Even Gods Must Fall by Christian Warren Freed Page B

said and paused. Conflicting thoughts raged within his time-worn mind. “There are few certainties in life, even for one as old as the world itself. Your death is one of the very few promises you have to look forward to. Serve me well and I can change that. Fail me…and your suffering will become legendary.”
    Angered and slightly disturbed at the unveiled threat, the young princess meekly folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. She felt his pain radiating from the dark robes. The horror lurking in the shadows of his cowl. What god could require such servants? To utterly destroy the soul and recreate the essence of his being without regard for personal feeling or compassion? Maleela felt true fear for the first time in her life.
    Amar Kit’han approved of her reluctance to further reduce her station. Perhaps she was the one after all. “Very good. Your tongue will land you in more trouble than you are worth. Continue pushing the army. I want them emplaced around Arlevon Gale by tomorrow night. Our enemies are gathering and these Goblins are all that stands between them and the ruins. The ritual must not be interrupted, even at the cost of all fifty thousand Goblins.”
    “They will obey their orders or Thrask will flay them alive.” Maleela bowed her head meekly as the Dae’shan hovered closer. “The enemy will not penetrate our lines, but you owe me my revenge.”
    Amar laughed, a hissing sound reminding Maleela of a dying serpent. “You shall have your revenge. King Badron does not yet know it, but he marches to his impending demise.”
    “That’s all I care about.” Maleela scowled but held her tongue. She’d said her piece and was loath to push much further.
    The Dae’shan collected power around him and dissolved away, leaving Maleela reeling in shock and sudden sickness. She dropped to a knee and retched her breakfast. She failed to see General Thrask peering cautiously at her from behind the command tent.

NINE
    The Wolfsreik Returns
    Black smoke clouded the air over what remained of the enemy fortress. Vultures and crows flocked just out of arrow range, eager for the survivors to depart. Bodies littered the inner courtyard amidst a sea of broken spears and arrows. Soldiers searched the dead, ensuring there were no pretend victims capable of a surprise attack. The sickly sound of steel piercing flesh echoed occasionally throughout the fortress.
    Piper clipped his helmet to his belt, removed a soiled leather glove, and wiped the sweat and grime from his face. He’d survived more battles than a professional soldier in his position should have. This was but another in a long, unending war. It pained him to look down on so many countrymen. The defenders weren’t necessarily bad people. Just because they were forced to support Harnin One Eye on his foolish crusade didn’t turn them evil. They were kinsmen, brothers in what had once been the strongest kingdom of the north. Greed and apathy changed all of that.
    “Commander Joach, we have a few prisoners. The rest of the garrison is dead,” announced a grim-faced lieutenant. Blood ran from a small cut under his right eye.
    Piper winced. He guessed there were over three hundred defenders. Three out of three hundred. How many more need to shed their lives in this foolhardy crusade? Will the gods ever be satisfied with our sacrifices? “Bring the survivors to me. General Rolnir will want to glean as much intelligence from them as possible before sending them away.”
    “Yes, sir.” The lieutenant threw a crisp salute, impressive considering how long the army had been in the field, and spun off barking orders.
    Only three . Piper respected the defenders’ willingness to fight until the last but failed to understand their passion. Most soldiers would have surrendered the moment they realized they were impossibly outnumbered. They knew they were fighting countrymen. Didn’t they? What possible lies could Harnin have spun to drive them into such