Belly of the Beast by Warren Thomas (story books for 5 year olds txt) 📕

just remember what I told you about city girls,” Mattie scolded playfully. “Stay safe, and earn your forge price, and we’ll see about finding you a nice Leltic girl in a nearby village.”

            Tane kissed his mother’s teary cheek, and clasped his father’s callused hand, then turned north toward Kestsax. Despite heading toward an uncertain future, he found a bounce in his step and a growing anticipation in his breast.

Chapter 3

            The walls of Treversax crumbled to dust as the sun set behind thick cloud-cover. Dakar smiled, lowering His hands from the display of divine power as a wail of despair rose up from the doomed Leltic city of wattle and thatch.

            The God stood atop a barren hilltop. His foes on the city walls had a good view of his otherworldly glory. Dakar stood ten feet tall, a bestial vision of horror, halfway between a black-furred satyr and a big hairy bug. His black horns grew back and curved, with sharp talons at the end of thick fingers. He well understood he was a vision out of nightmare for humans.

            “You have shattered their will to fight, Divine Master,” High Priest Mogens said, grinning wolfishly as their magically enslaved host poured over the remnants of Treversax’s defenses. The huge blonde Thanir brigand was one of the first humans Dakar had encountered, and the fiercest fighter, too. And his domineering presence had a cowing effect upon other men that Dakar had used to good measure. “Your divine dominion spreads unchecked. Soon, You will be the only God!”

            Dakar’s hands curled tightly into fists at the thought. Finally, He, and He alone, would rule this pathetic world! He would not have to share power with His fellows. And those haughty Arisen would grovel at His feet, His immortal slaves for all eternity. But for now He had to be cautious. He knew only too well that certain factions of the Arisens were trying to use His appearance to secure greater power for Themselves, and that was the only thing keeping the Arisen Gods from attacking with all Their considerable fury.

            Play your petty games of power, He thought, His smile growing wider and crueler. Give me the time I need, and I’ll see that all of you get what you deserve!

            Aloud, He commanded, “Attend me, High Priest!”

            At ten feet tall, Dakar’s stride ate up ground at a remarkable rate. Few could pace the God with the ease that Mogens did, for the High Priest stood a good seven feet himself. His stature, along with his fierce, deep-seated hatred for everyone and the world they lived upon, made him the perfect High Priest for the conquest of a world.

            “The greatest temple in the city is dedicated to Kamain, Divine Master,” High Priest Mogens said as they marched over the dead and dying littering the ground. “The temple is in the center of the city, across from the king’s castle. Am I correct in assuming that You will take that temple as your home here in Treversax?”

            “You are,” He said. “Have it prepared for My arrival. I will survey the city while the temple is consecrated to Me. Send what priests you need.”

Chapter 4

            Nizar al-Sayyid snarled at the wild press about him. The fools! There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He was a thief, and understood that only too well. Never in his thirty-two years had he found himself in such a hopeless situation. And it looked as if he’d never have a chance to find himself in any situation after tonight was over.

            I was a fool to leave the desert! he cried in silent rage.

            Nizar hated the southern forest lands, and their Leltic masters. True, they were far easier to steal from than his native Tamerans. Compared to Tamerans and other desert folk, Lelts were childlike in their trust of everyone. He was growing rich in his late night, stealthy plunder of the city’s nobles and merchants.

            I should’ve left yesterday, he thought. But no, I knew I had one more day to steal and loot these fools. Taliope, why have you deserted me!

            The Goddess of Chance had nothing to say.

            Ducking into a dark alley, he leaned against a wall and rested as he watched the terrified citizenry hurry past on the street. His dark clothes, mostly dark blues and greens, complete with turban and veil, were heavily laden with his looted gold and silver, all sewn into the garments for safekeeping from other greedy hands.

            “Gods, the indignity of dying in such a foul place,” he snarled. He shivered, as much from the chill of the air as the situation. Never had he felt such cold. And the southern sun was colder than in his equatorial homeland, so even in the heat of summer it was too cold. “I should have known such a cold, dim land was cursed.”

            The worst part, by dying he would never achieve his ultimate goal, his destiny. He would never be able to put his arrogant half-brothers in their place, preferably deep in his dungeons and under the pitiless care of the royal torturers. He would never be able to repay his father, Sultan Asafu, for refusing to acknowledge Nizar as a cherished son and heir, naming him bastard instead.

            The shame and betrayal still tormented Nizar. It had eventually killed his mother, for the Sultan’s refusal had branded her a harlot. Her family had disowned her for “her” indiscretion, casting her out for the human wolves to prey upon. She was forced into prostitution to support herself and her son, adding another shame for him to bear. Nizar had grown up to join the pack, more out of self-preservation than any love of it or its membership.

            The Tameran royal family had so much to pay for, and the Gods were determined to see to it he never had the chance to exact that payment. It was the bitterest