Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (199 page)

AGE OF THE GODS, VOLUME XII

THE BLOOD AND BROTHERHOOD SAGA

Chapter One

Standing atop the newly repaired defensive wall to the city, Zorbin Ironfist, dwarven knight of Gorandor, peered across the myriad of buildings below, seeing nothing but his own fears and worry. The words that had just come out of his friend’s mouth were unbelievable. He had to have heard incorrectly. Was it possible that his closest human friend, most trusted ally, and worse, his king, had turned his face from the god of honor only to worship the likes of Ishanya? Could one simply forsake one’s god and begin worship of another so easily? This was not the Garret he knew.

Wind whipped across Zorbin’s face, carrying wisps of both his beard and hair to trail out behind him. Before him, below him and the king of Valdadore, stood a city that was still much in ruins. There were a million things to do. Countless duties that needed his attention, especially with another Choosing ceremony approaching, but the dwarf could not focus on any one of them. Not with this admission from Garret. How could he turn his back on Gorandor? It had to have something to do with that wretch of a healer, Ashton.

The scrawny human held the king’s ear, and his favor these past months. Then again, there was something more than a little off with the king’s new lover as well. Though he would never admit it to Garret, Anna reminded Zorbin of Sara more and more each time he saw her. The two moved the same, as if weightless. It was creepy. Maybe the healer and Anna were in it together, trying to drive a wedge between the king of Valdadore and all that was good. Zorbin needed to find out what was behind all this.

“Surely you must be joking, Garret?” Zorbin grumbled, his bushy eyebrows knotting.

“No, dear friend. I speak the truth.”

“But why? How? I don’t understand…”

“Fear not, good friend,” Garret replied in what Zorbin assumed was meant to be a reassuring tone, “I have not changed, and now I am better equipped to deal with Valdadore’s enemies.”

“You mean your brother?”

“No, Zorbin. As you well know, my brother died. But I do intend to kill whatever demon possesses his flesh.”

“And that is why you have forsaken Gorandor?” Zorbin asked, knowing as soon as the question was cast that he had judged his friend wrong and the conversation would be short-lived.

“I’ve forsaken no one!” he shouted, “It was Gorandor who stripped me of my blessing and left me barren when I was broken and left for want of his love. It was Gorandor who turned his great eyes from me and cast me into shadow. It was he, not I, who set me upon this path.”

“But
Ishanya
?” Zorbin asked, unable to help himself. With any luck his friend would see that it was an unequal trade.

“Yes Ishanya. It was the mighty goddess of lost souls who lent me a hand when I had fallen from grace. It was she that gave me the power to endure. With the loss of my brother as her champion, it was she that rebuilt my crumbling resolve and led me to my purpose, my proper course, and showed me that I was still needed and that I could be loved again. She has given me power beyond that of what Gorandor gave, and with it I will rebuild this city and this nation. With Ishanya watching over me I will instill morals in the people once more, and show them they were wrong to trust those so evil as Seth and his blood-thirsty whore of a bride.”

Zorbin could feel his face growing hot as his heart pounded in his chest like great tidal waves crashing against a rocky shore. He wanted nothing more than to call upon his holy blessing and slam a mighty fist into the face of his king, and watch the man tumble backwards down the great stone staircase behind him. It would serve him right and maybe even knock some sense into him. Alas, Garret was the king, and as such he was beyond reprimand. Not only was he the king, he was a dear friend who was now lashing out at some offense Zorbin was fairly certain he hadn’t committed. Perhaps he was just venting his own pain and frustration. As such, Zorbin let it go.

The dwarf knew he had angered his friend, but Garret was rarely far from anger these days. There was no talking to him, no reasoning. He had changed from the honorable and thoughtful man he had once been, into very nearly the monster he condemned his brother for being. With Anna and Ashton at Garret’s side nearly every waking moment, assuring him he was doing what was best, how could Zorbin hope to show him the error of his ways? It seemed hopeless. Taking a deep breath, he knew now that he would not be getting anywhere this day. Returning his attention to the king, he exhaled slowly and listened as Garret continued to rant.

“It is all I can do for the city, Zorbin. We must rebuild. We must bolster our armies and defenses. If you could just see past your stubborn ways, my dear dwarf, you would see that my plan will do just that. We will have the manpower, albeit not human power. We will have the army. We will once again be able to defend what is ours, and what’s better, we will be able to expand our control to protect even more people from the ruin that is my brother.”

That
was it. Garret had just admitted his plan. It wasn’t about protection. It wasn’t about safety. His friend was growing an invading army of wolfish fiends under the guise of protection. He intended to attack, not defend.

“Just stand with me, Zorbin. Lend me your council and your hammer. Surely together we can bring peace back to Valdadore.”

“Aye,” Zorbin replied, still in shock from the revelation. At least Garret was calming down.

“Good. Then you will see to it that sixth and seventh square begin demolition today so we can begin to rebuild proper pens and training for my troops?”

“I will do as you see fit,” Zorbin answered, hoping that if he played the role long enough, eventually Garret would wake up and realize he was taking the wrong path.

“I am excited that we are once again on the same page. I’ll check in on progress this evening after visiting the Lycans.”

“The what?” Zorbin questioned.

“It is what I am calling my new troops.”

Zorbin felt the overwhelming urge to spit upon the stone walkway at the thought of Garret’s favorite new playthings, but thought better of it. “Very well, Garret. I’ll see you then.”

Watching his friend turn to retrace his steps back down the immense wall, Zorbin stood in silence for many moments watching the retreating form of Garret. He could not understand how Garret could be so excited to do so much damage. For the life of him, Zorbin could not see the world the way Garret now did. Just watching his friend descend with his shoulders back and head high made the dwarf question the human’s sanity.

Finally, as Garret disappeared into the streets below, Zorbin shook his head. Sane or not, he was sworn to follow the king and protect him. Dwarves, not unlike knights of Gorandor, took their oaths very seriously. As such he was doubly bound by his honor. He would follow his friend to the death if he must, and would carry out the man’s orders even if they seemed insane. All he could do was hope to help Garret find his way back to a righteous path.

* * * * *

Rising from the bloodied ground, Anna wiped her hands on the soiled apron tied around her neck. She hated the apron, it reminded her of home and of the tavern where her innocence was stolen from her. Though, she admitted, seeing it covered in blood reminded her of that first lustful and vengeful night when she had experienced both the taste of blood and the taste of passion.

“How many is that today?” Lonna asked, absently rolling her head from side to side to relieve a kink.

“Seventy-one,” Anna grinned. “Seventy-three if you count those still-born.”

“Sounds to me like enough for one day,” Lonna smirked.

“I doubt it, Ashton is busy keeping Balantine well enough to keep working, along with the others.

“That poor girl. It’s a shame she is the only one who can do what she does,” Lonna admonished, pushing the long brown braid of hair back over her shoulder. “I think they’re gonna keep her working day and night if I heard correctly.”

“It
is
a sacrifice,” Anna admitted, “But think of the songs they will sing in her honor, after it is
her
work that leads Valdadore back to glory.”

“You are right, m’lady. I shouldn’t have spoken up about it.”

“It is fine, Lonna. Go and have yourself a rest. Get something to eat. I’m just going to stretch out here and relax for a spell.”

“Want me to bring you something back from the kitchens?”

“No, that’s fine. I’m not too terribly hungry. All this blood and all.”

“I can understand that,” Lonna said with a knowing smile.

Anna watched the young woman assigned to help her deliver the pups, or babes, or whatever they were called, turn and leave the small three-walled chamber. Looking out she watched as the handlers put the bitch back in her pen along with her new litter of three pups. She’d delivered two average-sized young, along with a runt and two still-born pups. Part of Anna was sad for the young Lycan female, but in the end she realized that even should they have lived, they would have been small and weak and as such the front lines of the new army. They would have been the first to die in any case. At least the young mother hadn’t gotten attached first.

Stretching her back, Anna walked to the entrance and looked about the crowded courtyard. She could see the rows of young Lycans strapped into metal contraptions which Ashton had explained would teach them coordination and make them strong. Even now they swung their arms frantically and moved their legs, almost as if marching, watching as their food grew ever nearer to their gaping and snapping maws.

Beyond the devices were groups of those who had learned to walk and learned the hierarchy of the training grounds. It was important that they learn that humans were their superiors. Even now, near a hundred young Lycans practiced with training swords and shields, taking turns bashing one another, all the while barking, growling, and snapping like ferocious animals.

Watching them train a moment, Anna was surprised to see that among the humans instructing the young Lycans, Kanth, Garret’s favorite of the beasts, strolled amongst those training as well. His gait was unnatural, his arms and legs adjoining his body at slightly askew angles. He bobbed as he walked, though Anna supposed it could be because he had only been walking a short time and forced to learn in days. But even such as it was, he was strongly muscled and well disciplined. How much he understood was a mystery, but he could speak. Several of the Lycans had picked up on words and begun communicating, but Kanth was a notch above the rest.

Watching as he bashed one of the second generation Lycan trainees in the face, Anna was stunned to find that he was harsher on his own kind than those humans selected to train the beasts. It was no wonder that Garret liked him.

Beyond those training for battle she could see a group of the white-robed healers gathered about in a tight circle. Walking out of her alcove for a better view, she watched as they all knelt with their heads back in prayer. Their hands, all outstretched toward the center of their group, rested on Balantine, one of their very own. Without time to sleep, eat, or even relieve herself, the poor woman was given only a few moments reprieve every couple of hours. At those times, her peers would gather around her and using their abilities would soothe her body and mind, nourish her, and relieve her of any toxins or waste building within her, leaving her refreshed and ready to continue once again. Though Anna had led Lonna to think that she envied the woman, it was not so. Anna pitied her, but knew that this was necessary to keep the process moving.

Watching the small group break up as Balantine rose to continue her work, Ashton appeared from the small crowd and seeing Anna began striding across the expanse of the training grounds to join her. When he was near enough to talk without shouting, the gangly-looking man smiled broadly and even with her limited knowledge of the man, Anna knew that he had something important to tell her.

“We’ve decided it is necessary to alter our plans,” Ashton said with yet another sly grin.

“How so?”

“No longer will Balantine be aging males to maturity. It is a waste of time.”

“A waste? Surely we will need both the males and females?”

“We will indeed, but if she only ages the bitches, it is half the work and then we can begin breeding them for the next generation and so on.”

“And what of the males?”

“We let them age naturally. They’ll likely be big enough to fight in nearly a year.”

“Do they develop so fast?”

“We think so. They probably only have a lifespan of twenty years, and as such should reach adolescence in about a year.”

“So we deliver a litter, leave the males with the mother and bring the females to maturity and mate them? Won’t we have issues with inbreeding eventually?” Anna questioned, mulling over this new approach.

“We’ve thought of that too. I think Garret would very much enjoy selecting from the pups available, a handful of studs we can use to develop bigger and more intelligent generations, not to mention bigger litters.”

“And what of the rest of the male pups and their mothers?”

“As soon as the males are weaned we remove them to another facility to grow and be trained. The mothers we will have impregnated again and again until we have our army,” Ashton explained.

“I think we will soon reach a point where Balantine will not be able to keep up. What kind of progress do you think this new approach means as far as numbers goes?”