Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (186 page)

“Okay, boys. This is how I see it. You need men, and we have them. We need arms and you have them. We can tickle each other’s britches all night, or cut straight to the chase.”

Seth beamed at her as Goldenfingers thin lips spread in a wide grin. There it was, the chips were all on the table.

“Very well, Princess Sara, you have put it on the line. Now what to do with it?” Goldenfingers asked.

“I can lend you some men,” Seth suggested. “They are loyal to me and as such will follow you if told to do so.”

“And in return?”

“You give me the lay of the land in Drakenhurst and enough weapons to arm as many men as you are able. Information and weapons, that is all I ask.”

“And what of your loyal men once you have what you want? What is to keep them from turning on me and overrunning my men and taking that which I have for their own?”

“You pay them enough to feed themselves and their families if they have them. You make sure they are all housed comfortably and I assure you that no harm will come to you or your men by orders from my lips.”

“And if I do not agree to this arrangement?” Goldenfingers asked.

Sara thought for a moment that she had missed something. Maybe it was unspoken? She didn’t know, but why the hesitation from Goldenfingers? He was getting exactly what he wanted—an army to take the town and hold it. Could he be holding out for more?

“Then nothing,” Seth said simply. “I do not demand these things, though we both know I could. I simply ask a fair trade, this town for Drakenhurst. If you do not wish to trade, then my men and I will march on without your arms.”

“You intend to take Drakenhurst?
Take it
, take it?”

“I do,” Seth answered.

“And what of me if you hold the capital?” Goldenfingers asked.

That was it. That was what Sara had overlooked. The man was good at striking a deal. He was looking not only to barter on the here and now, but also a possible future in which he was striking a deal with the future king of the whole realm. It was cunning of the man to think so far ahead when he was already getting precisely what he wanted, but she supposed it explained why he traveled so luxuriously.

“When I hold the capital, you will have an ally with a crown and be free to once again open shop in the city, or simply merchant and trade wares from here to there.”

“And a dowry for information given that leads to your victory?” Goldenfingers pressed.

“Greed is what leads to entire households butchered, poisoned, or burned in their beds, my good Goldenfingers. Let’s not travel that road ourselves.”

Sara grinned as her husband put the merchant in his place, though honestly she couldn’t blame him for trying.

“So everything is settled then?” she asked, knowing full well that there was much to be done if the deal was struck.

“I am satisfied,” Goldenfingers answered.

“Good,” Seth replied. Let me collect my general so that you can answer questions for all three of us.”

* * * * *

Swooping out of the sky at his master’s bidding, Borrik settled to the earth, tucking his wings and reciting the commands to recall his blessings. Feeling the grueling, crawling beneath his skin sensation as his secondary arms were reclaimed by his flesh, he shrank to his normal size with a pop. Tilting his head he twisted his neck, both hearing and feeling it crack. Grinning a wicked canine grin, he approached Seth and the decorated man beside him.

“Borrik, Goldenfingers here has information about Drakenhurst that may help us take it. We have come to terms to exchange men for arms and intel.”

“How many of his arms should I take?” Borrik asked, stepping forward aggressively.

Sharing a laugh with Seth as Goldenfingers retreated a few steps, even the merchant chuckled after realizing it was a jest.

“Goldenfingers, aside from my Sara, Borrik is my closest, most trusted ally.”

“It is very much my pleasure, Borrik,” Goldenfingers said with a grin, reaching out to take his hand. “I have heard tales of your master’s creations. Some more wild than others, I admit, but now I wonder if even those weren’t true.”

Without knowing what the man wanted to hear, Borrik simply bowed his head slightly and waited for the man to get on with it. After an odd moment of silence, the gaudily dressed man turned and retraced his steps to the mammoth carriage whence he had emerged, and Borrik followed Seth up the three steps and into the vehicle.

Inside was much the same as the merchant himself. Like a magical money fairy had vomited over every surface, the interior was a plush hell filled with dainty pillows, decorative hangings, and an extreme abundance of silk. Borrik choked back the bile that rose in his throat, an apparent reflex of his body to try and outdo the money fairy, and located the carriage’s one redeeming quality. Women. Though the place exuded weak, dainty, femininity from floor to ceiling, the air hung heavy with the scents of sex, sweat, and women. He couldn’t see them, but he knew where they were by scent alone. He wondered if either of his companions could smell the delicious aromas wafting up to his snout, though doubted their inferior human senses could detect such things. Sara perhaps, with her predatory urges, but not likely his master.

Tearing his senses away from his more carnal desires, those he had sworn himself to avoid, he focused on the task at hand. Joining their host at a small table, Borrik lowered himself to sit uncomfortably on a chair too small to accommodate him, with a back that impeded his wings’ ability to fold naturally. All he could do was hope that this would not take overly long.

“Alright, Goldenfingers,” Seth began, cutting to the chase, “What can you tell me about Drakenhurst?”

“Virtually everything, I presume, though I’ll start with how it is laid out and defenses, if that suits you.”

“Perfect,” Seth said in reply.

“Very well then. Drakenhurst is not like your home of Valdadore. It is much older, and as such it has little in common with what you are used to. Whereas Valdadore holds its city within its protective walls, Drakenhurst’s defenses lie only around the castle proper. The city sprawls around at its base, defended by a weak wall of bricks designed to keep out the grazing animals only. The city itself is very much defenseless with the vast majority of its troops and guards gone.”

“And where is the struggle for power taking place?”

“The nearer one goes to the keep, the more wealthy and powerful the residents are. Those palaces nearest the castle will hold those with influence, but your biggest adversaries will lie within the keep itself. Though much of the royal guard, councilors, and generals were lost to your forces, a few men who command power still, fight to retain the keep and the power that resides there. With the city around it, getting siege engines and an army up to its walls are difficult, and it has never been breached.”

“How many men defend it?” Borrik asked.

“I do not know at present, but with the war machines defending its walls, it does not take a sizeable force to put up a fight. Sigrant loved technology and worked with the neighboring gnomes to create marvelous contraptions. I am told that as few as fifty men could hold the keep for weeks. But that, of course, is against an army of men. Not those like yourselves.”

“So from the air then?” Borrik asked Seth.

“Perhaps. What else can you tell us of the keep?”

“Though old, it was well constructed. Its walls are tall and thick. To fire upon it from the ground is folly, for to get close enough to be in range, you have to get well within range of its defenses. If I were to take it, I’d bleed it.”

“Meaning what?” Seth asked.

“A siege. Cut off all supplies into and out of the keep. Perhaps even burn the entire city around it. Eventually those within will starve. Usually they have stores that will last some time, but with the army marching to Valdadore, I would be willing to bet that those stores were depleted to feed the army.”

“That could take weeks or months,” Borrik suggested.

“Yes, but it wouldn’t cost you a single man,” Goldenfingers replied.

“What about water?” Sara asked. “How does the keep get water? Could we dam up a creek or something?”

“Unfortunately no. Inside the keep is a natural spring. Not only does it feed the keep itself, but also those who live nearest it, within the city.”

“How is the water fed out to the city?” Seth questioned.

“Underground there are a handful of aqueducts, pressurized by the reservoir within the keep itself.”

“Can they be accessed?”

“Not without getting dangerously close to the keep. Though I suppose, if you did gain access, you could drain the keep’s reservoir, or poison it.”

Almost as if they had reached the same conclusion at the same time, Borrik turned to look at Seth, who now looked at him as well. Seth grinned knowingly as Borrik split his maw in a canine smile. They had access to the keep. All they needed to do now was arm the men, supply them, and see for themselves just how much of a fight those defending Drakenhurst would put up.

Even upon the backs of the world’s finest mounts, it took Garret and his companions a full day to reach the edge of the forest. Weary of riding, with tired and hungry mounts, he led his comrades to the very brink of the forest’s edge and dismounted. Ahead the wide trail vanished beneath the ancient trees that cast a million shadows upon the ground, creating darkness where the sun would never penetrate. Here and there could be heard the flitting of birds amongst the boughs above, and occasionally the scampering of small feet would cause Garret to jerk his head in one direction or another in hopes of catching a glimpse of what it was that dared venture near.

Deciding to make camp at the forest’s edge, just as they had done the first time the three of them had visited, Garret and Zorbin began erecting their tents while Ashton gathered some wood and prepared a fire. Pounding the last stake into the soft, spongy soil, Garret nodded to his dwarven friend who released the tension he held upon the rope and watched as the tent settled into place. Finished with the task, Garret looked again into the deepening gloom of the forest beyond. It was ancient, immense. The reports Zorbin had been given simply said druids in the forest. They had no idea where to locate the encampment, or even where to begin. Their only option was to sweep the forest from one side to the other and hope they stumbled upon the supposed site of this atrocity sooner rather than later. Garret wanted to see for himself what truth the rumors held. Could it be possible that human women’s bellies were filled with the seed of monsters and they now gave birth to the twisted offspring of the beasts?

Rising from the ground, he wiped his hands together and began to shed his armor. If any of Seth’s beasts remained in the forest, he didn’t want to tip them off with the creaking and clanking his every movement made.

As the sun’s final rays were lost beyond the horizon, the edge of the forest became like another world. Insects in a multitude of varieties took to the air, some of them pulsing with light as they sought whatever it was that insects sought. Birds and bats alike took wing, flying in dazzling arrays between the boughs, devouring the insects in near silence. From deeper within the forest, the growls of predators and screams of prey broke the silence from time to time, and Garret realized that he was warmer now than he had been the entire day.

Though winter’s chill had come to bite his realm, making the grass crunch and dusting the ground in snow on more than one occasion, here, beneath the trees, it was as if their tightly woven branches held in the heat. Even the ground seemed oddly warm, blanketed in moss and decaying leaves. Looking towards the darkness beyond the edge of the forest, Garret wondered if it grew warmer still the further you went beneath the ancient trees. Tomorrow, he supposed, would provide him with the answer.

Joining both Ashton and Zorbin near the small fire, Garret seated himself upon the ground, pulling some salted pork and cheese from his pack. Though the healer and the dwarf carried a conversation, Garret heard not their words. Instead, his mind wandered to home. Something about the musty smell of the decaying forest floor reminded him of the crypts, and the cool air on his back spoke of the cool stagnant air down below the earth in Valdadore. He tried to change the direction of his imagination, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Linaya was doing without him. Was she resting? Singing? Did she long for his return the way he longed to see her again?

Reaching into his pocket he touched the lock of her hair he had hidden there and imagined its smell. He had always loved the smell of her hair. Something about it was familiar and comforting. Thinking of her hair made him long for her smile and embrace, but here, neither would be coming. He needed to be done with this trip and get back home. But, he had wanted
this
too. He knew it was good to be out with friends. There had to be some sort of happy medium. He couldn’t be home with Linaya, and out with his friends, investigating a possible crime. Both required his attention and he wanted to do both. What he needed, what he really needed, was a way for Linaya to come with him. Sure, he had her hair, and she said that one day they would be able to be together again all the time, but he wanted that time to be now, not later.

“What about you, Garret?” Ashton asked.

“Huh? Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

“I was asking, if you could have chosen your blessing, what would you have picked?”

“Oh. I…um… I’ve never thought about it before. I suppose to better protect my kingdom I would have to be able to rival all of my foes. Size, strength, and skin of steel are wonderful, but I suppose if my options were unlimited, I would chose the ability to fly as well and throw fire,” Garret answered, knowing he would need to be able to do at least as much in order to defeat his brother.

“That’s quite a list,” Zorbin grumbled in his deep voice.

“What was your answer then?” Garret asked.

“To be handsome enough to woo any woman of my choosing,” Zorbin chuckled.

“I can see how that would come in handy,” Garret admitted. “And you, Ashton?”

“The ability to heal the world instead of just wounds.”

“Like end wars and lovers’ quarrels?” Garret asked.

“Yes, but if we all got what we wished, I think Zorbin would make my ending lovers’ quarrels impossible,” Ashton grinned.

Chuckling deeply, Zorbin slapped Ashton on the back, nearly sending him sprawling into the fire as Garret too began laughing at the semi-panicked, surprised look on his friends face. Laughter. It had been a while since he had heard any, let alone enjoyed his own. It was good, and he knew instantly that this was why Linaya had encouraged him to go. Thanking her silently, he returned his attention to his friends and joined in on the amusement.

It was several hours later when they decided to settle down for the night. Taking turns, Garret took the first watch, waking Zorbin near the middle of the night to lay down himself. Though he was forsaken, Garret prayed to Gorandor for his blessing to be returned, but felt no different once he completed his prayers. He wondered if Gorandor even heard his words any longer. Maybe his plight was useless. Maybe his silent suffering was a punishment that he had to endure in order to regain the god’s favor. Garret had no way of knowing.

Rolling onto his side, he faced the north, back where his lover lay without him, and imagined her here at his side. Closing his eyes, he relaxed his saddle-sore muscles and fell quickly into a deep, rejuvenating sleep.

* * * * *

Zorbin’s watch had been more or less uneventful until his link to Xanth got interesting as the giant wolf caught the scent of a doe and sprang off into the forest to begin stalking it. With images flickering past his eyes, he watched as the wolf bent low to the ground, and sniffing, dug his clawed toes into the soil before leaping ahead, and slowly began picking up speed. Like he was racing along through the trees himself, Zorbin witnessed the hunt in a surreal, all too personal way. Leaves, darkness, trees, brush, and the ground passed before his eyes as adrenaline began to run in his veins.

With his heart pumping he witnessed as Xanth suddenly changed direction, heading what he presumed was east. Climbing through the forest, the wolf raced on, slowly uphill. Then, unexpectedly, Xanth suddenly stopped. Watching as the great wolf seemed to sniff the air, before looking this way and that, Zorbin saw something peculiar through the eyes of his friend. There, in the darkened forest, were giant mushrooms, cultivated into even rows. Only people cultivated plants.

Then, seemingly having picked up the trail once more, Xanth again leapt into the trees with his nose in the air, sniffing and searching. For more than thirty minutes Zorbin was a silent witness to the hunt. Rounding a large tree, Xanth slid to a stop and Zorbin could see that the wolf looked out over a narrow ravine. There, in the depths of the ravine, stood the doe. She was mature and elegant in her stance—a proud kill for any hunter.

As Xanth’s stance shifter lower to the ground, Zorbin watched from the wolf’s eyes as he crept slowly forward carefully placing each paw. Then, when he was in range, the wolf sprang atop the doe, driving it to the ground in a tangle of legs and fur. Growling and snapping, he reached out and caught the throat of his prey and clamping down, witnessed its final struggles as blood poured from its neck.

Shaking his head, Zorbin found his own jaw clenched tightly closed. It were almost as if he had actually lived the event instead of simply witnessed it. The thrill of the hunt still lingered within him as his heart pounded in his chest. Breathing hard, he stood to stretch, wondering at his and Xanth’s connection. It had never been this strong before. But that was not all that he wondered about. Stoking the fire near his feet, Zorbin began to recall and memorize everything he could about Xanth’s hunt. Tomorrow, the wolf’s path would be theirs as well. He had a strong suspicion that the mushrooms belonged to the very people they sought.

Stepping back from the trees, Zorbin looked up to the sky. Making note of the locations of the stars, he found that his watch had already ended more than an hour before. He wasn’t particularly tired, but as it was Garret’s plan, he would stick to it. Rounding their small fire, he kicked Ashton’s protruding feet lightly, rousing the healer.

“My turn?” Ashton asked from within the tent.

“Aye. I ain’t been hearin’ anything to be concerned about.”

“Good,” the healer said, climbing out of his tent.

* * * * *

Waiting until he was certain that the dwarf was asleep, Ashton crept a short distance away from their camp to avoid being heard. Reaching what he presumed would be a safe distance away, he pulled a dagger from his belt and peered back towards camp.

“Powerful goddess, I pray you give me the strength to see this through. As your servant and vessel I will do what you have asked of me. With this sacrifice of blood, I beg you watch my deeds with a keen eye and see proof of my loyalty.”

Creeping silently as death, Ashton tiptoed back to their small camp. Seeing the dwarf’s feet stir from the end of his tent, Ashton wrapped his free hand about the blade of his dagger. Reaching the tent of the slumbering dwarven warrior, he knelt down carefully, dragging the blade from his fist. Holding it high above his head, he reached out his hand, now adorned with a deep gash, and let the blood drip all about Zorbin’s feet. Standing, Ashton circled the tent, allowing his blood to splash onto the ground creating a ring. His deed finished, he sheathed his dagger once more and returned to the fire, clenching his bloodied fist closed. Leaning towards the heat, he opened his hand to expose the wound before dragging one finger across the gash, watching it mend itself closed as if it had never happened.

Grinning to himself, Ashton leaned back on his elbows and looked up into the blackness of the heavens. Somewhere up there was his mistress. He imagined her smiling back at him, applauding his work. Not once, but twice in a single day he had made the king think about his lack of blessing. The man’s longing looks behind them in the direction of Valdadore spoke volumes. He was broken beyond repair. He longed for those lost to him and his pain showed clearly. He was susceptible. Of this much Ashton was certain. If only he knew how far he could push the king before he snapped, broke down, and gave in. If only he knew how to make the man reach a point so desolate that he would be open to a new way.
Time,
Ashton reminded himself. It would all come in due time. The goddess had told him as much.

Turning his gaze to the south, he wondered what had transpired since last he left those lands. He could almost feel the hot breeze across the sand, though he did not miss the biting of the flies. He knew that Gnak had succeeded in his own task. In order to be the orc’s equal before the goddess, he would need to complete his.

Hearing a rustling from somewhere beyond his vision, Ashton watched the darkness intently as the dwarf’s massive wolf came trotting towards them with something hanging from its maw. As it neared, Ashton recognized the beast’s burden for what it was and grinned. Hanging from the mouth of the wolf was an entire flank of a large deer. Though torn and mangled around the edges, the meat was surprisingly intact and still covered in a protective layer of the animal’s hide. As he patted the beast’s head, it looked at him incredulously before dropping its prize at his feet with a huff, and sauntered off between the tents. He knew not the intelligence of the animal, but assumed it was greater than he originally gave it credit for.

Pulling his dagger from his belt once more, he went to work skinning the meat and building a small spit to roast it on. In under an hour the sizzling and popping of cooking meat filled their camp as the scent of fresh kill filled the air. It wasn’t long until his companions began to stir, and shortly before daybreak both were climbing out from their tents to stretch. Watching as they neared, he noted them both licking their lips as he rose to greet them.

“Good morning, gentlemen. Your wolf brought us some breakfast,” he said, turning to meet the dwarf’s eyes.

“Aye, he likes to be doing that sometimes,” Zorbin grinned through his beard.

“Is it venison?” Garret asked.

“He bagged ‘im a doe last night, and better than that, methinks me knows where the druids be.”

“How? What? Where?” Aston asked nearly all at once.

“Do tell,” Garret added.

“Cause of me link to his mind, I was able to watch him hunt the deer, ye see. He be coming across a small clearing filled with even rows of mushrooms too perfect to be by chance.”