Blood for the Gods ebook

MACIEJ SZYMCZAK

BLOOD FOR THE GODS

Denmark, 983

Pribignev turned his face toward the sea. A storm gathered and foamed waves kept hitting the shore. A silver sphere accumulated high in the sky, spreading an ominous aura all around. The Lord of the Night, Khors, has reached his fullness today, heralding a time of wraiths, ghouls and nightmares. The grey-eyed warrior clenched his hand on the amulet suspended around his neck and uttered an incantation protecting him from the forces of evil. The solar shield, carved in a gold-plated disc, guarded him against the creatures of darkness, including those inhabiting the foreign land of Denmark. He was in the search of a sorcerer, who left with his group immediately after having moored in the sandy bay. He needed to be sure that he would keep the alliance terms and prevent the bloodthirsty endeavours of his cursed bunch. With a little knowledge about their habits, he guessed that they were in search of a suitable place to worship their demons. They disappeared without a word, taking their slaves with them.

Shapeshifters, Dogheads, Werewolves - this secret warriors’ society bears many names. The mere mention of them stirred panic both among common people and the nobles. These ruthless brutes, known as the Wolves of Chernobog, the Black God, were outlawed by tribal law. Subject to no one, they formed an armed group modelled upon a wolf pack. Sometimes they enrolled in war expeditions, taking eminent prisoners as their loot. They were interested neither in gold, silver, furs, nor other earthly goods. Nothing but the unfortunates who ended up on the altars of their cruel gods. Pribignev belonged to the ducal dynasty of the Wagri and abhorred the barbaric customs of the shape-shifting warriors. However, he had no choice but to tolerate them, allowing them great freedom, even at the cost of spoiling the morale of his troops. The alliance with the Berserkers effectively protected them from the possessive ambitions of the Saxons, their eternal enemies. They would have conquered them long ago, forcing them to accept the faith in the god of the Germans, Jesus Christ. Thanks to the alliance with shapeshifters, not only do they keep on defeating the Saxons regularly in major battles, but also ventured overseas, plundering and pillaging the kingdoms of the north. Pribignev was an experienced leader and knew that this difficult alliance could bring him great benefits.

In the distance, the knight spotted an outline of a high cliff; footprints in the damp sand led to the seaside hill. This was probably the place that the sorcerer had reached where the transformation ritual would take place. Kissing his talisman, the young commander approached the chalky cliff face. A narrow path ran along its slope, leading to the very top. He started his arduous climb, carefully stepping on the slippery, fragile clay. The narrow-stepped belt drilled in chalk kept climbing and became steeper and steeper. The increasingly powerful storm kept pushing him, making the already difficult climb even more exhausting. Pribignev wobbled, losing his balance, balancing dangerously over the precipice. He nearly slipped into the abyss, where he would have crashed on the boulders on the beach. His heavy chain armour and sword added to the efforts, sweat poured from under his silver-plated helmet. All wet, he reached the end of his climb and stood on the edge of a white cliff. With all his clothes sticking to his body and restricting his freedom of movement, he felt as if he had just come out of a bathhouse. Out of breath, he looked around.