The Warriors of the Gods

by Jacob Peppers

  “Y-you…dare,” Orren gasped. He spun to the other priest, all reason gone from his face. “Vastel,” he croaked, “kill h—”

  The rest of the man’s words were drowned out as, suddenly, another scream came from somewhere up above, this one closer than the last. Fear bloomed on the old man’s face. “Go, Vastel, and see what that is, and if it’s someone who isn’t supposed to be here…well, you know what to do.”

  “Yes.”

  The priest stalked toward the exit, drawing another long knife from his tunic as he did. Alesh watched him go, feeling a spark of hope within him. Had Darl and the others somehow escaped Orren’s men? And what of Rion? Alesh had not seen him back at the inn, when he and the others were taken, but the truth was he hadn’t even thought to look, had been too busy dealing with Orren and the other priests to even consider the nobleman’s absence.

  He glanced to Katherine and, in the flickering light of the lantern, saw a look of hope on her face to match his own. The bishop though, had mastered his fear, and now looked only annoyed, seemingly confident that whatever trouble was happening upstairs would be dealt with soon enough. And why wouldn’t he be? Alesh thought. Even if Rion, even if Darl and the others had somehow escaped their captors, what were two men and two young girls supposed to do against an entire church which had turned to the Darkness? For all his skill, the Ferinan wouldn’t be able to take on so many, and not even Rion’s luck would be enough to balance the odds in such a fight.

  You do what you can, he told himself, and when all else fails, when there’s nothing left, then there’s still hope. And so Alesh hung from the wall of the dungeon in which he’d been imprisoned, feet away from the man who meant to turn him over to people who intended to torture and kill him. And he hoped.

  More sounds of fighting from upstairs, a heavy thunk as something or someone was knocked to the floor, and dust rained down from the ceiling. There was another crashing impact, followed by another, like the sounds of nearby thunder, then there was only silence.

  “There now,” the bishop said, regarding Alesh once more. “Where were we?”

  He withdrew a small, thin knife from his trouser pocket, not nearly as big as the ones his man had carried, but even in the dim light Alesh could see it was sharp. Then, smiling cruelly, he stalked toward Katherine. She fought against her bonds as did Alesh, but though he had one arm free, the rest of his bonds would not budge even so much as an inch. By the time the bishop reached her, Katherine had stopped struggling, apparently deciding there was no point. Instead, she turned to Alesh, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I wish…I wish we had more time,” she said. “This isn’t your fault, Alesh. And there’s something you need to know. I—”

  She cut off as a bestial roar erupted from somewhere up above. An instant later, the door leading up to the church shattered as a body came flying through it to crash to the cellar floor. Alesh stared down at the crumpled form in shock, his dazed mind taking several seconds to realize the bloody form was Vastel, the priest who had left moments before. One of the man’s legs was bent at an unnatural angle, a long stark white shard of bone showing, slathered with blood. His left arm was also broken, but it was his head which drew Alesh’s attention.

  The man’s skull had been crushed, looking like nothing so much as an overripe tomato someone had squeezed in his hands. The priest did not stir from where he’d fallen, obviously dead, and Alesh was glad for that at least, for enemy or not, he could not imagine the agony the man would have felt, had he somehow still drawn breath.

  Alesh finally managed to pull his eyes away from the corpse, raising his head to peer at the dark outline of the doorway. A moment later, a large shape lumbered through, the figure having to stoop to work its way inside, and once the newcomer stepped into the light, he was shocked to see it was Chosen Larin. The old giant bled from what looked like a dozen wounds, and his tunic was little more than crimson stained tatters of cloth hanging from his massive frame. His thick arms were also cut in several places, and blood dripped in fat droplets from the clenched fists at his sides, falling onto the floor with wet plops.

  One look at the man’s face showed that it, too, was coated in blood, and his eyes, more than a little wild, reflected the pain he must be feeling. Alesh thought it a wonder the man managed to stand at all but stand he did. And not just stand. He shuffled further into the room, each step appearing to be a trial, until he stood feet away from the bishop who gazed at him with a pale, stricken face as if he was the Keeper of the Dead himself come to claim him.

  The knife trembled in his hand, forgotten, as the giant stalked closer. “Stab a man in the back, will you?” Larin growled.

  “Y-you can’t b-be here,” Orren said, “y-you s-should be dead.”

  “Not yet,” the Chosen said, but Alesh didn’t miss the way he paused, swaying on his feet for a second and taking time to gather his strength before continuing toward the old man.

  The bishop whimpered, all thoughts of making Alesh or Katherine suffer as forgotten as the small knife he held. The Chosen took another step toward him, and the old priest screamed in fear, throwing the knife. The giant slapped it away, and the old priest burst into motion, trying to move around Larin toward the open cellar door. But the big Chosen snatched the back of his collar before he made it past, hefting him off the ground like a puppy caught by the scruff of the neck.

  Orren tried to break free, but wounded or not, Larin possessed far more strength than a normal man, and he held the bishop with ease. Orren tried to kick the giant, but then he was sailing through the air to strike the earth wall.

  Orren collapsed to the ground in a heap and did not move. “Bastard stabbed me,” Larin said as if by way of explanation, then he staggered toward Alesh, producing a key from inside his blood-soaked tunic. Alesh stared at it surprised, and Larin grunted. “Fella upstairs didn’t want to give up the key. I talked him into it.” He grinned widely displaying a row of bloody teeth. “I asked him nicely.”

  A moment later, the man was fitting the key into Alesh’s bonds, and there was a metallic clink as the manacle at one of Alesh’s ankles came free, followed soon by the other, then those at his wrists. He stumbled as he struck the ground but managed to keep his feet, rubbing at his arms where the bonds had bit deep during his struggles. “Thanks, Larin, I—” His words turned to a grunt as the big man’s legs suddenly seemed to lose their strength. He started to fall, and Alesh caught him with a gasp. The man weighed more than Alesh would have imagined possible, and he would have fallen himself, if his back hadn’t fetched up against the wall.

  “Sorry about that, lad,” the Chosen said, finally managing to get some of his strength back and stepping back where he wobbled dangerously before seeming to stabilize. “I’m a bit tired, I’m afraid.”

  Alesh thought the man was a lot more than “a bit tired,” but he didn’t think saying so would help anything, so he took the key from him and made his way to Katherine. Soon, he had her unlocked as well, and he was surprised when she pulled him into a tight embrace.

  “I thought we were going to die,” she whispered in his ear, and despite their situation, Alesh felt a thrill at the feel of her warm breath on his neck.

  “It’s alright,” he said, holding his arms around her, “we’re okay.”

  She pulled away a little then, meeting his eyes. “And the others?”

  “We’ll find them, Katherine,” he said. “I promise you. And if…if anything has happened to them, then we’ll make those responsible suffer for it.”

  Her eyes misted over with tears then, and she nodded. “Alesh, I…that is…”

  “Just kiss her, lad, and get it over with already.”

  They both turned to see that Larin had propped himself against the wall. The haggard look of the man who had come to save their lives, the man who wouldn’t have even been here if not for Alesh bringing death to his door, stole any romantic thought he might have had. He took Katherine’s hand in his, meeting her eyes.
“We’ll talk later. Okay?”

  She smiled. “Okay.”

  Alesh opened his mouth, wanting to say more and having no idea what it would be, but Katherine was already moving past him toward Larin. As she drew closer and was able to get a better look at him, she gasped. “Oh, gods, Larin. We have to see to your wounds.”

  “It’s alright, lass,” the Chosen said. “A little bleedin’ never killed anybody.”

  No, Alesh thought, but you left a little behind hours ago, and a lot of bleeding, well, that’s been known to kill quite a few people.

  “We have to see to them,” Katherine protested, “you’ll lose too much bloo—”

  “Forget it, lass,” the man said again in a surprisingly gentle voice. “It’s okay. What’s done is done, and there ain’t no changin’ it. Besides, we don’t have the time. Or, well, I should say you don’t have the time. I dealt with the bastards upstairs, but for all I know there might be more. Even if there ain’t, you can be damned sure the city guards’ll be here directly. It’s not too often a blood bath takes place in a church, and I imagine they’ll have some questions.” He looked embarrassed. “And if I’m honest, I wasn’t a man ever known for bein’ subtle or quiet.”

  “Wait,” Katherine said, her voice desperate, “surely, you don’t mean for us to leave you here. You’re hurt and—”

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” Larin said in a voice that brooked no argument. “Besides, this,” he continued, gesturing with one of his hands—the one he wasn’t currently using to hold himself up against the wall—to his wounds, “ain’t nothin’. Why, I’ve had worse than this from people I like.”

  She must have given him a dubious expression in line with how Alesh felt, for he barked what might have been a laugh. “If you ain’t noticed, I’m not exactly the easiest person to get along with. Now, go on up and keep an eye out. You see anybody comin’ looks like they’ve got blood on their mind, why don’t you give us a holler, yeah? I’d speak to Alesh for a minute, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  Katherine studied him for another second, hesitating, then she finally pulled the man into a hug. Larin grunted in surprise at the unexpected embrace and wrapped one of his arms around her as well, patting her back. “That’s alright, then. That’s just fine, lass.”

  When Katherine pulled away, Alesh saw tears were running down her face. “Thank you,” she said, “for saving us.”

  “Ah, shit, you’re welcome,” Larin said, grinning and looking embarrassed and pleased all at once. “I didn’t have anywhere else to be, I guess.”

  She still hesitated, and he nodded at her as if to tell her it was okay. “You go on now. We’ll be along.”

  She glanced at Alesh as if for reassurance, and he gave her the best smile he could muster, nodding. There was nothing else he could do.

  “I’ll see you both in a minute?” she asked, still watching Alesh.

  He had a lump in his throat and didn’t trust his voice just then, so he only nodded again. In another moment, she turned and walked out, pausing to glance back at Larin once more before leaving through what was left of the door frame.

  “Ah, but she’s a fine one, lad,” Larin said. “And unless you’re a bigger fool than I reckoned, you need to let her know it. Soon. The sun shines bright and hot sometimes, boy, but take it from an old timer—it ain’t gonna shine forever. You understand?”

  “I think so,” Alesh said, his voice little more than a whisper, his thoughts a jumble of emotions so thick he couldn’t have separated one from the other if he’d tried.

  “Well,” Larin said. “Now, why don’t you have a seat with me? I’d talk to you for a minute. There’s some things been needin’ said for a while now, and I guess I just been too much of a coward to say ‘em. Now, though, well, seems as good a time as any to get them done.” With that, he put his back against the wall and slid down until he was sitting with a thick arm over either knee.

  Alesh was desperate to discover what had become of the others, to help them if he could, and he didn’t like the idea of Katherine being up above alone. It would only take one man left alive, one with a knife she didn’t see coming, and something terrible could happen. Still, Larin had said he’d dealt with everyone in the church, and the man wasn’t the sort to lie, even if the lie was more comfortable. A direct man with no subtlety in him. Besides, he had just finished saving Katherine and Alesh’s life, had—if his wounds were as bad as Alesh feared—quite possibly given his own in the process. Spending a few minutes talking to him seemed like the least Alesh could do in return, so he walked over and sat down.

  Several seconds passed in silence. Alesh was beginning to fear that the man—whose face was mostly covered in shadow up against the wall as he was—had succumbed to his wounds. But finally, the old man spoke in a voice somewhere between a growl and a whisper. “I knew your parents. Good people, both. The best of people, really. I served with them, for a time. Or…” He grunted. “Perhaps closer to say I served around them.”

  Alesh frowned. “What do you mean?”

  The big man craned his neck, studying Alesh. “They were servants of the Light, your father and mother. Spies, I guess you could call them, but they were a lot more than that. Your mother was well-known as a genius, thought to have a mind for tactics and strategy that, in another time, could have rivaled Tesharna herself. She was also beautiful and kind, and I reckon just about every man I knew was in love with her. This was after the wars, understand, and the Church began to take more of a…well, they’d call it subtle approach to battling the Darkness, but I think it’s safe to say they got lazy, saving their coin instead of hiring more troops, that sort of thing, thinkin’ the battle was over and done with. Fools,” he said quietly, “they were all fools. The darkness can be beaten, Alesh, but it can never be destroyed. Remember that.”

  He hissed, pausing as if in pain before going on. “Anyway, what I’m tryin’ to say is she was a good woman, a great one, and all us old soldiers, sittin’ around with so much time on our hands we could drown in it, well, we didn’t have much to do but drink and talk. A lot of the talk around then was about her, and about your father too. He was also a great one. Truth is, I don’t recall ever hearin’ a bad word spoke about the man. He was noble and honest—both qualities the rarity of which I’m sure I ain’t got to explain to you—but more than all of that, he was good. Do you understand?”

  “Not…really,” Alesh said.

  Larin sighed. “Gods, but I’m not the man for this. Brent Olliman would have said it clearer and in far less time. Still, I reckon it’s good to know Amedan still has his sense of humor after all that’s happened. What I mean is your father was good. Not just at fighting—which he was. Not just at being a spy—and I’ll tell you, he was the best there ever was. He was good. Good the way a sunrise is good, good the way a warm fire on a cold night is good. Your mother too. Both of ‘em, you ask me, didn’t never belong in this bitch of a world in the first place. I don’t know what all happened with your parents that night when you were a kid—Brent might have known more, but he and I lost touch over the years. Still, the bastard seemed to make a career of knowin’ more than me, so I expect he did. But what I can tell you, is they…” He paused, shaking his head slowly. “I’m not very good at this, lad. Spent a long time alone and a long time before that wishin’ I was. What I’m tryin’ to say is your parents loved you, boy. They were both the best at what they did, and they gave it up, gave it all up for you. I thought you ought to know that.”

  Alesh swallowed past the lump gathered in his throat. “T-thank you, Larin. That…it means a lot.”

  “Sure. And one last thing then…” He cut off, overcome by a bout of coughing, and when he was finished, a line of blood trailed down his mouth. “You look after the others, alright?” He put a hand on Alesh’s shoulder. “I know it ain’t no easy thing, boy, bein’ Chosen. Lot of folks think it’s all drinkin’ and partyin’, havin’ whatever woman you want, but it ain’t that and, far as I’m co
ncerned, it shouldn’t be. It’s a hard life, harder’n most, and just like all the others, you’re gonna die at the end of it. But you do what you can when you can, alright? And you look after those folks can’t look after themselves.”

  “I will.”

  Larin studied him for several seconds, then nodded. “I believe you. And it’s alright to be angry, Alesh. We’ve all lost, all had things taken from us. Just make sure, at the end of the day, you’re the one usin’ the anger, and it ain’t the one usin’ you. And look after that little girl, Sonya. She loves you, and she’s sweeter’n this shitty world deserves.”

  Alesh felt a deep compassion for Larin then, this man who was bleeding from dozens of places, who looked as if he could scarcely even talk. Yet, he was talking, telling Alesh anything he thought might help him, taking the time to tell him about his parents, to give him what wisdom he had. A man who had wanted nothing to do with the world, yet a man who had done what was required, who had abandoned his self-imposed exile—or been taken from it—and then had done everything within his power to help those who had stolen it from him.

  “I will,” he said again.

  “Good,” Larin said, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. “That’s good then. Now, you get on out of here. Your lady’ll be waitin’ on you, and I imagine she’s just about ready to throw a fit.”

  Alesh nodded, rising and offering the Chosen is hand. “Come on—I’ll help you.”

  “Ah, that’s alright, lad,” Larin said, making no move to take it. “You and your friends have helped me enough already, helped me see what a fool I’ve been. You go on now—I’ll catch up.”

  Alesh studied him for several seconds, hesitating. “You’re sure?”

  “I am.”

  He nodded again. “The Broken and the Redeemers are coming—I don’t know how, but Orren apparently got word to them and Tesharna about us being here, in the city.”