Birth of a Mortal God (18 page)

“Can’t sleep, Your
Highness?”

Asteroth turned to the doorway as the grey-skinned ambassador stepped onto the balcony. “Joneras, how many times have I told you to call me, Asteroth?”

The little man smiled, making his youthful face look childlike. “Your Highness, you are a king and command one of the largest armies in the known world, an army of beastmen no less. Whose . . . ferociousness is widely feared by all. Any sane man would accord you the respect you deserve.”

“And yet you speak of an impending human invasion by these men of the Kingdom of Zinox?” retorted he, having learned humans also had their separate tribes.

“Unfortunately, King Lindred ri Nok’s sanity is somewhat questionable,” said Joneras as he moved to stand next to one of the few creatures whose power dwarfed his own.

Asteroth looked out over his city. It was close to midnight, and few torches burned in the streets, their red light gleaming off every curve of the black structures. Each was sturdy and massive and most were two stories. He had often wondered what had caused the U’norgarr to turn out so differently, and if they were even still yog’murgarr at all.

But as he stared at the hexagonal buildings that made up the Black City, he knew the answer. Why else would they build their homes in the same manner all yog’murgarr fashioned their tents? Their nature was still there, just suppressed.

The city’s design told an interesting tale, as every home was constructed closer together than those that came before. Was this why Tribe U’nor numbered a measly twelve thousand, out of the hundred and sixty thousand yog’murgarr alive at this very moment? Out of the sum of their race, Tribe U’nor did not even make up a tenth of it, despite being one of the ten tribes remaining.

However, the thousands of campfires beyond the wall reminded him of greater concerns. Those men, women, and children needed homes of their own, and he would see that they got them. But even that would have to wait, now that this King Lindred has decided to march on them for reasons known only to him and the Book Beast.

“Your Highness?”

Snapped out of his reverie, he turned to the tiny man. “You said it will take the Kingdom of Zinox two months to marshal all their forces, correct?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Give or take a few days, after which they’ll march on you. Depending on from where they march, it could take anywhere from a week to a month, if they march from Willow Way.”

“If this invasion truly occurs, you can tell your emperor that our nations are well on their way to becoming friends.”

Joneras bowed. “I am sure his Eminence will be most pleased to hear that, Your Highness. Now I must ask your leave to depart your fair city. As pleasant as my stay has been, I fear I have neglected my other duties.”

Asteroth told the yog’mur that had been detailed to watch the ambassador to escort him to their borders. “He will see you safely to the mouth of the Viper Valley. These past two weeks have been very informative. Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me and for warning us of the invasion.”

“I wish Your Highness an effortless victory over the Fat King and his rabble. May our nations grow only closer with the passing of time,” said the ewien with one last courtly bow before leaving.

He had barely left when F’lar and Elizabeth arrived. They were both so excited, they almost tripped over each other.

Asteroth let out an amused chuckle. “I take it you discovered something? You two have lately been like a bear with honey, never too far apart.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks turned slightly pink, but his father just dismissed the comment as he said, “Two weeks ago, E’lir discovered a hidden tome on the second level of this house. My son, I believe it may hold the history of our race.”

Asteroth recalled the indent that he had sworn was not there before, but had just assumed it was his mind playing tricks on him. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

F’lar put his hand on the flustered woman’s shoulder. “It is written in Yog’mur, but a far more complex form. I decided it best that we try and decipher it before we bothered you with it. It could just as easily have been ancient cooking recipes.”

“And you’ve now deciphered it?” he asked dubious.

“Not all of it, but enough that F’lar thought we should tell you what we know,” said Elizabeth.

He leaned against the gold- and silver-trimmed railing. “Well then, what do we know?”

“We can’t seem to determine when the book was written, but we do know this was long before the Time of Proving. The tome never mentions the tribes, always referring to us as only yog’murgarr. It may even be that there was no segregation among the yog’murgarr back then,” said F’lar.

His father saw this caught his attention and continued, “The tome speaks of a time of prosperity where the yog’murgarr lived alongside the dor’gungarr in peace.”

“The dor’gungarr!” exclaimed Asteroth in almost childlike wonder. “Does it say what happened to them?”

F’lar held up his hand. “It does not, at least not in the section that we’ve deciphered. It does go on to say that this time of prosperity was ended by a creature referred to only as the Bearer of the Black Scale; a monster who could control the dead.”

His father smiled at his rapt attention and fondly recalled the times he and the other shang’gomagarr had told the children stories of the dor’gungarr. “It states that this creature attacked our ancestors without cause and that, although they fought valiantly alongside the dor’gungarr, they were eventually overwhelmed, as every warrior who fell made its army stronger. It gave our ancestors a choice: they could either serve or be killed down to the last woman and child. They chose to serve.”

Asteroth looked confused. “Serve? I don’t understand.”

F’lar motioned to Elizabeth since she had to explain the concept to him as well. “It is called slavery in the Kingdom. It is when a person is seen as property, an object that is owned by another. Slaves do whatever they are told or they are tortured, sometimes even killed. To kill a slave is seen the same as breaking a pot or plate.”

Asteroth’s eyes widened with rage. “What?! How can this be allowed?!”

She retreated at the outburst, and F’lar intercepted his son as he advanced. “It is an abnormal custom granted, but—”

“It is no custom! It is wrong, Father! And to think our ancestors were treated so . . . so . . . For the first time since hearing of the human invasion, I am glad that they are coming. I will butcher their army, and when I’m done, I’ll march on their cities. They are . . . Those people are evil, and I’ll exterminate them like the vermin they are,” he said, his black eyes mad with fury.

“Still your anger!” hissed his father as guards came rushing onto the balcony, axes drawn.

It was only when he tried that he realised he couldn’t calm down. Every muscle in his body craved the blood of his enemies as some twitched and others contracted. “Father, I can’t,” he said, his lips drawn back, exposing his wide array of fanglike teeth.

One of the guards, a man from Tribe Ur’ak, touched his shoulder out of concern when he lashed out. Asteroth barely managed to close his fist in time, letting his talons dig into his hand instead of the man’s chest. Bones cracked beneath his fist, and the guard crashed hard into the opposite wall, injured but alive.

Elizabeth finished casting her spell before anyone could really react to what was happening. There were no visible effects, but she knew it had worked as Asteroth slowly started to settle down.

He shook his head. “What just—”

She stepped out from behind F’lar. “It was one of the first spells I composed as a child. My father has always been quick to anger and would then often do things he later regretted. The spell clears the mind of emotion for a brief moment. Not powerful enough to change thought or intent, but quite useful to stop panic or . . . rage.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what happened. It was like I lost control of myself.” He knelt by the injured man. “I’m sorry. brother. E’lir I heard something crack when I struck him.”

She didn’t even need to check the man. She had seen enough wounds and learned more about yog’mur anatomy during the war than she had thought possible. “He’ll be fine. You cracked, perhaps broke a few ribs, most likely the former. Worst case, a bone pierced his secondary heart; his primary should be fine. Given he rests and doesn’t overexert himself, he’ll be fully healed in a month or so. But he should wait for me at my house just to be sure.”

Asteroth helped the man to his feet, and he left with the other guards after he had assured his Chieftain that he was all right. “I think it is time to finally have that assembly I’ve been threatening to have for weeks now. Tomorrow, we discuss the future of our race.”

The room was
silent as their leader entered and took his place at the flat end of the enormous semicircular table in the otherwise empty room. Twelve others sat around the circumference of the table, each in the throne of their respective tribes, save for three of them. G’nar, F’lar, and Elizabeth sat in chairs crafted from cre’per’um.

“I have called this assembly to discuss various pressing matters. Now as you can see, I commanded each chieftain to attend. Tribe Mu’lor selected Ra’lak as their new chieftain as theirs was killed by Nor’wak To’nul during the war. And I have chosen U’nark to represent Tribe U’nor,” said Asteroth as he first motioned to a man sitting in a throne made from animal bones, then to U’nark in his throne of cre’per’um, trimmed and decorated with gold and silver. “I want to make something very clear, though. I have only allowed you to keep your positions as chieftains thus far to help your tribes adjust.”

If any of them objected, they kept it to themselves as he continued, “Despite this, you have let rivalries lead to disputes, some of which have even claimed lives. This is unacceptable, and henceforth, you will afford each other some respect. I now realise it was a mistake to let you keep your former positions, as this was the old way. We are no longer separate tribes, but one nation, and as such, we no longer need chieftains.”

This brought about an air of nervousness, but none made a sound as he added, “I do not mean that you are no longer important. We do, however, need to change the way our people think, and to do that, I need you. Most of you led your former tribes for decades, and they trust and respect you. I will lead and you will follow, and in turn so will they.

“Now with that said, I am sure you have noticed I have also asked my brother G’nar, my father F’lar, and our healer E’lir to attend. I have done so because they all play crucial roles among our people. What is decided within this room will change the yog’murgarr, and it is up to us to make sure it is for the better and not for the worse.”

U’nark lifted his hand. “If there are to be no more chieftains, what do we call you?”

“Just Asteroth is fine.”

There was a murmur and F’lar said, “We can’t allow that, my son. You now lead all the tri—I mean all of our people. You need a title that conveys respect; not just among our people, but among the other nations, as well.”

There was a general mutter of agreement, and he sighed. “Very well. What would you prefer to call me?”

“What about Tsa’rog?” Everyone turned to Elizabeth, and she added, “According to the tome we found, that is what a leader was called when the yog’murgarr were still an united people.

Asteroth waited for any objection, then said, “It is settled then, my title will be Tsa’rog. Any other concerns?”

Ra’lak raised his hand. “I’ve only heard rumours about the book E’lir mentioned. As I understand it, it is written in a foreign tongue and has yet to be fully deciphered?”

“Yes, but the language is not too foreign; it is written in what appears to be ancient Yog’mur.”

“None the less, would it not be faster if you just read it? You do know all languages after all,” pointed out the former chieftain.

Asteroth shook his head. “I can only speak all languages; I can not read them. Otherwise I would not have had to suffer through my father’s lessons on how to read.” Ra’lak nodded, seemingly content with the answer, so Asteroth continued. “We are faced with somewhat of a problem. It seems that a human army is amassing with the singular purpose of killing every last one of our kind.”

“It is hardly cause for concern,” said the former chieftain of Tribe Mu’lor. “We fortify our position and wait. We are high up the Viper Valley; not only will we have the higher ground, but they will be on unfamiliar terrain.”

Asteroth sat back in the dark linwon throne, keeping his wings tightly folded against his back. “Normally, I’d agree, but I was told that this coming attack is going to be unlike anything we’ve seen before. It won’t just be a few men on foot or horseback, but tens of thousands of them with great war machines capable of hurling rocks from great distances. Most of you experienced firsthand what a few well-placed boulders could do; now imagine what would happen if they brought twenty or more of their war machines. Not to mention the city can’t hold all our people. If we wait, we endanger our women and children.”

“What do you suggest, Tsa’rog?” asked another at the table.

“We need to intercept them before they reach the Viper Mountains.”

“An ambush?” asked G’nar.

“Yes, the humans are unaware we know of their plan to invade. This gives us the advantage. They will muster their forces beyond the Great River they call the Line of Life, in an attempt to hide their intention. But once they have gathered their forces, they’ll have to cross it. They can’t use ships, for their army is too big. That leaves only their Bridge of Sorrows.

We will wait until half their army has crossed and then attack. They’ll have to defend themselves with the river at their backs. If we push through them and take the bridge, it will serve as a choke point for their reinforcements, where two hundred or so warriors could easily keep them from relieving their comrades,” said Asteroth as he drew imaginary lines on the table.

“What about their war machines? Surely, they will be among the last to cross the bridge. Will they not then just simply rain down a hail of stones on us?” asked U’nark.