Ascendants of Ancients Sovereign (Worlds of the Crystal Moon, Book 1) (52 page)

When the king could not complete the maneuver, Senchae was caught off balance. The bull-god drove the king into the ground and then rose up to drive his head into the king’s groin, careful not to do any long-term damage, but he was forceful enough to draw blood.

Seeing their king was in trouble, the general ordered his men to stay put. He quickly reminded them that it would be an insult to assist their king. The men lowered back to their seats and obeyed without question.

The god threw his weight onto Senchae, putting as substantial amount of his 3,100 pound frame on top of the barbarian to keep him pinned and then watched the massive man struggle.

Senchae punched the bull as hard as he could to make it move, but his blows were ineffective. He could not find the leverage to injure the opposition.

Lasidious just sat still. He was careful not to put too much weight on the king. He waited for Senchae to tire, but the king never did.

Eventually, Senchae realized the bull was not fighting back. He relaxed and waited for the beast to get off, but that was not about to happen. Instead, the king was caught off guard when the bull spoke.

“King of Bloodvain,” Lasidious whispered.

Senchae shook his head, closed his eyes and then opened them.

The bull continued. “I bring news of your demise. There is weakness beneath your crown. You are unworthy of ruling your nation of barbarians. In the Kingdom of Brandor a man is seeking power. This man will kill your champion, and then he will kill you.”

“How do you speak, beast?” the king queried.

Lasidious snorted, “Bind your tongue, barbarian!”

Senchae’s eyes widened with disbelief as the bull continued. “Killing you isn’t my intent. You shall listen, or this encounter will end with your last breath. Do you understand?”

Senchae’s pride took over. “Who are you to speak to a king in this manner? Get off me!”

Lasidious lowered the point of one of his horns against Senchae’s throat. He pressed and allowed the barbarian to fight against the pressure.

Struggle as he may, Senchae could not better his position. Defeated, the king stopped contesting. “I shall listen.”

Lasidious enjoyed the despair in Senchae’s voice. “In the Kingdom of Brandor, a man is seeking power. He will visit your city. This human is to be feared. He’s coming for you. The reputation of your kingdom will be damaged if your champion falls to him in battle. I know you have your laws, but you must handle this yourself.”

Again, Senchae’s pride swelled. “How do I know you speak the truth?”

Lasidious pressed his horn deeper against the king’s throat and waited for a response, one that came without hesitation.

“Stop! I’m listening,” Senchae gasped.

Lasidious released the pressure against the king’s throat. “You’ll know this man when you see him. He travels with the undead cat, Kepler. You’re familiar with this demon. He’s the beast your grandfather hired into his service to retrieve the unicorn horn. The cat now serves this human. This swine of a man can fight like no other. His looks are deceiving. He could destroy you.”

Lasidious snorted again, ensuring the snot from his nostrils landed on Senchae’s face. After allowing the king to wipe it away, he continued. “I’ve come a long way to deliver this message.” He looked down at the king’s groin. “I’m sure your unicorn horn will dull the pain I’ve left behind.”

Senchae watched as the bull-god rose and walked away. The beast exited the fighting surface, passed through the holding pen and then followed the tunnel down into the stables beneath the arena floor.

Senchae stood and followed, but when he got to the stables, the bull was nowhere to be seen. The king was left standing alone, angry and confused.

Two and a Half Peaks Later

The Town of Lethwitch

When George and Kepler arrived just before the Peak of Bailem, the people of Lethwitch were stirring. Kepler had to stay outside of town because of the reaction his presence would create. It was hard for the demon to move unnoticed during the height of the Peak. There were not enough shadows to prowl within.

The excitement in the air was evident as George followed the crowd to the outskirts of town, east of the Cripple River. Cheering erupted from inside an arena. George wanted to go inside, but lacked the coin to get in. He was forced to live vicariously through those who went in and out. After speaking with some of the people, he realized the fights were like the gladiatorial combats that had been held in ancient Rome.

Now, fellow soul ... for those of you who are not familiar with ancient Rome, it was a civilization that lived on the destroyed world called Earth. Unlike that civilization, for the most part, the gladiators of Southern Grayham were free men. These combatants were glory seekers, and for as long as anyone could remember, the games had always been a part of Southern Grayham’s culture. However, there was an arena in the town of Empire where criminals were forced to fight.

George needed to find more of this world’s coin if he was to gain entrance to the fights. The competition was supposed to last 2 Peaks, so the arena was the perfect place to pass his moments while he waited for Kepler’s skeleton warriors to arrive at the Cave of Sorrow.

With malice in his heart, George headed back into town to a familiar spot, and it was not long before he was standing outside The Old Mercantile. Since it was the middle of the Peak, he would need to employ a different approach. He walked into the store to take a look around. To his delight, the store was nearly empty.
Everyone must be at the fights,
he thought.

There were only two people in the store: an elderly gentleman behind the same counter he had robbed and an older woman. By the way she stocked the shelves, her attention to detail suggested she had worked there a while. George would have wagered that she was the man’s wife and also one of the mercantile proprietors.

The old man came out from behind the counter. “Hello. How may I be of service?”

The woman heard the greeting, stopped what she was doing and moved to stand next to her husband. “Hello, young man. It’s a beautiful Peak. Are you enjoying yourself?”

Well aren’t these two clowns sticky sweet,
George thought before he responded. “You’re right. It is a lovely Peak. I have been thoroughly enjoying myself. And how are you?”

The old man reached into his pocket, removed a coin and then flipped it across the tops of his fingers while he responded. “We’re trying to clean up so we can get to the arena. Shouldn’t you be at the fights, young man?”

“Oh, probably. I’ve just been busy, I suppose. I’m looking for some gloves, and I thought a place like this would have a pair. Do you think you could help me out?”

“Sure we can,” the gentleman replied as he looked at his wife. “Jannica, why don’t you continue what you were doing while I help this young man.” He redirected his gaze back to George. “My name is Carldon. We have a variety of gloves. Come with me.” As he finished his statement, Carldon dropped his coin.

Jannica shook her head as she watched the Helmep roll across the floor and then excused herself to return to her duties.

Once Carldon retrieved the coin, he led George to the gloves. They were on display near the boots that were sitting on a shelf near the center of the room.

George surveyed the rest of the store as they walked toward the shelf. No one else had entered the establishment behind him, which was great, and better still, Jannica was adjusting the boots that were across from the gloves. George took a deep breath,
Could I be any luckier?
Someone is smiling down on me
. He thought and then paused for just a moment to rethink.
Well, smiling up at me anyhow.

Amused, George reached out and touched Carldon on the back of his neck, but the transformation was not instantaneous. However, he was lucky. He had picked a spot near the base of Carldon’s skull, and that was the only reason the old man was unable to react. Every joint in Carldon’s body relaxed, and it was clear to George that the old man was going to collapse.

George quickly stepped across the aisle toward Jannica. He needed to take her out before she heard her husband’s body hit the floor. With her back to him, George reached around and placed his right hand over the old woman’s mouth, turning her lips and the tip of her tongue to stone. During the same moments, he tried to use his left hand to touch the spot on the back of Jannica’s neck that he had on her husband’s, but it did not work. The old woman flinched as soon as his right hand touched her mouth.

George had to think fast. He grabbed Jannica, wrapped his arms around her to subdue her and then pulled her backward. With the old woman off balance, George adjusted his grip, but he kept his right arm around her neck to maintain control. With her back against his chest, he used his free hand to touch her again and again wherever he could to try to stop the confrontation, but the grayness was not spreading as fast as he wanted it to.

Despite her pain, Jannica thrashed wildly. She kicked George in the shins with the heels of her shoes and also knocked more than one pair of boots off the shelves. Her right fist smashed into George’s groin and then clubbed the murderer upside his head. But no matter how much heart Jannica displayed to rid herself of her attacker, the transformation eventually ended the confrontation. The stone spread to the upper portion of her spine and everything else that had not yet turned fell limp.

Disappointed by how classless Carldon and Jannica’s deaths were, George whispered in Jannica’s transforming ear as he lowered her to the floor, “I’m sorry, but I need the cash. I would’ve killed you quicker if I knew how.”

George looked across the aisle at the old woman’s husband. Carldon’s transformation was nearly complete, and all that remained to turn was everything below his knees. Yet, somehow, Carldon’s stone eyes were still speaking volumes. They shouted his despair and expressed his disgust. The look on Carldon’s face was so convicting that George was forced to look away. “Stop judging me!” George demanded. “You don’t know me. Nor do you know what I’ve been through.”

The murderer was compelled to fight against Carldon’s silent damnation. George stepped forward and kicked the old man in the head. It separated from the rest of the statue and tumbled across the floor. The sound the stone made as it bounced against the wooden planks was loud enough to send George running to the front of the store. He stuck his head out the window and looked up and then down the cobblestone street.

A sigh of relief followed. The street was quiet, and the wooden shutters of the other businesses were shut and locked. Other than a goat that was munching on hay and chained to a nearby wagon, no one had heard a thing. “Right the hell on,” George uttered, “I’m a lucky bastard.”

George did not hesitate. He reached up and brought down the shutter that was above the front window. He locked it and then pulled the front doors closed after he made a sign to hang outside. The sign read:

Closed for the Fights

Will reopen in 3 Peaks

With the sign in place, George headed for the money drawer. Sure enough, the couple was just as trusting as before. An amount equal to 14 Owain was collected and shoved inside a pair of socks that he grabbed off a nearby shelf.

Before George stepped out the back door to bolt it shut, he looked across the room at his victims. He shook his head and whispered, “I’m sorry. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong series of moments. You didn’t deserve to die.”

George was about to shut the back door when he realized what he had forgotten. “Holy crap ... the damn gloves,” he mumbled. “Way to go, dumbass.” He reentered the store and grabbed a pair.

After the back door was locked, he moved through the alleyway that was behind the businesses. Once he felt like he had put enough distance between himself and the Mercantile, he leaned against the back wall of an old shed.

What the hell’s wrong with you, George?
he thought as he chastised himself.
That was murder. You’re not on a good path, you idiot. Abbie would not approve.
A moment later, he justified,
I just won’t make it a habit.