Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (96 page)

“Yes, your majesty,” Borrik answered.

“I prefer Seth, or Lord Seth if you are unwilling to drop a title,” Seth said with a grin.

“Yes, your maj…Sorry…Perhaps Prince Seth befits your current station?” Borrik asked.

“That will do nicely, Borrik. ‘Your majesty’ seems entirely too regal, does it not?” Seth asked.

“Perhaps for a man of your abilities and duties, my prince,” Borrik responded.

“Also tell the men that I have orders for them once they are suitably equipped, so have them prepare themselves to leave,” Seth commanded.

“Yes, my prince, and will I be accompanying them?” Borrik asked.

“I have not yet decided, Borrik. However, you may be happy to know that we now go to visit your home.” Seth’s grin returned.

“What home is that, Prince Seth?” Borrik asked, not ever recalling any place as being his home.

“The Temple of Ishanya, of course,” Seth said, now openly smiling. “Would you not like to see how it has fared in your absence?”

“I would, now that I think of it, my prince. Also your orders have been relayed. The men already begin to seek out equipment,” Borrik stated, having used his ability to communicate telepathically with the werewolf troops that he commanded.

“Very good. Have the blacksmiths they deal with send a record of debt to the palace in my name,” Seth said.

“Done,” Borrik said simply.

For the remainder of the walk Seth and Sara and their two werewolf shadows all remained silent, each of them deep in thought. Even so, Seth scanned with his vision of the gods to ensure their path would not encounter any unwanted resistance or surprises. As of yet he was not ready to assume that there were none within the city that harbored ill-will towards him. However, as they neared the Temple of Ishanya none of them was prepared for what they would see when the building came into sight.

All four warriors were instantly yanked from their reverie upon coming within shouting distance of the temple. Here the streets were not those of an average early morning. Today hundreds of people milled about, talking to one another in hushed tones, each of them pausing to stare as the quartet of newcomers passed. Several pointed and whispered as they approached, and as they neared the temple proper each of them was in awe of what they beheld. It was not that the temple had been altered in any major way; in fact, the same small entry remained, unmarked, unadorned and completely undecorated. Though the building had obviously seen some scrubbing and repainting, other than its new shine it remained completely unchanged. What was entirely different was the throng of people pouring into and out of the temple. Men and women by the dozens entered, each of them carrying bundles or packages, and as one group entered another would depart empty-handed. But those people who were exiting the temple were not leaving completely. These were the people milling about in the street, gathered silently to await something. Seth had an idea what it was that they waited for. Using his vision of the gods, Seth was surprised, but not overly so, to find that all those who had congregated here, more than five hundred, were devout worshippers of Ishanya. Every moment more entered the street from all directions. Seth imagined that in less than half an hour there would be more than a thousand people outside the temple which was designed only to accommodate around a hundred at full capacity.

As the young couple clad in black armor approached the temple with their werewolf guards, the people stepped aside to let them pass easily, not out of fear it seemed, but out of respect. The people knew who they were, and Seth could not help but feel that they had also known that he would be coming here at this appointed time on this appointed day. The feeling sent shivers down his spine and set all of the hair upon his body on end. What game was Ishanya playing at?

As Sara and Seth went through the small entrance to the temple, those who came up the stairs in the opposite direction turned, retreating out of the way. Following the latest throng to enter the temple down the stairs, Seth and Sara beheld the temple in its altered state. Pausing upon the bottom step to take in the new appearance of the temple, the young couple stood in awe for a long moment. Then realizing the error in their ways, they quickly moved aside to let Borrik enter the meager temple, that only months before, stood vacant of all life but his own.

* * * * *

Borrik stepped past his master to behold the temple he had lived in for decades in a state of repair unlike anything he had even imagined before. Though the outside and entrance to the temple remained much the same, the underground temple had changed a great deal in the many weeks past. The area where there had once been a row of short pews to each side of the entryway was now free of furniture. To one side stood a modern statue of Ishanya seated upon a cloud, looking down serenely at her followers. Another depicted Borrik’s last visit to his temple and portrayed Seth in his black robes and Sara in her skin-tight leather. Borrik was there too with the twisted features he used to have after being melded with an orc. At their stone feet was a small woman holding up a dying infant in her hands. The scene felt surreal; Borrik could barely even recall the short time he spent as a human melded solely with an orc. How far he had come since then. The remaining statues were magnificently carved, each one in obsidian, each one representing the three most powerful players in Ishanya’s game. There stood Borrik in his current werewolf body, Seth in his spiked and hideous armor with mock bones protruding from the rib cage, and Sara in her body-form armor showing exquisite female perfection. Each statue rose from the floor to the ceiling. Yet it was not the statues that really caught Borrik or his companions off guard.

Beyond what was once the sole room of worship within the temple lay a new, massive room. Row upon row of brand new, shiny pews lined the majority of the vast area, leaving only a walkway down the middle and a large stage with a dais at the far end. There was not a single space for another person to sit within the room. Every inch of every pew was loaded to capacity, and beyond that, more people stood behind the last row of pews listening intently with their ears straining to hear the words that came from a malformed woman upon the stage. Though Borrik, with his canine hearing could easily make out the woman’s words, he paid them little attention. He was much more concerned with what the woman wore.

Though she was far from a beautiful creature, being a grotesque mix of orc and human, the woman showed little concern for her appearance. She wore a white linen skirt that clung very low to her hips, and beyond that the only other scrap of cloth covering her was a sling of sorts that wrapped over her shoulder and around her waist on the opposite side. One grayish blue breast was completely exposed, and from within the white sling a babe suckled upon her other breast, openly viewable by all those attending. But no one pointed, none accused, and none seemed offended or disgusted. All was peaceful and tranquil, even with easily six hundred people in attendance. Not a child screamed and dashed into the aisle to run around, disrupting the crowd. Not a single babe wailed for attention from their mother. No one spoke out of turn. No one so much as coughed or sneezed within the sacred temple of Ishanya. All was perfect, better even than Borrik himself could have ever imagined. All this from a novice priestess, the recipient of one of Seth’s so-called miracles. Borrik was overwhelmed, but even so he could not help but hear the words that were next to come from the priestess’s lips.

“Please all rise from your seats and kneel as our goddess has seen it fit to bless us with a visit from her champion upon Thurr. Lord Seth, the Prince of Valdadore himself, has come to grace us with his blessing as promised by Ishanya,” the priestess cried before falling to her own knees.

All in the room did as commanded. Rising from the pews they all turned to face the aisle before sinking to their knees to witness the passing of Seth, his bride and their inhuman guards. Borrik stepped into the lead immediately, his instincts taking over. Though this might have once been his church, and though it was now filled with hundreds of loyal worshippers, that did not mean one of them might not be a fanatical lunatic who might think that with Seth’s blood they could be made immortal or some other such nonsense. So with Borrik in the lead, and Seth and Sara following silently behind, the group was trailed closely by Captain Jonas who took up the position of rear guard. All eyes were upon the four as they traversed the seemingly endless expanse of this new chamber of worship to come and stand directly before the priestess herself.

“Arise Sister Marina, and thank you for the very warm welcome,” Seth said, barely recalling the woman’s name. “If we could, is there some place still remaining that we could speak in private?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Marina paused before speaking once again. “Would you say some words to the congregation first? Some have been waiting here more than ten hours to see you.”

“I am no preacher. What is it you think I should say?” Seth asked in a whisper, feeling completely unprepared.

“Tell them something inspiring, something that shows the power of our goddess,” the priestess suggested.

Seth simply nodded in understanding. This was a small piece of the price he paid for his power and the original bargain struck between himself and the goddess Ishanya. Spread the word he agreed, and so he should.

“Followers of Ishanya,” Seth began, speaking loudly without yelling. “Many thought me dead, and it is true that with what I have been through I should be. Look at me though; not a scratch on me. I have been stabbed, burned in magical fire, exploded, and have disappeared altogether in a magical blast, yet I stand before you now through the power given to me by our goddess Ishanya. Behold me, but do not stop there, for the priest of this very temple stands here as a werewolf of immense power and unparalleled battle prowess. To my other side is my beautiful wife who, also through the power of Ishanya, is changed. Though you may not see it, I assure you she has become something greater than human. Witness the birth of a new era, an era in which devout followers are rewarded for their loyal worship.” Seth lowered his voice as he concluded.

Applause exploded throughout the room and Seth looked beyond the pews to see that the entry room was also now filled to capacity with people standing in attendance to hear his words. Though he felt his duty to Ishanya was more than completed, he did not want to disappoint those gathered to see him and so he began to speak again.

“As many of you may know, the kingdom of Valdadore is once again at risk. An immense army is marching this very morning towards our beautiful city to lay it to ruins. The conniving King Sigrant wishes to crush our home and claim it as his own, but my companions and I will be marching alongside the King of Valdadore, my brother, as he steps out to meet our foe. Everyone here can help preserve the kingdom that we love. As such I personally beseech you, in the name of Ishanya, to do as I command. Those of you able to train and fight make your way outside the castle this very day to be outfitted and trained for battle. Those of you unable to fight, or those of you with young children, scour the city for every scrap of metal you can find, be it mug, armor, spoon or nail, and donate it to the nearest blacksmith. Beyond that, the army will need straight wooden shafts for the production of arrows and spears. Leave the city and travel to the nearest forest and collect what usable material you can and return with all haste. Those are my orders, and though I apologize for the disruption, I need to speak to the priestess at some length, but will return her to tend to you all as quickly as possible.” Seth looked out on a room of nodding heads.

Everyone in the congregation understood his meaning well, and no sooner had Seth turned to collect his comrades and the priestess than the room erupted into organized motion. Each of them would do what they could to help the cause. And why? Because Seth, the man labeled a Death Mage by the previous king, labeled a champion of the goddess Ishanya, temporarily labeled dead and now labeled the Crown Prince of Valdadore, seemingly the most powerful mortal to walk the face of Thurr, had commanded them to. Now Seth felt he was making progress, but before he could decide on how to approach the vast majority of his tasks he needed some answers from the priestess.

After collecting the young woman and her babe, Seth and his companions followed her through a twisting corridor that led further back and down into the ground from the previous large antechamber. Marina explained to them as she walked that each of these rooms had existed in the building’s original construction and had only been sealed off as the goddess’s following dwindled. It seemed now that more than a dozen rooms existed in the underground temple, each of them having been cleaned, restored and refurnished through donations to the temple’s cause.

They soon entered a relatively small chamber near the end of the long, winding corridor. The room was sparsely decorated, unlike many others they had passed, though it held a large rectangular table covered in exquisite carvings with several upholstered chairs to match. Each piece of furniture had been oiled to a deep crimson tone and polished to shining perfection. It was apparent that for the craftsman responsible for this work, it had not been a job but a labor of love.

Rounding the table, each in accompany took a seat where they sat silently a moment, each of them working out just how to begin the conversation. Each of them admired the carvings upon the table, occasionally looking around the room at the rest of the quiet faces. Much to everyone’s surprise it was Sara who first broke the silence.