David Dalglish - Wrath of Lions

A short, slender man, whose beard held patches of white, approached them. He bent his knee before Ashhur, taking hold of the god’s hand and kissing his fingers one by one. He then rose and smiled. He was missing half his teeth, but those that remained were white as the winter snow.

“My Grace,” the man said, “your arrival is a great surprise, and a joy beyond joy. We are honored that you grace our home with your sacred presence.”

“And it is my honor to have come, Felton Freeman. Consider yourselves blessed.”

The elder looked up, wonder making his face shine. “You remembered,” he whispered. “I have not visited the Sanctuary in thirty years, yet you remembered.”

“Of course, my child,” replied the deity. “I always remember.”

Patrick chuckled. It hadn’t surprised him that Ashhur knew the names of the elders of every settlement they came across. He was a god, after all, and these were his creations. Yet none ever expected it, and it amused him greatly to see the looks of pride and awe whenever Ashhur greeted his children by name.

Ashhur helped Felton Freeman to his feet before addressing the entirety of Grassmere’s residents. “I love you all, my children, but unfortunately the message I am here to give you is not one of spirituality. There are great terrors approaching to devastate our paradise. My arrival is a forewarning of the hardships to come.”

“Wait for it,” Patrick whispered out the corner of his mouth. Ashhur glanced down at him, frowning, but a second later it happened. Confused murmurs erupted in the crowd, faces looking on with slack-jawed puzzlement. Felton Freeman furrowed his brow and turned to look at his people before facing his god once more. Then his eyes moved upward, to the ridge of the plateau above Ashhur’s head, taking in the sight of the massive gathering on the Gods’ Road. The man appeared downright stupefied…just like every other man and woman who had heard this speech over the last several months. Patrick at first couldn’t understand why his god would tantalize his people with such vague warnings, but over time he had come to understand. One could not confront a naïve people with grave specifics without first preparing them for the telling.

“I fear I don’t understand, My Grace,” said the elder.

Ashhur spoke once more, his voice rising, booming across the countryside. “My brother has declared war on Paradise. The pact between us has been broken. Whereas once Paradise and Neldar existed peacefully, that peace is no more. He has formed a great army in the east, and he has pledged to cross our borders and bring pain and suffering to all who do not submit. I do not know when he plans to march, nor do I know the size of the force he has built, but I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will come . My brother is not one to make idle threats, and I have already witnessed the devastation he is capable of wreaking when he fell upon the delta.”

More confused murmurs from the crowd, only this time a few voices were raised in panic. Felton frowned, looking small as a mouse before his towering god.

“I still don’t understand, My Grace,” he said.

Ashhur sighed, running a godly hand through his golden hair. “We must prepare for the coming war. The village must be fortified, and you must ready yourselves for horrors you have never before experienced. I am here to assist you in this endeavor. I will teach you all you need to know, though our time here will be short.” The god pointed back toward the ridge of the plateau. “Those who doubt their strength are free to accompany me on my journey west to Mordeina.”

A young woman dressed in a sarong of antelope hide stepped away from the mob. She had a suckling babe at her breast, the same child Ashhur had kissed when he first entered the settlement. Her azure eyes flicked to Patrick, and he saw her shudder for a moment before her gaze returned to her deity.

“My Grace,” she said, her voice innocent and pure. “Why would Karak wish us harm? What have we done wrong? Is my little Quentin not innocent?”

“He is, and you have done nothing wrong,” replied Ashhur. “My brother’s motivations are beyond understanding, and I have no control or influence over him. All I can hope to do is protect you as best I can, my wonderful creations whom I love more than my own being.”

“Is this a parable?” shouted someone from within the throng.

“A test?” shouted another.

“No,” replied Ashhur.

The girl’s lips twisted into a half frown and she rejoined the gathering of her villagers. Felton did the same, looking as lost and confused as a wayward pup. They stood as a writhing mass of humanity, talking among themselves, words drowning out words drowning out the occasional laugh or tentative plea. Patrick looked up at Ashhur, and the god leaned over.

“That went well,” Patrick said sarcastically.

“As well as it could,” said Ashhur, sounding dejected. “They do not understand. Not a one of them. I created them. Their naïveté is my doing.”

Patrick shrugged. “No harm in that, My Grace. You wanted to create paradise, and you did. It was wonderful while it lasted. How could you know Karak would turn out to be such a bastard?”

Ashhur turned away without answering, his glowing golden stare settling on the eastern expanse. His expression was blank. Patrick didn’t like that look. Not one bit.

The residents of Grassmere split into two groups-those who wished to stay behind and those who would accompany the god on the journey to Mordeina. Two thirds of the populace chose the latter, and they wandered up the slope of the plateau, carrying their meager possessions. Patrick spent the rest of the day lecturing those who remained, mostly young families, on how to protect themselves. They disassembled some of the tents of those who had departed, using flat-edged stones to whittle the tips of the poles to points for spears. As with most every settlement outside of Lerder, there was little to no iron available-even the large granary had been built with interlocking logs tied off with twine-so they would have to defend themselves with what they had. He instructed a group of men to dig into the soil and gather as many large rocks as they could to hurl at the enemy, and he made man and woman alike form a line and showed them how to thrust with the pointy end of a spear, describing the sensitive areas on the human body.

“Just like with animals,” he told them. “Look for the soft spot, and strike for it.” A few from those gathered on the Gods’ Road, including four Wardens, came down to assist him in his duties. Stoke Harrow, a man who had accompanied Ashhur on his trek into the delta, helped him put on his mismatched suit of armor, so he could show his students the weak points.

All the while Ashhur sat in the center of the spiraling tents, chanting silently, using his godly magic to bring pillars of brightly colored stone and trees from the earth to form a jagged wall around the settlement. It was an amazing spectacle to see, and the pillars and trees caused quite a ruckus when they emerged from the crust, which made Patrick’s teaching efforts all the more difficult.

Not that it mattered. The people took to their lesson as though it were a game, acting as if Ashhur’s dire news were nothing to worry about. Frustrating as it was, he couldn’t necessarily blame them. You’ll learn soon enough, he thought solemnly.

They were back on the Gods’ Road several hours later when the sun set below the western horizon. Tents sprang up all across the road, stretching outward for miles, lit by dozens of cookfires. Patrick spread his bedroll out on the packed dirt, far away from the noisy mass of humanity. Pigs squealed and horses whinnied. The scent of cooking meats reached his nose, and his stomach cramped. He was famished, having eaten only some salted beef that morning, but his body was too sore from the day’s labor to move. Instead, he took a swig from his waterskin, wishing it were wine, then pulled a pile of blankets atop him to stave off the night’s cold. At least he wasn’t staying behind in Grassmere, as the four Wardens who’d assisted in the citizens’ training had been asked to do. Four less guides to help lead this motley lot.