Blood Of Gods

CHAPTER 36

The Kerrians made good time as they crossed the border of Safeway and trudged north toward the Gods’ Road. The sun had burned away the storm clouds, and the air had a slightly crisp feel to it. The horses maintained a steady canter while those on foot jogged alongside. Bardiya remained at the head of the procession, his heart overflowing with his newfound faith as his inhumanly long legs carried him forward easily. The only discomfort was his giant sword, which had been tied with hempen rope and draped over his left shoulder. The steel thwacked against his back with every loping stride.

“Onward to the drylands, to snatch the maiden fair,” he called out over his shoulder, a rhyme Warden Ozyel had taught him before his dearly departed father asked the elegant beings to leave their land. When he’d grown older, he’d realized how obscene the rhyme was, but in his youth he had repeated it nonstop while with his friends.

“The maiden’s legs are lengthy, I’ll stretch them once I’m there!” his people shouted back to him. Bardiya glanced to the side and saw Ki-Nan bouncing in his saddle, a smile on his face. It seemed like a scene from a time long passed-a collection of young men heading out for the hunt, excited for the thrill ahead.

Except this hunt would most likely lead to their deaths.

They descended a slick embankment where small patches of snow and ice still remained. Bardiya looked around in wonder. The cold hardly ever invaded the lands he called home, with only the rare flurry during the most brutal of winters, such as the one from the year before. Even then it was rare for him to see such sights. It had been so long since he’d ventured away from Ang, Safeway, and the desert of Ker. Once more he felt young again, and he wished to see a pure white landscape for the first time in forty years.

The simple desires ended when the embankment flattened, and they progressed across a broad, barren plain. There had once been grassland here, and tiny villages as well, but all was gone now, razed by Karak as the rancorous god’s army worked its way toward Mordeina. Bare earth squished and clumped beneath Bardiya’s bare feet, sending a chill up his ankle and through his calf until it took root in his spine. He shivered, a spasm so intense it felt as if his whole core had become unstable. A portent. He gazed across the ruined steppe.

Something wasn’t right.

No matter how decimated the land was, Bardiya still knew precisely where they were. The plains they currently cut through, nestled beneath the red cliffs to the west and the hills bordering the Rigon River to the east, stretched out for another two miles until ending at the Gods’ Road. Yet as he peered ahead, trying to see the horizon, all he saw was a black fog of some sort. It almost seemed as if there were another storm raging, this one hovering only a few feet off the ground.

He planted his foot and came to a halt, the rhyme dying on his lips. Behind him, the rest of his party followed suit.

Tuan Littlefoot sidled up to him. “What is it?”

Bardiya frowned at him and faced north. He heard a sound like that of a waterfall, faint at first yet growing progressively louder. He squinted, noticed that the black cloud ahead stretched nearly as wide as the valley itself. A feeling came over him, a smothering sensation he had experienced only once, years before, when he’d run across the flock of dying kobo. It was as if nature itself was crying in despair, railing against some ill-fated blight.

His eyes snapped open, and he ran forward a few steps, the questions his people tossed his way nothing but a dull murmur to his ears. It was then that he realized the cloud he saw was dust and ash being kicked into the air by countless stampeding feet.

It was a living wall of animalistic fury, undulating as it approached, jaws filled with sharp, snapping teeth. Bardiya had never seen anything like it in all his life. The creatures of Dezrel had been warped into something vicious. He knew right away this abomination was Karak’s doing.

“Ashhur save us,” he whispered.

The others must have noticed as well, as behind him Ki-Nan and Yorn Loros were riding in a frantic circle, forming their four hundred mates into a packed cluster fronted with swords and spears. Yorn rode up to him.

“Fight or flee?” the man asked, sweat beading on his brown skin even though the day was quite cool.

Bardiya looked back at the charging, mutated beasts. “No fleeing,” he said, and offered Ki-Nan, who lingered nearby, a knowing nod. “We must do the opposite of the antelope when confronted with a stalking sandcat; our best defense lies in keeping them before us. Just like the antelope, if we run, there’s a better chance we die.”

Ki-Nan’s face flushed and he turned away.

Yorn wheeled his horse around. “We need arrows!” he shouted.

A group of fifty men dashed forward, fanning out beside Bardiya, raising bows they’d liberated from elven corpses. The bows were larger than the ones the people of Ker normally used, and many of the men had difficulty drawing back the string. The task was made no easier by the fact that they were all terrified, their arms shaking uncontrollably.

The wall of fur, teeth, and claws drew nearer.

“Do not aim!” the giant shouted over the din of hoots and growls as he yanked the giant sword off his back. “This is no hunt. Just loose as many as you can!”

Bowstrings were released and arrows sailed into the afternoon sky. The elven bows were more powerful than those bearing them had expected, and the first volley sailed over the heads of the charging beasts, disappearing in the mass. Nevertheless, the arrows found purchase. Pained yelps and screeching sounded. Standing as tall as he did, Bardiya could see the charging horde was just as deep as it was wide. There were thousands of them, too many to count, too many for his meager four hundred men to hold at bay.

And so it ends here.

The archers adjusted their aim, and this time when the arrows sailed they carried in nearly a straight line across the hundreds of yards separating them. A few of the beasts in front collapsed and were trampled by those rushing up from behind. The archers nocked anew and fired. Still another handful fell, but they kept on coming. They were close enough now that Bardiya could see the beasts approaching them were of vaguely human form and nearly twice as big as they should have been. He saw the echoes of wolves, big cats, flightless birds, deer, otters, even sheep, their faces mockeries of humanity with distended brows, jutting snouts, oversized teeth and beaks, and glimmering yellow eyes.

For every one the archers felled with their shaky volleys, another ten took their place. In a matter of seconds the horde had halved the distance between them, so close now that Bardiya could almost smell the stench of old meat on their breath. “Get back to the others!” he told the archers. “Fight together! Fight with purpose! The Golden Forever awaits us all!”

The archers turned tail and fled back to the others, and he glanced down to see another group of men had joined his side. Allay and Yorn were among them, as was Ki-Nan. Half of them were on horseback.

“Should we die, we die together, brother!” Ki-Nan proclaimed.

Bardiya nodded, then held his massive sword above his head with one hand and pointed at the rushing beasts with the other. A primal scream exploded from his throat, and Bardiya and his fellow warriors charged, ignoring the arrows that now whooshed past them on either side. Hooves and feet pounded the wet, burnt land.

Just before they arrived, the creatures let out a simultaneous cry. Its pitch varied, high and low, an uneven wave of sound, but the word was all the same, and the sound of it chilled Bardiya to the bone.

“KARAK!”

The giant crashed into the line first, slicing three beasts in two at the waist with a single sideways hew. Then the mass of the stampede slammed fully into him, knocking the breath from his large and powerful lungs. His fellow warriors followed his lead. Their horses reared back and shrieked as claws tore into their flanks, spilling guts and riders alike. Men began screaming, and Bardiya swore he could hear Ki-Nan’s voice rise above the others as he shouted curses at the beasts.

A pair of upright-walking wolves crashed into his chest while a cat-man came at him from the side. Teeth raked against his flesh, claws dragged down his back. His shoulder was impaled by an antler that he snapped off with a single flick of the wrist. Bardiya grunted as he grabbed the beasts in turn with his powerful left hand, tossing them back over their swelling numbers as if they weighed nothing. He thrust forward with his sword, impaling six beasts through the chest like they were on a spit. A smaller creature tried scaling his leg-a squirrel-man, by the looks of him-heading for Bardiya’s most sensitive area with its teeth bared. The giant snatched the two-foot-tall thing off him and made a fist. The writhing squirrel popped like a rotten fruit, bathing his hand with entrails.

Still the beast-men swarmed, relentless. These were not mindless things, Bardiya realized. They were attacking in clusters, the larger beasts such as deer and elk in front, the lesser predators behind, while the smallest of the forest creatures dashed through the legs of their larger brethren, using the bodies of the larger creatures to mask their movements. Bardiya hacked the head off a giant elk-man in a single swing, narrowly missing being skewered by its antlers, and then turned to see one of his fellow defenders whipping around and gargling blood, a human-shaped gopher attached to his throat. A pair of wolves fell upon the poor soul, ripping into his chest and sending intestines flying. The body was flung to the side, and Bardiya could see it was Tuan Littlefoot, one eye gone and leaking blood while the other one stared at him, lifeless.

The same was happening all around him. Every horse that had charged was now gone, swallowed by the ungodly numbers of beast-men, and he could see only a handful of the men still clashing with their savage opponents. He wondered if Ki-Nan was one of them, before his thoughts were interrupted by the flash of feathers in his face. Bardiya plucked the bird-man off him, a crane with stumpy claws at the end of its wings and serrated teeth inside its beak, and snapped it over his knee.

Three more beasts rushed him, only to be cut down swiftly. Bardiya pivoted on his heels and saw the cluster of four hundred men being overrun. The larger beast-men raked and snapped at those on the outside of the circle, while the smaller of their species leapt off shoulders, careening through the air and descending into the center of the desperate defenders. Blood began to fly into the air, Bardiya’s people being decimated from both outside the circle and within.

He went to storm forward, but an impossibly heavy weight collided with him from behind, knocking him face first to the sodden ground. He lost hold of the sword when he landed with a splash, and he rolled just as powerful jaws closed around his left forearm. Wickedly sharp teeth pierced his flesh and scraped against bone. Bardiya cried out in pain, beating at the gigantic, fur-covered head with his free hand. The thing’s grip was insanely strong, as if it were made from solid rock.

A beast with a pair of black eyes, faintly glowing yellow at the center, rolled in his direction. Bardiya recalled the day he’d been attacked by timber wolves while hunting with his father in his youth, and did the same now as he had then. He plunged three fingers of his free hand into the beast’s eye socket. The eye itself was large, the size of a mango, and it slipped and sloshed against the tips of his fingers as they snaked around the backside of the orb. The beast’s gyrations became all the more violent. Bardiya then tore his hand away from the socket, ripping out the eye with a sickening plop. The beast finally released him, rearing back and lifting its snout to the sky as it roared. Bardiya kicked away from the thing, searching for his sword, while smaller beast-men scurried past him, heading for his doomed brothers in faith.

Bardiya hastened to his feet, his left arm aching and leaking blood. The beast that had attacked him ceased its bellowing and faced him, and Bardiya could now see that this monstrosity had once been a black bear. It was taller than Bardiya by at least two feet, and with its bulk it must have weighed as much as four of him. The thing stared, its empty eye socket oozing while the intact left eye radiated hatred. The bear-man growled, and Bardiya was buffeted by its hot, stinking breath from ten feet away. “Hurts,” he heard the beast growl. It then ran at him, its claws like ten long daggers aiming to pierce his heart. Bardiya braced for impact, knowing this would be the end of him.

He caught the claws when the bear-man collided with him and shoved him backward. His heels dug into the damp earth. The beast was strong, so damn strong. It leaned forward, bending Bardiya’s arms nearly to the point of breaking. Its maw pounced, snapping with six-inch incisors. One of those massive teeth scraped against Bardiya’s cheek, opening up a new, gushing wound.

He fell to one knee, the bear-man crushing its full weight down on him. I love you, Ashhur, he prayed. I am sorry to have failed you. He screamed as loudly as he could, trying to shove back against the bear-man’s crushing weight.

Amazingly, he succeeded.

The bear let out a sharp cry as it stumbled. When it righted itself, the beast suddenly flailed, its good eye bulging as it whimpered and grunted. Then there was a flash of silver between its legs. The bear pitched forward, clawed hands grasping at the gaping vertical mouth that appeared where its nether parts should have been. Innards as thick as a human arm poured out of the wound, slopping onto the earth. The beast gawked at Bardiya as if insulted, taking a single step forward before its colossal bulk toppled over.

Another form was dragging itself toward him. Bardiya regained his wits quickly enough to bat a bird-man off his shoulder and draw back his fist, ready to strike. The head of the beast lifted, and beneath a wolf’s nose there was the lower half of a grimacing brown face.

It was Ki-Nan. His old friend was entirely covered with blood, and the wolf’s nose was actually a head, severed at the jaw line. Ki-Nan rose to his feet, revealing a giant gash running along his side, and tottered before Bardiya until his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell. The giant caught him, gently lowering him to the ground. All around him, the beasts continued their attack. A few even nipped at the back of Bardiya’s neck. He batted them away, and they left him alone, rushing instead toward the easy meal a couple hundred feet away.

“Finish. . this. .,” he heard Ki-Nan say beneath the racket. “Finish it.”

“I don’t know how,” he told his friend sadly. The circle of his fellow Kerrians was nearly broken, the beasts tearing into men left and right. It was a slaughter.

“You said. . you said we couldn’t lose,” Ki-Nan said. “Not when Ashhur was with us. Now prove it.”

His hand dropped to the side, falling atop Bardiya’s sword. Bardiya looked at it, a thing he’d long viewed as evil, and knew it had to be something more if they were to survive. Reaching down, he lifted the sword, and felt comfortable, at ease. Rising, he took a slow step, then another, steadily gaining speed as he left Ki-Nan behind. With his size and strength, the beast-men gave him a wide berth, thrusting themselves into the greater melee of his people. Cowards, thought Bardiya. Cowardly animals, evil things.

Are you with me? Bardiya prayed as it seemed the very ground shook beneath his feet while he ran. Because I need you now. Let me show them. Let every last vile thing sense your presence, and let them be afraid!

The sword weighed nothing in his hands. He’d thought it evil, thought it a curse he never hoped to endure. But before him was true evil, hate with claws and teeth, created solely to murder and kill. And with his sword, he would end them. Clutching the weapon tightly, he let out a bellow, all the pain in his body gone. Into the ranks of the beasts he slammed, and he swung his sword with all his might-but not at any animal. An overpowering instinct guided his hands as he drove the weapon with a massive overhead swing straight into the ground.

The earth rumbled and broke.

The shock wave rolled over the battlefield, knocking aside man and beast alike. The creatures yipped and howled, twisting back to their feet as Bardiya ripped the sword from the ground and held it high above him. The blade shimmered with light, and the things snarled defensively, shielding their eyes with their misshapen mockeries of human hands.

“Say his name!” Bardiya cried. “Say the name of your god!”

“Karak,” hundreds of them whimpered and growled, the word seemingly pulled unwillingly from their throats.

Again he slammed his sword into the broken earth. The ground roiled, and air blasted in all directions with the force of the mightiest storm. The beast-men let out cries of fear and confusion as behind them the people of Ker backed away, the soil firm beneath their feet.

“Say his name!” Bardiya roared, the challenge so loud it hurt his own ears. He could hardly believe himself capable of such volume. “Say the name of he who gives you strength!”

“Karak,” they answered, quieter. Even fewer were willing to meet his gaze, yet none dared turn away. Their attention was his. Simple beings, he knew. They were driven by fear, only fear. Fear of Karak, the god who made them. It filled their hearts and minds. But fear was weak, lacking loyalty or faith. Fear he could conquer. Fear he could break.

“Karak’s strength?” Bardiya asked. “Show it to me, you unclean things. Show me his strength!”

They did not move, only tensed their muscles. Despite the blood dripping from his body, despite the exhaustion he felt tickling in the back of his mind, Bardiya grinned.

“Fine,” he said. “Then let me show you mine.”

He rushed them, sword pulled back to swing. The sword’s light flared brilliantly, and the creatures howled. When Bardiya swung in a wide arc, it was as if there was no end to his weapon’s length. Ten times his height it slashed out, cutting the beasts down, severing their bodies with shining white. Pulling the blade back, this time he flipped it around and drove the blade downward, and as it pierced the rocky ground, a wave of chromatic brightness rolled in all directions. The beasts it touched let out cries as their hair burned away, and their skin turned black and rotten. The sound was deafening, and with it came the stampede. All of them, thousands, from the greatest to the smallest, fled north. Bardiya stood there, watching them, chest heaving as he breathed in and out, the glow on his sword slowly fading away.

When the last of them were gone, Bardiya collapsed to his knees, and he had to clutch the hilt of his sword to remain upright. The steel of the pommel was cold against his warm cheek, and he closed his eyes and held it to him as if it were a long lost friend.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Slowly Bardiya rose to his feet and turned to face his countrymen. Where once there had been four hundred, now there was barely half that number. All of them were bloodied and injured, a few near death themselves. Of those he had known best, only Allay Loros remained standing. They stared at him with wide eyes, a mixture of fear and awe that Bardiya would never forget.

“Ki-Nan?” Bardiya called. He turned and staggered through the corpses until he found his friend. Ki-Nan’s left side was mangled, and a gash in his neck was soaked with blood. His lips moved, but Bardiya couldn’t hear the words. The giant lowered himself to his knees and leaned closer to Ki-Nan’s mouth.

“I knew it,” the dying man said in barely a whisper. “I knew. . you could.”

Bardiya didn’t hesitate. He placed his hands on Ki-Nan’s chest and allowed the healing energy to flow through him. This time, he felt no pain as Ki-Nan’s wounds mended. When it was finished, the man rolled over and coughed.

“Stand,” he told his old friend. “You have a woman and family to find, remember?”

Bardiya helped Ki-Nan to his feet, and together they made their way to their maimed brethren. The giant flexed his arm as he went. The wracking pain of the injury he’d sustained from the bear-man’s jaws was now a dull throb, but he knew the pain would return in time. Still, there was more he had to do before he looked to himself.

Bardiya turned to his friend as he walked. “What is the name of the woman you love?”

“Catherine,” said Ki-Nan.

“After I heal our brothers, leave this place and do not return. I wish never to see your face unless this Catherine is at your side.”

“But what of Karak?” asked Ki-Nan. “If you think I’m going to abandon you while the rest of our people-”

“Enough,” Bardiya said. “Let me work.”

For the next two hours, as the sun reached its highest point and began to descend, Bardiya spent his energy healing the remaining one hundred and eighty-two of his people. By the time it was over, he was exhausted, and his arm pulsed despite the bandage he’d tied about it. He slumped down on his rump, feeling much smaller than the giant he was, and gazed at the sea of corpses, both beast and man, that surrounded him. He then looked back at those he had just healed, who hovered a few feet away. They were torn, overwhelmed by grief yet given hope by his display of strength. But Bardiya knew their purpose was done. After today, they would follow him to the ends of Dezrel. Yet, after today, he would never ask them to.

“Go home,” he told them.

Once more that day, all eyes turned to him.

“What?” asked Allay Loros, tearing his sorrowful gaze from his brother’s corpse.

“I said go home. There is nothing left for you here but death, and that is never what I wanted for you all.”

“But what of Karak?” asked Midoro, a middle-aged man whose white sideburns nearly glowed against his black flesh.

“Karak is a god,” Bardiya said. “There is nothing you can do to him.”

“But I thought we-”

“It matters not what we thought,” said the giant gravely. “Your lives are all that matter. So take off that borrowed armor, toss it to the ground, and go back to Ang. Be with your wives; play with your children; bring joy and laughter into the world once more. You have witnessed enough ugliness for five lifetimes, never mind one.”

“And what will you do?”

The question came from Ki-Nan, and Bardiya could see the pain in his old friend’s face. Ki-Nan might have betrayed him by desiring to be someplace other than the land where he was raised, but in that single look Bardiya understood just how much Ki-Nan still loved him.

“I will continue on,” he said. “This is my burden. Whatever trust you have, put it in me now. Let me carry it alone.”

Ki-Nan gazed at him solemnly.

“I know I’ll never understand what we just saw,” he said, “but even that will never be enough. You will lose, brother.”

Bardiya nodded, his massive body casting an imposing shadow over his remaining mates.

“I know, my friend,” he told him. “I know.”