Mt. Ohm - God Slayer by K. van Marshall (top android ebook reader txt) 📕

words of the Prince seemed to enrage the storm as the winds began to scream louder than before. A forest of cyclones grew upwards from the sea, mingling with the falling tornadoes of the sky; together they took root in the sea. All the while a payload of thunder and lightning, batters down around the hapless fleet. The force the cyclones generate cause the sea to tremor and erupt with vengeance; like the maddened reaction of someone recoiling from the rough touch of an unwanted advance. Immediately the rear ship was enveloped by a cyclone. Again, the crew members had no chance. The only difference; the complete silence that wrapped the capsized warships - the vacuum inside the cyclone stole the air of those aboard instantly, suffocating and robbing the crew of their lives.

 

“Dast it!”, screamed the Prince.

 

That was a bitter blow, the rear ship contained the heavy squadron, elite fighters; extremely durable. He was not concerned about the spriggers, all the best were on Namor, but that was it for his plan to use brute force along with the spriggers to clear a path to Mt. Ohm. Clenching his jaw, he watched as his scheme is washed away.

 

The mood down in the brig was no lighter than that at the helm. A concerned Zweek attended to Stow with Xena, while an icy silence hung over the wobbling brig, everyone present dwelled in the gloom of their thoughts. The violent rocking of the ship had brought into sharp focus the likelihood of their demise. Unlike the rest of the brig, the JoDo of Niisarm had their minds stuck in Youllo, with Novus and the rest.

 

Pondering, Zweek sat beside Stow, attempting to support Xena as she bandaged Stows oozing wound. It's true, what the Prince said. If the rest of Niisarm were killed, they had no way of knowing. Back in Youllo, back when this started, when everything went wrong - that may have been the end of Niisarm. Novus… family, please don’t be dead, Zweek prayed Edvard's words were lies.  

 

Thinking back, Zweek remembered the legend that made Niisarm. It was the day they slayed a demon. Such an amazing feat, that it caught the attention of the Youllon royals. Once the King had set his eyes on Niisarm there was little they could do to refuse. The ruler of Youllo valued power, like many rulers throughout the worlds bloody history. The King saw Niisarm's potential as an important force for his army. The Prince however did not share his fathers belief, and soon came to see Niisarm as a threat; he feared they would join forces with his brother. Together their influence on the people of Youllo was already greater than his own, and even his father seemed blinded by the brilliance of Niisarm, preferring Zweek and Novus, to his war tried and mighty self. Their innocent nature and righteous endeavours instilled them as symbols of hope, and the Prince had only one talent, war.

 

Prince Edvard was blessed from an early age with a brilliant tactical mind as well as martial prowess. However, the young prince also displayed a sadistic love for cruelty and torture. With his fathers obvious distrust hanging over him and the threat of his brother and Niisarm; Prince Edvard enacted a fiendish plan.

 

By promising his sister's a fortune, he gained their help and the Royal siblings staged a false scene, implicating Novus of inappropriate actions. Even before this, Prince Edvard launched a campaign to destroy Niisarm's reputation. Using evidence of assassinations he tainted the name of Niisarm in the court. Over the weeks the prince gracefully spilled all the information on how he destroyed Niisarm. Mind filled with Prince Edvard's stories, Zweek could not help but think Novus may be dead.

 

“Ka, ka... Hu hu, dat pongck, hits bloody hard”, said Stow, coughing. Clutching his side, he was yet to regain his regular breathing rate. “But ave to stick to the plan! Ya hear me! kaffkuh tu”. Stow coughed up a lump of blood, then laid back on the cold wooden floor. With every violent jolt of the ship, his face warped with pain.

 

“We will”, agreed Zweek, smiling at Stow, Xena looked down concerned.

 

“Kill them all”, spat Stow.

 

“I am down, that Edfart first! Ha”, laughed Xena, forcing a smile.

 

Zweek glared at the pair. If Novus and the rest are dead… I can't lose these two. He took in the sad scene of the brig, hope had abandoned them. Placing a hand on Stow’s chest and Xena's arm. Zweek whispers. “Yeah he will get his, but first of all. We survive”.

Chapter 17 - First step

 The day of departure. Judor ruefully started his morning rituals. Today his comfy hole of an apartment was all too comforting. Like most Venzecans Judor is fiercely patriotic, the thought of leaving home to roam the unpredictable north almost made him sick. Nonetheless it was time to get ready.  

 

First up: quickly inhaling his huge breakfast. On a wooden stump of a table, sits several bluejar eggs, sugar cane porridge and a huge variety of fruit - he clears the entire meal in under 3 minutes. Starting the day with a mighty breakfast is important to Judor. Especially today, he may not get to enjoy Venzecan delicacies for a while.

 

Although small, Judor's home has everything it needs tightly squeezed into a space the size of two emperor beds. The décor was typical for a single person Venzecan flat. Unique and jaunty, every piece of furniture was built using wood carved from the very tree the trunkside flat dwells inside.

 

Rolling his mat bed to the side, he stands in the centre of the room. Next and second up: exercise - slowly Judor warms up. Stretching his hefty purple bulk takes time.

 

Third up: readying his soul for the coming day and more crucially the coming journey; a full set of Vi Xi. Daily practice is important to improve sharpness of his martial sword. Its vital he becomes stronger, quick. Judor desperately wanted to be of use for when Els achieves her destined position of Chieftain. Then it occurred to him that godhood would end the need for physical training, but he continued his routine anyway; he would still needed to be sharp for the journey.

 

Finishing the first part of his morning routine, Judor grabs his bag, spear and shield and steps through the front door, then looks back one last time. He will miss his little haven. Wearing a grey shirt dotted with red squares and brown jeans, Judor stoically stands with his back to his round door, his home was just high enough that a few rays from the sun could be felt - immediately the tan of his purple hue deepens.

 

Judor readied himself, rubbing his woolly dark brown hair. “Let’s go!”. Leaping from his doorstep, he grabs a vine and swings through the towering trees towards the shadow covered ground of the Gully.  

 

Living alone on lower levels of the outskirts of Lonston suited Judor fine. The Gully, one of the less desirable living places in the city, is even described by some as the only ghetto in Venzeca. But Judor liked it, aesthetics and possessions meant little to him; the only thing that motivated him was Els. She is the one person in this world that Judor genuinely liked and deeply loved. Everyone else, either family or cohorts, he simply tolerated, but there was something about Els, she had a light in her soul which made Judor want to be something greater; sometimes she even managed to make him smile. A few others have garnered his respected; he genuinely thought Sabo was okay, and Knoah was bearable, at times.

 

Like Els, there was something about Knoah, something unpredictable. There are times Knoah displays a dangerous side, Judor views him as creature no different to the carnivorous trap-plants of the deep jungle; deceptively alluring, they lead the unsuspecting to their doom with a sweet scent. Unknown to himself, he was no different to the others he thought gullible fools.

 

Landing in his usual spot, the lowest point in all of Lonston, the bottom of Pott hill. Judor stretched his thick legs, then took off. The next part of his daily training, endurance. A full paced sprint to the center of Lonston and back, however today there would be no return leg. Judor would usually complete this every day; apart from warriors of the Roru Zulon, most Venzecan's can not complete a single leg of this marathon journey.

 

Overshadowed by gigantic trees, the ground level of Gully is dark and cold. Judor looks up to the sky as he runs, he can barely see a speck of sky.  Sharp angular tree houses are stuck to the massive tree trunks, and larger branches; massive yellow tree leafs take up the rest of the sky space. Occasionally giant hummers can be seen darting back and forth from the treetop mansions. Those who live in the upper levels of Gully have enough wealth that they never need to come down to floor level, or rely on zip-carts.

 

At ground level anyone hanging around the Gully were usually up to nothing good, yet Judor strode fearlessly. Here in this part of Lonston, the no-pather's dwell aimlessly, trying to scrape a living or laugh through the misery of those around them, or those they can drag down. Since moving into the ghetto, Judor had to prove himself on only a few occasions.

 

As part of the future gene, the rougher inhabitants of the Gully marked him as a target instantly; anyone regarded as part of the 'future gene' are known by most in Venzeca. As the national hopes and prodigies, a celebrity status proceeds them. However it did not take long for Judor's new neighbours to learn, why he was named in such a prestiges list. He is exceptionally strong, in strength alone he easily competes with Zulon warriors. After a few demonstrations of the huge difference in strength between himself and the dead-pathers, they left him alone. Now they steer clear, whenever they see him coming.

 

Today’s run was a nervous one - thinking about what they were about to do, made Judor want to hide. Having only left the island once, during Urha, he never thought he would be leaving again so soon. Although the nerves burned the pit of his stomach making Judor feel as if he needed to go toilet, he had no thoughts of fear for his own life or self preservation, but feared for the life of Els. He prayed his strength would be enough to protect her. All he knows of Mt. Ohm are rumours. Judor knew this was a bad idea, but once Els had decided something, nothing stopped her. Even if he was to snitch, all that would result in, is Els going at some other point without him.

 

“Yo Juds”. Knoah sprang into view, swinging low on a vine. “You might as well live in Petrahasa”, he mocked, as the rubber soles of his black kicks skid to a stop on the warm stone floor.

 

Unfazed, Judor looks Knoah up and down. “Whatever. Why you here”.

 

“I thought I would come and meet you”, replied Knoah, dusting himself down. “You look ready”, he said pointing