Spilling of the Heavens: Part 1, Section 2

The flames faded as the traitors fell back a few steps. Cassar formed a fresh line before the king. Even Kekur would not keep the traitors away long.

“Mighty Cassar!” The king’s voiced boomed. “To me, Mighty Cassar!”

The king had taken to calling him mighty since returning from the war with the dark king of Rion. The hairs on the back of Cassar’s neck rose each time it was said. He was not mighty. He was the son of a librarian, and if the fighting ever stops, he’d be a librarian himself. He belonged better among a stack books than forming a line. Yet, he obeyed.

The king was the only man that Cassar had ever met whose height nearly matched a gargolas. Tarek Grandar was but a head shorter than Cassar. The difference between the two was in the head, neck and limbs. Cassar’s head was huge with flat features. His neck was as round as a man’s waist and his limbs bulged out grotesquely. It didn’t stop there. Cassar’s forearms were twice the size of his biceps, and his legs below his knees were larger than they were above.

Tarek Grander, in contrast, had sharp features – a pointed nose and chin. He had a slender waist, but a thick chest. His arms and legs were strong, but clearly inferior to a gargola. Yet, no gargola with sense mistook Tarek Grandar for a lesser being.  Tarek Grandar was a god among men, dwarves and gargolas. It was more than just the powerful swords he carried. Tarek Grandar was myth given breath.

“Mighty Cassar, we must reach the peak by dawn,” Tarek’s voice cracked, the very thin grasp of sanity evident. In his better days, Tarek’s voice had stirred things in the heart of Cassar that he did not think possible. Power mixed with limitless kindness had won over Cassar and all that bowed before him in Marek. Those days were gone.

“Why my king, why?” Cassar wiped sweat and blood away from his forehead. “I’ve led you this far with no question, but we are under attack and undermanned. What business waits there? I deserve that much, if not as your subject than as your old friend!”

Tarek smiled. Behind his shoulder, Old Moon’s face frowned. Cassar thought at that moment the man may just pull the moon down and slay it when they reached the peak. What then, he thought, what would you do if he does just that?

“Old friend,” Tarek puzzled over the words. “Yes, old friend. You warrant that much.”

“Well, what is it then,” Cassar pleaded?  Behind them the traitors had retreated, but he knew that the battle would wage up the narrow staircase leading to the peak.

“I have business with the heavens. I seek payment for services rendered.”