Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (106 page)

Taking a seat at the desk, Sara flipped the pages of the giant tome back towards the beginning. Judilanthaliz had beautiful penmanship. His words were like feathers and flowers upon the pages, each one formed with flowing lines and curves as if the ink had come to life upon the page and danced across its surface leaving a thin trail upon the parchment. Sara admired the work, but flipped all the way to the front cover, where it met the first page within the journal. The tome was huge, and she knew it would take several days to read it all. She also realized that she had little to do during daylight hours, and so she began the first page.

My travels upon Thurr, volume three.

Volume three? Sara could hardly believe her eyes. The half-elven mage had managed to fill two of these enormous tomes with flowery words and nearly finished a third before he died. Days? It would take the better part of two weeks to make it through three of these vast journals. Sara, however, was up for the challenge. Even so, her body had been nagging her for hours, ever since she had bitten Borrik in order to save his life. Sara needed to feed, and would not be able to properly concentrate until she did. The werewolf seemed to do nothing for her thirst except exaggerate it. Sara needed a human. She needed one that no one would miss, one that perhaps she could keep for a while to feed upon, one that tasted and smelled good. Preferably one that was fairly young, like herself.

Thinking she knew just the place to go, Sara stood from the chair and exited the room, leaving the door open. Turning down the hall, Sara followed it to the end, magical torches igniting to light the way and extinguishing behind her. She headed down the corridor to the right. Walking a short distance further, Sara entered into the small dining hall upon the top floor of the mages’ tower. As she hoped, she could hear the fires crackling from the kitchen beyond. Above her a great chandelier covered in enchanted candles burst to life. In the next room, a candle there lit as well, signaling that the dining hall had a guest and food would be needed. Sara, ignoring the dozens of chairs in the room, sat upon the end of one of the tables, then laid back upon her elbows awaiting her meal.

Sara did not wait long, for only a few moments passed and the door to the kitchen swung silently open as a young woman named Fera entered the dining room carrying with her a pitcher of cool ale and some cups upon a tray. She was older than Sara, though only by a few years, having been chosen at The Choosing ceremony previous to the one Sara recently attended. Nothing was truly exceptional about her either. Her hair and face were plain, her figure was lean but pleasant, and she walked swinging her hips like a woman without a husband. Sara smiled to the young cook, thinking all the while that there were none who might miss her and raise an alarm. If anyone did mark her absence, they would simply assume she had been reassigned to another duty now that Jud was dead, or perhaps that she had volunteered to do something toward the war effort.

Sara greeted the woman, thanked her for the drink, and asked for her company, already pouring them both a glass of ale. Fera complied, of course. Even a lowly cook in a vacant floor of a tower knew that the young mage Seth and his wife were now royalty. As such the young cook could not resist speaking to Sara as a peer might, with the possibility of elevating her station if they became friends. They talked for quite some time, Sara frequently replenishing Fera’s drink as the conversation progressed. In little more than an hour, the young woman began to slur her words, unaccustomed to so much ale. Sara, on the other hand, had barely touched her glass, yet the pitcher was near empty. Now all Sara needed to do is show the young woman how kind she really was.

“Oh my,” Sara said. “We seem to have run dry,” she added holding up the pitcher.

Fera began to rise but Sara protested.

“No Fera, you sit and relax, I will refill it,” Sara said standing.

“Really?” Fera asked, her breath reeking of alcohol.

“Sure. Where can I find some more ale?” Sara asked, a grin on her lips.

“There is a large cask in the kitchen, past the cooking fires and around the corner,” Fera replied, gesturing somewhat wildly.

Sara nodded her understanding and turned without hesitation and walked through the door to the kitchen. Once inside, Sara placed the empty pitcher upon the counter before returning again to the door. Leaning against the wall beside the door frame, Sara waited a few moments.

“Fera, I can’t find it!” Sara shouted. “What is a cask?” she added for emphasis of her stupidity, and though she could not hear it, Fera replied.

“Seriously, she can’t find a cask of ale?” Fera murmured, completely disgusted with spoiled, rich people. “Let me come and educate you, your majesty,” she added for spite.

Rising somewhat unsteadily from her seat, Fera staggered through the door into the kitchen, letting the door swing closed behind her. Sara was nowhere in sight, and so Fera, thinking her around the corner, moved as if to walk in that direction. However, she did not complete a single step before Sara was upon her.

Sara stood as still as death as the door swung open to permit the entrance of her chosen meal. As Fera walked in, the door completely concealed Sara’s hiding spot behind it. As it swung closed once more, it revealed to Sara a perfect opportunity. Taking the single step needed to approach her prey, Sara quickly wrapped an arm around the small woman’s torso, pinning both of her arms to her sides. With her free hand, Sara grasped a fistful of Fera’s brown hair and wrenched her head to the side somewhat violently. Hearing the young cook gasp in surprise, Sara bit into the warm flesh of the woman’s neck, and gasped as the blood filled her mouth and joined her own blood through the tubes in her altered teeth. Ecstasy washed through her veins as she fed, and Sara enjoyed the bliss, careful not to kill the young woman. She hoped to enjoy her over and over again in the days or perhaps weeks to come. Succumbing to blood loss, Fera fainted, falling bodily into Sara who still clung to her as a lover might. Then, carefully lowering the woman to the floor, Sara looked around for the objects she now required.

First Sara found some clean rags and binding the small wounds on Fera’s neck, she hoped to preserve her life and stop the bleeding. Fairly certain the girl would live, Sara needed a way to prevent her from leaving. The kitchen was the most remote room upon this floor of the tower and as such would be the best place to keep the girl. Locating some lengths of rope and twine usually used to suspend meat from hooks in the ceiling, Sara bound Fera’s hands and legs, and then pulled the young woman to her feet. Tossing the length of rope securing Fera’s hands over a hook in the ceiling, Sara secured her victim in a standing position, not wanting to leave the woman any slack to move around with. Finally assured she could not escape, Sara took a remaining scrap of rope and used it to gag the woman as a means to keep her from alerting anyone with her screams for help.

Sara stood back admiring her work. It was not that she was proud of her actions, but this was a simple means to an end. She needed to feed, and here was a source of the blood her body craved. Why attack several people, making herself a monster, if she could simply enslave a single person to her cause? Besides, it was temporary. Eventually Seth would correct her transformation and the need for blood would be gone. Then, Sara reassured herself, she could set the cook free, and it would be as if it had never happened. After all, Sara the princess would never have to fear persecution so long as she was royalty. Satisfied that all was well, Sara left the kitchen without so much as looking back, ready to figure out if elves required sleep or not.

Grim Discoveries

It was nearing midday as Seth and Jonas neared the outer wall of the city of Valdadore. The sun was high in the sky, having already burned away the chill of the previous night. Seth walked down the crowded streets surprisingly unhindered, his cowl pulled low over his face shielding his eyes from the sun. For though as the population of the city swelled by the minute as people poured in from neighboring cities and towns, the dark prince was given a wide berth. His was a tale that spread like the plague, and even as he walked the streets he witnessed as people pointed and whispered stories of him to those nearby. Seth prowled the streets once again clad in his black robes, his cowl pulled low over his face to keep out the sun. Those who knew him by sight, or marked him by the werewolf that walked on his heels, moved well out of his way. Those who did not were pulled aside by those who were better educated. The stories of the prince’s abilities had spread and changed, mutating into hardly credible half-truths. Some said the prince could turn a person to ash with a look; others said that if you touched him you became a monster like the ones that served him already. None dared come near him, at least until he finally made his way to Blacksmith’s Row.

Here metal clanged on metal. Fire, prevalent everywhere, heated the very stone of the city walls that in turn heated the air of the nearby street. People ventured here during the warmer seasons out of necessity, but now as winter quickly approached, more crowded the road as a means to keep warm and watch the spectacle that was playing out upon the street. It was unlike anything anyone in the city had seen before, and there were some who did not even see the approach of the prince because of the display that they watched.

One such young mother stood there, her blue eyes transfixed upon a young battle mage a dozen paces away from her. Such was his work that he had stripped off the top half of his robes, letting them fall around his waist where a belt cinched them in place. His well-muscled body showed a life of discipline, and upon it sweat beaded everywhere. In the daylight, it appeared already as if the young mage shone with a light of his own, but it was his craft, which he was performing now, that really made him shine.

Before the young mage stood a blacksmith, and beyond him were his apprentices. Each of the tradesmen held a pair of tongs designed for holding heated metal, which would then be beaten into shape with a large hammer. No one here wielded that tool, however, as the mage worked his abilities miraculously.

With reflected fire blazing in his eyes, the young mage held one palm directly above the lump of metal that was gripped in the blacksmith’s tongs. Though no flame was visible, heat radiated out from the mage’s hand in a constant wave and the metal began to glow within seconds. First it turned red, then orange and next yellow before finally turning white. Just as it would have become molten the mage raised his other hand near his face, as if looking down his fingers to better aim that which he was about to unleash. And unleash he did. From his first two fingers small bolts of fire lanced out, smashing into the superheated metal. As he moved his fingers, the beams of fire moved too, pressing here and there as the blacksmith rotated his tongs slowly. Within seconds, the young battle mage relaxed his focus, re-containing his power, and watched in satisfaction as the blacksmith held his tongs up for the gathered crowd to see what it was they had created. The crowd made many sounds of appreciation as they viewed the finished spear point, something that usually took an hour to make.

Today, through Seth’s ingenuity and the battle mages’ abilities, spear tips were being produced in minutes. Even so, this battle mage particularly impressed Seth. Something about him seemed unique. As the blacksmith walked off to fetch another piece of metal, one of his apprentices took his place, and the spectacle started again. Seth filtered out his human vision and watched as the gods would view the mage. He could see the tendril of power reaching down from the heavens, connecting with the spark of life within the man. He could see the mage’s temporarily bloated aura swelling with the power of Zeranthil. Seth looked deeper, and as he did, his own jaw dropped in realization. Combing through his memories, Seth extracted mental models of his and Sara’s own auras, the ones he had studied but a few short weeks ago in an effort to save Sara’s life.

Seth’s own aura had one piece that Sara’s had not, and this, Seth had presumed, was the difference between someone born with magical ability, and someone who was not. The battle mage had such a piece, though it was much smaller than Seth’s own pattern. It was this piece of the mage’s aura that swelled beyond capacity as the god’s power streamed into the mortal man like a torrent. Seth worked quickly to memorize the battle mage’s extra pattern and discovered that it was in fact a collection of four other patterns. Seth compared his own extra pattern to that of the mage and saw that his own was far more complex. Now Seth was truly confused, and at the same time he was enlightened. He had just discovered many things all at once, and yet they left him with many more questions.

First off, Seth actually recognized two of the patterns swirling within the mage’s aura that allowed him to use magic. Though one was merely a representation of the other, the symbol Seth had learned meaning ‘absorb’ was present within the mage, though it moved as if alive, twisting and turning and interlocking with the other symbols within this portion of the mage’s aura. Seth compared it to his own aura, and found the symbol there too, only within himself the pattern was backwards, like a mirror reflection of the first he had studied. Also within the battle mage’s aura was the symbol for fire, another Seth had gleaned from the small leather tome entrusted to him. Again this symbol was present within himself, except that, again, it was backwards. Seth pondered if the orientation of the pattern made any difference, and decided to use the other thing he had discovered to find out.

This final discovery was an easy way to locate those that were blessed. It was so simple, Seth could not believe he had not realized it sooner. So long as someone was calling upon their blessing, and the power was provided by the god they worshipped, a tendril of power, barely perceptible, connected them to the heavens. With his blessed vision, these tendrils appeared like a collection of a dozen or so strands from a spider’s web and could not be seen at all at a distance. All Seth had to do was locate those with abilities, study this portion of their aura and compare them. This should provide him some of the answers he sought, and maybe even unlock that which he needed to ensure that Valdadore survived the upcoming battle. Seth knew exactly where to start looking as he himself had given the order for all the battle mages to come to this very street to lend a hand. Turning, Seth easily located his next target for study, and began to move in that direction when something brushed his leg.

Looking down Seth was surprised to find a toddler clinging to his robes. The boy smiled up at Seth, pointing a stubby finger at him. Seth vaguely recalled seeing the small boy with the young mother who had been watching the performance on the street, enthralled. Reaching down, Seth collected the small boy into his arms, afraid he could become separated from his mother in the surrounding crowd. Standing again, Seth looked from the boy to the mother, seeing their resemblance immediately, and was surprised when the small boy spoke to him.

“My daddy,” the toddler blurted.

“No no,” Seth replied quickly. “I am not your daddy!”

“My daddy,” he repeated, wriggling his little body to turn away from Seth as his chubby little arm shot out. The toddler pointed to the young battle mage in the street and Seth finally understood. Comparing once again, Seth noted that the boy resembled his father more than his mother, and looking around the crowd, Seth was astonished to see the multitudes of worried and disgusted looks that had fallen upon him. Now too the mother of the child turned, and seeing her child in Seth’s arms she gasped as she mouthed silent words, tears welling up in her eyes. Seth could not believe the people’s ignorant fear of him nor their distrust, but approaching the young mother, Seth handed the boy over to her. Grasping the toddler, half panicking, the mother hugged the child tightly, clinging to his small body.

“He is a brave boy,” Seth stated calmly. “He resembles his father very much.”

The mother stood glaring at Seth a moment as his words sunk in. Her anger seemed to dissipate slightly as fear consumed her, but even afraid the mother felt she had no choice but to speak to the dark prince.

“Brave how?” she asked. “What have you done to my boy?”

“Done to him?” Seth questioned. “I’ve done nothing to the child, I assure you. Nor would I, for that matter, unless it was asked of me. Why do the people of Valdadore fear me so? Have I done something to them that warrants such fear?”

Around him some heads shook from side to side while others bobbed up and down. The people had no clue why they were afraid, it seemed. They simply reacted to the stories they were told, and Seth felt it was time to set the story straight.

“Your majesty?” The woman asked, unsure how to answer his question without offending him.

“Yes, I can kill with a thought. Yes, I can create monsters of men like Captain Jonas here,” Seth paused to turn and face the large wolfman for a second. “Yes, I can bring the mighty to their knees and not even I know my true limitations. But…what have I done to you people here, in this street, to warrant your fear of me?” Seth asked.

“Nothing,” replied the young mother, ashamed of her actions. Now too the young mage came to wrap his arms around her and their child. Many among the crowd showed the same shame upon their faces. They each now realized that Seth had done nothing to them, nor did they have anything to fear from him. These few people now realized that, like them, Seth was a man of the kingdom. He fought the same enemies, felt the same hardships, and struggled alongside everyone else in his path to his destiny. They were all the same. It was a realization that ran through the crowd like wildfire, and even Seth was caught up in the blaze for a moment as the truth struck him. It was something that would need discussing with his brother, something vastly important. However, for the moment the thought would be lost to Seth as Jonas gripped his shoulder.

Seth spun to meet the gaze of the great wolfman and saw anger flashing across his face as he bared his teeth. Composing himself once more the werewolf relayed the message he had just received to Seth.

“The men have found the source of the scent of blood, my prince,” Jonas growled, attempting to contain his obvious rage. “The king and his men were attacked in the night. It appears that only your brother survives.”

* * * * *

While Seth received the news of his brother at midday, Borrik was racing eastward at an alarming speed. He split his focus upon two different tasks as he ran; the first was his path and footing, the second was communication from the pack. He was far away from any others of his kind, and yet he could still pick up occasional images from them and decipher them together with their attached emotions. The last image he received was of his master, cloaked in black robes, holding a small child to his chest. That was near half an hour ago, and Borrik recognized the location within Valdadore. He could not believe the distance at which he was still able to intercept thoughts shared by his pack and assumed that it must be another result of Sara’s biting him. The enhancements he had received from that single bite had been wondrous, and Borrik wished that she had bitten him sooner.

Borrik raced on and soon spotted something familiar upon the horizon at nearly the same time that he picked up the scent. He doubted his eyes at first, wondering how it was possible that he could catch up to the pair who had left the city a full day ahead of him. None the less, as the miles disappeared beneath his feet, Borrik assured himself that he was not mistaken. Ahead of him raced Zorbin, the Knight of Valdadore, upon his dire wolf mount, and the king’s young lover, Linaya. Borrik was gaining on the pair quickly, and not wanting to spook their mounts, he changed his path to circle them slightly so that he would come into view before approaching them.

Moments later, Borrik slowed down to match speed with the mounts, and loped towards them, his hand held up in greeting. Both Linaya and Zorbin hailed him in return, and keeping their course allowed the charcoal-colored werewolf to fall into step between their mounts.

“Hail Borrik!” Zorbin shouted over the tumult of the horses’ beating strides. “Did Prince Seth send you to escort us?”

“No Master Zorbin, I head east upon another mission entirely,” Borrik replied. “I just wanted to be sure you and the lady fared…” Borrik stopped dead in his tracks, digging his clawed feet into the soil. So abrupt was his stop that both Zorbin and Linaya found themselves looking back over their shoulders a moment before each decided to rein in their mounts and turn to see what it was that had given the great beast of a man pause.

“What is it Borrik?” Zorbin asked as he and Zanth closed in on the alpha werewolf.

“The king was attacked.” Borrik answered simply, awaiting his own answers from the pack. It was Linaya who responded first.

“Is Garret all right? Who or what attacked him? Is he safe?” Linaya asked along with a dozen other questions filled with panic.

“I do not know yet,” Borrik replied simply. “I am far from the pack, and communication is slow at this distance. All I have seen is an image of Garret’s face, lots of blood and a Valdadorian knight in armor upon the blood-soaked ground.”

Zorbin grumbled something incoherent as Borrik stood like a statue, one ear lifted to the wind as if the subliminal messages he sought would carry better to him upon the air. A moment later Borrik’s expression changed again, this time becoming more curious than concerned.