Reign Of Gods (Book #1 in 'Vampire God Trilogy') [COMPLETED]

Chapter 2

He traveled north on roads gone to mud from the storm. The horrors
and the wonders of the night played through his mind as he hunched over his horse, favoring his aching ribs.

He swore, should he live long enough, he would practice healing magic more often, and with more attention.

He passed fields where men worked and cattle grazed in the soft morning sunlight. And lakes that picked up their blue from the late summer sky. He wound through forests where the waterfalls thundered and the shadows and mosses were the realm of the faerie folk.

He was known here, and caps were lifted when Hoyt the Sorcerer passed by. But he didn‟t stop to take hospitality in one of the cabins or
cottages. Nor did he seek comfort in one of the great houses, or in the
conversations of monks in their round towers.

In this journey he was alone, and above battles and orders from gods,
he would seek his family first. He would offer them all he could before he left them to do what he‟d been charged to do.

As the miles passed, he struggled to straighten on his horse whenever
he came to villages or outposts. His dignity cost him considerable discomfort until he was forced to take his ease by the side of a river where the water gurgled over rock.

Once, he thought, he had enjoyed this ride from his cottage to his family home, through the fields and the hills, or along the sea. In solitude, or in the company of his brother, he had ridden these same roads and paths, felt this same sun on his face. Had stopped to eat and rest his horse at this very same spot.

But now the sun seared his eyes, and the smell of the earth and grass couldn't reach his deadened senses.

Fever sweat slicked his skin, and the angles of his face were keener as he bore down against the unrelenting pain.Though he had no appetite, he ate part of one of the oatcakes along
with more of the medicine he‟d packed. Despite the brew and the rest, his ribs continued to ache like a rotted tooth.

Just what good would he be in battle? he wondered. If he had to lift his sword now to save his life he would die with his hands empty.

Vampire, he thought. The word fit. It was erotic, exotic, and somehow
horrible. When he had both time and energy, he would write down more of
what he knew. Though he was far from convinced he was about to save this world or any other from some demonic invasion, it was always best to gather knowledge.

He closed his eyes a moment, resting them against the headache that
drummed behind them. A witch, he‟d been told. He disliked dealing with
witches. They were forever stirring odd bits of this and that in pots and
rattling their charms.

Then a scholar. At least he might be useful.Was the warrior Cian? That was his hope. Cian wielding sword and shield again, fighting alongside him. He could nearly believe he could fulfill the task he‟d been given if his brother was with him.

The one with many shapes. Odd. A faerie perhaps, and the gods knew just how reliable such creatures were. And this was somehow to be the front
line in the battle for worlds?

He studied the hand he‟d bandaged that morning. "Better for all if it
had been dreaming. I‟m sick and tired is what I am, and no soldier at the best of it."

Go back. The voice was a hissing whisper. Hoyt came to his feet,
reaching for his dagger.Nothing moved in the forest but the black wings of a raven that perched in shadows on a rock by the water.

Go back to your books and herbs, Hoyt the Sorcerer. Do you think you
can defeat the Queen of the Demons? Go back, go back and live your pitiful
life, and she will spare you. Go forward, and she will feast on your flesh and drink of your blood.