soon. When they come for me, I will kill as many of the Abberdonian pigs as I can and make them kill me, they won’t stretch my neck. I will not die like that.”
“We both are feverish and will die of the rot before we hang,” K’xarr said looking at his arm. “Your wounds smell almost as fetid as mine, that healer they sent was little more than a butcher. All he did was stopped the bleeding and bandage our wounds.” Cromwell chuckled. “I don’t think Havalon is too concerned about our health, General.”
“I wish I knew if Rufio got them to the Bluff,�
� K’xarr said slamming his hands into the bars of their cell.
“I’m sure the Dragitan got them there. Rufio would die before he failed you.”
K’xarr nodded his head in agreement. “At least he won’t die in here with us.”
“I cannot die in here from some wound rot, K’xarr. My death should have been in combat, sword in hand, killing mine enemies. Stupid Abberdonians broke my fall when I jumped from the wall or I would be with Fane in Vinteytium now. When they come for us, I will fight.”
K’xarr gave his friend and ironic smile. “What if they never come?”
“The Gods will not look favorably on me if I die a captive. A Toran should die with the song of battle filling his ears. I will most likely go to hell instead of Vinteytium if I die a prisoner.”
K’xarr looked at Cromwell shaking his head. The people of Camir believed in Vinteytium just like the Torans. The mythical silver city of heroes was said to be made by the Gods for warriors who died in battle. K’xarr had grown up hearing the same tales Cromwell had, he just didn’t believed them. He thought it was all nonsense. “There is no such place, you fool, and no Gods to judge you when you die. You will rot in the earth while the worms eat your flesh, my friend, unless they burn you.”
Cromwell stood up. K’xarr could tell he had upset the Toran. “No, you are wrong, the great city is there. Fane bid it built for those who worshipped at the altar of war. The great Goddess of Justice, Syann, sits at its gates with her silver sword in hand. She weighs each warrior’s deeds, it is her judgment that can open the gate. If the warrior is worthy, she will let him pass through. The warrior’s paradise is real and that’s all there is.”
K’xarr didn’t want to hear anymore of Cromwell gibberish but he had to ask. “What if she judges the warrior unworthy?” Cromwell lowered his voice. “Then you are cast into hell with the Reaper and his Queen, the Mistress of the Dead. There the warrior exists in misery for all eternity. Only cowards suffer a worse fate. They are hung on the Tree of Torment that sits in the center of hell and are tortured forever.”
“That’s the stupidest shit I have ever heard, Cromwell, think about what you’re saying.”
“It is true. Vinteytium does exist and I will go there one day.” The Toran punched K’xarr in the face, hard enough to knock him down. Then he sat down on the rancid mattress like an angry child.
K’xarr rubbed his jaw. He was in no condition to fight with Cromwell, but he knew how to hurt him. “Pray all you want, see if the Gods get us out of here, you over-sized boar.”
Cromwell hung his head, dirty hair falling down to cover his face. “Vinteytium is there, waiting for me,” he muttered.
K’xarr looked down at the Toran and grimly smiled. “If what you said is true, oaf, it’s the Reaper that waits for you. You won’t die in battle, your wounds will fester and you will perish shaking with chills and mad with fever. Then the Reaper will drag you to hell and you will know agony and despair for all eternity.”
Cromwell said nothing. K’xarr knew he had said too much. Cromwell was his sword brother and had always stood by him and the fool truly believed in all that religious tripe. He had taken out his anger at being helpless and imprisoned on the big warrior. “Stop sulking, you overgrown child. If they won’t let you in to Vinteytium, we’ll kick the damn gate down and go in anyway. Maybe we’ll kick Fane in the ass and just take the place for ourselves.” K’xarr heard Cromwell chuckle. At least he could let the Toran die believing in his idiotic fantasies. He twisted his hands on the filthy bars of the cell, wishing he too had something to believe in.
***
The snow was almost gone but the cold mornings still froze the wet grass, making it crunch as her horse walked through it. Endra spotted the two men walking through a frosty field. She had been gone from Turill over a week now, the whole time wondering if Kian was alive or dead. Now she knew.
She rode towards the two men, it was not hard to tell it was Rhys and Kian, she would know them anywhere. Her belly had begun to hurt a bit yesterday and it was worse today. The child inside her was having a fit. She didn’t know who she was happier to see, Rhys or Kian.
This baby didn’t feel anything like the other three she had borne. She loved Kian, but Endra was becoming more and more afraid of what was growing in her womb. Her people were unaccustomed to magic and had a simple people’s fear of it. She needed to talk to Rhys about what was happening inside her body.
She rode up in front of the two, smiling from ear to ear. “I knew you would find a way to escape.” She said sliding off her horse. Endra could see both men were hurt. She took Kian by the shoulders and pulled him to her and kissed him fiercely.
Rhys cleared his throat loudly. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but what are you doing out here, Endra?” She looked from Rhys to Kian, her smile fading. “Turill has fallen by now, Havalon’s entire army was preparing to attack when I left. He had called his sons back from the north. K’xarr sent me to find you, but I know he couldn’t have held the city for this long. The witches deserted us and he had few men left.”
“What witches?” Both men said at once.
Endra shook her head. “K’xarr had employed six sorceresses. I don’t know where they came from, but they were keeping Havalon out of Turill.”
“Dealing with witches can’t be a good idea,” Rhys said.
Endra shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now, they’re gone, and if the city hasn’t fallen, it soon will.”
Kian said nothing, he knew K’xarr’s witches had to be the ones he had seen before. He thought it best not to mention his encounters to the others.
Rhys clasped his forehead and closed his eyes. “What about the Queen?”
“K’xarr sent her to Braxton Bluff with Rufio and her court and a thousand men to protect them. I’m sure she’s alright, Rhys, it’s K’xarr and Cromwell I’m worried about. They stayed behind to defend Turill and give the Queen time to get away.”
Kian looked at her, seeming to listen for the first time. “If they live I will find them.”
“You can’t go back, if Havalon has captured the city, its suicide,” Rhys said.
Endra just looked at Kian; she was starting to understand that if her lover decided he was going to do something it was pointless to argue with him.
“If you go, I’m going with you,” she said.
Kian said nothing, he just looked to the healer.
“Well, I’m not staying out here, I don’t know what good I’ll be, but I’m with you,” Rhys said with a shrug.
Endra pulled a soft deerskin shirt lined with rabbit fur from her pack and gave it to Kian. He took off the blood-stained shirt he had on and pulled the fresh one over his head and adjusted his sword belt.
“Do you have a plan, Kian?” Endra asked.
“No, but I will try and think of something before we get there. Let Rhys ride with you and I will run alongside.”
Rhys got on the horse behind Endra and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Let’s hurry, my dear.”
Kian started south, Endra turned the horse and followed him. He ran alongside the horse like it was a spring day and he had just gotten out of bed. She didn’t know how he did it as beaten and battered as he looked he had to be suffering. It was starting to scare her how Kian could just ignore pain and never seemed to be weary. She had defended his humanity and would still if it was questioned, but in her heart she knew the truth. Kian was not human or Elven or a mixture of the two. It was causing a war in her heart between fear and love. She hoped love could hold the line.
***
Lord Dracen Milara and his company had ridden right into the back of the Bandaran Army. Prince Cain had halted his troops and bid them to make camp. Milara as well ordered his men set up his pavilion and stop for the night. He was preparing to meet with the leaders of the Bandarans. The Lord Justice thought he could make use of the young Prince’s men. They were not engaged in a fight right now. So he thought, it should not be too hard to convince them t
o help him catch the half-breed. There was just one little problem. He was not his usual confident self. He needed to get a grip on his fears. He was Lord Justice Dracen Milara, one of the most powerful men of the Church. It was just the nightmares were so vivid. He had been having bad dreams since the monster escaped. Dracen had dreamt over and over that the devil half-breed had killed him and dragged his body to hell. Was it a warning from God, was the Lord of Heaven trying to tell Dracen to stay away from the half-breed? The Lord Justice didn’t know, but he was starting to have doubts about going to Turill. He had never feared anything in his life, at least not until he had run across this spawn of hell.
He needed to complete his mission. He had to, the Holy Father would not be pleased if he failed. He just needed to find a way to do it without confronting the creature directly. The Bandarans might just serve his purpose.
Deverall walked into his pavilion, his armor heavily polished, the sun reflecting off it right into Milara’s eyes. “Eminence, the Bandarans await your presence.”
“Step to the side, Commander, the light.” Deverall looked down at his breast plate. “Sorry, Your Eminence.”
Milara looked at himself in the mirror two young priests were holding for him. “Whom am I speaking with?”
Deverall cleared his throat. “Prince Cain Albana, who is claiming he is the rightful King of Bandara, Talorn Blackthorn, commander of the Bandaran army, and his father Duke William Blackthorn. They seem very anxious to see you.”
“As most people are, Commander.” The Lord Justice brushed the front of his robe and checked his hair, he thought the grey was getting a little higher on the sides of his head, no matter, it was still perfect. “Let’s see what they have to say, Commander, it should be interesting.”
***
“That’s what I think happened, Your Eminence, the Princess had her witches use magic to coerce Bishop Lyfair to seek approval from the Church for her to ascend to the throne of Bandara. I know the man, he would never willingly let that foolish child rule Bandara.” Duke Blackthorn had finished; he hoped he had convinced the Lord Justice to revoke Raygan’s claim to the throne.
Gods Of Blood And Fire (Book 1) Page 50
