Birth of a Mortal God Read online

  But even in this forsaken town, word has reached them of Asteroth’s appearance and of how he had crushed the Black Griffins, sparing a single man to warn all other humans of the fate awaiting any who would venture too close to the mountains the yog’murgarr called home.

  “Fool,” muttered the robed figure as he stopped in front of the poorly built, two-storey, moss-covered structure. Its sign held a faded picture of a naked man running with his clothes in his hands.

  He entered the Running Bastard Inn and saw that it was just as poor on the inside as it was on the out.

  Ten tables adorned the common room in an unorganized fashion, likely in an attempt to accommodate as many of them as possible. A bar faced the entrance, dominating most of the northern wall, with stairs leading up to rooms on its right. A few men sat at tables closest to the hearth, while two others sat near the bar, harassing the barmaid.

  The innkeeper seemed to watch the scene with perverted interest. For unlike the surroundings, the barmaid was a beautiful girl with black hair, blue eyes, and striking features. She wore a dress which might have been white once, but now only resembled a dirty cleaning rag. Where flesh was exposed, bruises showed, and her eyes had the lifeless look commonly found among those who have lost hope along with their freedom. Which made it all the more surprising when she snatched a handful of his robe’s right sleeve when he passed by her.

  “Please, help me!”

  He stopped and examined her tormentors, taking care to keep his features hidden underneath his cowl.

  One man was overweight to the point of nearly bursting from his leather armour. His puffy face almost as oily as his matted brown hair. Swollen fingers dug hungrily into the girl’s flesh, as he pulled her towards him. His companion, a thinner man with a bald head, hooknose, and bushy eyebrows; bore a striking resemblance to a vulture as he, too, groped at his portion of soft flesh. Both wore the crest of the King’s own army and were armed with long swords.

  The fat guard exposed yellow teeth as he said, “Move along, stranger, unless you want to spend the night in a cell.”

  The girl only tightened her grip on the outsider’s sleeve at the declaration, even though he did not so much as stir at the threat.

  The fat guard’s face knotted in frustration. “Edward, it looks like our esteemed guest doesn’t know when to heed good advice.”

  The man named Edward moved to face his companion. “That it does, Rorick. Perhaps we should educate him!” he said before swinging a right fist at the stranger.

  Who caught it in midair with ease. “That was foolish,” he said before pulling his right hand free from the girl’s grip and striking the guard’s elbow with his palm. There was a delightful snap as bone protruded through skin.

  Edward howled in pain and awkwardly tried to draw the sword dangling at his left side with his remaining hand; fumbling and dropping it instead.

  At this, his friend Rorick threw the girl aside and surged forward with sword drawn. He moved quickly for a man of his size and intended to impale the stranger from behind.

  He waited for the thrust of Rorick’s sword and then quickly stepped to the right and turned, pushing the oaf from behind. The added momentum sent Rorick crashing into his friend, and the blade accidentally slipped into his comrade’s chest, seemingly by design. The stranger rushed up behind Rorick as the ball of blubber tried to regain his footing, and snapped his neck. He considered ripping the disrespectful louse’s head from his body but thought better of it.

  The men near the hearth, who had observed the exchange in silence, now stood and drew their weapons. Their leader levelling his sword at him. “Quite a display of skill, stranger. But an act of aggression against the King’s own is an act of aggression against the King himself. I am afraid you will have to come with us.”

  He shook his head as he thought about how many souls he had sent to Henensu because of kings and their ilk. Slowly he removed his hood. He could see their surprise as candlelight struck his light blue hair and yellow eyes. Or maybe it was just his features in general; he knew they perceived him as young and that he wore his hair in a manner that is considered strange in every land: short cut and combed backwards, with a single long lock of hair hanging down the side of his face.

  The colour drained from one guard’s face as he recognised him. “Nine hells! Captain, this is—”

  He interrupted the man. “It is too late for all that, I’m afraid,” he said as he held out his closed fists in front of him.

  Most of the guards took it as a sign of surrender and began approaching him, when their pale comrade stopped them. “Wait! He should not—”

  Then he opened his hands.

  KILLMAR SILENTLY STUDIED the young barmaid. Her jet-black hair was dirty and tangled, but she still somehow seemed majestic. She had a full mouth, light pink lips, a small nose, and elegant ears. Despite her rough occupation, her skin was silky smooth, and although her body was covered in bruises, it was apparent that her skin had a natural milky white tone to it. She had full breasts, despite her young appearance, and her body was petite. She was, by all accounts, remarkably beautiful, which made him wonder why she had not been sold to some noble or successful merchant, instead of a coarse innkeeper, whose annoying begging had ultimately caused him to die very painfully.

  For some reason, Killmar just couldn’t leave her behind in the burning wreckage that was once known as Willow Way. It was a feeling unknown to him, and one that intrigued him enough that he decided to explore it before disposing of her.

  She started to rouse, and he handed her a cup filled with a reddish liquid. “Drink this.”

  Drowsily, she complied, only to almost spit out the sip she had taken. “What in the lower hells is this?”

  He indicated the rest of the liquid in the cup. “All of it.”

  Only after draining the cup of its bitter contents did she realise that she was no longer in the Running Bastard Inn, but in a cave. Quickly she scanned the surroundings and found that there was a fire with some meat roasting over it. The aroma made her mouth water, but thoughts of food quickly fled, as she realised she lay naked beneath the pelts covering her. Instinctively, she pulled them to her chest. “Where are my clothes?”

  Killmar turned and tended to the meat on the fire. “They were old and filthy, so I threw them away.”

  She felt her hands tremble. “What do you want from me? How did I get here?”

  He smiled. “No need to be scared, little rabbit. I don’t plan on doing anything to you. I carried you here after that business at the inn. Would you mind telling me your name?”

  She surged forward and threw her arms around her saviour’s neck as memory of his deeds returned to her. “You saved me! I am forever in your debt. What happened? The last thing I can recall is you removing your hood.”

  He gave a slight grin as he pointed down towards her body. She looked down and realised that in her eagerness, she had forgotten she was naked. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she almost dove back under the pile of pelts. When it seemed like she would not resurface, he said, “No need to be so embarrassed, all living things are born naked. Could you tell me your name now?”

  “Jessica,” came the muffled reply.

  “Jessica,” he repeated to himself. “A fair name. Do you have any family, Jessica?”

  “No.”

  “That’s a shame, any place you would like to go, now that you’re free?”

  At this, she resurfaced. “What do you mean free? I’m branded, I will forever be a slave.”

  “Well, seeing how your master died in the fire, along with any who could have pursued us, I think you can dare to hope. Unless, of course, you intend to run around screaming you’re a fugitive slave, baring your brand for the world to see,” he replied as he poked the fire.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears as her hand went to the mass of welted skin on her right shoulder. “Is that really true? Are they all really dead? You mentioned a fire?”

  He looked at her and
again felt the strange sensation he had at the inn. “Yes, those idiotic bastards were so bent on seizing me, that they did not care about the lanterns that were toppled in the attempt. The next thing we knew, the whole damned town was burning down around us. I barely escaped the flames with you; they weren’t so lucky.”

  She stared at her saviour’s face in an attempt to detect deceit, but he only smiled in a way that made her self-conscious. “May I know the name of my liberator?”

  “Killmar,” he answered unintentionally before falling into contemplation. There was something about her that made him oddly comfortable; a quality he found dangerous.

  “That is quite a unique name, much like your blue hair and golden eyes. I’ve never heard of any foreigner bearing those traits. Are you from some kind of far-off land?”

  “Yes, I am . . . from a very distant land,” he said with a note of sadness.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of anything painful. It must be hard to be out here alone.”

  He smiled, and she felt her cheeks starting to glow. For, despite his peculiar features, most women would count him among the most handsome of men.

  “Here have something to eat.”

  Her mouth watered as the aroma of the offered piece of roasted meat caressed her nostrils. She took a small bite and found herself struck by its unexpected delectable taste. “Which animal is this? It’s fit for the gods.”

  Killmar tossed a clean eaten bone into the fire. “Not for the gods, but for mortals. It’s ordinary deer, only with extraordinary spices. Tell me, how many winters have you seen pass?”

  She answered with pride. “Eighteen, and you?”

  He gave a playful wink. “As many as you’d want me to have seen.”

  She tried but failed to smother her girlish giggle.

  “Well Jessica, I am afraid this is where our paths part,” he said finally as he stood and rummaged through a small bag which had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “Here is something to wear. If you head north, you’ll find—” before he could finish, she jumped up from underneath the furs and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding onto him as tightly as she could.

  For a moment, he stood paralyzed, then he looked down at the crying girl. It was far from the first time he had been embraced by a woman, but this seemed somehow different. He found himself intrigued.

  He lifted her chin. “Here is some advice: don’t do this with other men you meet. They might get the wrong impression.”

  “Please, don’t leave me,” she pleaded.

  He felt her hot lips press against his own and tasted her tears, but it was wrong. The kiss was cold, as if given by a doll. He threw her to the ground in anger, his eyes completely devoid of the warmth they had but a moment ago. “Don’t look down on me, woman! Do not think me some brainless fool you can manipulate with your body!”

  She looked away from his golden gaze. “I have nothing else of worth.”

  He rushed forward, and for a moment, she thought he was going to strike her. But instead, he snatched her arm, lifting her to her feet with strength she would have thought impossible for someone of his stature. “Do you intend to become a whore? Because that is exactly what you’ll become if you stay on this path! The world owes you nothing! You are not special! You would be hard pressed to find any slave untouched by their master. That innkeeper was no more of a monster than any other slave owner within the Kingdom.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. “How do you know about that?”

  He released her arm, and she fell to the floor weeping. “Anyone with sight can deduce as much; your body is covered in bruises, and that nagging oaf of an innkeeper didn’t seem to mind what those guards were doing to you.”

  He watched her cry and again was visited by the strange sensation, this time curiosity overcame caution as he bent down and picked her up.

  “What are you doing?” she asked startled.

  “You invite sickness exposing yourself to the night air. Now you can shed your tears, free of the threat of ill health,” he said as he slipped her back underneath the pile of furs.

  She couldn’t help but smile at his peculiar behaviour. “You are very . . . unique.”

  “So I have been told,” he said, before starting to undress.

  Jessica looked away. “What are you doing?”

  He regarded her as if she had said something incredibly stupid. “I am preparing to sleep. Why else would I disrobe?”

  She left the question unanswered as he continued to undress. Despite her efforts, her eyes drifted, for now she saw that he was not handsome, but godlike. Even though he was short by Kingdom standards, his body was a series of ripped muscles, each perfectly proportional to the other. He seemed less a being of flesh and bone, and more a work of art, sculpted by the gods and bequeathed onto the world.

  He caught her awed gaze and suppressed a smile. “What’s this? Such an innocent flower lusting after me? I feel like a displayed sweetroll of a careless baker, and you the calculating beggar.”

  She turned scarlet from head to toe. “I wasn’t! What are you doing? Keep that on!”

  He stood with his hands on his loincloth and grinned. “All things are born naked, Jessica. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Besides, it is only fair for you to see me disrobed, since I did undress you, after all.”

  “It’s all right. You don’t have to show me,” she said oddly modest.

  “Well then, I recommend you shut your eyes. I prefer to sleep in the nude, and since this is my campsite, I shall do as I please.”

  She quickly shut her eyes when his hands moved. She could hear his footsteps on the rocky floor and felt the furs rise as he slipped underneath them. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw that he was lying next to her, hands behind his head, eyes closed, with a satisfied smile on his face. It was far from her first time in bed with a man, but he was not like the others. It brought out a part of her she had thought lost long ago. She stared at his satisfied face a few moments longer before turning on her side. “Such a strange man,” she muttered under her breath.

  JESSICA STIRRED. FOR the first time since being sold into slavery, she’d had a good night’s sleep. She had woken once in the middle of the night, only to find the reassuring form of her sleeping saviour still beside her.

  Morning light streamed through the cave’s entrance, illuminating what the burnt-out fire abandoned. She turned to her saviour and felt an icy pang. Instead of the muscular chest heaving up and down, she only found overturned furs. Panic slowly started to seize her body as she frantically searched her surroundings, hoping he only sat somewhere out of sight, ready to tease her for her behaviour. But he was nowhere to be found.

  Tears blurred her vision as she pulled on the black tunic and trousers he had left next to the burnt-out fire. She shook with sobs as she exited the cave, the wintry breeze biting at her wet cheeks.

  Outside, she found that she was west of Willow Way, the column of black smoke making it easy to find. The cave was situated uphill at the base of the Viper Mountains. Her eyes darted desperately over the valley, but it seemed hopeless. She turned back in despair when something caught her eye. A figure, slowly making its way across the dell below.

  She felt a surge of relief and started running down the slope towards it. The closer she got, the more she felt hope build in her breast. It was Killmar, but with a trophy deer strapped to his shoulders. She burst into renewed tears as she reached him and hugged him fiercely, in an almost primal fear that he would vanish if she let go.

  He regarded her a moment. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

  “I thought you abandoned me,” she answered between sobs.

  “I only went hunting.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling a bit embarrassed for her behaviour.

  “Are you fit to walk back?”

  She wanted to ask what he meant, when she felt her legs quiver under her own weight. In her distress, she had run miles without stopping, and he
r body now seemed intent on disciplining her.

  He caught her as her legs gave way and scooped her into his arms. “My, my, you are a handful.”

  “I’m sorry. Will you be able to carry me?”

  “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, confused.

  “You do have the weight of an entire deer pressing down on your shoulders,” she pointed out.

  He only smiled at the comment and started towards the cave.

  “How are we going to carry around all that meat after we’ve breakfasted?”

  He smiled. “We?”

  She looked down. “I mean, if you decide to let me travel with you.”

  He stopped and studied her face for a while before grinning. “Aren’t you adorable so early in the morning? I suppose keeping you around would have some benefits, even if it is just to amuse me.”

  She smiled at her new companion. “Then I’ll try to be as amusing as possible. So what are we going to do with all that meat?”

  “There won’t be any left, I intend to eat it all.”

  JESSICA STARED ON in amazement as Killmar began eating the last piece of venison. He had neatly started eating as any man of rank would, but simply never seemed to achieve repleteness.

  “How did you manage that?” she asked as he tossed the clean eaten bone upon its fellows.

  “My body needs a great deal of nourishment to stay strong, it is . . . a trait among my people.”

  “Odd, tell me more of your people. What are they called?”

  He held up his hand. “Jessica, if you are to travel with me, then you should know there are some things I won’t tell you. The sooner you accept this as an unchangeable fact, the better. Otherwise you can go your own way.”

  Afraid of being left to fend for herself, she quickly nodded.

  “Good, now tend to the tasks I gave you earlier. I’m going to enjoy the scenery,” he said before moving to the cave’s entrance.

  She spared a quick glance at him before hopping to the chores he had given. It was simple servant’s work: cleaning cooking utensils, dousing the fire, furling the animal pelts under which they slept. It took her but a few moments to complete the tasks, but she now stood baffled. Ten fur bundles lay before her, more than two people on foot could possibly carry on their own.