Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,2

the destiny of a dozen races, but the battle for the soul of the world rested in the hands of a young, inexperienced Giant and his small band of companions. That task completed, or at least en route to completion, Joden took his rightful place in the one hundred marching to join the allied army.

Artiss Gran, last of the true Dae’shan, mentioned the momentous occasion rapidly approaching. The world had not seen the likes of such an alliance since the days of the Mage Wars: Giant, Dwarf, Elf, Minotaur, and Man fighting an unimagined army of Goblins. Such prospects robbed the very strong of will and crumbled city walls in anticipation. The Dae’shan offered no promises, no delusions of victory or promise. This war threatened to exceed the reach of all mortals involved.

Unhindered by emotions, Joden accepted his fate. Lord Death rode his chariot straight for the combining armies, ready to reap his terrible reward. The Giant forge master would be among the casualties, carelessly slain for reasons only he valued. Joden grinned as he took in the smooth, stone walls and well-worn paths of Venheim. Content with his inner peace, the Giant turned and joined his troop. The Giants were finally returning to war.

ONE

Grim Dawn

“This is madness.” Orlek angrily crossed his arms over his chest as he paced through the ankle-deep snow. His eyes were stern, narrowed from the fierce glare of sunlight burning brightly.

Ingrid finished pulling her long, blond locks into a braid. She repressed her sigh, knowing his protests stemmed from the awkward combination of affection for her and the strain of leading a rebellion he deemed bound to fail. Frustrations abounded throughout the beleaguered rebel camps. They’d fought, and died, in the name of antiquated ideals. Yet abandoning the principles with which he was raised was like poison in his blood. Orlek’s love of kingdom mired in hopelessness.

Delranan would never return to its former glory. Harnin One Eye had seen to that. Most of the major cities were gutted ruins. Plague had decimated a disproportionate amount of the population. Worse, there was darkness at play in the kingdom. Disappearances continued to rise at a disturbing pace. Children stolen from cribs. Fathers not returning at dusk. Whispers of depraved acts in the east forced an exodus as far west as possible. Delranan had become a kingdom of bones.

Despite the downward spiral they seemed trapped in, Ingrid took hope. The brother of the king’s return offered new light through the gloom. Bahr wanted no part in ruling the kingdom, but he’d vowed to do everything within his power to help purify the hatred occupying the northern kingdom. Ingrid’s hope was that the dispossessed son would reclaim the title from Harnin and restore at least a small measure of Delranan’s normalcy.

Ingrid remained resolute. Feet planted shoulder-width apart, she calmly folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Madness or not we have a civic obligation to uphold. The people of this kingdom have suffered enough.”

“What obligation other than removing Harnin from power do you think we have, Ingrid?” he fumed. “We’ve been pushed across half of the kingdom and kept on the run since the plague struck. This rebellion isn’t as strong as you seem to believe. We’re…fragile…if nothing else.”

“It’s your job to change that, Orlek. Each of us knows the cost and risk associated with our actions. This isn’t the time to blanch in the face of all we’ve accomplished.”

Orlek’s eyes widened with shock. “Just what have we accomplished aside from filling too many holes with corpses?”

Ingrid’s mouth opened and closed quickly. Her viperous retort died on the tip of her tongue as she began to recall faces and names, all brave fighters who’d given their lives in the pursuit of a cause they weren’t wholly sure of. Did Ingrid truly wield such vast power as to command the life and death of her followers on mere whim? She shuddered to think so. A widow of a former Wolfsreik officer, Ingrid was led to believe that all life was precious and no one person deserved to command that of another. Not when it came to Lord Death claiming your soul.

Ingrid paused, oddly recalling a previous conversation where they’d been on opposite sides of the argument. She’d felt used up. A well long bereft of water. The war had dragged on much longer than their earliest expectations. She’d lost friends and enemies, all the while losing part of herself along the way. Fundamental changes continued to have