Belly of the Beast Warren Thomas (e novels for free .txt) 📖

betrayal of all, for all he had left was his faith in the Gods and his destiny. That faith now lay in ashes.

            “What is that?” he cried, staring up and around with big eyes.

            The night-shrouded alley grew suddenly darker. The screams of the street intensified. What people he could see seemed more frantic. Other men and women chased and caught them, dragging them to small clumps of prisoners. Their cries to the Gods went unanswered as grey-robed priests cast about with foul magicks, bringing all they touched to an eerie silence, making Nizar’s hackles rise. None were spared, not even the smallest of children.

            A man turned into the alley. Nizar turned to run, only to find three more shadowy shapes coming his way from the other direction.

            Trapped!

            The building he had leaned against was dressed stone. Impossible for him to climb. But the opposite structure was a crumbling wattle and daub inn. With a little luck...

            “Taliope, save me!” Nizar cried, launching himself at the inn.

            Leaping high, he caught hold of one of the thick oaken cross-members. Fingers clawed and scraped for purchase, barely hanging on. He ignored the pain of torn nails and tortured skin, intent only on escape. The men chasing him watched dumbly, silently, as if they didn’t care one way or another if he escaped.

            “My greed is going to kill me yet,” he grumbled as he clawed his way to the thatch roof. The weight of his loot was almost too much for him to carry, but he despised the thought of escaping without it. And it would be so simple to shed the robes of a desert nomad, now so heavily-laden with loot. Then he turned a wry grin to the silent heavens as he reached the steep roof, “At least I’ll die rich, if not powerful. More than my dear half-brothers thought possible.”

            A glance downward showed a score or more of the invaders had joined the men looking up at him. Strangely, he felt a bit embarrassed to be the center of attention, and such unwanted attention, too. A thief’s life depended more on his ability to stay unnoticed than any innate skill at larceny. Deep down, his ego saw it as a last insult, another failure he had no power over.

            Then the God arrived.

            That ended all thoughts of personal shame and failure. Never had Nizar seen such a creature. Never had he dreamed such a monster could exist.

            Dakar looked more beast than man. Towering a good head and half above the crowd, the God was covered with thick, black fur. He had the lower body of a goat, and long ram horns framing his fierce black face.

            “Glorious,” Nizar hissed, unable to tear his eyes away. Dakar’s aura of unholy menace swept over him, staggered him and threatening to dislodge him from his perch. “Such power! A God indeed!”

            His shout caught the attention of Dakar. Bright, burning red eyes turned up to him. Nizar felt giddy. A part of him cried out to run, but awe left him rooted in place. A God. A real God. Never had he dreamed of ever seeing a true God.

            A tall man attended Dakar, wearing plain gray robes and carrying an ornate walking stick with runes carved all over it. Though hooded, he saw a long blonde beard and a thick blonde mustache. The eyes that turned to regard him were as cold and blue as the winter sky.

            A snarl suddenly claimed the God’s face. Nizar panicked. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t allow himself to die.

            “My God!” Nizar called. “You are truly glorious to look upon! I beg You, allow me to serve You!”

            “Serve me?” Dakar said, bemusement in his voice. “What do you have that I can’t just take?”

            “My free will,” Nizar said, waving a hand at the lifeless figures of Dakar’s army and prisoners. “And all my skills to do Your divine will.”

            “A desperate man, Divine Master,” the priest said contemptuously. His suddenly fierce eyes bore into Nizar with undisguised scorn. “Forget him. I will have his tongue ripped out for daring to address You unbidden.”

            Nizar felt all hope crushed. The big man was obviously someone of import to the God, and almost as frightening to look upon.

            “And what skills do you offer?” Dakar asked.

            Nizar felt a thrill rush through his body. The God was considering his offer! He might survive after all. And if he did live, could he find some way to visit ruin upon his own father and half-brothers? Might he gain the throne of Tamera for himself?

            “I am prince-born, Great One! I would serve you well in the conquest You seek,” he said. “I know people, above all else. My knowledge of the lands north of here alone is worth ten thousand slaves.”

            Dakar was silent a long moment, studying him in ways Nizar could only guess at. Could the God read his thoughts? Did He know what Nizar wanted above all else? Did Dakar care what some mortal wanted, or needed? But more importantly, what did Dakar need that Nizar could supply?

            The man with Dakar kept silent, though obviously displeased. Nizar understood that, for Dakar didn’t appear to be a master one angered. One never questioned the will of the Gods.

            “Show Me your face, mortal,” Dakar said, striking Nizar’s soul to the core.

            To be so publicly shamed! Everyone would see! His face, and mouth, would be exposed to the world. It was...was...obscene! But, it was a lord’s right to see his subjects’ faces. Just as it was a man’s right to see the naked faces of his wives and children. Nizar just wished the God hadn’t asked in such a public place.

            “As you wish, Great One,” Nizar said, reaching for the pin that attached the thick linen veil to his turban. Removing the veil and revealing his fierce, hawklike face, Nizar said, “Great