David Dalglish - Blood Of Gods

“My Liege. . ” Laurel said.

“Laurel, what’s done is done,” said the king. His voice trembled with disappointment and agitation all at once.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

He looked up at her, his gray eyes distant and fierce.

“Now, we wake everyone in these caverns. They’re no longer safe.”

“But what then?” Laurel asked. “Where is there left for us to flee?”

A sad smile crossed King Eldrich’s lips. “Flee? No, dear Laurel. It’s time we stopped being the sacrificial lambs of the gods. It’s time we showed Karak’s faithful just how lethal the free citizens of Veldaren can be.”

Bardiya’s people restlessly slumbered beneath crude tarps while a light drizzle fell from the sky. Their horses, taken from the dead elves and soldiers, whinnied. The horses’ coats were wet and glimmered in the darkness. The air was cold, but at least the winds had died down. Luckily, they were on the crags of eastern Paradise now, and though the rocky terrain was slippery, it was solid. This was preferable to the desert, where the once shifting sands underfoot had become like clay, packed and solid at times and dangerously solvent at others due to the unheard-of rain. On more than one occasion, the people had needed to throw ropes to those trapped in the quagmire as the greedy, drenched sand sucked them into the earth. So far two men and one horse had been lost, disappearing under waves of undulating bog, never to be seen again.

Yet still they soldiered on, traversing the land, now camping a few short miles south of Ashhur’s Bridge.

The rains had come the morning after he ushered his herd, which included those accompanying Ki-Nan, away from the Black Spire and the valley of slaughter beside the ancient relic. It was the first precipitation Bardiya had ever remembered seeing in the desert. He’d assumed it an oddity that would quickly pass, but he’d been wrong. The rains had not let up since, raging for six days strong. What he first took to be an anomaly became a harbinger of doom, a physical manifestation of the god’s disappointment in him. You faltered. You turned your back on what is right.

Three days before, when the people had made camp, Bardiya had sat naked in the rain and gazed across the sopping northern expanse, his legs folded beneath him, his hands clasped in his lap. He’d been trying to find the center he had lost, and that’s when he’d felt him . Karak was there, on the Gods’ Road far on the other side of the soaked terrain, heading for the bridge leading into the Rigon Delta. The fires the deity left behind made the northern expanse glow red. Bardiya had lifted his eyes to the heavens, and he mouthed a thank you to the hidden stars. His rage, which had been his only comfort since he had lost control, began to ebb. Do not leave me, he had demanded, and his conscience obliged. All he need do was picture the seven innocent children standing on the dais as their bodies were hacked to pieces.

Bardiya stood on the edge of a quay, the path leading down uneven and precarious. The flooded vale was behind them, leaving a damp but passable area filled with rolling hills between them and the road. He gazed northeast. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew Ashhur’s Bridge was only another day’s ride away. He turned and looked north at the glowing horizon. They had moved ahead of Karak slightly, picking up speed at Bardiya’s command. Come morning, they would strike out north at a rapid pace and hopefully take the god by surprise. Again his doubt churned. He was running blind into whatever lay ahead. He didn’t know how many soldiers Karak had with him currently, and Bardiya had barely four hundred. The only thing that gave him hope was the fact that the deity was heading away from Mordeina, but whether Karak had been victorious or Ashhur had defeated him, he did not know.

Bardiya would learn which soon enough, once Ki-Nan returned.

A soft, sloshing sound emerged, making him tense; his grip on the great sword tightened. From out of the dark night came three men on horseback, Ki-Nan in their lead. All three were tired yet smiling, holding their shoulders back with pride as they bounced in their saddles. Bardiya nodded to them, and Ki-Nan halted his horse, whispering something to his cohorts. He dismounted, handing the reins to the other two, who would tend to the horses before heading to their sleeping rolls.

Ki-Nan approached the giant, his smile slowly fading the closer he drew. The two old friends shared an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then Bardiya turned and loped down the quay, seeking asylum in the small basin of stone below. Whatever the news, he wanted it told out of earshot of his people. Ki-Nan followed him.

“What happened?” Bardiya asked once they reached the floor of the basin. Even though it was only drizzling, water cascaded down the rocks, pooling at his feet. “Did you find the encampment?”

“We did,” answered Ki-Nan. “Karak’s Army sleeps in the forest beyond the Gods’ Road. It was difficult to stay out of sight, what with the fires raging behind them and the elves in their midst, but I think we managed.”

“What shape is the army in?”

“The soldiers back at the Spire said that Karak traveled with fifteen thousand soldiers, but so far as we could tell, there weren’t nearly that many. I would say a third that at most. And many of the men we spotted were in dreadful shape. Injured, hungry, and exhausted.”

Bardiya nodded. “This is good.”

“It is, brother. It is. If the weather improves tomorrow evening, we can sneak up on them while they sleep. Darkness will be our ally.”

“No,” said the giant, shaking his head. “They will have reached Ashhur’s Bridge by the time the sun sets. Whatever we do, we do on the morrow, come daybreak. When I face Karak, it must be in Paradise, not in the delta or Karak’s own kingdom. He cannot be allowed to cross the bridge.”

“But. . are you certain this is your path, brother?” asked Ki-Nan, breathless. “You have little experience with that sword, and fighting a deity is much different from fighting soldiers half your size.”

“Ki-Nan, my decision is made.”

Silence again passed between them, with Ki-Nan averting his gaze as Bardiya stared at him. These silences, and the arguments that preceded them, had become all too common in the weeks before Ki-Nan had left Ang months ago, and were the same way now. Only with the others did Ki-Nan ever seem at ease, never around Bardiya.

The giant sat down cross-legged on the drenched stone. When sitting, he was as tall as Ki-Nan was standing.

“My friend,” he finally said, “what happened to you?”

Ki-Nan’s eyes lifted to meet his. “What do you mean?”

“We were close once,” Bardiya said. “We once could speak of anything. You would regale me with stories of your adventures at sea when you returned from your trips. Only Onna, bless his soul, entertained me nearly as much. Now, you will not so much as smile at me.”

“Times change, brother. The world darkened.”

“Yet not so much that you cannot share a laugh with the others.”

“You don’t understand. Being with you is. . difficult.”

“Why?”

Ki-Nan shifted on his feet, his eyes downcast. “Because of our past. Because of the disagreements between us. You let our people be executed. I pleaded with you to fight; yet you refused. I knew you would never understand until you experienced the pain for yourself. I have always loved Ashhur, brother-how could I not love the god who created me? But I was not willing to suffer needlessly for him.”

They were words Bardiya had heard many times over, but the look of his friend when he spoke them was different. It was as if the atmosphere around him wavered, becoming darker for a barely perceptible moment. Bardiya shook his head, and his vision cleared. Sighing, he said, “And now I have seen, and I have turned against everything I once held dear. I hope you take comfort knowing you were right.”