will."
Calexis pouted visibly.
"I would rather have my husband join me to celebrate his victory," she said. "His demonstration of power has set my heart alight and my body aches to feel him inside me at the thought of it." Even though she was play acting the petulant wife, at least that part was not a lie. Her hunger for him was insatiable.
"Soon enough, my dear. Perhaps you might pick out a Kandaran slave to satiate yourself in the meantime. I would not want my dear wife to feel neglected."
"Nonsense!" Calexis hissed, sliding the dagger back into its sheath. "I am a queen. I do not bed servants or slaves."
"Then you may await my pleasure," Cerric replied, then he was gone and the soldier returned to his former self.
Calexis frowned, irritated by how dismissive he was toward her. Perhaps she would take a few slaves to her bed, or one of Cerric's generals. That would serve him right, but she would have to wait. It would not do for the wrong seed to take hold in her womb.
She stepped back from the rows of weapons, using the throne to block the view of the soldiers and she lifted the skirt of her dress and strapped the ornate dagger to her leg, then she tucked the other blade into the strap before tightening it, doing so carefully so she would not cut herself. She dropped her skirt and stepped over to the two short swords she had selected earlier and picked them up as well. She held them up for the soldiers to see.
"I am taking these as well," she said.
"As you wish, milady," said the soldier, with his own voice this time.
Calexis turned and, with as sword in each hand, she strode from the room, passing the two generals, Mirdel and Berant, as they entered. She glanced at them and decided that if she were to bed either of them it would certainly not be the puffy faced, overweight Mirdel. Berant, on the other hand, though he was not a young man, looked as though he kept his body strong, and, as she continued down the hall, away from the throne room, she wondered how difficult it might be to seduce the man.
*****
In the cavern, Cerric picked up a sword from the row of weapons that lay on the top of a heavy wooden table and turned back to the row of prisoners who were chained, blindfolded and kneeling on the dirt floor. It was fortunate that the cavern was so large, for the row was quite large, with several dozen kneeling and half again that number laying dead in pools of blood the ground, some with their heads removed. Cerric held up the sword and looked at the large, clear yellow jewels that were set on either side of its crosspiece then he walked down the line to the next subject. He looked at the man, who knelt before him, a sturdily built Kandaran soldier with powerful arms and a strong back and he thought about how he wanted such strength to add to his own. With one powerful cut of the blade, Cerric took the man's head clean off his body and he felt the sword hum with energy as it absorbed the soldier's life force then channeled it into him. Compared to his own strength, it was a small amount of power, but Cerric enjoyed the pleasurable rush of it and he knew he was that much more powerful than he had been only moments ago.
He tossed the bloodied blade on the table, pleased that it, like the others, was a weapon of power. The god within him had learned of the existence of such weapons long ago, but had never had the good fortune of laying hands on one, let alone a collection of them. If only he had possessed weapons such as these before, he would certainly have done things differently when he had tricked the other gods. It would certainly have made his existence less difficult and certainly less distracting from the conflicting thoughts that echoed in his mind. Cerric realized he was thinking not as himself, but as the god, and he pushed his own thoughts to the fore, determined that he should be in control. He felt the god retreat into the shadows once more. He looked up at the long, stone staircase that led
Calexis pouted visibly.
"I would rather have my husband join me to celebrate his victory," she said. "His demonstration of power has set my heart alight and my body aches to feel him inside me at the thought of it." Even though she was play acting the petulant wife, at least that part was not a lie. Her hunger for him was insatiable.
"Soon enough, my dear. Perhaps you might pick out a Kandaran slave to satiate yourself in the meantime. I would not want my dear wife to feel neglected."
"Nonsense!" Calexis hissed, sliding the dagger back into its sheath. "I am a queen. I do not bed servants or slaves."
"Then you may await my pleasure," Cerric replied, then he was gone and the soldier returned to his former self.
Calexis frowned, irritated by how dismissive he was toward her. Perhaps she would take a few slaves to her bed, or one of Cerric's generals. That would serve him right, but she would have to wait. It would not do for the wrong seed to take hold in her womb.
She stepped back from the rows of weapons, using the throne to block the view of the soldiers and she lifted the skirt of her dress and strapped the ornate dagger to her leg, then she tucked the other blade into the strap before tightening it, doing so carefully so she would not cut herself. She dropped her skirt and stepped over to the two short swords she had selected earlier and picked them up as well. She held them up for the soldiers to see.
"I am taking these as well," she said.
"As you wish, milady," said the soldier, with his own voice this time.
Calexis turned and, with as sword in each hand, she strode from the room, passing the two generals, Mirdel and Berant, as they entered. She glanced at them and decided that if she were to bed either of them it would certainly not be the puffy faced, overweight Mirdel. Berant, on the other hand, though he was not a young man, looked as though he kept his body strong, and, as she continued down the hall, away from the throne room, she wondered how difficult it might be to seduce the man.
*****
In the cavern, Cerric picked up a sword from the row of weapons that lay on the top of a heavy wooden table and turned back to the row of prisoners who were chained, blindfolded and kneeling on the dirt floor. It was fortunate that the cavern was so large, for the row was quite large, with several dozen kneeling and half again that number laying dead in pools of blood the ground, some with their heads removed. Cerric held up the sword and looked at the large, clear yellow jewels that were set on either side of its crosspiece then he walked down the line to the next subject. He looked at the man, who knelt before him, a sturdily built Kandaran soldier with powerful arms and a strong back and he thought about how he wanted such strength to add to his own. With one powerful cut of the blade, Cerric took the man's head clean off his body and he felt the sword hum with energy as it absorbed the soldier's life force then channeled it into him. Compared to his own strength, it was a small amount of power, but Cerric enjoyed the pleasurable rush of it and he knew he was that much more powerful than he had been only moments ago.
He tossed the bloodied blade on the table, pleased that it, like the others, was a weapon of power. The god within him had learned of the existence of such weapons long ago, but had never had the good fortune of laying hands on one, let alone a collection of them. If only he had possessed weapons such as these before, he would certainly have done things differently when he had tricked the other gods. It would certainly have made his existence less difficult and certainly less distracting from the conflicting thoughts that echoed in his mind. Cerric realized he was thinking not as himself, but as the god, and he pushed his own thoughts to the fore, determined that he should be in control. He felt the god retreat into the shadows once more. He looked up at the long, stone staircase that led
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