The peaceful village of Tleth is set upon by evil, demonic creatures, and no one knows why. Almost the entire town is massacred, but one man survives. Young Layth watches his father die. He watches the evil creatures destroy his home and try to destroy him, too. Near death, he flees, with no idea that the band of demonic brothers was actually sent to find him ... In his severely injured condition, Layth is visited by the gods, who bestow upon him a divine power. His new abilities make him the perfect weapon-for good or evil. It's up to Layth to decide on which side he will fight. When he is apprehended by the very men who ruined his village, their abuses twist his mind. Darkness is awakened inside the young man, and his sense of moral right is irrevocably disturbed. Layth escapes, but he will never be the same. Now, a war rages in the world of Lionet. Layth holds the key to the survival of all that is good and right, but will his own darkness threaten to block out the light? With the help of a few peaceable allies, Layth will struggle to use his powers for good. He alone can conquer the demons ... but can he conquer his own immoral impulses?
When Gods Go to War
By Brian RompreiUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2011 Brian Rompre
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4620-1815-4 Contents
Prologue.......................viiChapter 1......................1Chapter 2......................11Chapter 3......................19Chapter 4......................25Chapter 5......................33Chapter 6......................39Chapter 7......................47Chapter 8......................51Chapter 9......................56Chapter 10.....................63Chapter 11.....................74Chapter 12.....................82Chapter 13.....................89Chapter 14.....................95Chapter 15.....................101Chapter 16.....................106Chapter 17.....................112Chapter 18.....................116Chapter 19.....................119Chapter 20.....................123Chapter 21.....................128Chapter 22.....................132Chapter 23.....................138Chapter 24.....................145Chapter 25.....................157Chapter 26.....................167Chapter 27.....................173Chapter 28.....................181Chapter 29.....................185Chapter 30.....................194Chapter 31.....................204Chapter 32.....................215Chapter 33.....................229Chapter 34.....................240Chapter 35.....................253Chapter 36.....................266Chapter 37.....................275Chapter 38.....................284Chapter 39.....................292Chapter 40.....................301Chapter 41.....................309Chapter 42.....................318Chapter 43.....................328Chapter 44.....................337Chapter 45.....................342Chapter 46.....................351Chapter 47.....................355Chapter 48.....................363Chapter 49.....................371Chapter 50.....................377Chapter 51.....................384Chapter 52.....................391Chapter 53.....................398Chapter 54.....................402Chapter 55.....................409
Chapter One
Raustag walked along the dimly lit hallway. A small breeze had invaded the castle, flowing around him; causing his blue cape to flap and making his long red hair tickle his ears.
A messenger had arrived in the barracks earlier and had sought him out as he was putting some of the initiates through their paces. He had been informed that Lord Silkon demanded his presence with the greatest of haste.
After delegating the training regimen to one of the Brothers, Raustag had donned his mighty silver armor, and the beast of a man had taken the short walk down the wide avenues of Siranet, arriving at the order's fortress in a short amount of time.
Even though he was a seasoned warrior in the best physical shape, he had broken a sweat by the time he reached the floor where Silkon had elected to have his offices. Raustag could not fathom why Silkon believed his high offices demonstrated his superiority rather than be a leader amongst his own men.
His armored boots echoed down the hallway, reverberating clearly off the massive stones from which the building had been constructed. soon enough, he spotted the large doors illuminated by the flickering torches; he had arrived at the border of Lord Silkon's domain. He lifted a hand and pounded on the door.
"Enter"
When Lord Silkon spoke, his voice was deeper than someone would have expected of a sickly thin man. Yet one could sense the venom of contempt for the world that he held towards everyone. some of the men whispered questions behind his back: they wondered how or why he would have even been allowed to become a Protector.
The large double doors opened and the armored mountain of a man walked through. the few candles that barely illuminated the room caught on the perfectly polished surface of his massive armor causing Lord Silkon's beady eyes to squint as he hid his face under a large hood.
"Lord Silkon, I am here as you have requested."
Lord Silkon's smile was hidden in the shadows of his garb. Silkon enjoyed his position over the man that had plagued him and his reputation in the order. now that he had maneuvered successfully higher in the ranks of the order, Raustag's banter would never again be able to damage his plans.
"I have had a vision, Raustag, and the Prime Protector has agreed to their validity."
Raustag stroked his red beard as he was lost in thought and looked upon his superior with a questioning look.
"I thought the Prime Protector gave little weight to visions as they are easy to manufacture?"
Silkon coughed and a bony finger extended from the hidden folds of his robes, to be pointed at the man who stood defiantly in front of him. "Do you dare doubt my words and name them as though they spell a lie?"
Raustag bowed his head, yet his blue eyes refused to show apologies.
"My mistake, Lord Silkon, if my words have brought up thoughts of such an offense. I only remember the only time the Prime Protector has trusted in a vision that had brought the whole Kingdom on the brink of war. ever since, he had decreed that no weight should ever be hoisted upon visions, only proven facts." Raustag straightened up once again before continuing. "Of course, coming from one of his trusted advisors, he may have reconsidered."
The person of smaller stature in sitting in the large chair in front of Raustag bowed his hooded head.
"And that he has. the vision is a warning from the gods, and the reason for your summons, as so ordered by the Prime Protector."
"And what task shall I undertake?"
"An evil has arisen in the West. It has not been divined what exactly this evil is, nor if it is one entity, but it has been showed to me as all-consuming, something that will threaten not only the safety of the Kingdom of Lionet, but of every other Kingdom and empire."
Silkon produced a scroll and threw it onto his desk.
"The written orders from the Prime Protector. You are to dispatch one of your best men from Camplet, with a detachment of the regional guard, and search out the western reaches of the Kingdom for this evil."
Raustag placed a gauntleted hand upon the pommel of the large mace that hung from his hip. the weapon seemed to glow with a soft blue light as tiny electrical discharges played along its surface.
"Is that all sir?"
The hood shook. Slowly, the small frame of Lord Silkon arose from the large chair he had been sitting upon. the heavy robes swished against the ground as the man moved from behind the large desk that could have served as a defensive position. He walked to the wall of his chamber, running a hand against an old tattered battle standard that hung from the ceiling.
Raustag waited patiently as he looked at his superior. As the hooded figure stroked the standard, Raustag had to force himself not to wretch in disgust at the display; Silkon had never once tasted the gamble of battle. Instead, as brothers died for justice and honor, Silkon had always positioned himself out of harm's reach, near the rear or in areas so heavily laden with defenses that the enemy had spared them no thought in their assaults.
The hood turned to face Raustag.
"There is another task the Prime wishes completed; a task he deems as important as vanquishing evil in all of its forms. I have been shown that a being exists in the western regions, a force that has not reached its potential yet, but one that could be molded by the forces of evil into a great weapon that would secure their victory." Silkon walked past the statuesque Protector, falling into shadows behind him.
"Then we should secure him to be turned into a warrior of light and justice" Raustag stated.
The shuffling of feet stopped.
"Mayhap, but for now, you shall have your man find this person, and bring him before me. His fate shall then be decided."
Raustag didn't like that the snake stood behind him within the shadows. Even though Silkon lacked in stature, he did not lack in skills. Maneuvering, plotting, and strategizing: Silkon grasped those as if his mind were a trap clasped around an animal's foot, yet the diminutive man did have certain other more lethal skills, especially when striking from the shadows.
"Lord Silkon, is there-"
"Address me by my rank, Commander."
"As you wish, Thricius Silkon." Raustag almost spit out the word and Silkon's hidden smile at the man's displeasure was well hidden in the shadows.
Raustag couldn't believe the gods would have granted this man this high of a position within the order of their most powerful holy warriors. That this conniving snake had skipped being a Commander to rise to the rank of a Thricius, one step away from Secundus and then Prime, was indeed unbelievable. The steps to the rise in the order were established for a reason; one was never supposed to reach the higher echelons of the order unless they were able to prove themselves a worthy and honorable combatant on the field of battle; and able to prove themselves of clear thought while leading their men into battle. Silkon had never proven himself in such a way.
"Now resume the question you had started to ask."
Silkon's robed shape resumed its shuffling, walking around Raustag not unlike a shark.
"Thricius, is there any inkling as to where we should search out this being or what we should be searching for?"
"Yes," Silkon's beady eyes stared directly into Raustag's as he lifted his head towards the taller man, "tell him to start his search in the Village of Tleth. The gods have shown me a conundrum; a man that has arrived in his parent's lives in a most unnatural way. And he should have white hair, but I feel that this trait is of lesser importance than the first."
Raustag nodded, somewhat perplexed, and started to walk out of the chamber. Silkon watched the titanic figure depart, smiling once again. Little did the brainless brute know that he was now going to aid Silkon in his rise, a rise that would see the Order of Protectors undone, and give Silkon a weapon to use in forging a new Order, and order capable of dominating the weak souls the King of this land was so intent on protecting. His new Order would be a power to behold; one not even this evil sentience in the West would be able to match!
The scythe swung, slicing the stalks of wheat as the sharpened blade met vegetation. Layth hefted the tool once again and brought it down on another patch of wheat. Sweat covered his brow and his disheveled shoulder length blond hair was wet with sweat.
He stopped for a moment and leaned on the scythe as he took a breath. He used the front of his shirt to wipe away the annoying beads of perspiration that were clinging to his forehead.
"Layth, get back to work and do it with more gusto than the limp effort you have been giving this afternoon."
Standing at the edge of the field, near their home, he could see his father staring at him with his fists on his hips. Layth cast his piercing blue eyes upon Astlo, who returned the stare in kind with a tinge of anger, causing Layth to wince; his father was no man to trifle with. Even though he was physically larger than Astlo, Layth was still easily intimidated by his father.
Astlo had a tendency to cast a large shadow even if he did not number amongst the tallest men. He was stocky, his muscles were well defined, and the many calluses on his hands spoke of the physical labor he was used to enduring. His bald head and hard stare seemed to be the perfect fit for the brutal honesty and the high morals the man had chosen to live his life by.
Layth had spent many days cursing his father's demands, as he toiled away in the wheat fields, or while working in the smithy during the colder days after harvest. His father would never let him get away with the barest of efforts; he had always demanded and expected the best from him. And that is how Layth had grown up, raised to be a man who always did his best, and in most times, exceeding the expected, spurred on by the values his father had instilled in him.
"Father, could you just give me a little bit of room this afternoon?" Layth asked, hoping his father would leave him be for a short while so that he could gather his thoughts.
"You can do so after dinner. We have work to do, quotas to meet."
Layth shook his head and resumed the work he had been doing. He noticed his mother had joined his father, and they embraced on the edge of the field. His mother giggled like a young girl, her long golden curls bouncing as she laughed. She pushed herself against Astlo as though she felt a need to be near him, as though she needed her husband to exist.
The love his parents had was one of a kind, one that he had never seen replicated. Sure, many of the couples in the village or the neighboring areas displayed their affections for one another, but none had the fire for each other, the fire that burned brightly in his parent's eyes.
He took a moment to look at his parents, at his burly father touching his mother with the gentlest of touches, how she then in turn embraced him with firmness and vigor, and how their gazes never shifted from each other; their eyes drinking from the never ending well of passion they had for one another.
Thinking about love and affections only served to deepen his previously darkened mood. As his mother extricated herself from Astlo and meandered back into their log home, Layth could only think of how inept and clumsy he was when it came to the matters of the heart and his frustrations at dealing with them.
Anlia had been his best friend ever since his father had first taken Layth into Tleth one snowy morning. As they had arrived at the smithy his father operated, Anlia had run out of a group of playing children and had stepped right up to Layth. She had quickly stuck out her hand and introduced herself. She then had demanded to know who he was since she had not met him yet. Layth had been a shy child, and still was mostly as a man, but had been smitten with Anlia's bold actions.
Ever since that moment, the two had been the best of friends. They could be seen everywhere together as youngsters; running through the streets playing games or exploring imaginary lost ruins as they explored the dark areas under some elevated homes.
As they got older, the games were replaced by afternoon excursions into the forests, diners at the Inn, fireside story telling, even joining Layth's family by their outdoor fireside as they drank Shania's special brew.
Anlia and Layth were indeed close, and could read each other very well, but Layth was unable to broach the subject that both desired: advancing their relationship into the domain of love. Anlia certainly displayed her love for Layth and made it quite evident, but she would remain a lady, and wait until Layth found the confidence to make his advance, although her father was getting inpatient with her stubbornness; many of the young men in the village and of those surrounding Tleth had expressed desires for her. she had politely refused all romantic advances.
Anlia's father had more than once had a heated confrontation with his daughter about finding a proper man of education and higher station for her, but she was her father's daughter, and defended her heart's desires with the same pertinacious character that burned within him.
Layth knew all of that. He knew she loved him, or he thought he did. so many times, he clearly saw the signs as she displayed them for him, but the more he thought about it, the more reasons he could conjure to belittle what affections she showed for him. Self-confidence was a very big hurdle for him to jump, and so his soul was kept from soaring.
And on this day, Layth had decided to go to the village while they had stopped for the mid day meal, and tell Anlia how he felt about her. He had stayed up late all night thinking of what to tell her and had found the perfect way of doing so. But when he had arrived in the village, he had found her with other friends purchasing vegetables from one of the vendor stalls. Layth spent a moment observing her as he leaned against a post. She had been wearing a simple light brown gown that seemed to complement her long loose brown hair and her big brown eyes. The gown hugged every inch of her petite frame gracefully, displaying her perfect curves. Her red cheeks added to her beauty on this beautiful day, a day made even more beautiful by her wide smile and joyful candor as she discussed matters with her friends and the vendors. She seemed as though she had no care for the evils of the world, and Layth could had stared at her for an eternity. His heart swelled and he felt ready to confess his love to her.
But he had lost his courage when she had spotted him and pointed in his direction causing her friends to turn and wave; he feared she would have rejected him in front of all of her friends.
He had downplayed his reason for being in the village to an errand demanded from his father, and had left Tleth, greatly upset at his failure.
As he swung the scythe, he beat at the wheat with all of his might, taking out his anger upon the vegetation. His muscles tensed and burned, yet he continued, and it felt good. His mind cleared itself while he worked the fields, and soon his boiling anger died down to a simmer and quickly cooled to refreshed thoughts.
He loved Anlia, and she loved him. she had but eyes for him, and he would, in due time, profess his love for her. He would. He made up his mind that he would tell her ... Maybe.
As the sun fell beneath the horizon, Layth and Astlo found themselves deep in conversation as they sat next to their fire pit behind their home. The subject of their evening conversation found itself to be Layth, or his thoughts about getting a home of his own and a method for making his own way in life.
Astlo was greatly pleased that his son had displayed great intelligence while conversing and knew exactly what it is he wanted: the same thing Astlo had at the moment. He couldn't help but smile as Layth had professed his admiration for him and desire to get the opportunity to be as good a man as his father was.
The conversation was interrupted as Shania came waltzing up to her husband and nestled herself in his arms. Astlo offered her a sip from his mug and Shania accepted it gladly.
"I think I may miss these quiet evenings more so than ever, this year ..." Astlo stated in a soft, pensive voice.
"Starting to feel your bones getting older, my love?" she teased as she kissed his shoulder tenderly.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from When Gods Go to Warby Brian Rompre Copyright © 2011 by Brian Rompre. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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