God Wars Box Set Edition: A Dark Fantasy Trilogy

by Mark Eller

  Valerai came bursting into the room. “Damn you Roland, I told you not to bother the man. I’m going to swat your behind. Just you wait and see if I don’t.”

  Quieting, Roland looked thoughtful. “Hanna gone,” he finally said in a wise attempt to redirect trouble.

  “What! Where?” Valerai turned to Jolson. “I have to go look for her. You watch Roland while I’m gone.”

  She left so quickly Jolson did not have time to refuse her command.

  Too weak to stand erect, he eyed Roland doubtfully. Was the child too stupid to see to its own needs? What was he supposed to do with the boy?

  “Stay away from me,” he ordered.

  Roland nodded.

  * * * *

  “Hanna!”

  “God’s curse the child,” Valerai trotted through wheat that should have been harvested over a month ago. Hanna couldn’t be too far away. The girl was too young to have made much distance. On the other hand, Hanna was smart enough to realize she was in serious trouble with her mother. It would be like her to settle down and hide when she heard Valerai’s calls.

  “Hanna!” Her voice sounded dead flat to her ears. Thick air and old wheat and nearby trees muffled it. Could Hanna even hear her?

  Oh gods, what would Harvale say this time? No way he wouldn’t blame her for Hanna’s escape, and he would be right. She knew Hanna liked to run. By the gods, if she ever caught up to the girl she’d tie her to a leash.

  Leaving the wheat behind, Valerai entered the trees. Hanna always went for the trees when she was most scared.

  The thin breeze shifted, and suddenly the stench of sour animal filled the air. “Hanna!”

  “Momma.” Faint.

  Valerai stilled. “Hanna, honey,” she called in careful tones. “Where are you?”

  The breeze swirled and snow drifted.

  “Hanna?”

  She held her breath. A whisper of sound reached her.

  “Momma-momma-momma-momma-momma—”

  Valerai followed the small voice with careful footsteps, cursing her unthinking panic. She should have brought her ax, but she’d been frightened and in a hurry. Now she had nothing but her feet and hands and a mother’s drive to protect her child because she had been so stupid she left the ax lying in the snow beside the maple.

  Movement.

  “Momma—”

  Relief washed through Valerai’s body, making her knees want to collapse, only— the animal musk remained in the air.

  Hanna stood before her, tears lining her scrunched up face. Eyes wild, Valerai tried to see everywhere at once, but there was nothing to be seen. Heart pounding heavily, she pulled Hanna to her, started backing away.

  “Honey, we have to go back to the cabin. Hanna, we have to go.”

  “What about— what about the man?”

  Valerai stilled. “What man?”

  “The little man.” Hanna tried to look brave, broke her resolve and sobbed. Raising one small arm, she pointed. “I think he’s deading.”

  Valerai’s eyes followed the pointing finger until they rested on a dark figure half-buried in snow amid a mass of brown ferns. Pulling Hanna behind her, unbelieving, frightened, Valerai neared the body. A scream caught tight in her throat.

  Tomtom, and days dead. A dusting of snow lay on top of his mauled and frozen flesh. He must have died only minutes after she had spoken to him.

  She felt faint. But for the grace of the Seven this could have been Hanna.

  The foul stench still hung in the air. The beast, she knew. The killer, The thing was near, watching. Watching her. Watching them.

  “Honey, we have to go. We have to go now.” Her voice felt strained, her throat constricted.

  “But what about—?”

  “Your father will take care of Tomtom.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” Valerai tasted blood. She had bitten through her lip. “Come with me. Now!”

  She backed away slowly, hating the loud sound of her steps on the snow and underlying leaves, wishing there was more snow, softer snow to drown out the sound of their progress.

  The air stirred. Musk assaulted her nostrils. Leaves rustled.

  Wuff. Wuff.

  Valerai screamed.

  She screamed, and then she lifted Hanna into her arms and ran with everything she owned.

  “You can’t have her! You can’t have her!”

  Her feet pounded on the forest floor as she dodged around skeletal trunks, and then the trees were behind her. Her legs tore through dead wheat. Stalks shredded before her. From behind, she heard others being torn and broken, followed by a panting, laughing ‘wuff ‘wuff’ and the thudding of feet.

  The Beast was playing with her. It herded her, trailed her. It wanted to kill her and Hanna— and it was laughing.

  She broke from the wheat. Cold air tore at her lungs, and her legs trembled with exhaustion. Hanna screamed.

  “MOMMAMOMMAMOMMAMOMMA!”

  “Shut Up,” Valerai gasped. “Just Shut Up.”

  Footsteps sounded close behind her. Panting breath brushed against her ears. She reached the maple tree.

  “Mamamamamama.”

  Desperate, Valerai flung Hanna aside and dove. A laughing growl sounded as her shoulder drove painfully into the ground.

  “Hanna, run to the cabin!”

  Teeth snapped and her thigh ripped, but her hands jerked the ax from the snow. The teeth drove cruelly into her leg, but Valerai swung the ax with every ounce of her failing strength. It landed awkwardly. Its blade drove into a shoulder. The malformed animal leaped back, and the ax was jerked from her hands.

  The beast howled.

  It howled and rolled, the ax blade and its handle turning and spinning as it beat itself against the ground and the tree. Pulling free, the ax dropped away, and dark blood spurted from a hairy shoulder. The beast stilled, rested its malevolent eyes on her. Those orbs smoldered dark hatred as its long muzzle parted, silently laughing. Its wound bled, slowed, stopped. Torn flesh resealed. Chuckling, the beast flung its head from side to side, flinging her blood from its open mouth.

  Hanna was gone. For once, the child had followed orders.

  Springing to her feet, Valerai sprinted toward the cabin, ignoring her leg’s pain. She looked desperately over her shoulder to see the thing leaping, but it landed on a leg that seemed not entirely healed and collapsed with a maddened howl. She turned her eyes forward just in time to grab the cabin door and push it violently open. Slamming the door behind her, Valerai threw her weight against it.

  “Hanna, GET ME THE BAR!”

  The door shuddered against her weight. Valerai jerked her head around to discover Hanna and Roland were gone. The bar was out of her reach. The door shook again as the beast struck it, harder. It sprang open for several inches before she managed to shove it closed. Horrified, her gaze fastened on the top leather hinge. It had been ripped halfway through.

  Gods no. Let it hold.

  Her injured leg threatened to give way, but she felt no pain. Stars swirled around her eyes. She couldn’t hold this door for much longer. The bedroom had its bar. Jolson was in there. The children would have run to an adult.

  Releasing the door, she hobbled toward the bedroom. The door crashed open behind her. Valerai looked over her shoulder and saw the beast throw itself into the cabin. It was faster than she had imagined. It leaped through the air, long front claws stretched toward her. She screamed, screamed again when claws sank into her shoulders. Its weight and momentum drove her forward, slammed her into the bedroom doorframe, and then she fell into the room while her children yelled. Claws tore into her. With her face pressed to the wooden floor, it’s claws ripped into her back. She tried to swing an arm around but had no strength. She was dying. Her children were screaming, and—

  — The room filled with a flash of sickly green light.

  Howling fury, the beast ripped its claws from her flesh and flung itself backwards, crashed into the wall. It howled again at ano
ther flash of green. Weakly turning her head, Valerai watched while the rat-faced monstrosity tried to claw its way through the cabin’s log wall. Blood spurted from its reopened wound, and the beast whimpered. One front claw finally left the wall to slip around the open doorframe, and it shot through the door.

  The room stilled. The only sound Valerai heard was the rough rasp of her failing lungs, the quiet crying of her children.

  “Hush— babies,” she whispered, feeling no pain. The world seemed a distant dream. She felt weak and tired and worried. She wanted to close her eyes and fade away, but her children were crying. They were crying.

  She heard a scraping, a fall, the sound of crab crawling hands and feet. Jolson’s face hovered over her. His emotionless eyes appeared dead as he rolled her over.

  Raising a shaking hand, she lay it on his face. “Don’t let it kill my babies,” she whispered. “Promise me. Don’t let it—”

  Jolson’s voice was distant. It seemed frail and flat, but she heard it with all the mother’s hope she held within her soul.

  “I can help you,” he said, “for a price.”

  She stared, uncomprehending.

  “A piece of your soul.” His whispered caress shivered against her skin. “A piece— all I ask is a piece. You will live, and the beast will kill neither of your children.”

  Give? Her soul? Valerai felt like laughing and crying. She had given everything. Nothing remained, and she was dying. Her soul was only riddled shreds vainly clinging to life.

  “Take what you will,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Save— my— babies.”

  Jade light flared dully through her closed lids. It drew closer. When she opened her eyes again Valerai saw Jolson was fighting his hook. His wrist quivered as he forced its tip into her torn body. Weariness wracked Jolson’s face.

  The children fell silent. Still.

  The hook entered and Valerai shrieked. Her flesh shrank from its horrid touch; her soul quailed, and then the damned thing ripped precious parts of her being away.

  Forever.

  * * * *

  Valerai set her crutch aside and gratefully lowered herself into her chair, wondering once again why she still lived. Her survival was impossible. She owned fresh scars on her shoulders. A chunk of muscle was missing from her leg, and her kidney had been found on the floor. She should have died from blood loss, from shock, from damaged organs, but she lived, her wounds were almost completely healed, and for this she was grateful.

  “Now what do I do?” Jolson asked.

  “You need to stir in the milk,” she said. “Don’t beat it up or the pancakes will be tough.”

  Jolson appeared rough, as if he had wrestled a bear and lost. He looked almost as bad as she felt, but these weeks had seen a change in him. His eyes sometimes showed life. His voice now held inflection and tone.

  Valerai smiled sadly as she watched the man. Three weeks had passed since the attack. Her memory remained mostly clouded, but she was sure of one thing. The killer of her children was gone. It was gone because she had stood up to it, because she had put an ax head into its flesh, because she had overcome her fears and defended her children without any help from her men.

  Harvale called her a hero, as well he might, for where was he when she fought for their lives? Gerd said he’d never heard of such a thing, and then he lifted the very ax she had used and painfully limped from the cabin. He carried it with him every day while hunting for the wounded beast. This ax, he said, the damned animal would remember.

  They were hunting now. Harvale’s eyes had become black with exhaustion. Gerd’s limp had grown worse, but neither was willing to call an end to the chase. She seldom saw them for more than a few moments each day. They were driven by a desperate need for vengeance against a thing only she had dared face.

  Pointlessly driven, Valerai was sure. The beast would not be back. She had seen to it.

  “A drop of water on the pan to check for temperature?” Jolson asked. She nodded at him, stilling her angry impatience. Jolson deserved anything she was able to give. These last weeks had proved him to be a caring man. In fact, he was more attentive to the children than Harvale had ever been.

  She frowned at the thought of her husband. It was Harvale who deserved her growing ire. The veil had been torn from her eyes. Harvale expected too many things of her and gave too little in return. Harvale presented an appearance of warmth and caring but was only an empty shell. Jolson? He was different. Jolson looked and sounded cold, but he was good with the children. He took an interest in them, especially Roland. Yes, Jolson cared while Harvale spent his days pretending to hunt an animal he was too frightened to truly seek.

  Leaning back her head, she closed her eyes while Jolson poured batter into the pan. She felt tired. She felt very, very tired. It was so hard to keep herself together when the people around her were falling apart.

  “Would it be okay if I took Roland out today?” Jolson asked. “The the weather has warmed and I want to chase down some roots.”

  “Go,” Valerai murmured, too tired, too weak for more. “The beast is dead. Go.”

  Valerai drifted, and then she slept, and while she slept she dreamed that everything she knew was a lie.

  She woke to the feel of a hand upon her shoulder.

  “Where’s Roland?” Harvale asked quietly.

  “Roland?” Valerai tried to focus, but her memories seemed fogged.

  “Valerai, how many times must I—?”

  “Out,” she said with sudden clarity. “He’s out. With Jolson— hunting for roots.”

  “But Jolson could be stealing Roland, taking him to the woman at the mill. You know he’s obsessed with going there. Then there’s the thing you call a beast—.”

  “It’s dead!” Anger roiled through her. “I killed it. The beast is dead. It’s dead, and Jolson’s only hunting for roots.”

  “It’s not dead, and Roland’s out there where—”

  Her anger exploded. Valerai half rose from her chair. Her back screeched protest, but she didn’t care. Her arm flashed around, palm cracking solidly against Harvale’s cheek. Jerking back, he cried out in surprised pain. She grabbed his hair, pulled his head down to her face.

  “Leave me alone!” she shrieked, enjoying the shock on his despised face. “Just leave me alone!”

  Face tightening, Harvale moved away, set his hat on his head, and grabbed his bow. “I’m going after my son.”

  The door wasn’t silent when it closed.

  * * * *

  Jolson walked at a carefully sedate pace. He felt weak, but time would heal the weariness within him. He had been told spring would arrive in just a few short months but the warm day told him it was already here. His need for warmer clothing was past. This meant he would survive the rest of his journey to Grace because he had spent this last little while learning the ways of the world in which he now lived. Valerai had not only given him the essence he needed to hide his mental signature from Athos’s hunters, she had given him knowledge he needed to ensure his survival. In exchange, he had warped her thoughts and stolen her child. Strangely, those two acts troubled him, and this troubling gave him worry. The small amount of virtue he had accidentally pulled from her soul should have been lost amid the vast turmoil of evil which filled his being. Instead, her virtue sought to attach itself to Selnac’s conscience and grow like a nest of worms, sucking away his vitality for its own use.

  “Hungry,” Roland said.

  “Shut up,” Jolson snapped. He detested the child. His ill-conceived oath to protect Valerai’s hateful brood had trapped him. The delightfully wicked beast was not returning. Unless Jolson forced the issue, he would be trapped in the cabin until Athos’s minions came to rend his soul.

  So now he hunted. He followed a trail of evil only senses created in Hell could see. This following had led him here, to a snow filled clearing where dozens of the beast’s trails merged. A hole beneath a fur’s thick tree branches was cut deep into the earth. The Beast
was intelligent, but instinct ruled. Its instinct would insist it have its own lair.

  “Stay still,” he ordered as he released Roland’s hand. He reached out with his senses, feeling, drawing, gently calling them both in with subtle suggestion. His hook glowed faintly, casting eerie shadows against the stark outlines of winter stripped trees. Roland was crying softly, as he should be.

  Shadows shifted, movement, and Jolson heard the soft sound of careful footsteps.

  Stiffening, he extinguished his hook and turned slowly.

  “The little fellow is a bit far from home,” Gerd observed. He stood twenty feet away, his hands wrapped around an ax handle. “I’m surprised Valerai allowed him to come this far with you.”

  “She doesn‘t know how far I‘ve brought him,” Jolson replied.

  Gerd’s eyes narrowed, and Jolson wondered if he should have spoken at all. The words he said were not those he intended to use. They were truth, and truth was the last thing he wanted Gerd to hear. Within his mind, Valerai’s thin worms clung tighter to Selnac’s leavings and slithered onto new pathways.

  “You took him then,” Gerd said calmly. “You stole their child from them.” He chuckled. “How ironic, the guard becomes a thief.” Cocking his head to one side, he studied Jolson with a steady predator’s gaze. “It‘s almost as ironic as the hunted becoming the hunter.” He smiled, and Jolson saw that his mouth already held fangs.

  Gerd’s fingers reached up to unbutton his shirt “Look,” he said, pulling his shirt open. He pointed to his left shoulder. “All healed up. Not a thing you can do to me with your devilish hook unless you cut me open first.” He chuckled again. “The chances of you doing that are slim. You’re in no shape for a fight.”

  “I won’t try to kill you,” Jolson promised. “I only want to leave.” Shrugging, he gestured toward Roland. “I brought the child as an offering.” Pausing, he gave Gerd a knowing look. “You want him, don’t you? You want all of them.”

  “I want them dead,” Gerd admitted, “though I doubt you know why.”

  “They were happy and whole, and you are alone, wretched, and cursed,” Jolson said. “The sight of them curdles your gut. Every time you saw them laugh, and every time you saw them embrace, it made your bitterness grow. You want to kill them because your curse will never allow you to know joy or contentment equal to what they once owned.”