Authors: Laszlo,Jeremy
“My lord, if I may?” Xander began.
“What is it?” Seth asked.
“My son, king. I have seen and heard that you can do things to people. Give them arms and legs and such.”
“I’m no healer,” Seth interjected.
“I know. But the healers have already said that they cannot help him. He was born with a shriveled leg, and the healers say that they can only fix what is already there, they can’t recreate it or improve upon it.”
“So you wish to see if I can fix your son?”
“Yes, King Seth.”
“And what if I can’t?” Seth asked, standing from the throne.
“Then at least I tried, my king. He deserves no less.”
“Indeed he does, Xander. Bring me your son and I will see what I can do.”
Without another word, the guard captain bowed low, his crimson cape sweeping the floor as he turned, and stalked out of the room with his shoulders back and a noticeable pep in his step. A miracle was exactly what this place needed. It would settle the common people and silence those with sway. At least that was what Seth hoped. Everything started with something small. Just one movement could get things moving in the right direction, especially now that he knew what direction that was.
* * * * *
Sara watched her husband move, talk, and even breathe. Something about him was different, as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Had this been all he needed? A kingdom to call his own? A home? A place he could relax and think? That is what he had said he wanted, but no way had she thought it would affect him this quickly. Something else had to have changed without her noticing. Perhaps a messenger had come from his brother?
“I need to talk to the both of you,” Seth said, making her wonder even more.
Rounding the throne, Sara joined her husband and the hulking form of Borrik. She looked from one to the other, wondering if the werewolf had noticed the same change as she, and deciding that he probably hadn’t, turned her attention back to Seth.
“What is it?” Sara asked, a half nervous, half curious grin parting her lips slightly.
“During our conquest of the keep, I was met by someone I did not intend to see. He came out of nowhere and vanished just the same, but from him I learned a great deal.”
“Who?” Borrik asked.
“Yeah, who?” Sara mimicked.
She knew he was being purposefully elusive, but was happy that he was stringing them along. It was yet another sign that his mood was improved.
“Not who, so much as what,” Seth answered. “Climbing down to some of the lower reaches within the keep, I was met by Gorandor. He came to seek me out and try to convince me to seek a path that I have not yet found.”
“How does that help, exactly?” Sara asked, thoroughly confused.
“It doesn’t. Not really. But he also shared with me the secret that might lead to our success. Gorandor revealed that as gods, they only have the ability to create. Ishanya can’t directly do anything to me if I go against her will.”
“No, but can’t she just make another champion to assassinate you or something? Like you tried with Sigrant?” Sara cautioned.
“Yes, and if I understood him correctly, the other gods have already created a champion to stop me.”
“If they have a champion designed to kill you, and Ishanya can’t do anything in retribution to you, why not stop our campaign here and wash our hands of this business?” Borrik growled, looking from Seth to Sara and back again.
“Because then they win. If I stop, who else will try and save us mortals from the whims of the gods? I can’t stop, I won’t stop. I just have to be vigilant for this champion created to kill me.”
“So Gorandor came to warn you that another champion was going to kill you?” Sara asked.
“I don’t think that was his intent. I think he was trying to show me something without being direct about it. Perhaps he is unable to intervene for whatever reason, but wanted me to discover something. I’m not sure, but I don’t know if that really matters.”
“Why?” both Borrik and Sara asked.
“Because they can’t stop me. I don’t need their power, I have my own. I don’t need their blessings, and all but Ishanya are growing weaker.”
“What does that mean for us and our plans to unite the people peacefully?”
“It means that I no longer have to pretend to do Ishanya’s bidding. I can cast her aside and focus on our plans.”
“Is that wise?” Borrik asked. “If you help Ishanya win, will that not achieve the same end?”
“Yes and no, I suppose. If all the other gods are destroyed, then I guess there will be no more need for war, but what will Ishanya do with Thurr and its people then? Without the gods our destiny is our own, but with them, any of them, we are still just puppets dancing to a tune of their creation. We need to show the people that the gods are not needed. Eventually the gods will fade.”
“So what do we do?” Sara asked, as Borrik nodded to her question.
“The same as we have been doing. Gather people. Show them how mighty we are without a god. Strike Ishanya’s name from all we have done. No longer are we the slaves of the gods.”
“And what do you intend to do?” Sara questioned further, seeing the look on her husband’s face.
“I intend to test my limitations. It is time I do some deep searching for the answers that lie within my own abilities and my own aura. I am different than anyone I have ever met since gaining use of my abilities, and I intend to find out why.”
“Do you think that maybe that is exactly what Gorandor wanted?” Borrik asked.
“I wish I knew. There was obviously something he wished to tell me, but wasn’t able. I think that he expects me to save them, but I don’t know why or even how I would do that. Just like Ishanya, he wants us to die.”
“Why come to you, though?” Sara asked.
She knew something was missing, she just couldn’t put her finger on it. There had to be something else.
“Because he is dying. With every moment his following diminishes. My deeds have spread and with them Ishanya is growing in power. I think he told me the things he did so that I will stop gaining more followers for her, but there is no way to be certain. All I can do is choose my path and hope that it is the right one. Really, it’s all any of us can do.”
“So what now?” Borrik asked.
“Send emissaries north, east, and south. Tell them a new king has come to Drakenhurst and he is living proof that the gods are false idols. Tell them to come and see for themselves. Tell them to bring their best warriors and I will stand before them and prove their gods are naught but myth, smoke, and legend. Then we wait to see who comes to call.”
“And in the meantime, love?” Sara said with a mischievous grin.
“In the meantime I intend to explore that which I have been ignoring for entirely too long.”
“I look forward to it,” Sara smiled with a wink.
“I’ll arrange the emissaries,” Borrik said. “That ought to give you two time to... um… well, you know.”
“Aww. Is the big bad wolf man tongue-tied?” Sara teased.
She watched, wondering if the huge hair covered man could blush, though she doubted it. When she felt his cheeks grow warm, and the scent of his blood grew stronger at face level, she realized that it
was
actually possible, it was simply hidden beneath his down fur. Too bad. She wondered what it looked like.
“And what of Captain Xander, my king?” Borrik asked, ignoring Sara’s taunts.
“He has his duties. If he seeks me out, especially with his son, bring him to me.”
“As you wish.”
Sara watched Borrik bow respectfully, even though it looked odd for a beast his size, before he turned and strode from the room. She had seen several rooms when climbing the upper levels that seemed suitable for a king and his queen to spend many passionate hours in; however, the throne behind her husband just had that special something about it that shouted ‘ravage me’. Springing at the man she loved, she drove him backwards as their mouths sought one another, pushing him into the throne with such force it slid backwards several feet with their momentum.
This
was long overdue.
It was nightfall when Garret plowed through the last line of trees, hacking and slashing at the vines that would tangle the litter, dragging it down. With nothing but open road ahead, the king of Valdadore turned northward and continued trudging along without so much as a word to his allies following behind him. In only a few hours he broke free of the trees’ canopy above him to reveal both of Thurr’s moons gleaming brightly in the night sky. Beyond them innumerable stars winked back at the king, lending him hope that all would once again be well in the world. All he needed was time.
With his plans in order, he couldn’t wait to return to Linaya and tell her of the new army he planned to create. With these pups and the youth of Valdadore, he would create an army unlike Thurr had ever seen and when the day came he would hunt down his demonic brother and bring justice to the man who stripped Valdadore of innocence and honor. She would be proud of him for seeing the path. She would praise the fact that he had found his way out of the funk that had kept him down for weeks. Then, when it could get no better, he would tell her of his restored blessing and the new gifts his god had given him.
Picking up the pace, Garret heaved the litter forward. In his blessed size he would be able to reach Valdadore by mid-day tomorrow with the pups and their mothers in tow. Determined to have it so, he pulled at the makeshift straps across his chest, leaning forward to use the muscles in his legs more efficiently, and plunged forward, covering large swathes of ground at a time.
Eventually the night darkened as the moons disappeared beyond the horizon and again the sky began to lighten hours after that as the sun battled the darkness away. With the rising of the sun the wet ground and fields of untended grasses glistened as a thin layer of frost was melted away. Above, great cloud banks began to form, threatening a winter storm. Just one more reason to hurry.
Through the morning, Garret and his companions ploughed up the road towards Valdadore. It was late morning, nearing mid-day, when the tops of the city’s towers came into view and from that moment on, Garret watched the horizon unblinkingly. With his every stride the city grew, its battered and blackened walls climbing higher and higher as he neared. Over the cold winter air he could hear the ringing of great bells and the trumpeting of welcome as those few defenders upon the wall noted the return of their king. It was good to be home.
Entering the city to less fanfare than he would like, Garret smiled and waved at those who rushed to gather around and see what it was that he brought to the city. Ignoring their questions, by and large, he pulled the litter up the city streets, putting his infant demons on display for the general populace. With a destination in mind, Garret kept pulling, sure that Zorbin followed behind, with Ashton leading their mounts in the rear. It wasn’t until he reached the castle proper, when ducking beneath the gated entry to the complex, that he changed course. Approaching the base of the immense mage’s tower ahead, Garret lowered the litter to the ground, recalled his blessing, and turned to face his companions.
“You have both done well in giving me guidance,” Garret began. “Arrange for the tower to care for these creatures, as they are our hope for a brighter future. Ashton, seek the healer you made mention of and put her to the task we discussed. I want to see the fruits of her labor tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Ashton asked, surprised.
“I don’t expect a unit of trained adults. Just show me what progress she can make in a day. Once the pups and their mothers are secure and caretakers chosen to watch over them, I want you to arrange a call to a new Choosing ceremony, Zorbin.”
“As you wish,” Zorbin replied with a bow.
“I have much to see to. I have a kingdom to rebuild, a city to repair, and relationships that need mending. I expect to see the both of you tomorrow,” Garret concluded to a pair of replied nods.
Turning, he strode away from his companions, glad to have such friends and counselors. They had helped him when he was at his darkest. They had shown him the error of his ways and led him back to a surface that was not safe, but at least he could breathe. Striding across the cobblestone courtyards of castle Valdadore, Garret nodded to those that passed and greeted those who stopped in his path to say hello. Though he was impatient to reach the crypt, he knew too that he had a role to play if he was to rebuild the glory that was once Valdadore, and as such he tried his best to not rush, and instead took the day as it came to him, one delay at a time.
Though the distance was not overly long, it took nearly an hour to traverse from the mage’s tower to the crypt, with all those who sought to greet him and welcome him back to the city. Most of them were the servants who kept the castle a well-oiled machine and as such he knew few of their names, but decided that he would make more effort to get to know each and every one of them. After all, he didn’t need any fans of his brother lurking around in the shadows, taking notes and spying on the goings on in the palace.
Pulling the door open to the crypt, Garret took a long and deep breath, tasting the sweet smell of decay as it ruptured out from within. Peering down the darkened depths of the stone walled cavern ahead, he swore he saw the trailing of a silk gown as it rounded a corner in the darkness, and wanting to see if it was Linaya teasing him, he rushed into the darkness. Striding down the smooth surfaced marble floor of the corridor, Garret climbed ever deeper into the earth with every anxious step. Dust scattered from his feet at his passing, settling slowly behind him to erase all proof of his trespass into the realm of the dead. Turning one corner and then another, he slowed, taking a deep breath before rounding the final turn into Linaya’s chamber. There, upon the marble slab lay dust accompanied by the mask and veil that had hidden Linaya’s ruined face. Linaya was gone.
Turning this way and that Garret looked for her, hiding in the corners of the crypt, playing a game, but she did not appear. Calling out her name, he heard no reply. Panicking, he screamed her name, infusing his voice with the power of his god to make it carry. Reverberating with the sounds of his shouts, the walls and ceiling rained dust down upon him but still Linaya didn’t answer. Then it hit him. She had left the crypt. She had returned to the castle to properly spend their lives together. Linaya had been restored just as he had hoped. By the grace of the god he served, his lover was returned to him. Without another thought, Garret turned and ran from the crypt, rounding its corners without heeding his own safety, he burst out from the door allowing it to bounce off the wall, its hinges protesting as it slammed closed. He never even looked back.
Sprinting as fast as his thickly muscled legs would take him, Garret burst through one set of palace gates after another, not so much as waving to the guards as he passed. Through the side entry of the palace he strode, his head swiveling this way and that, wondering where she would go to find him. Grinning, Garret turned and raced down the main hall towards the stairs at its end. Climbing the staircase two and three steps at a time, he climbed two floors before stopping. Attempting to smooth his appearance, he ran his fingers through his hair, tucking it behind his ears before striding down the short corridor to the large double doors ahead. Here was his personal chambers filled with luxury and the bed they had shared in what were his fondest memories.
Taking the handle to one of the doors in his hand, he paused a moment, afraid to open it and be disappointed. Sighing, he inhaled again to calm himself and caught the scent of a woman’s perfume. Smiling, he shoved the door open to reveal his bed chamber beyond where, standing with her back to him, was Linaya in the white silken gown she had been laid to rest within the crypts in. Peering out the window and unmoving, Linaya stood as a silhouette against the sun’s rays outside. The silken gown affording her little protection, or modesty for that matter, allowed the light to penetrate it, revealing her every curve. Appearing a nude angel illuminated by white light, Linaya turned away from the window, the light behind her burning Garret’s eyes as he saw her kind and loving smile that was now foreign and unfamiliar. Even so, he had known that she would appear different now that her blessing had fled her. Rushing ahead, the great king of Valdadore pulled her into his arms, squeezing her tight, noting that not only had her appearance changed, but so too did her scent and her feel.
Though she may no longer be the perfect vision of beauty created by a god, Garret knew he would love her forever and follow her to the abyss before letting her go again. This time she would never leave his side. Pulling her mouth to his own he kissed her deeply and hard, feeling the edge of a too sharp tooth with his tongue. Everything about her had been altered some, but he would forgive the gods this injustice for bringing her back.
Without even a word of greeting, without a thought of discussion. Garret fell into the bed with his restored lover, stripping from her the gown that spoke of the death she had avoided. Inch by inch he spent hours rediscovering her body, learning its new curves and tastes. Again and again he pleasured her, only to be satiated himself time and again in her happiness to be again at his side, in his bed. Glory be the gods. There was hope for tomorrow.
* * * * *
Climbing the steps designed for humans with his shorter dwarven legs was uncomfortable to say the least. Carrying a pair of the pups up nearly thirty stories just to climb back down and start over was more than a slight inconvenience. Zorbin disliked the task, but being that all the higher levels of the mage’s tower were now vacant, there was no better place to keep the pups and their mothers where the king could keep a close eye, and where the remaining healers could tend to them. Not surprising, was the fact that Ashton had quickly vanished within the tower, sending his companions out to finish the task he was told to complete by the king. The man was lazy and it was obvious he had his own motivations for staying near the king. Zorbin would have to do his best to keep an eye on the healer and stay near the king’s side to prevent the white robe from gaining too much influence.
Climbing down the stairs amongst a retinue of white robes in various stages of training, Zorbin wondered what it was that Ashton actually wanted. The kingdom was in shambles. There was wealth to be had, he supposed, but for what purpose would the white robe use wealth? It had to be something different. Perhaps the human wanted power. Zorbin could see that the boy was able to manipulate and maneuver the king into a decision. It was not a bad ability to have if your motives and intentions were pure, but something about the young healer felt off to the dwarf.
Reaching the bottom of the tower, Zorbin exited with those tasked with the same duty as he, happy to find the first litter completely emptied. Approaching the second, he scooped from it a pair of the squirming, sharply clawed, half-humans and turned once again to enter the tower.
It was two hours later when he emerged for the final time, happy to be free of the seemingly never-ending stairs. From here on, it was up to the ranks of the healers to care for the pups along with their mothers. What they would do with the single male they had brought back with them from the forest he didn’t know. Not that it mattered.
With one task completed, Zorbin turned towards the guardhouse near the gate to the castle complex. He had no idea who was on duty. He wasn’t really even sure yet who had survived the last battle. All he knew was that he needed messengers aplenty, and this was a good place to start recruiting them.
* * * * *
Ashton sat upon the floor watching the woman, Balantine, appraise the small pups from tip to toes. Most would consider her a plain woman, with honey-colored hair that hung dry like straw and shoulders that hinted she was less feminine than others, but Ashton rather liked the girl. By most standards he supposed she was not beautiful or elegant, but his tastes were not those of most who lived in the city. He liked her square jaw, wide hips, and strong back. She looked as though she could rear many children and hunt with the men. Raised on a farm, she was toned and well-muscled from years of hard work. He had bedded her several times, but she wanted things he could not give her. Fickle creatures, human women, but their customs with lovers were certainly enticing enough to have him pretending. Occasionally he would bring her flowers, or tell her she looked nice. It was stupid and pointless, but worked in wooing her affections. Eventually his seed would implant in her womb and then she would come to her senses and become his property. After all, it was nearly a custom in the city for a young woman to get pregnant and then be bound to a man. Silly and stupid, but he would play the role as it was set out before him.
“They appear much older than just a few weeks,” Balantine stated the obvious.
“They are half or perhaps less, canine. They develop at an accelerated rate,” Ashton intoned.
“And you want me to see if I can make them grow even faster? Just because their bodies develop doesn’t mean they will mature mentally as fast. It takes years to learn. They will simply be infants with adult or adolescent bodies.”
“It doesn’t matter. It is what the king wants and as such we will try. Can you do it?” Ashton asked more harshly that he intended.
“I can speed the healing of a wound to minutes that would normally take days. Injuries that would take months, I can speed to mere days. But this I’ve never tried before. I suppose it is possible. If I don’t direct the flow of energy to any specific location and instead just let it run free within the patient, I imagine it will do as you say.”