Page 5 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor’s Destiny (Time for Monsters)

M y chariot gleamed in the sunlight, just like the two black stallions tethered to it. The horse's coats had been oiled, their manes and tails brushed. Gold adorned their gear, rare gemstones blazed under the rays of the rising sun.

It was a gift from High Priest Raahet. As much as I disliked showpieces like this, I understood that they had their purpose on occasion, and this was one of them. The people expected a big show of power and splendor, and they would get it. This was a day of triumph, a day in which the hungry would be fed. It would be like in the days of my grandmother, when every person in the empire was happy.

A day where I would swallow my misgivings and do my part to bring light into the dreariness of our people’s accepted norm. They might have forgotten how it used to be, but I hadn’t. Despite my not having been there during the better times, my grandmother had been. She had filled the head of a young boy with stories of a time when Orasis had been a paradise. On her deathbed, I swore that I would make it so again. My proclamation had been met with laughter, punctuated by fits of coughing. How would a ten-year-old street urchin with protruding ribs make a difference? She nearly choked. She had died laughing, thanking me for the gift. I had never heard her laugh before, and I solemnly vowed then and there that I would make every single person in Orasis laugh with joy one day.

And here I was. Cleaned, dressed, and adorned with gems and oils just like my horses—the irony wasn't lost on me. High Priest Raahet would do anything to turn me into a showpiece.

"Looking good, commander," Tavrek called, saluting me mockingly. Others fell into chuckles.

"Have some respect," I called back, grinning broadly to make it clear their antics didn’t bother me.

"So bright..." Ashvar, another of my lieutenants, held up his hand to shield his eyes sarcastically. "Can't see... our mighty High Warlord of Orasis, where could he be? Oh, there. I thought you were the sun."

More snickers erupted, but before I could reply, they fell silent. Their expressions turned from merriment to astonishment as they fell down on one knee. For a moment, I thought they were still playing a trick on me, but then I felt it. Her presence.

I turned.

She was even more beautiful than last night, if that was possible. She wore a white dress, embroidered with gold. This dress wasn't see-through like the one from last night. I sent a quick prayer of thanks to her for that, because starting the day with blinding all my soldiers because they inadvertently looked upon her full glory was the last thing I wanted to do.

A golden crown inset with gleaming gems held back her long, wavy black hair. She was a vision to behold.

Instantly, I too fell to one knee, bowing my head. "Lady Vaelora."

Her eyes bore into me and me alone. She held out her hand to raise me, "High Warlord Vardor of Orasis. This day is in your honor. Allow me to honor you."

Together we walked to the chariot, and I helped her up onto it before taking the place beside her. Pride swelled my chest at her presence. No man had ever been elevated by a goddess higher than she was elevating me. I didn't know what I had done to deserve that, but I fully intended to absorb every last minute of it.

From deep within the folds of her dress, she brought out a crown similar to hers and placed it on top of my head. An astonished cry moved through the assembled ranks of my thousands of warriors as they witnessed this moment. Only gods and kings wore crowns. Our king was Maldrin, chosen by the gods, and our gods were Maezharr, Xyphor, and Draeven. Vaelora may have been a goddess, but her powers weren't as strong as those of her brothers. I wasn't sure what her intentions were, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being used as a pawn in a game much greater than I could have possibly imagined. Not that I minded. I enjoyed games, especially the war kind of games.

"Warriors of Orasis," Vaelora's voice carried strongly over our camp. "I give you your High Warlord Vardor!"

Loud cheering broke out from the ranks of soldiers, echoing through the valley where we had put up our camp in a near-deafening crescendo. Vaelora grabbed my hand and interlinked it with hers before she raised our fists in the air, pumping them in rhythm with the chanting of our names.

A satisfied smile curled the edges of her lips, her eyes gleamed, and a golden shimmer engulfed her, growing with every cry of her name.

After what seemed like an eternity, she lowered our arms and used both of hers to quieten the warriors.

"Today will be a day of change. A day of celebration, but also a dangerous day. Will you swear that you will protect your High Warlord with your lives?"

As one, my soldiers bent their knees, pulled their swords, and hit their crests, worn over their left shoulder, with the dull side. The usually subdued sound was magnified by thousands, ringing like thunder and reverberating through my body and soul, filling me with pride.

I raised my sword as well, hitting the crest representing my service to Orasis hard. "I hereby solemnly pledge my life to the service of the goddess Vaelora and to each one of you. There will be no fight I won't be part of, there will be no drop of blood falling without my heart bleeding, there will be no sacrifice made without me sacrificing as well. I vow to stand at your side, to shield you in battle, and to honor the goddess with every breath I take, until my life is forfeited or her will is fulfilled."

More cheering broke out, and Vaelora’s eyes shone with satisfaction as she nodded imperceptibly at me. “Well done, Vardor. You just proved that I chose well.”

None of us knew what cause we had pledged ourselves to, but having been selected by a goddess left little room for denying her.

“Let’s ride!” I grabbed the reins. The stallions anxiously pawing the ground were ready to go. The chariot jerked, and I used this movement as an excuse to place my free hand on the small of Vaelora’s back to steady her. She looked up at me through her thick eyelashes, a twinkle in her eyes telling me that she was well aware of my ploy but didn’t mind it. And so we entered Nemet-Xy.

Tens of thousands of people lined the streets. Lotus petals covered the ground like snow and more were thrown into the air, the chanting only growing in strength when the citizens realized who the woman by my side was. With each cry of Vaelora’s name, the goddess shimmered more golden.

People were everywhere, lining the streets, standing on balconies and windows, rejoicing in my triumphal entrance. It was an almost endless procession. Soldiers on horseback followed my chariot, followed by foot soldiers and archers. The prisoners we had taken from Khesara were at the end of the procession. Beaten and subdued men, women, and children. Some were slaves of the warriors who had claimed them. Others, including the nobles we had captured, belonged now to Orasis for our King Maldrin to decide on their fate. The most notable among the prisoners was Princess Drahya, the king of Khesara's daughter. In a missive, King Maldrin had offered the Princess' hand in marriage to me, but I had declined. I was a warrior, not a statesman, and I had no interest in binding myself to royal politics or a throne. My rejection of the offer had been a royal affront to Maldrin, and his reply had been curt and laced with displeasure. I was sure I had made our animosity worse with my refusal, but if it came to a tug of power, he knew he stood on the losing end. The troops were loyal to me and me alone.

We reached the grand temple where King Maldrin and High Priest Raahet stood at its highest steps, flanked by the royal family and several other priests who had found favor with either Raahet or our three gods—whose absence was telling of their disdain for us mere mortals.

The chariot came to a stop, and I helped Vaelora down and toward the stairs. Haughtily she stared up the over fifty marble steps. There was no way around it but for us to climb them. Her contempt for having to do so was palpable. I would have carried her, but that would have looked like a weakness on her part, so I fell in step behind her, leaving two paces between us to show my respect for her.

Raahet moved forward once we reached the landing, his expression barely controlled, betraying the rage boiling inside him. "What is this?"

With a jerk of his head, he indicated the crown on my head. "Only kings and gods wear crowns. Has the success in Khesara gone to your head? Are you challenging our rightful king? The one who the gods shine on in pleasure?"

Before I could answer, Vaelora moved in between us, "How dare you address the High Warlord of Orasis like such? Who are you, little mortal?"

"I am the High Priest of Orasis, Nemet-Xy." Raahet puffed his chest out.

"On your knees, mortal," Vaelora shouted.

The entire city below us had fallen silent, hoping to catch our words drifting down.

I wasn't sure what was expected of me, but I was sure how to handle men and women who didn't show the goddess Vaelora the respect she deserved. I pulled my sword, "I believe the goddess gave you a command."

Royal and temple guards stood by the many columns. They didn't fall under my command, yet they knew who I was. Reluctantly, some pulled their swords.

"What are you fools waiting for? Slay the man daring to raise his weapon against your High Priest," King Maldrin shouted.

The ringing of swords being pulled from metallic scabbards was loud, but the ringing from below as thousands of my warriors pulled theirs drowned the sound out.

Sweat beaded down Raahet's body, his eyes nearly bulging with fear. "I beg your pardon, goddess, but I am the high priest, sworn to only bow before the gods."

"I am a goddess," Vaelora's voice was demanding. "You owe me the same respect you do my brothers, High Priest. You have forgotten me for far too long; this will change. Here and now. On. Your. Knees!"

Ever so slowly, Raahet began to bow his knee, looking heavenward as if expecting The Divine Triumvirate—as the three brothers liked to be called—to appear at any moment to save him.

They didn't. Not yet. Raahet bowed, and Vaelora held out her hand. On her middle finger sat a golden ring with a large black pearl in its center. Hesitantly Raahet took hold of her hand and kissed the ring.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Vaelora mocked, and her eyes turned to me. "Acknowledge your High Warlord."

I had never sought to have men grovel in front of me, but I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a certain amount of satisfaction as Raahet bent his knee before me next.

"Great High Warlord Vardor," he said between clenched teeth.

Vaelora turned to King Maldrin, "Is a mortal king more than a High Priest?" she demanded.

Maldrin's eyes promised death as he, too, bent his knee in front of Vaelora first, then me. I read the threat in his eyes, but even if an assassin were to kill me tonight, this moment was worth it.

"How dare you kneel before other gods and a mortal," a thunderous voice rang out, and three large men stepped out of the shadows. A quiver moved through me at the sight of The Divine Triumvirate. They were everything their statues proclaimed and more in their flesh and blood.

"Brothers," Vaelora acknowledged the three gods.

"What is your business in my city, sister?" Xyphor demanded, glaring at Vaelora with dark, red eyes.

"Your city?" Vaelora mocked. "Funny, I thought it belonged to all of us."

"We've divided Orasis between the three of us. Nemet-Xy is Xyphor's," Draeven explained.

"Hmm," Vaelora crossed her arms over her chest, "am I not a goddess, too? Am I not your sister? Why wasn't I informed, and which part of Orasis is mine?"

"A goddess without following," Maezharr laughed, raising my ire.

"Without following?" Vaelora's voice was deceptively sweet. She turned toward the stairs, indicating the masses below. "A goddess without following, he says," she cried down. "Is it true? Have you forgotten and forsaken me?"

"Vaelora! Goddess Vaelora," the people took up a chant so loud, the earth underneath the temple seemed to vibrate. The golden shimmer around Vaelora grew, while the shimmer of the three gods ebbed down.

"What are you doing?" Xyphor yelled, stepping threateningly toward his sister. With one large stride, I placed myself in between them.

Xyphor laughed, "Step aside, mortal."

My sword was still in my hand, and I raised it.

"Call your lapdog off, Vaelora, before I kill him," Xyphor warned.

I was under no delusion that I stood a chance fighting a god, but if Vaelora wanted me to die for her here and now, I would.

"Fine, mortal, let's play," Xyphor drew his sword and brought it forward without warning, straight for my head. My reflexes had been honed over many battles, and I met his blade with mine, fully prepared for the impact to force me to my knees. The triumphant expression on Xyphor's face said the same, but it didn't happen. His surprise was enough for me to take advantage of. I detangled our swords, pivoted, and using the momentum of turning back around, brought my sword straight across Xyphor's throat before he had a chance to retaliate or deflect my blow.

Incredulously, I stared at the blood spewing from his wound, spilling down onto the white marble floor, desecrating the temple. As much as I was in disbelief, Xyphor's astonished expression was even more in denial.

"What have you done?" Draeven cried, pointing his finger at Vaelora.

"Oh, didn't I mention I made him a god?" Vaelora feigned demureness. "My mistake then." The smile curving her lips called out her lie. She was enjoying this too much.

"So I suppose Xyphor's part of Orasis is now mine?"

God? Did she say I was a god ?

My head swam. I stared at the still-flowing blood, at Raahet's golden shoes as he stepped out of the way, and at my sword, dripping with the blood of a god who I should not have been able to slay.

"Who is next in challenging me?" Vaelora asked. "Is it you, Maezharr? You are looking more silver than gold right now. Or you, Draeven?"

I stiffened and locked myself back into battle position. As much as my head swam with Vaelora's declaration, this was far from over. Two gods still stood, looking thunderously at their sister.

"You killed one of us," Draeven shouted in disgust.

"Not me," Vaelora smiled innocently, sending shivers down my spine. She used me, was still using me—as her pawn. I didn't like it. Not one bit. But that didn't matter right then. No matter if I liked it or not, no matter that she hadn't confided her plans to me, I was in them now. Her enemies were mine; she had made sure of it. Rage boiled inside me, but I couldn't deny my admiration for her. This woman. This goddess. She didn't apologize, not like any god ever should, but she didn't even look apologetic or remorseful.

"He is nothing but your pawn," Draeven shook with abhorrence. "Our father will?—"

"What?" Vaelora challenged. "What will our father do? He hasn't done anything in centuries. We don't even remember his name or know if he is alive. So spare me your idle threats. I claim Orasis as mine, and if you have a problem with that, you can take it on with Vardor, the Arbiter of Battle, the god of War."

I noted with interest that she called me an Arbiter. Didn't that mean I could choose my battles?

Draeven picked up on the same. "Well then, Arbiter of Battle ," his tone mocked my title, "what will it be? Will you fight for her?"

Unmoved, unafraid, Vaelora tilted her head, gazing at me as if asking, will you ?

Even if my devotion to Vaelora hadn’t already been absolute, the act of granting me a choice now was what earned my unyielding loyalty. She was a goddess, she could have done anything she pleased with me, but she was offering me a choice now. Yes, she had used me, and I didn't like that one bit. Nobody used me, but that was a battle for later. I lowered my blade and bent a knee. "I am now and forever will be at your service, great Goddess Vaelora."

Draeven roared in anger. The moment he pulled his sword, I rose from my kneeling position and lifted mine. Metal hit metal. Hard.

"Say goodbye to your newest toy, Vaelora, because I will send him back to the dirt you raised him from." Draeven threatened.

Raahet, the other priests, King Maldrin, and the royal family retreated behind a large pillar, and guards placed themselves around them like shields. Maezharr stood back, letting his brother battle me alone. Had he joined, I likely would have been in trouble. I wasn't so sure if I could have defeated both.

Draeven was good. Much better than Xyphor, or maybe Xyphor had simply not been prepared for me posing a challenge. But Draeven lacked the battle experience I possessed. It wasn't a quick fight, but one I won by piercing his heart.

"Thank you, sister, now all of Orasis will be mine," Maezharr laughed.

"Not while I still breathe," I challenged, ready to take on a third god.

Maezharr shook his head. "Not today. But our paths will cross again." With that, he retreated into the shadows from where he had come from.

"Vardor," beautiful Vaelora stepped in front of me, "I knew I picked the right man."

She placed both of her hands on my face, caging it, then she rose to her tiptoes and kissed me. I put my arms around her and pulled her up, bending her back while I took control over the kiss. She might have cornered me today, but I'd be damned if she would do so a second time. Ever again.

She might have been a goddess, but she had raised me to her level. I would protect her with my life, but she was MINE. Not the other way around.

Ah, the memories—so sweet. I bathed in them during the hours of darkness that still engulfed me. Before I had been dreaming, but now I was wide awake, unable to move, speak, or see anything but blackness. I was alone with my memories, but I wasn't afraid. I waited in restless anticipation, filling the dreary hours by reliving Vaelora's and my time. It had been glorious from that day forward.

Eventually, King Maldrin and High Priest Raahet passed their titles on to others, and others after them. Centuries passed. The lands were once again prosperous. No more hunger plagued the people. Vaelora and I ruled when we were needed, and I led the armies into battle— there were plenty of them. Orasis was rich, and many tribes sought to take parts of it; none succeeded.

Century after century passed.

Vaelora and I were happy.

One might even call it love.

As much as it can be love, when one person doesn't really know what love is.

Vaelora was a good goddess. Fair. Majestic.

But she didn't know kindness or mercy. Or love.

Compassion might not have been completely foreign to her, but that was as close as she could come to actual emotions. I was fine with that. I loved her more than anything, enough for the two of us.

We never forgot that we were living on borrowed time. Maezharr was still alive, waiting in the shadows. One day, he would return, and when that day came, I would have to make a hard decision. One Vaelora would see as betrayal, one I would make to keep her safe.

And here I was in the aftermath. Lying in darkness, waiting for her forgiveness.

Waiting for her to release me from my prison.

Buried alive , she told me, was my punishment. Awaiting my pleasure.

I heard the creaking of the mechanism. It was time.

I was ready to do her bidding. I was ready to prove to her that love was more than just a word.