Take My Heart...: Dark Ages - Fantasy (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 3) (14 page)

“It’s just classic war strategy, those men are cutting the supply lines, whatever is going on with all these gods and powers, for us it’s simple, they want to crush anyone who believes in something different, not because they are zealots or don’t believe but because by weakening us they weaken something else as well. They kill the priests, they destroy the temples and the things they believe in get weaker as well.”

“Why now?” she asked.

“I think they have been doing it for years, this is just the last push,” Grimm said.

He knew it was true. Through all the memories of the Dark Guild and gatherers, he saw the Order of the Learned. They moved like a growing shadow over the years. Killing and desecrating. Burning books and silently murdering anyone with power or a direct connection to something higher. How much knowledge was gone from the world by their hands, how many ways and gods had been forgotten because of them.

“What should I do?” he asked.

“Just keep riding. We’ll meet up with whoever has survived, but I need to think,” she said and slumped against his back into an exhausted sleep.

Chapter Twenty Eight.

Seth staggered from the arena, blood dripping from the light cuts on his forearms and pain lancing through his arms and shoulders. Swinging that huge sword around had taken such a toll on his body. He could feel his muscles screaming with pain and exertion with every labored breath he took, since when was killing such hard work. Seth made himself grin and forced a laugh. This is what he was, just a normal man, no gifts, no strength more than what his body held. He didn’t know if he’d ever get them back but that was fine. They had always been as much of a curse as a blessing, it was the gifts which made the Guild chase him but he’d miss the knowledge and the feeling of being something special.

At the end of the arena of sand stood the open mouth of the metal gate. It stood open and he walked through it into the cold of the strange building. Around him were the bare stones of a fighting arena and the smell of stale blood and sweat. The cracked marble floor held the stains of old blood of who knew how many years. Seth saw a light at the end of a large hallway and pushed himself towards it standing taller and trying to shrug off the pain and exhaustion. He pushed the door hard with his hand and let it swing open.

Darkness again. The room beyond was completely black. He gathered his courage like hands cupping a fledgling fire and walked into it. He walked with a hand in front of him like a newly blind man and shuffled into the darkness, with stumbling caution. It was so vast and encompassing, he could feel it like something real, like walking into a thick snowdrift.

He felt the natural fear of the night coming to him. Nightmares as a boy of all the things out there in the dark and cold nights. The creatures his parents had told him stories of. Am I Druheim or not? He thought. Raising his head high he strolled through the emptiness until he saw it, the same as before. A doorway with a small crack of light, but this time, it was just a doorway but the light-filled him with hope.

Seth pushed it and it opened with a creak. It was stuck and rusted. Seth hit the door hard with his sore shoulder and fell into the room like a drunk trying to leave a tavern. He tripped over the doorway and fell hard onto the marble floor. Cursing loudly Seth picked himself up off the floor and looked around the vast room he’d tumbled into.

All around him were statues, lines, and lines of them. If he had Goldie’s gift for numbers he would know the number, but it looked thousands. Some wood or rough stone others metal or polished marble but all depicting creatures and beings in various poses. All the gods he’d ever heard of and many more he hadn’t. They looked like statues he’d seen in any temple in the cities he’d visited but of characters he didn’t know, they all crowded each other but left a line for him to walk down.

He walked on looking at them as he passed. Most were ones that he’d never seen before, but others he had in his trips to Pelloss and different cities or remembered vaguely from the many people the general had taken in his lifetime. They were the gods of his time and times before his. The statues looked back at him with cold blank impassive faces.

He was surprised at the difference in them, not only the materials but the seeming lack of love. Some were stone with jeweled eyes that glittered in the light that seemly came from nowhere, fresh offerings of wine and flowers at their feet, clean and bright, they seemed to radiate with power, but others were neglected. Crumbling stones and rotting wood.

He looked at one that stood to the side of the pathway. It was carved of wood and looked very old, it wasn’t a man or woman, but a small deer-like creature. It stood on its hind legs and had a human looking face, an old man. In its hand it held a small harp, around its feet were weeds growing up from the cracked marble floor of the room. Seth looked at the harp and the statues face and body, what was it?

Seth cast his mind back and tried to think of what this creature was. Clearly some very old forgotten legend or god, one of a thousand statues in this room, but lost over the years. Seth looked at the wood that made it had been carved from running his hand over its rough surface. It was northern oak, so his people.

What stories had they of some music playing wood creature, music never played a big part in any Northern legends and certainly not a harp, they liked flutes and drums. Seth realized he had pulled out his dagger and was gently scraping away the moss that had grown on the wood of the statue. Next to the statue he noticed a small glass bottle of white spirits and a rag next to it he’d not seen at first.

“That’s good for wood, keeps it from rotting, strong.” Seth dipped the rag in the spirits and rubbed it over the statue, slowly letting it soak into the wood making it shine with a dark color from the wood beneath.

“Oh I’ve got it, you’re the one that sings to sleeping children and keeps them from crying, it’s so the wolves won’t come. I guess a deer-like fellow like you isn’t a big fan of wolves,” he said.

“Oh you’ve got a name, but you’re not a god, sorry friend you're just a helpful spirit, you’re a Drighan, that’s what you are.” As Seth said the word he’d half expected something to happen but it didn’t. The wood wooden carving was still and lifeless as before.

“No? Not a Drighan? Wait you’re really old, like Silver old, maybe I’m saying it wrong. He said the word in a much older northern which he remembered from a childhood tale. I think they say it Driaghhame.” As he said the word, he heard something. It was like a slight buzzing in his skull. It was like what he’d felt in the arena but much weaker, was it trying to commune with him?

Seth laughed. “You like that? Driaghhame, Driaghhame, Driaghhame!” he shouted. As he looked the wood of the statue slowly changed before him. Starting from the feet up Seth watched with wonder as the wood came back to life, the health and color of the carving changed, deepened until it looked like a freshly made work.

“Well friend I have to journey onwards, but good luck to you, if I get back I’ll tell my little brothers that you’re ok,” Seth said.

Seth gave the Driaghhame a little pat on the head and set off. What was this place? It seemed to hold statues of every god or creature that people had ever imagined. That one had responded to him words and his regard. How long had it been since people had spoken of it, now old a few old wise women in the north, once mothers probably said a prayer to it over crying babies. The Northern people believed in some many spirits and beings, always blaming them for every minor good or bad thing that happened like losing your boots or stubbing your toe.

Seth walked onwards. Around him, the statues were all mostly broken and crumbling. Unlike the Driaghhame, they were all stones. Men, women and creatures he knew nothing off, all crumbled and ruined. He walked over the fallen bits of them that lay in the aisle. He felt sorry for them in a way, once revered now forgotten, but he knew nothing of them, and couldn’t help.

As he walked Seth came to a row of tall solid statues on either side and laughed.

“Of course, you useless fucks are fine,” he said.

Around him were the Pellosi gods. Shining marble statues, offerings piled high at their polished marble feet, glittering jewels in their eyes. He’d always hated them. Gods of trade, order, boring. Be a good boy and follow the rules, each one had a list of rules to follow. Don’t kill people, even your enemies, don’t eat this sort of meat, don’t have sex unless you’re married. Seth yawned and walked on past them.

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

Goldie had ridden hard for miles and miles, then he’d let himself fall asleep in the saddle. His new and wonderful horse, Raven, had simply slowed and began to walk on steadily towards Goldie’s destination. These courier horses were a               breed apart it had run in the near dark of the moonlight for hours and never faltered. He woke to the feeling of a bright high sun warm on his face and to the sound of the rough loud laughter of men. Goldie was sagging in his saddle but righted himself before falling, grabbing the reins. Raven had stopped in front of a small roadblock. It was made of wooden stakes crossed against each other but stood open in the middle allowing people to pass single file only. Two armed men stood on either side laughing at him.

“Oh damn, that cost me a gold, thought you’d fall for sure,” one of the men said.

Goldie looked at them and knew he’d arrived. The two scruffy men leaned against the rough wooden spikes and looked like every piece of riffraff trouble makers he’d ever seen. Mismatched leather armor, nicked swords and one with a quiver and only three arrows, his bow hanging around his shoulder by the string, clearly they didn’t view him as a threat.

“You were betting on if a sleeping man would fall from his saddle?” Goldie asked with a laugh, he liked them already.

The other man smiled at him with broken teeth with one gold flashing back. He was a young desert man who looked like he’d been in more fights than he had had clean baths.

“We sure were and you just made me a silver piece. I knew you’d have good reflexes, now friend what’s your name and what’s your business, this is an invitation-only road,” he said.

He realized Raven had walked him all the way up to the gates. Behind the rough wooden structure was a town, a dirty shambling town with a lot of people drinking in the streets in the early morning but a town.

“I’ve come to gamble, to win and to warn you all that the king has hired the Red Bastards to come and wipe you out,” he said.

The two men started laughing.

“The gambling I can believe but the king? He’s a nothing, we bribe our tax man and he leaves us alone, why would the king have a problem with us? He’s glad we keep out of his cities,” the first man said.

“It’s about the lucky lady, he’s coming for her temple,” Goldie said.

“He can fucking have it,” said the desert man.

“Shut up you fucking heathen. I’m sick of your talk against her,” spat the first man to his friend. “Just ‘cause you always lose. You should know ugly people like you were born unlucky and just give up.”

Goldie knew he spoke true, ugly people were considered very unlucky, dwarfs especially, though he’d always liked them, good drinkers mostly.

“What’s all this? Tomorrow is the ladies day, is it about that?” the man said.

Goldie had never even heard of her having a day. “What’s the ladies day?” he said.

The man laughed. “Truly everyone has forgotten everything, still we remember, it’s the biggest day in this place, cards, dice, fights, games, drinking, at the end there is one man who wins and he wins big, all the entry fees of the others minus a percentage for the temple,” he said.

It sounded fantastic to Goldie, he could warn these folks after they had had their fun, besides he had a feeling she wanted him to win. Right now he was a nobody, this township held at least a few hundred people and who knew how many would be coming for this, if he won he’d be in a position of respect as it were and have the clout to warn them right, plus a bit of gold in the pocket always helped, he could always bribe the Reds to do the right thing.

“Fine, I’m here to enter,” Goldie said.

“Which challenge?” the desert man said.

“Fucking all of them,” said Goldie. He was sick of talking. He spurred Raven onwards and she walked slowly through the gap in the wooden fence. The two men just watched laughing as he went, probably trading bets as to if he would really enter them all. He doubted they would shoot him in the back, too lazy for that.

Goldie walked his horse towards the township and took in a deep breath. It smelled familiar and good. Stale bodies, wine, and horse shit in the streets and it was not even midday. He trotted Raven past the small stone archway, a lone guard stood at the top didn’t even stand up to watch him pass. This place looked like a former army keep, it had decent walls but had clearly been running as a den of sin for too long. The walls were half crumbling and the gate looked too rusty too shut properly.

Within the people all looked like him. Scum from all corners of the land. There wasn’t a consistent race or breed of people. He saw at least as many Pellosi as Northerners and many dark-skinned people as well. It was almost refreshing not to see any slaves. In Pelloss, there was almost one slave to every four people. You’d see them walking with either thick metal collars or fine silver ones depending on their station as slaves, yet they were all still someone else’s property. He was broken from his thought by a flash of color approaching him.

“Good sir, take your horse?” a young boy with a dirty face came running up to him, reaching out and taking Raven’s reins.

“You work for a tavern?” he said.

“Nah dad runs the fish stall but we rent out our beds for the festival, two silvers, gives you a roof, bed and all the fish you can eat,” he said.

“Great make it one and you’re on,” he said.

Goldie jumped down off his horse, with a splash of mud, his boots sunk into the heels and it hadn’t rained in days, he didn’t want to think about it. He still had a large purse of coins and his note of trade, though he didn’t know what it would buy here, he’d have to play it safe and not show his gold too much if these people were anything like what he thought they would have no problems in easing his heavy burden.

“Where’s your house?” he asked.

“In the main market. I’ll lead on,” the boy said gently guiding Raven though the muck.

Goldie looked at the lad. He’d not seen many Pellosi boys. He was lean and built like a lithe girl. Goldie at the same age had been a good head taller and probably weighed twice as much. Still he had deep brown eyes and thick brown hair that would serve him well with the ladies as he grew.

“The festival, tell me about it,” Goldie said, as he followed the boy. They walked through the muddy streets passing food vendors and half-dressed women who waved and called out from the front yards of small shacks and houses. There were people thick in the street and the boys just pushed roughly through them yelling curses as he went.

“Biggest day of the year, if you bet on the right man you’ll be set for the next year. I heard you say you’d go in all of them,” the boy said with a laugh.

“Why’s that funny?” Goldie said back.

“No doubt you’re good at something, most people who come here are but I doubt you’re the best at everything. Cards, dice, fist fighting, archery, drinking, arm wrestling and everything else, not only that it’s all on the same day. You going to win a drinking contest then a sword fight right after?” the boy said.

Goldie hadn’t thought about it much but something told him he needed to enter in them all if he was going to show this rabble that the Lady was still worthy of worship they’d have to see here drunken champion in action.

“What’s the prize,” he said.

“Gold, lots of gold, it cost two coins to enter and more than a hundred men will, so you get that, minus a cut for the priests, they take ten percent, so possibly more than 180 gold coins,” the boy said his eyes sparkling.

Goldie liked him too, he clearly had a gift for numbers and liked to hear his own voice.

“What else?” Goldie asked.

He knew there was something else, something more important than gold. He shook his head, since when did he think something was more important than gold? We’ll women, that wasn’t that new, he thought it was normal women he could bed.

“Oh you become the Lady’s consort for the year, you get a little ring and you’re the luckiest man in the realm for a year, but no one cares about that, you have to give the ring back at the end of the year. It’s just a tradition”

“I’ll be married to her?”

“No, consort, she just uses you like a mistress,” the boy laughed.

“My dad won one year, spent the night in the temple, said it was cold and pointless, still the gold set him up in business.”

They arrived at market. It was a collection of around ten badly built wooden stalls that baked in the sunshine. Almost all of them sold wine or cheap homemade booze of some kind in the familiar clay jugs he was so used to. The fish trader had the sense to cover his wares with a roof at least. They were all rows of very dried fish in heavy salt, he was wondering how the fuck they would keep it good.

The man behind the counter smiled at him. Typical Pellosi merchant, fat and happy, sweating in the sun. He wore clothes in a poor man’s imitation of those proper traders he’d seen in the big cities but much more faded, dirty and old. Probably been wearing them for years since they were new and his pride and joy. The boy walked to his father and whispered quickly in his ear.

“Taking the bed?” the man said with a smile.

“Yep, where is it?” Goldie asked.

“It’s just behind the stall we’ll pull a blanket out,” he said. “It would be better but by tomorrow this place will be bursting with a thousand people,” the man said back.

Goldie just tossed him the coin and walked towards the temple.