David Dalglish - Blood Of Gods

The misshapen man rode up to him. “Master Warden,” Patrick said, no humor in his tone.

“Patrick.”

“It’s time.”

Ahaesarus nodded. Neither said another word.

Ashhur rose to his feet and lifted a giant horn to his lips. His golden hair flowed around him like a mane of silk. When he blew into the instrument, the trumpeting rang throughout the walled settlement with the force of an erupting volcano. All work ceased, all eyes turned to their god.

“Citizens of Paradise, my precious children, the time to forge your own destiny is now.”

The fighting men and women formed haphazard ranks. Horses were tethered to the wagons and whips cracked. Ashhur gave the word, and mismatched armor clanked and spears thudded against the ground as the new army of eight thousand surged forward. They were a flood of flesh and steel, flowing toward the newly reconstructed front gate, too disorganized to form the lines necessary to pass through without creating a logjam. One hundred seventy-five of the remaining one hundred eighty-three Wardens marched at their lead, trying to get them under control.

Ahaesarus lingered by Ashhur’s side in front of the inner wall, watching the force approach. Patrick and the Turncloaks were there as well, and the Master Warden studied them. The soldiers who had turned against Karak didn’t seem as somber or frightened as the rest, and they gazed up at Ashhur with utmost respect. Even Patrick seemed to join in, his sullen mood interrupted when one of the youngest of the Turncloaks leaned over and whispered in his ear. Patrick threw his head back and laughed. “A tit?” he said through his guffaws. “He thought it was a tit ? Ha!”

Then came the rumbling, and all laughter ceased. The ground shook, causing the advancing army to stop and hold their arms out to keep their balance. Ashhur took a step forward, his image wavering in Ahaesarus’s vision. The god gazed skyward, and the quaking of the earth ceased. The people of Mordeina shuffled about nervously, murmuring to each other. Something odd was happening, they could feel it in the air. Ahaesarus hurried to the front of the army, to where Ashhur marched, seemingly oblivious to the now fearful brightness of the sun.

“My Lord,” the Warden said, putting a hand on Ashhur’s forearm. Before his god could respond, Ahaesarus heard the voice. It was soft, feminine, and seemed to float on the wind.

My love. . my love, you must stop this folly.

Ahaesarus immediately understood who spoke. It seemed all the land stood still, and when he looked about, it was truer than he thought possible. The horses were frozen, the people unmoving. Though the Warden felt wind blowing from all directions, not a strand of hair blew, nor a single thread of clothing. Even the sparse clouds in the sky remained in place. Only he and Ashhur seemed unaffected, and standing there in the sudden stillness chilled Ahaesarus to the bone.

Ashhur inclined his head and closed his hands into fists. “I cannot, my love.”

Celestia’s voice came again. Allow your brother to return to his home. Do not pursue.

“We must,” said Ashhur, lifting his gaze to the heavens. “I have no choice.”

There is always a choice. My world weeps, and I weep with it. Seek peace, not more death.

When Ashhur spoke next, it was with rage that matched his fury at the sight of his brother storming through the walls of Mordeina.

“You come to me with a plea for peace? I, who never wished for this war? I, who beseeched my brother until the final moment to turn back? I have done nothing but defend the lives of my creations! If you wish for this to end, my love, go to him ! Demand Karak leave this land and never return. Do it, and see how he answers!”

When the god’s mouth snapped shut, the eerie silence stretched on and on. Ahaesarus was afraid, too afraid to voice his fear, and could only stand by his god and wait for the goddess to reply.

Is that your wish? Walk with care, my love. I spared you once, but not again. My world will not crumble as yours did. You, and the people you have created, are on your own.

“We have always been on our own,” said Ashhur. “You left us to starve and die, and for what reason? Balance? Come to me! Come look me in the eye and tell me I am no different from my brother. Tell me we need one another, and the world must have us for your precious balance. My heart yearns to hear just how many lies your lips can spill before your own world turns against you.”

Ahaesarus was stunned by the god’s anger. He’d always thought these two so close, so dear to one another, integral in forging Dezrel into the land it now was. But this. . this was frightening. When next Ahaesarus heard the goddess speak, there was a fire in her voice.

I offered you solace. I offered you a chance for redemption, to atone for your mistakes. You spoke of a new world, and tempted me with the spectacle of creation. I have witnessed many wondrous things, but the terrors have started to overwhelm the glory. These lands you squabble over are mine, not yours, yet they run with blood.

“Lands given to us,” challenged Ashhur. “And it is our blood that spills.”

And more still will be shed. My eyes are upon you. Do not forget it.

The ground shook, and with a sudden rush of air Ahaesarus realized they were once more within the normal grip of time. People looked about; shrieks filled the air, and to Ahaesarus it sounded eerily similar to five days before, when Karak overtook Mordeina’s walls. An enormously loud series of cracks came next, followed by what sounded like a massive landslide. Ahaesarus rushed forward, trying to calm the panicked horde of people, but he lost his footing when the land beneath him shifted. It felt like the whole world was crumbling. He imagined giant fissures opening up and swallowing Ashhur and all he’d created.

“The tree!” someone shouted, and soon a veritable chorus joined in. Fingers pointed toward the wall. “The tree is falling, the tree!”

Ahaesarus winced as he stood, his bad leg throbbing, and looked toward Celestia’s tree. The giant branches swayed and broke loose, sending people screaming for cover. Its trunk developed a sickly gray color and caved in on itself. Great puffs of ash rose each time another portion fell. The sound of the chunks plummeting to the ground was like the heavens ripping open.

The tree continued to collapse, until it finally caught fire and broke apart. The branches bounced against the wall as they descended, leaving deep gouges in the stone and exploding into billowing clouds of ash. The fire in its center gave forth one final bright flash and then darkened. In a matter of moments, all that remained of the colossal tree was a lingering haze of dust and smoke.

Although most backed away, Ahaesarus approached the gap in the wall that the tree had blocked. He could see the undead out there, clear as day, unmoving as they stared east.

“Damn,” he heard Patrick say. “Well, at least it’ll be easier to march all these people out now.”

Glancing over, Ahaesarus saw that Patrick wasn’t smiling. He then turned to his god, who shook his head while he stared at the gap. He looked tired and annoyed, and the golden glow of his eyes was faded.

“What do we do now?” the Master Warden asked.

“I must fix the breach,” the god replied. “I will not leave those who remain behind unprotected.”

“Are you strong enough?” Patrick asked.

“I have to be.”

“Yes, but what then?” asked Ahaesarus. “After the wall is fixed? Karak has enough of a head start as it is.”

“This changes nothing,” said Ashhur. The god gazed through the fissure, staring at the red glow that lit the horizon. “We must simply ride faster.”