Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (127 page)

* * * * *

Linaya watched as Zorbin sat himself upon one of the ramps, an enemy approaching him from a distance, slowly. She also observed as another dwarf came from the rear and vanished into the stone of the platform complex. She realized long before Zorbin did that he was being set up, yet there was nothing she could do about it. If she were to lean through the hole and yell he would surely hear her, but she doubted that the thanes seated around her would appreciate cheating. All she could do was watch in silent agony as Zorbin took up a chase that resulted in him being savagely beaten by both of his opponents. She knew he could only take so much.

* * * * *

Zorbin, beset upon by both of his remaining competitors, only had one option available to him. Twisting his huge body to the side he placed his already shattered arm nearest his enemies. Though they beat upon him relentlessly with boot and hammer and fist, at least now they primarily beat on an arm that was already useless.

Playing possum, Zorbin closed away his blessing and instantly shrank. His sudden size shift caused his foes to rush in nearer to finish him off, thinking him unconscious. When they came within range, however, Zorbin again connected to his blessing and exploded in size. His rapid expansion tripped up both of his opponents and sent them sprawling.

Spinning upon his side, Zorbin targeted the first dwarf that he found and, kicking out with both feet, caught the dwarf square in the face. So sudden and vicious was the attack that the dwarf’s head snapped backwards to an odd angle before he crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Only one dwarf besides himself remained. Now the only thing to do was make the other dwarf submit. Zorbin rolled to his knees and climbed to his feet. Turning he located his foe who was already charging him and brandishing the pair of hammers.

Leaning into the blow, Zorbin dropped his shoulder and in turn charged the dwarf that rushed him. With his superior size, he half collided, half tripped over the smaller dwarf, and together they tumbled to the ground. Kicking and rolling, the two battered each other relentlessly, but with his greater size Zorbin came out on top, pinning the much smaller dwarf to the ground beneath him.

“Submit!” Zorbin growled.

Awaiting an answer for several moments, the other dwarf made not a sound, yet continued to squirm and fight. Raising his good hand, Zorbin balled his fingers into a huge fist before smashing the smaller dwarf full in the face. Nose, teeth, and jaw crumpled under the blow in a spray of blood. His foe gurgled.

“Now listen, you stubborn bag of bones,” Zorbin began. “You and I need to walk out of here in agreement, you see?” Zorbin didn’t wait for a reply, as he didn’t expect one. Instead he kept on talking.

“If you prefer I can sit here beating you until all your insides are jelly, but eventually you will do as I tell you.” Zorbin paused, letting his words sink in. “If you and I don’t crawl out of this damned pit in agreement they will just toss us back in, so here is what I suggest.” Zorbin told his enemy of his plan. Eventually, only moments into his speech, his opponent nodded his agreement and cautiously Zorbin climbed off the dwarf whose face was rapidly swelling beyond recognition.

Together the pair walked up the steeply sloping ramp to the surface, Zorbin helping to guide his ally. Reaching the top they paused as a ladder was lowered from above. Zorbin allowed his companion to make the climb first, and followed him up seconds later having once again returned to his normal size.

Though they lived, both dwarves were in need of healing attention and climbing through the hole they each in turn collapsed to the floor where healers appeared out of the shadows to tend to them. Several hours later, as speech was restored to one and an arm to the other, the thanes came to stand before the two dwarves. They looked upon them, already knowing what had transpired, and awaiting the words that were required.

* * * * *

Linaya watched in disbelief as Zorbin turned a terrible situation on its head. One second she was sure he was a goner, his blessing having appeared to have abandoned him. The next he exploded once more, and with a ferocious kick one of his enemies ceased to exist. Seconds later her fellow Valdadorian sat atop his remaining foe, pummeling him into a bloody mess.

Though the scene that played out before her was both brutal and violent, Linaya could not help but feel relieved and excited. Not only had Zorbin survived but he also had won. Rocking back on her heels she sighed loudly, a grin appearing upon her face. The thanes around her noted her happiness and one even dared pat her on the back, realizing that a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

Less than half an hour later the two dwarfs climbed through the portal in the floor and immediately healers rushed to their aid. After all, one of the men who climbed from that hole was officially the king of the entire dwarven nation now.

For over three hours the dwarven healers said prayers and chanted over their injured kindred. Slowly the dwarfs’ wounds vanished and as the healers finally stepped aside, their work complete, the previous king and his thanes surrounded the pair upon the floor.

Linaya watched the following moments as words were traded at first in dwarven, then switching to the human tongue to include her. It was Zorbin who spoke first.

“I, Zorbin of the Ironfist clan, swear my fealty to Dronik of the Rusty Beard clan as the one true King of the Dwarves of Boulder Gate. Furthermore, I swear to uphold my new king’s first order as is my duty as one of his subjects.”

An audible gasp came from all those gathered in the room, including Linaya herself. All of them had witnessed Zorbin pummeling the Dronik fellow nearly to death. It had been obvious what the outcome had been. Why was it, then, that Zorbin was saying that this other dwarf had won the competition?

“As king to the twelve clans and leader of the dwarven nation, I order the armies of Boulder Gate assembled and ready to march to Valdadore’s aid by morning.”

Another gasp. Though it would not be evident to Linaya until hours later when Zorbin explained what had transpired, everyone else in the room realized in an instant what had happened. Though Zorbin had been the obvious victor, he was an outcast. Many considered him a traitor to their race. Had he taken the rulership of the nation it was possible that a civil war could have followed. The chances of leading a dwarven army to Valdadore’s assistance would have been slim to none. Instead, the dwarf had been wise beyond his years and had come to terms with the man he had defeated. He would trade a lifetime of leadership to the nation for a single battle campaign. Each of the thanes in their own time nodded their heads in understanding before departing the room. Linaya remained, stunned.

The old king, a gray beard of more than seven hundred years, knelt down low beside the new king and carefully removed his crown from his brow. Gently, he handed it to Dronik to usher the dwarven nation into a new age and a new generation. Rising slowly, the old king spoke some words in his native tongue before he turned and strode from the room to live out his days in peace.

Linaya watched as Zorbin and Dronik rose and each turned to face her and Gumbi who still remained.

“It seems we have a war to plan, Gumbi,” Dronik said with a thick accent to the dwarf who was his elder by at least double.

“Indeed, my king, I am happy to serve you,” Gumbi answered.

“Wait, what?” Linaya asked, obviously confused.

“Gumbi is the kingdom’s war councilor to the king. Though the thanes all lead their own troops, they all answer to Gumbi, like a general in the Valdadorian army,” Zorbin answered.

“But why did you give away the kingship to him?” she asked pointing to Dronik before realizing what it was she was doing. “Sorry, I mean no disrespect, I just don’t understand…”

All three of the dwarves in the room laughed at her openly. It was not her fault she did not understand the ways of dwarves, but it was amusing to watch her swim upstream.

Zorbin told her that he would explain it all later, but first they needed to plan for the following day. Linaya’s visit had been useless, but Zorbin had somehow saved the day. Linaya was excited and when asked to leave the dwarves to their planning, she happily complied, returning to the luxurious bed she had foresworn the day previous. This time she jumped into its silky depths. When next she awoke Zorbin stood over her. It was the middle of the night, and the look upon his face was a serious one.

He explained to Linaya what had transpired and why he had done it. He also explained that it had all been Gumbi’s plan. Finally he got to the facts that really mattered to Linaya. Boulder Gate would be supplying help to the human kingdom of Valdadore. That aid would come in the form of one hundred thousand armed and armored troops, including more than a thousand blessed with abilities that made them champions in battle. They would march the following day and the trip on foot would take the dwarves about three weeks. Most of the dwarves had never seen the surface, and would need time to adjust to the light and the differing consistencies of the ground they trod upon.

Following Zorbin, Linaya left the house that had been lent to her, and together they walked to one of the many secret entrances to the dwarven kingdom. This one was only an hour from the city. Stepping out into the night, Linaya looked down upon the glinting steel armor of a hundred thousand dwarven soldiers. Both moons clung to the sky, lighting the way, and below, the ground shook beneath the trampling feet of the dwarven army. Linaya smiled into the darkness.

Seth stood in a round room with no windows or doors. A layer of thick dust coated the ground and above the room a hole was barely visible in the ceiling where once a staircase had passed into the floor above. He had been here before. He had escaped here before. Yet here, now, no evidence of his prior escape remained.

He knew the room was not real. It was either a dream or a memory, but in either case it did not matter. He felt her in the room, but he refused to acknowledge her presence. His vision of the gods showed her power encircling his own, swallowing it, so immense was her aura. Still he ignored her, pretending not to notice that she had come.

“You have failed me,” came her voice in a vehement hiss. “I gave you everything you needed to succeed and still you failed.”

Seth did not reply; he didn’t care.

“I gave you the power to change the world, to make it better. I gave you the power to save the woman you love and you repay me by pissing on it all,” the goddess whispered, her rage poisoning the air in the room.

“You gave me enough to hang myself with and nothing more. What progress I made was my doing with no credit to you,” Seth spat into the darkness.

“Progress? You call the mess you left, the plague you began…progress? You are nothing!”

“If I am nothing, the one who brought you the followers you needed to survive, then what does that make you?” Seth grinned inwardly, caring not if he angered her.

“It is unwise to tempt those who hold your life in their hands,” Ishanya stated.

“My life is over,” he shrugged.

Out of the darkness, a shadow appeared and from that shadow she coalesced, her body slowly taking form, a blight within the darkness. As before her hair was braided in small, tight rows that clung to her scalp before trailing down her back. Upon her body she wore wicked armor, darker than night, both beautiful and menacing. Under her arm she held a helm in the visage of a demon’s face with huge horns that curled out to each side. She looked upon him, her nostrils flaring. Sadly, she reminded Seth of Sara, at least to a degree.

He wished he could be with her now. She needed him, and he needed her. Something about them together made each of them better. Without him, she would be forever foresworn from the light, forced to live an eternity in darkness. He needed to get back to Sara.

Seth wished that she was his only concern, but Garret too needed him. Without Seth, Valdadore did not stand a chance at holding out against Sigrant’s forces. Without Seth, Garret would likely lose his mind to rage, forgetting his responsibilities. It was his brother that had wanted to be a soldier. He had wanted battle and glory. Now he had lost so much in the last few months that Seth knew Garret was near the edge. If he stepped over, there would be no coming back.

Borrik and the werewolves also needed Seth. Without him they would have no real purpose and would likely break down into more feral groups, turning upon the humans from which they were spawned. Though Borrik had been a priest with morals and beliefs, because of Seth he had put that behind him to become a killer. He needed Seth to remind him of his humanity.

There were a hundred reasons Seth needed to return to Thurr; a hundred things he had planned to see though until the end. There was so much he had left unfinished that even without a body his heart hurt for the want of life. Angered at his own weakness, his own failures, he lashed out at the goddess who had led him to the power he needed to fix all that he had broken. He needed her to send him back; he needed to convince her that he could serve her better.

“Send me back,” Seth said, more a question than a demand.

* * * * *

Already Ishanya could see that he was slipping. Within minutes he would vanish from this world and return back from whence he came. There was nothing she could do about it. It was out of her hands, beyond her control. Looking upon the eternally weaving tapestry of time she saw where the threads of his life and his body intertwined yet again. It raced near.

Though she had not anticipated it, and not planned it, somehow the sum of his failures had been a success. Though it had not been a victory for her, causing her to lose a great portion of her hold on this game that she had started, he had become more than mortal. Even now his body regenerated, and just as it would start to tug at his soul across the planes, it would stop again.

Though she had lost a handle on him in some capacity, she could still bend him to her will. All Ishanya needed to do was convince him that she held the power over his life. He needed to think he was indebted to her. Ishanya formulated her plan.

“Returning you to your mortal flesh would do you little good, tiny mage. Your body lays destroyed, useless. There is no vessel to return your soul to,” she lied to her servant.

“You could fix it,” he replied, trying to keep his voice in check.

“Your beloved princess is a captive of the enemy. He plans to torture her for all eternity,” she lied again, playing to his fears.

“Why if you plan to keep me here do you not just end me and absorb my power?” Seth asked in anguish.

Ishanya pondered the question. If she could do as he said, she would have done so already. Alas, she was unable, and as such she was forced to let him return. Time was running short; a bargain would have to be struck and quickly.

“If I were to send you back, we would have to agree on some new terms.” Ishanya gave him a hint of hope.

“Anything you desire of me, my goddess,” Seth offered, the words feeling like death as they parted his lips. Seth of all people understood that striking a bargain with a god was ill-advised.

“I can send you back but every moment you will abide by my rules. If not I will see to it that everything you love is destroyed.”

“Yes, mighty Ishanya.”

“If I send you back you will no longer be fully human. Like your beloved princess you will become a creature of the night. If this becomes a limitation to your ability to serve me I suggest you fix it!”

“Yes, my goddess.”

Ishanya needed to hurry.

“A plague has been unleashed into the men of the world. You must quickly end the war and diminish its spread.”

“Yes Ishanya, anything you wish.”

“If I decide to send you back, as soon as your puny war is done, you will leave your kingdom and travel the world gathering me followers by any means necessary.”

“Yes, as you wish.”

Ishanya had him where she wanted him. He would return to the realm of the living whether she liked it or not. Now, however, he had sworn to do all she demanded. She would keep close tabs upon him to be sure he did. So long as he thought that she would hurt those he loved or again remove him from the living, so long as he feared her, he would do as she said. Ishanya waited and watched the flow of time. The moment arrived so she again spoke to her servant.

“So be it then, return to your corpse and serve me once more. I warn you slave…Fail me again and everything you cherish will burn before your eyes. Your father’s death will be a celebration compared to what I will do to those you have left.”

“I will not fail you again.”

Seth felt something tug at his consciousness. It pulled again. At first it was just a small thing, and then it yanked him like nothing he had ever felt before.

* * * * *

Posted on the wall, Valdadore’s soldiers stood looking down upon a small congregation of troops that had approached from Sigrant’s camp. It was obvious that they studied the giant gate and the city’s fortifications. An archer loosed an arrow into the group of enemy soldiers below. Meeting its mark, a soldier slumped in his saddle before leaning to the side and tumbling to the ground.

All their eyes turned up to the top of the wall, and from one on the ground a fireball lanced towards the defenders. Another of Seth’s werewolves fell.

Miles away, unnoticed by anyone, Seth’s corpse did something unexpected. With a twitch of his neck his heart fluttered, as again the synapses in his brain began to fire. Coughing, the death mage rose from the dead.

-End