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

            Sitting up and pulling all the blankets about himself, Nizar sat quietly while his body got used to being awake. The fire needed building, but it was too cold for him to do it. That would require letting go of the blankets.

            He regarded the blonde Leltic woman curled up beside him. She was awake, her eyes wide and fixed on him.

            Like a trapped animal, he thought.

            Her fear made him smile. Allowing his thoughts to wander, he remembered the night just past. He recalled her warm body, her kisses, the fear in her eyes that she might fail to please him.

            “Get the fire going, then heat up something for me to eat,” he said.

            Mad pounding at the door startled him, making both of them jump.

            “Your Grace! Please!” a female voice called. Nizar recognized it as the Acolyte Olwen, assistant to the village priest. She had been an acolyte of Tuunar, the Arisen God of the Dead, and quickly shifted alliances. Nizar didn’t trust her, but she wasn’t his concern. “Your Grace, please, it’s urgent! Your prisoners all escaped!”

            “My God!” Nizar cried out, leaping to his feet and flinging away the blankets.

            In three strides Nizar was out the door and facing the startled acolyte. The hallway was even darker than his room, with the air so frigid that it made his vacated room seem balmy. The realization that he was naked, both in face and body, flickered in the back of his mind, but was instantly forgotten. If they had lost the swordsmith, then all of them, himself included, were doomed.

            “What did you say? Are you talking about the swordsmith?” Nizar demanded, seizing the girl by both arms and shaking her.

            To his surprise, Olwen easily slipped out of his grasp and flashed enraged blue eyes at him. It reminded him that the barbarian women of these desolate climes had no idea of their proper place, or the respect and diffidence they should show men. They considered themselves equal in all things to men. And their men never said differently, and even seemed to encourage such scandalous behavior. Definitely a morally corrupt people.

            “We lost no one, Your Grace,” Olwen said. “But your prisoner, and all his guards, just rode off.”

            Nizar’s world began to spin. How!? How did he do it? Zombies did not disobey orders. Somehow Tane had freed his friends from the enchantment. But how didn’t matter, yet. Once he recaptured him, Nizar would determine the how and see to it that the swordsmith didn’t have the opportunity again.

            But first I’ll teach him a brutal lesson by killing one or two of his friends, he thought. Maybe the harlot – No! The witch. Somehow, I know she had something to do with this. Probably taught him a spell to counter the slave spell we use. And the elf, who is his best friend.

            Turning his attention back to the acolyte, “I’ll need a horse and supplies.”

            “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she said, though not looking particularly distressed. “But they left our remaining mounts injured in some way before they rode off. They seem to be totally exhausted. The best we can do is send word to a neighboring village and have mounts sent over.”

            Unacceptable, though he knew it was also unavoidable. He absolutely had to leave now, but there didn’t seem to be any way. Tane Kyleson had escaped, and Dakar would hold him responsible.

            “How long will that take?”

            “Maybe midmorning,” she said, shrugging. “Midday at the latest.”

            He nodded, heading back into his room. He would have to pray now, and tell Dakar of his failure. After that, there might not be any reason to worry about anything. Failure in Dakar’s service too often meant a one way trip to the altar, and oblivion.

Chapter 62

            Dakar reveled in the quiet of night. Frail humans, even His enchanted slaves, required sleep. Their limited senses made nighttime the most logical time to rest. He didn’t complain. When needed, He could send His army on the attack with a mere thought, any time of day or night, anywhere within His domain. But as they slept, His priests were busy making sacrifices upon His altars, sending Him thousands of souls to consume.

            A most pleasant way to spend the dark, quiet night.

            He could feel His strength growing. Without the need to supervise His army and priesthood, He could take the time to enjoy the heady feel of growing power while contemplating His coming victory over His hated enemies. For millennia He had planned for this moment, dreaming of the chance to exact His vengeance.

            Within days I will have the first Sword of Power, He thought, grinning fiercely. Then the Arisen will know terror! All the Realms will feel My power! They will feel My wrath and fury!

            A prayer came to Him. Not a devotee, that He would’ve ignored, but of a priest. A certain priest. Nizar al-Sayyid, guardian of His most prized possession, Tane Kyleson, was calling Him.

            A thrill surged through Him. Had the swordsmith already completed a Sword of Power? Could He begin His attack in earnest now?

            I hear, Nizar, He thought back into the priest’s mind, careful not to fully enter the man’s mind. Of all His priests, the Tameran thief turned priest had the most convoluted, self-serving mind. What is your need?

            Nizar hesitated. Dakar was instantly alert, sending an unconscious mental growl at what that bode. The priest cried out in the distant village, the mental echoes reverberating through Dakar’s mind as well.

            What has that fool done?! He thought, waiting. Then to Nizar, He demanded, Speak!

            It all came to Him in a terrified rush, almost incomprehensible in the priest’s terror of being punished. The swordsmith had escaped, and taken all his companions with him as well. Nizar didn’t know how a simple villager had freed