Ascendants Of Ancients Sovereign Part 26

Lasidious put his hand on Amar's head. "Of all my subjects, your service I cherish the most. From this Peak forward, I extend my hand to you in friends.h.i.+p. You're a free man, with free will, and I respect you as the mage you've become. I couldn't be prouder of you."

The Mischievous One patted Amar on both shoulders. "Now ... the moments have come for you to acquire glory. Rise up, and make all men fear you." Lasidious smiled. "I'll watch from above as your biggest fan."

Amar was happy with the way his lord spoke. "Perhaps it would be best if I set out to find this George right now, My Lord."

Lasidious shook his head and then reminded the mage that George was not yet in town. The G.o.d suggested it would be wiser to gather the materials Amar would need to travel with his new ally. The Mischievous One watched as Amar ran from the store and into the night with his staff held high to light the way. He uttered only three, simple words before he left for his next destination, "What a cretin." With that, Lasidious vanished.

The Next Morning City of Bloodvain Map Depicting the City of Bloodvain Lasidious' patience was wearing thin as he waited in his pen for the Barbarian King of Bloodvain to arrive. The Mischievous One had taken the form of a thick-horned, black bull that was due to enter combat with Senchae Bloodvain for the king's daily training.

Lasidious thrashed around inside the corral, playing the part of the enraged animal as he tore the fencing apart. When the handlers approached, he sent them flying, but he was careful enough not to throw them hard enough that they would break anything.

Senchae Bloodvain King of the Barbarians The general of the barbarian army entered Bloodvain's arena. The holes in his sandals let in the sand that was covering the fighting surface as he approached his king. Taren Fergus was a large man, but he was still two hands shorter and not as muscular as Senchae. Nevertheless, like all barbarian warriors who lived to tell the tale after they entered the arena, Fergus' shoulders were broad, his arms were well-defined, and his victories over the 10 foes he had slaughtered had all been gruesome and b.l.o.o.d.y.

Fergus' skin was not as dark as his king's. He maintained short hair and a clean shaven face, but he still had rugged features that most barbarian women enjoyed. He had a presence about him that demanded respect, and the men of the army were quick to comply with his orders.

Taren surveyed the arena with his deep, brown eyes that were shadowed by heavy brows. The tops of the evergreen trees were poking above the wooden stands that surrounded the oval fighting surface. The trees had been groomed for a purpose. They encircled the arena and swayed in the breeze as they provided shade for more than 3,000 souls who attended the fights. The general took in a deep breath of his surroundings and then adjusted his gaze across the arena at an enclosure that had been built into the stands next to the fighting surface. One of the three pens inside the enclosure was holding an angry beast, but this corgan-bull was much larger than those the king normally trained with.

"It appears you're facing a spirited one on this Peak, My King," the general remarked. "I've never seen this bull before. Even from where I stand, I can see his stare begging for battle." Fergus reached out and patted Senchae on the back. "He's bigger than the others." The general smirked. "Your death will be glorious. I may even mourn."

Senchae chuckled. "Perhaps you should be the one facing him to demonstrate how one might attain victory."

Taren shook his head. "That would be unthinkable, My King. Stealing your enjoyment of the kill would be impolite of me. As the leader of your army, I should demonstrate manners, wouldn't you agree?"

Fergus looked toward the king's box at the officers of the army who had chosen to attend the king's training. The men often gathered to watch the kingdom's ultimate warrior during his Peakly workouts. "They are here for you, Sire ... not me." The general bowed his head. "Besides, I could only aspire to match your skill."

Senchae rolled his eyes. "Fergus, your lips are dry. You pay far too much attention to my a.s.s."

As the general laughed, the king directed his attention to the royal box and gave his officers a quick nod to acknowledge their presence. He then removed the pelt from his shoulders and pulled back his long, black hair into a ponytail.

Senchae was an enormous man at eight-foot four inches. He weighed nearly 550 pounds, and his muscles bulged. He was well known throughout his kingdom for his ability to fight for long periods without tiring.

Throughout the Kingdom of Bloodvain, it was customary for a barbarian to fight to the death, and today would be no exception. King or not, Senchae would fight wearing only furs to cover his manhood. If today was his Peak to die, then so be it. He would beat the first bull to death with his fists and then feed it to the leaders of his army.

The king studied the bull's physique. "He's a fine beast and worthy of dying by my hands." Senchae looked at the general. "I hear your son, Churnach, conquered yesterday. He makes my kingdom proud."

General Fergus responded. "It was his eighth victory since you surrendered the champion's hide. He fights to glorify all barbarians, Sire."

Senchae reached out and grabbed the back of Fergus' arm. "Tell your son that I see weakness in his training. He must shed blood often to maintain his dominance. Tell him that I'll instruct him if he so wishes."

"My King, that is a most generous offer. I don't know what to say."

"Perhaps you should say, 'I'll tell my son of your desire to see him succeed.' How does that sound?"

"I will say exactly that," Fergus responded. "Churnach speaks of training as vigorously as you, Sire. Yet his best efforts fall short. I believe many moments will pa.s.s before he's able to match your dominance."

"Let's hope this isn't true. I believe your son could be as fine a champion as I. For now, let's kill this beast so that we may feast."

"As always, I look forward to watching its blood stain the sand, Sire. We shall feast heartily tonight before we bed our women."

Senchae shook his head. "You bed the women, Fergus. I shall stay loyal to my queen. I don't wish to suffer her wrath because these eyes wandered. She can be forceful, for a woman. A man who respects his love is respected in return and lives a good life."

The men laughed at the fantasy of the queen's power over the king. But the general knew his king was loyal. Senchae's love for his queen was unconditional, and he would never gaze in the direction of another bosom. The king would forever hold true to his vows.

Now, fellow soul ... as loving as Senchae Bloodvain was to his queen, he was also the type of man who governed his army and High Council with a strong hand, but he did it with respect.

Unlike his grandfather, Bude Bloodvain, and most of the kings before him, Senchae achieved this respect inside the arenas of the Barbarian Kingdom over the last 15 seasons prior to a.s.suming the throne. Every fight had been to the death, and the vanity of the barbarian people kept the challengers coming. With more than 80 kills to his name, Senchae remained, even though he did not compete in the arenas any longer, the most feared champion to have ever lived.

Senchae was the strongest and fastest barbarian the kingdom had ever seen. Since he was crowned, Senchae ruled while he still trained harder than any other.

Unlike the kings before him, Senchae believed that the respect of his army should be earned and not commanded. The king's reputation was so beloved that his kingdom was loyal. He was proud, a great husband, an even better father, and like all barbarians, he believed killing was sport.

The leaders of his army and the High Council were allowed strong opinions. Senchae always chose to listen before he made a decision, but the men knew that once his decision was made, it was final.

"General, let dinner out of its pen. I shall sport with our meal before I beat the life from it."

"Yes, Sire." The general looked across the arena and shouted, "Release the beast!"

Lasidious exited the pen where he had been waiting patiently, or at least as patiently as an angered bull would wait.

"The beast seeks to dominate you, Sire," the general shouted as he moved to sit in the king's box. "Best watch your backside, his horns look to be a perfect fit."

"Ha! You continue to desire to trade places, Fergus? I'm sure such intercourse with the beast's horns would pleasure you far more than I. The way you look upon this animal feels amorous. I dare say you're in love."

The other members of the army laughed.

The general accepted the cut and forced the dark skin around his eyes to remain relaxed. "Witty, My King. I must remember with whom I jest."

"Indeed, Fergus. My respect for you as the leader of the army stops at beastly pleasure. Perhaps you should focus on other matters."

Fergus crossed his arms, clearly annoyed. "Perhaps."

Senchae's smile widened as Lasidious charged. Bloodvain grabbed a horn in each hand, then used the beast's momentum to throw the bull-G.o.d to the ground.

As the Mischievous One landed on his side, a crus.h.i.+ng punch pounded the side of his neck. Keeping in character, the bullish deceiver bellowed as he jumped to his feet. He dug his hooves into the sand, snorted, shook his head for effect and then charged again. He would allow the king to throw him once more.

The general and his men cheered for their king as the bull slid to a stop and absorbed yet another punch to his neck.

Lasidious knew the next part of his plan would not face interference. Again, Lasidious rose from the ground, shook the sand from his flanks and then charged. He allowed Bloodvain to grab his horns, but during this series of moments, he held firm as the big man tried to twist for the throw.

When the king could not complete the maneuver, Senchae was caught off balance. The bull-G.o.d drove the king into the ground and then rose up to drive his head into the king's groin, careful not to do any long-term damage, but he was forceful enough to draw blood.

Seeing their king was in trouble, the general ordered his men to stay put. He quickly reminded them that it would be an insult to a.s.sist their king. The men lowered back to their seats and obeyed without question.

The G.o.d threw his weight onto Senchae, putting as substantial amount of his 3,100 pound frame on top of the barbarian to keep him pinned and then watched the ma.s.sive man struggle.

Senchae punched the bull as hard as he could to make it move, but his blows were ineffective. He could not find the leverage to injure the opposition.

Lasidious just sat still. He was careful not to put too much weight on the king. He waited for Senchae to tire, but the king never did.

Eventually, Senchae realized the bull was not fighting back. He relaxed and waited for the beast to get off, but that was not about to happen. Instead, the king was caught off guard when the bull spoke.

"King of Bloodvain," Lasidious whispered.

Senchae shook his head, closed his eyes and then opened them.

The bull continued. "I bring news of your demise. There is weakness beneath your crown. You are unworthy of ruling your nation of barbarians. In the Kingdom of Brandor a man is seeking power. This man will kill your champion, and then he will kill you."

"How do you speak, beast?" the king queried.

Lasidious snorted, "Bind your tongue, barbarian!"

Senchae's eyes widened with disbelief as the bull continued. "Killing you isn't my intent. You shall listen, or this encounter will end with your last breath. Do you understand?"

Senchae's pride took over. "Who are you to speak to a king in this manner? Get off me!"

Lasidious lowered the point of one of his horns against Senchae's throat. He pressed and allowed the barbarian to fight against the pressure.

Struggle as he may, Senchae could not better his position. Defeated, the king stopped contesting. "I shall listen."

Lasidious enjoyed the despair in Senchae's voice. "In the Kingdom of Brandor, a man is seeking power. He will visit your city. This human is to be feared. He's coming for you. The reputation of your kingdom will be damaged if your champion falls to him in battle. I know you have your laws, but you must handle this yourself."

Again, Senchae's pride swelled. "How do I know you speak the truth?"

Lasidious pressed his horn deeper against the king's throat and waited for a response, one that came without hesitation.

"Stop! I'm listening," Senchae gasped.

Lasidious released the pressure against the king's throat. "You'll know this man when you see him. He travels with the undead cat, Kepler. You're familiar with this demon. He's the beast your grandfather hired into his service to retrieve the unicorn horn. The cat now serves this human. This swine of a man can fight like no other. His looks are deceiving. He could destroy you."

Lasidious snorted again, ensuring the snot from his nostrils landed on Senchae's face. After allowing the king to wipe it away, he continued. "I've come a long way to deliver this message." He looked down at the king's groin. "I'm sure your unicorn horn will dull the pain I've left behind."

Senchae watched as the bull-G.o.d rose and walked away. The beast exited the fighting surface, pa.s.sed through the holding pen and then followed the tunnel down into the stables beneath the arena floor.

Senchae stood and followed, but when he got to the stables, the bull was nowhere to be seen. The king was left standing alone, angry and confused.

Two and a Half Peaks Later The Town of Lethwitch When George and Kepler arrived just before the Peak of Bailem, the people of Lethwitch were stirring. Kepler had to stay outside of town because of the reaction his presence would create. It was hard for the demon to move unnoticed during the height of the Peak. There were not enough shadows to prowl within.

The excitement in the air was evident as George followed the crowd to the outskirts of town, east of the Cripple River. Cheering erupted from inside an arena. George wanted to go inside, but lacked the coin to get in. He was forced to live vicariously through those who went in and out. After speaking with some of the people, he realized the fights were like the gladiatorial combats that had been held in ancient Rome.

Now, fellow soul ... for those of you who are not familiar with ancient Rome, it was a civilization that lived on the destroyed world called Earth. Unlike that civilization, for the most part, the gladiators of Southern Grayham were free men. These combatants were glory seekers, and for as long as anyone could remember, the games had always been a part of Southern Grayham's culture. However, there was an arena in the town of Empire where criminals were forced to fight.

George needed to find more of this world's coin if he was to gain entrance to the fights. The compet.i.tion was supposed to last 2 Peaks, so the arena was the perfect place to pa.s.s his moments while he waited for Kepler's skeleton warriors to arrive at the Cave of Sorrow.

With malice in his heart, George headed back into town to a familiar spot, and it was not long before he was standing outside The Old Mercantile. Since it was the middle of the Peak, he would need to employ a different approach. He walked into the store to take a look around. To his delight, the store was nearly empty. Everyone must be at the fights, he thought.

There were only two people in the store: an elderly gentleman behind the same counter he had robbed and an older woman. By the way she stocked the shelves, her attention to detail suggested she had worked there a while. George would have wagered that she was the man's wife and also one of the mercantile proprietors.

The old man came out from behind the counter. "h.e.l.lo. How may I be of service?"

The woman heard the greeting, stopped what she was doing and moved to stand next to her husband. "h.e.l.lo, young man. It's a beautiful Peak. Are you enjoying yourself?"

Well aren't these two clowns sticky sweet, George thought before he responded. "You're right. It is a lovely Peak. I have been thoroughly enjoying myself. And how are you?"

The old man reached into his pocket, removed a coin and then flipped it across the tops of his fingers while he responded. "We're trying to clean up so we can get to the arena. Shouldn't you be at the fights, young man?"

"Oh, probably. I've just been busy, I suppose. I'm looking for some gloves, and I thought a place like this would have a pair. Do you think you could help me out?"

"Sure we can," the gentleman replied as he looked at his wife. "Jannica, why don't you continue what you were doing while I help this young man." He redirected his gaze back to George. "My name is Carldon. We have a variety of gloves. Come with me." As he finished his statement, Carldon dropped his coin.

Jannica shook her head as she watched the Helmep roll across the floor and then excused herself to return to her duties.

Once Carldon retrieved the coin, he led George to the gloves. They were on display near the boots that were sitting on a shelf near the center of the room.

George surveyed the rest of the store as they walked toward the shelf. No one else had entered the establishment behind him, which was great, and better still, Jannica was adjusting the boots that were across from the gloves. George took a deep breath, Could I be any luckier? Someone is smiling down on me. He thought and then paused for just a moment to rethink. Well, smiling up at me anyhow.

Amused, George reached out and touched Carldon on the back of his neck, but the transformation was not instantaneous. However, he was lucky. He had picked a spot near the base of Carldon's skull, and that was the only reason the old man was unable to react. Every joint in Carldon's body relaxed, and it was clear to George that the old man was going to collapse.

George quickly stepped across the aisle toward Jannica. He needed to take her out before she heard her husband's body hit the floor. With her back to him, George reached around and placed his right hand over the old woman's mouth, turning her lips and the tip of her tongue to stone. During the same moments, he tried to use his left hand to touch the spot on the back of Jannica's neck that he had on her husband's, but it did not work. The old woman flinched as soon as his right hand touched her mouth.

George had to think fast. He grabbed Jannica, wrapped his arms around her to subdue her and then pulled her backward. With the old woman off balance, George adjusted his grip, but he kept his right arm around her neck to maintain control. With her back against his chest, he used his free hand to touch her again and again wherever he could to try to stop the confrontation, but the grayness was not spreading as fast as he wanted it to.

Despite her pain, Jannica thrashed wildly. She kicked George in the s.h.i.+ns with the heels of her shoes and also knocked more than one pair of boots off the shelves. Her right fist smashed into George's groin and then clubbed the murderer upside his head. But no matter how much heart Jannica displayed to rid herself of her attacker, the transformation eventually ended the confrontation. The stone spread to the upper portion of her spine and everything else that had not yet turned fell limp.

Disappointed by how cla.s.sless Carldon and Jannica's deaths were, George whispered in Jannica's transforming ear as he lowered her to the floor, "I'm sorry, but I need the cash. I would've killed you quicker if I knew how."

George looked across the aisle at the old woman's husband. Carldon's transformation was nearly complete, and all that remained to turn was everything below his knees. Yet, somehow, Carldon's stone eyes were still speaking volumes. They shouted his despair and expressed his disgust. The look on Carldon's face was so convicting that George was forced to look away. "Stop judging me!" George demanded. "You don't know me. Nor do you know what I've been through."

The murderer was compelled to fight against Carldon's silent d.a.m.nation. George stepped forward and kicked the old man in the head. It separated from the rest of the statue and tumbled across the floor. The sound the stone made as it bounced against the wooden planks was loud enough to send George running to the front of the store. He stuck his head out the window and looked up and then down the cobblestone street.

A sigh of relief followed. The street was quiet, and the wooden shutters of the other businesses were shut and locked. Other than a goat that was munching on hay and chained to a nearby wagon, no one had heard a thing. "Right the h.e.l.l on," George uttered, "I'm a lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

George did not hesitate. He reached up and brought down the shutter that was above the front window. He locked it and then pulled the front doors closed after he made a sign to hang outside. The sign read: Closed for the Fights Will reopen in 3 Peaks With the sign in place, George headed for the money drawer. Sure enough, the couple was just as trusting as before. An amount equal to 14 Owain was collected and shoved inside a pair of socks that he grabbed off a nearby shelf.

Before George stepped out the back door to bolt it shut, he looked across the room at his victims. He shook his head and whispered, "I'm sorry. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong series of moments. You didn't deserve to die."

George was about to shut the back door when he realized what he had forgotten. "Holy c.r.a.p ... the d.a.m.n gloves," he mumbled. "Way to go, dumba.s.s." He reentered the store and grabbed a pair.

After the back door was locked, he moved through the alleyway that was behind the businesses. Once he felt like he had put enough distance between himself and the Mercantile, he leaned against the back wall of an old shed.

What the h.e.l.l's wrong with you, George? he thought as he chastised himself. That was murder. You're not on a good path, you idiot. Abbie would not approve. A moment later, he justified, I just won't make it a habit.

Shaking off the thought of his daughter's disapproval, a new thought entered his mind. I wonder what Athena's up to. I should buy her a gift.

After a bit of searching, he found some flowers and headed for the inn where Athena worked. His moment of arrival was terrible. She was not there, but the lady behind the counter recognized him. "h.e.l.lo, George. If you're looking for Athena, she won't be back until tomorrow evening."

Susanne's brown eyes fell onto the flowers. "Those are beautiful. Are they for my sister?"

George smiled as he thought, Finally ... something around here that's the same as home. Flowers mean something here. "Yes, they're for your sister. I'll attach a note since she's not here."