Authors: Laszlo,Jeremy
Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (112 page)
Just as soon as the mages were felled, the hundreds of giant werewolves lent themselves to the fight against the giant black knights as everyone of normal size fought to regain their feet. It would not be a fair match by any means; two hundred giant werewolves versus fifty or so human knights dressed in leather armor.
* * * * *
Garret dove aside, kicking out at his attacker’s leg, effectively breaking the horseman’s knee. So long as the man did not go suicidal in his means of attack, Garret could defeat him. But even with a broken knee the man stayed upright, at least until the blast happened. With a force like being smacked with a stone wall, Garret’s attacker, already off balance from his injured leg, was thrown backwards to topple upon his own troops, crushing several beneath him. Garret was unsure just what had exploded, but not daring to take his eyes off his foe, ignored the deafening ringing that was now all he heard and regained his own feet to finish this fight.
Approaching his foe, Garret wasted no time and leaped upon the man from a distance, driving his blade down through the horseman’s throat before he could even do so much as sit up. Pulling his blade from the soil, Garret looked this way and that, seeking his next opponent, but instead he discovered the source of the blast. In all directions, Seth’s wolf troops stomped through Sigrant’s army, all of them now closing in on the giant black knights. Garret could not believe his eyes. Never would he have believed that Seth was capable of such a feat, but just as Garret began to get his hopes up with odds better than favorable, the tide was turned yet again.
* * * * *
Seth watched his men closing in on their enemies as he himself turned a few hundred common men and women to ash, replenishing a small amount of the power he had just expelled. As he watched he witnessed as one of the giant knights split back into four normal people who became lost among the thousands of other common troops. A second later a giant fireball in the shape of a skull smashed a giant werewolf in the chest, tearing a hole straight through the giant beast. He collapsed without so much as a muscle spasm upon the ground. Then it happened three more times from that same vicinity, and Seth recalled how the knights under his brother’s command had been felled by such an attack. His realization was too late as all of the giant warriors of Sigrant’s army disseminated from one another into ordinary men once more and skull-shaped fireballs were cast in all directions causing dozens of Seth's giant werewolves to fall in battle. Seth reached out as quickly as he was able and began severing the umbilical that connected the blessed warriors of Sigrant with their chosen god, several per attack. He dropped them where they stood. Within less than a handful of minutes Seth destroyed more than eighty of the common sized knights, but it was too late; by that time the damage had been done as more than forty of the knights had split into fours and half of those had landed a target. Seth had lost half of his men in just a few moments, and though wondrous power flowed into him in droves, he felt no pleasure from it. Though Sigrant had lost over a hundred mages, and all of his knights, his army kept coming. They marched ever forward, bent on the destruction of Valdadore, spilling by the thousands from the shore of the frozen lake, its once broken surface already mended.
Seth was out of tricks. He still had over a hundred men, each of them currently blessed with size and strength, but only for a limited time. In only an hour or so, they would return to average size and then all would be lost. However, with the deaths of half of his troops he now had the power to sustain their blessings for significantly longer if he wished. Seth dared not try anything big, not like at the battle with the black horde. He could not bear to kill those who stood with him on the field of battle again. He would not risk being teleported halfway across the world. With nothing left up his sleeves, Seth relayed a message to Jonas who made sure it would reach the king’s ear. As Seth expected, a few seconds later, his brother’s booming voice echoed across the battlefield calling for full retreat.
The battle was over. Valdadore had lost.
But at least they stood to fight another day.
-End
Within the span of a few months the entire future of the world had been rewritten. Out of obscurity two new champions blessed by the gods had arisen upon the face of Thurr. Believed twins, these champions had special abilities that made each of them an asset in battle. Heeding the call of their kingdom, Seth and Garret had marched to war against the black horde, a formidable army comprised of orcs, trolls and goblins.
* * * * *
Using his unparalleled magical abilities, Seth created a new race of men to serve the kingdom of Valdadore, melding wolves with men to form werewolves. At their head, Seth appointed Borrik, a once-human priest to the goddess Ishanya, who now served loyally as the alpha werewolf, a vicious predator designed for killing. Garret, trained by the mighty Knights of Valdadore, became a warrior unlike any other, impenetrable to physical harm by any weapon. Together with their allies, the brothers faced the previously undefeated black horde. Though the battle had eventually been won so, too, had much been lost.
Taking an arrow to the neck, Sara, Seth’s young wife, had fallen in the battle. Losing control of his powers in his anguish and rage, Seth unleashed his magic with devastating effect to both friend and foe. In that final blast, the battle was won as thousands of enemy troops were obliterated. However, the King of Valdadore and several of his blessed warriors were also destroyed by it. Seth and Sara were nowhere to be found. Most assumed them dead, as no trace remained of the young couple.
* * * * *
His brother, king, and mentor Lord Sirus all slain, Garret had no choice but to ignore the emotions threatening to overwhelm him as his new duties begin to stack up in service to the kingdom. Witnessing the suicide of Sirus’s wife Sasha, he was charged with looking after their beautiful daughter, Linaya. Each overcome with their own sorrows, Garret and Linaya sought solace from one another and became closer by the day as a deep-seated love began to grow between them.
* * * * *
Seth and Sara found themselves transported to a foreign land following the magical blast that had ended the battle with the black horde. Though Sara had been mortally wounded, Seth managed to save the woman he loved by using his powers to combine her life force with that of a species of bat with amazing healing abilities. However, he soon began to realize that his magic came with untold and sometimes devastating consequences. As Sara was restored, it quickly became apparent that their lives together would change immensely. Sara had become an agile, powerful, bloodthirsty predator who could no longer tolerate the sun. Together the pair set out to find their way back home, but were captured and delayed by a tribe of miniature warriors. Hearing these people’s sad tale of persecution by the mysterious Zoomba, Seth and Sara allied themselves with the small race in hopes of defeating another immense enemy. Little did they know that the enemies were cat-sized insects that numbered in the millions.
* * * * *
Borrik, the alpha werewolf, sent his hybrid troops in all directions to seek out Seth following the battle with the black horde, confidently believing his master still alive. Leading a small contingent of wolf troops himself, he was approached by more of Seth’s creations in the night. A pair of feline girls Seth had shaped prior to the battle swore that they knew the location of their creator. Changing course, Borrik followed the trail laid before him by the sisters, racing east towards the mountainous border of Valdadore. As he and his men raced day in and out to reach their master, the lunar cycle progressed. Under the influence of the twin full moons in the sky, the contingent of hybrid wolfmen were filled by lust-induced rage, and brutally raped the inhabitants of a small community before fleeing the scene to again seek out their master.
Cresting the mountains, the pack of werewolves were accosted by a giant and took several casualties before finally bringing the immense beast down. Rejoined by another pack of his troops, Borrik led his men onwards and soon witnessed Seth’s magical fire in the distance. Leaving his injured men behind, Borrik and his troops raced with no regard for their own safety to his side.
* * * * *
Reunited with his troops, Seth formulated a plan to defeat the insect army. Together with the help of the werewolves and the miniature warriors, Seth and Sara managed to destroy the queen of the insects. Their leader lost, the remainder of the Zoomba dispersed as Seth, his wife and his hybrid soldiers headed back to the capital city of Valdadore. Along the way they were rejoined by the remainder of Seth’s small personal army of mutated men before reaching their destination.
* * * * *
Garret sought to help repair the kingdom, and now, as a member of the royal council in his role as a Knight of Valdadore, he had the means to do so. He used his meager influence to help vote good people into positions of worth within the kingdom with the help of allies in the council. When it came to selecting a new king, however, two unexpected events occurred. First, Garret made an enemy of the powerful battle mage Vladmere who fled the city after setting the mages’ tower ablaze once he realized he would not be elected as king. Second, Garret was tricked into the most powerful position within the kingdom, and within weeks a crowning ceremony was held in his honor.
If being crowned king of a mighty kingdom was not enough to make a memorable day for Garret, Linaya had also professed her love for him the night before. To top that off, little over an hour after being crowned, Garret was surprised yet again as his brother apparently returned from the dead with his resurrected lover in tow. But that was still not the end of the most memorable day of his life. No sooner was the new royal family reunited than a messenger from the western border of Valdadore arrived to announce that the kingdom was being invaded by their neighbors led by King Sigrant. Bloodshed, it seemed, would not remain a thing of their past.
* * * * *
Having learned to enchant inanimate objects, Seth helped to equip warriors with weapons and armor with magical attributes. Beyond that he began to create his own champions out of those loyal to his cause, blessing them with size, strength and more. The kingdom of Valdadore marched out to meet the approaching foe but was caught off guard by magic unlike anything ever seen before. The enemy, it seemed, had abilities at their command that could destroy Valdadore.
* * * * *
The brothers, and those who serve and love them, are in for the fight of their lives as minds and relationships are strained, and Valdadore’s weaknesses are exploited.
Ash and soot coated everything as the scent of charred flesh permeated the air, clinging to the nostrils of all those that survived here. Screams of agony and shouted orders blended into incoherent ghoulish howls, and beneath those that issued the sounds the ground shook. The newly made shore of the magically frozen lake served as a battleground for giants and men, and other unholy creations never seen before upon Thurr. Here fire and lightning flashed as magic was thrown between foes and blood was brought to the ears by the ringing clangs of steel upon steel. Yet here, for the first time in months, Seth had only minutes ago found a moment of clarity.
The death mage, called a walking god by some, had a realization so profound that for a moment he stood lost to the battle that raged around him. Here was the gods’ playground. Here among the souls of mortals a battle was being waged in the heavens. Here a game was being played out where mortals were the pieces, and the players were the gods. Here, upon the world of Thurr, Seth realized that the very gods who created all life had no respect for it. It was a sad realization, but Seth knew in that moment that the gods were flawed. The highest beings in all of existence had become corrupted by their greed and fear of one another. Seth vowed silently, and only to himself, that he would find a way to correct the wrongs done by the gods.
Seth shook his head to clear it. His chestnut hair settled to either side of his face. He needed to deal with current circumstances first. Blazing a trail of destruction before him through King Sigrant’s foot troops, Seth again took stock of his surroundings. For a second time in the short battle his brother, King Garret, called a retreat. His voice boomed across the battlefield. Though all of Valdadore’s common troops had retreated earlier, it was now that the champions of Valdadore worked to extract themselves from the enemy lines. Common men of the invading force fled beneath them for fear of being trampled by the giants.
Seth stood in a sea of ash, a lone island cut off from both sides of the battle. None dared to venture too near to him. He smirked at the thought. Looking beyond his ashy perimeter he watched as Sara leapt high above her foes, twisting and twirling through the air, a deadly whirlwind of fangs and blades. Her armor was coated in blood, as were her face and hair, yet she sprang time and again from amongst the enemy troops, cleaving men to pieces each time she landed. It would be sickening, the mindless destruction she dealt, if Seth did not love her so completely. As it was, Seth simply watched the woman he loved a moment as she worked to return to his side.
In the sky above the battle, Seth observed two great beasts that circled through the air currents and updrafts. With his huge leathery wings flapping, Seth’s greatest creation, Borrik, commanded his troops from the air. Not only was Borrik the alpha among Seth’s werewolf troops, but he was also at present Seth’s closest friend and trusted guardian. He was one of the most fearsome warriors upon the battlefield, and certainly the most frightening.
Winging low to cleave men in two with his enchanted swords, the four-armed werewolf would then rise into the air before lancing fireballs into his enemies. Seth had blessed him well. With his vantage from above, Borrik could command his troops flawlessly and warn them of impending dangers. When the men encountered more than they could handle, Borrik could lend himself to the fight from above and even out the odds. Yet Borrik was not the only one in the skies this day.
With the wolven monstrosity of a warrior flew a female vision unlike any other on Thurr. Though her torso retained the appearance of her humanity, the twenty-foot-tall woman was more bird of prey than human. Her legs and head were covered in feathers, and great wings like a hawk’s sprouted from her back. A sharp beak snapped and clicked while she flew, and as she swooped low into the enemy, she grasped her foes in her talons before winging away again. Once secure, high above Sigrant’s army, she released those she carried to rain down upon their brethren. Though deadly and effective these were but two of Seth’s creations.
Seth still had a hundred and twelve werewolves who were temporarily blessed with increased size and strength, as well as other troops that were blessed likewise. Even with so many, his brother’s army had been outmatched and outclassed. Now he simply hoped he could keep what troops he had alive as they retreated back to the city of Valdadore. He had no idea what Garret had in mind, so for now he shouted to Jonas, one of his werewolf captains, to have the men gather before they began their retreat. Instantly he saw that the order had been relayed telepathically among his troops. As if of one mind, each and every one of his men began to converge upon him. All of them cleaved a path with blade, teeth, and claws. They were a menacing sight, and Seth was beyond proud of them.
He watched as the kingdom’s battle mages, the furthest from the front lines, began to turn and flee. Even the blessed Knights of Valdadore and Sara made their way back out of the lines of enemy troops. Only one man did not yet intend to fall back. That man was the king.
* * * * *
All of his best laid plans destroyed, the King of Valdadore found himself with few options. Garret knew that the survival of the kingdom depended on him. It was but one of the things that weighed upon his mind.
He waded through the enemy, hacking and stabbing at everything that moved. Beneath his feet he stomped a gory path of destruction, spewing blood and other fluids out in every direction with each step. Garret’s mind was at the brink. He saw no way of winning this war. With nothing to guide his thoughts but fear he continued his bloody passage, a malicious chuckle escaping his lips.
The deeds he performed were gruesome. Those who witnessed the king’s unending slaughter fled him. By all accounts the chuckling murderer was a madman, and in truth it was not that far from reality. Though Garret would like nothing better than to let go of all his fears and un-shoulder the burdens of the kingdom, one thought held his sanity in check. Linaya. She was perhaps perfection incarnate and for every imperfection Garret had, she was his opposite. Together, Linaya made Garret stronger, more sure of himself, more complete. It was the memory of her, and the fear of never seeing her again, that led Garret to restrain himself. More than a kingdom relied on him. He had sworn to look after Linaya and beyond that had fallen in love with her. He had sworn to protect the kingdom, and so he would. Garret steeled his resolve.
Blinking his eyes to clear his vision, Garret viewed the battlefield around him. The addition of Seth’s many blessed troops had saved them all. Garret knew not how his brother had managed such a feat of creating his own champions, nor what the cost was to sustain them. What he did know was that his brother had lost near half his forces already, and at the current pace of the battle would lose them all within the next few hours. Seth’s created champions were simply not enough to hold off the forces sworn to the invading king. With only two knights remaining to his own credit, the forces of Valdadore were too diminished to fight in open battle. Garret had to come up with a solution.
Continuing to hack through his foes, ignoring the occasional magical blast that struck his steel skin, Garret plowed on through the foot troops of the enemy, taking mental notes of the strengths and weaknesses of the opposing forces. Many moments later, after having come to a decision, Garret did the only thing he could do in good conscience. Taking a deep breath he tilted his head back and called a full retreat once again. His voice boomed across the battlefield, echoing off something in the distance before bouncing back to his ears again.
* * * * *
King Robert Sigrant sat upon his black stallion far from the battle that raged across the lake. Messengers came in a steady stream to relay the happenings upon the front lines. As expected they had taken the enemy completely by surprise, slaughtering over a thousand troops in the first five seconds of the battle. The young foolish King of Valdadore had then panicked and called a retreat. It was relayed to King Sigrant that it was the king’s brother, the so-called death mage, who had defied the order and commanded an attack.
Valdadore’s leadership was divided. Sigrant grinned.
Another messenger brought him word that the common troops of the enemy had retreated, leaving only the blessed behind. Could the day get any better?
Giving his orders he waited patiently. His assassins had made it into the fight. However, the enemy had hundreds more blessed soldiers than the treacherous mage Vladmere had made out. All of them, it seemed, were unnatural beasts, obviously belonging to the mage prince.
Then another messenger came.
“Your majesty, all of your assassins are lost,” the messenger reported.
“All of them?”
“Yes, but they managed to take half of the giant wolfmen with them.”
“Half?” Sigrant asked. “Only half?”
“Yes, your majesty, many of them were turned to ash by the mage prince,” the messenger answered.
King Sigrant shook his head. It had taken two decades to gather the assassins. Now all of them were gone. Fortunately for him, they were but one wave of the blessed troops he had in store. Sigrant had hoped they would be the only wave he needed, leaving the common troops to mop up the mess, but he had underestimated the enemy. He would not make that mistake again. Mages thus far had seen the best results, melee troops not so much. Without further thought he gave another order.
“Send in the mid-levels.”
“Yes, your majesty,” the messenger replied before bowing low and darting back into the crowd.
Sigrant could not believe the young king had come out to meet him upon the field. He had guts. Unfortunately, for the young king, he would spill them upon the ground soon enough. Sigrant waited for the next messenger.
Not more than an hour passed and yet another message of import was relayed. Valdadore had begun a full retreat. Sigrant smiled.
“Harry their lines, give them no reprieve. Don’t stop until all are dead. Bring me the king’s head.”
“Yes, your majesty,” the messenger nodded.
Another fifteen minutes and the army began to lurch forward once again. To either side of Sigrant his ice mages focused upon their task of keeping the lake solid.
Sigrant’s kingdom was large, fully ten times bigger than Valdadore. He had discovered years ago that those blessed with power were becoming more and more powerful. Each year, those born with the gift were stronger than the year before. Two decades ago he had offered an incentive. For every child a couple had they were rewarded with coin. For every child with the ability to wield magic surrendered into the service of the kingdom, the parents were given land.
Births increased tenfold. The kingdom’s population exploded. Sigrant grew rich in those with blessings, although the kingdom was now scarce in farm land. More food was needed, and Valdadore was a land of rich soil. Sigrant needed Valdadore in order to continue expanding his kingdom.
The previous King of Valdadore could not have chosen a better time to perish and leave a child behind to rule in his stead. This was a war a lifetime in the making for the new young king to face. He didn’t stand a chance, and for that, Sigrant smiled.
Half an hour later Sigrant rode his stallion over the threshold between frozen lake and beach. Proof of the carnage unleashed here was evident everywhere. The ice itself was red. Though the vast majority of corpses had been crushed beneath the feet of his army, pieces still remained of those fallen. The king stopped to appraise one such remnant for himself.
The head was much as the traitor Vladmere had described to him. It was canine in appearance with a shortened muzzle and sweeping forehead. The flesh was covered in entirety with a coat of short fur. The mage prince was said to have created this race of wolfmen. Sigrant wanted the mage for himself. He could use such power. None could resist Sigrant’s offer either. He should try and set up a meeting with the young prince before he fell to Sigrant’s soldiers. Signaling a runner he gave the command to try and spare Prince Seth, at least for now.
Ahead, a great circle of ash and charred earth bore witness to the power of the death mage. Even now, Sigrant’s troops circumvented the place, fearful of touching the ashy remains of those lost. Some thought the ground holy, others feared it as being cursed. Sigrant pulled on the reins of his stallion. Leading the animal towards the ash, many slowed in their march to see what would become of their king. Uncertainty even showed upon the faces of the King’s Guardians as they followed him into the ash. Just when all expected him to perish on reaching the center of the giant circle, nothing happened.
Looking back to the soldiers sworn to protect him, King Sigrant shrugged his shoulders before urging his mount forward once more. Another messenger darted between the lines of troops.
* * * * *
Sara was a vision sickening to behold. Blood clots from those she had fed upon clung to her chin and neck where even now crimson stains shone wet upon her flesh. Though most died upon her enchanted swords, feeding her life with each blow, many had fallen to her thirst. Alone, Sara had killed more than a hundred troops. Even with the constant exertion she felt better with every passing moment. With each kill she became more powerful. With each drop of blood she was pleasured with, her lust was temporarily satiated.
She spun amongst her foes like a dancer upon a stage, twirling and leaping to a tune none but she could hear. Voices cried out around her, some gurgling, and others screaming in agonizing pain, their bodies falling to the ground like so many puppets with cut strings. Yet still she appeared weightless, a vision of perfect grace and agility. So quickly she moved, the blood from her blades rained down upon the air like pink mist wherever she passed. Constantly in motion, Sara swept amongst her enemies, avoiding stray beams of sunlight, fortunate it was a cold, overcast day.