Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Vendetta Theory ❯ Chapter 5

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One lone self bleeds across a dark pond,

To his will and self doth darkness bond,

Hellish fire and smoke left deep impression,

Naught for sins past, but one transgression.

Across plains, ravines, and even snow,

Through forests, mountains, under toe,

Along pathways made, marched wide and far,

No rhyme nor reason 'cept one great scar.

He is filled with but a single envy,

Slayer of Gods, his name is Freinze.

 

 

“Drummers!” the order was barked. “Begin new pace! Carry out, double time!” The order was mimicked by the drummers, seated on monstrous beasts whose human comparison could only be described as a hybrid of a rhino and a hippopotamus. Five massive drums were stretched across the backs of these mammoth pack animals. A large looping horn was slung across the shoulder of the rider.

 

The drummers seated on their backs were strange tattooed humanoids with long black markings stretching from their tops of their shaved heads to the soles of their feet. These marks on the men's sun-baked skin wove like snakes of paint creating a fierce appearance. Every once in a while one of them would pick up his horn and blow out a harsh note or slap the beasts flanks.

 

Sweat beat down the men's faces as they increased the beat to a running pace. The line of men, spanning hundreds of miles, increased their speed from a march to a jog. Those who couldn't keep up were dragged out of line and stabbed with the long curved blades carried by captains who were mounted on wolves of great size.

 

Bringing up the very rear of the army were great inventions. Not great in the way of helping others but great in the way of raining death upon all in their path. They were the largest siege machines ever created. Each were great beasts of lumber and steel; catapults, battering rams, trebuchets, siege towers and many other chaotic machines designed to do but one thing. Destroy.

 

The only creatures that could move these monstrosities were the giants. Each at least 3 times the size of a man some even bigger, had wrinkled white skin that was left unprotected except for giant chest plates of a leather material woven by the giants themselves. Except for the aforementioned plate and a simple cloth, which covered the torso, the giants were completely naked. Their skin already formed a natural armor that no arrow could penetrate. Strapped across their backs were thick spiked clubs made from the wood of a tree unknown by most.

 

It was found that even though the dull-witted creatures were only all to happy to join the ranks, trial and error found the only way to control them was with high-pitched whistles unheard by normal men. It was far and away the greatest assembled army ever, and its leader was even greater.

 

" * *

 

The newly christened warlord pondered how he had turned from the trouble-making demi-god of mischief to the crazed vengeful entity he had metamorphoses.

 

The question was purely rhetorical. He knew exactly who and what had sent him over the edge.

 

10,000 millennia, 100,000 centuries, 1,000,000 decades, 10,000,000 years, 120,000,000 months, 3,650,000,000 days. He could recall every day he spent chained in the very bowels of Hel guarded by Helen herself.

 

He could relive every second of his agony. They would pay! Oh would they pay! They could not fathom the power of his idea. The power of the vendetta theory

 

He had achieved his first two goals, Breaking out of Hel, and recruiting his vast army of the Damned. He still needed The Blade of Souls, but that was a slight snag, nothing to lose sleep over. Sleep, it was something Freinze hadn't gotten a lot of lately not since he had torn his way out of his repression, out of Hel

 

He didn't reveal his power until it was absolutely necessary. He took every creature off the planet that was willing to join him on his quest for power, absolute power.

 

Of course no one expected him to be the ringleader, for he was naught but a lowly demi-god, half god half daemon. Idiot father, he thought fornicating with some lowly peasant and soiling his blood right to be king! Then casting him to the bowels off Hel as a child would to an outgrown toy! He had been cast away from his home with only Hel as his orphanage. But he would not be toyed with any longer. No more would he, nore any other in his army, feel the thirst, the heat, the ungodly, unfathomable pain. From now on he would bow to no one and all would bow to him.

 

He had trouble handling the army at first but he found a quite ingenious way around it. In a large ceremony, filled with festivities, drinks, and certain feminine entertainment. he appointed a second in command, then had him chained to a large totem pole. Then he watched patiently while birds slowly removed the flesh off his body. After the man was flayed to near death, Freinze lit the pole aflame. It burned for many hours and the man died a most excruciating death. He appointed a new second in command and told the army that `in the army's totem pole' he was at the top. Anyone who proved uncooperative would be kicked off the totem structure. Brutally kicked off. He had no problems afterwards.

 

He would make his victims feel all the agony he had felt from his imprisonment. All of it! His laugh rang out over the war drums, over the stomping of feet, and over the land. This glorious army was under his and only his control. The world, no the universe would fear the banner of his army, of Freinze's Army!

 

" " "

 

Three inches. That was all that separated him from his captor. She was so tantalizingly close he could smell her perfumed scent. Helen took great pride in her ability for eternal pain to those sent to her chambers. This one was different.

 

She remembered the day he was delivered to her, chained to bhajar, the unbreakable stone of which Hel's foundation was based. Nine enormous steel chains were required to hold him in place. two were lashed to each limb binding him to the stone spread eagle, The last was lashed around his chest, attached to two points right and left of his pectorals.

 

Helen stood back and examined the specimen in front of her. He certainly had changed since she had last seen him. His once creamy white skin had tanned. His chest and back were all covered in deep unsightly scars nearly an inch deep that carved canals through his skin. His long blond locks shrouded his face. Oh Gods his face! His once beautiful face was branded with a capitol T on his left cheek and a capitol G on his right. The wound's still smelt like burnt flesh, The work of the everlasting fire he had been branded with made sure he was always reminded of his crime with terrible pain.

 

The left mark signified he had betrayed, a grave consequence indeed, perhaps worthy of tenure in Hel, but it was the mark on his right cheek that was of greatest significance. The dreaded G emblazed onto his skin was what earned him his punishment in her chamber.

 

This scar meant he had seriously provoked the gods. It was not a mark handed out lightly. Helen thought back. She couldn't even remember the last time she had seen The Mark. Looking at his cheeks gradually raises one's attention to the eyes. His eye's were worst of all! He raised his face and held contact directly into Helen's own eyes. In them she saw pure inexplicable evil She stumbled and fell to her knees. Her hands had been thrown over her head. She was breathing hard as two guards helped her up. She dared to look again at his face and found him grinning a satisfactory smile.

 

She had allowed herself to be broken. But never again. If he broke her again, control would be lost and that could not happen.

 

“Lock him in! This one seems especially unstable and thus is well worth my time.”

 

The six heavily muscled men hauled the prodigious block of stone to an empty opening in the wall. They lined the block up to the outlined space and pushed it in. the block moved in near perfectly and only a small amount of dust and rubble was kicked up was kicked up. Helen walked over to the wall and ran her finger fluidly across the crack separating the wall from the stone he was imprisoned upon. As her nail left the last inch of the crack the walls groaned and the space was sealed. The two pieces of stone had merged together with a groan leaving no trace behind.

 

“You may leave now.” She beckoned the guards to leave waving her hand towards the door. They were only too happy to oblige shuddering as they raced out of her presence.

 

She waited until the footsteps receded into the distance. All that was left was the flickering of torches. She looked him up and down her gaze reaching from his blistered feet past his whipped legs, beyond his lacerated chest, between his seared arms, settling on his face

 

“My my, haven't we changed?” She cupped his face under his chin with one hand forcing him to look her in the eye, and caressed the scars on his face with her other hand. Fingernails softly traced the contours of his face before sharply digging into the raw flesh. He winced involuntarily from the pain and inhaled deeply. She of course hadn't changed at all. Her flawless complexion was still covered with silky blond curls. Her soft creamy skin seemed unaffected by the world's two blazing suns. Her flowing white dress tough it was loose clung to her ample curves. Cool blue eyes flanked a petite nose and luscious rosy lips. She was ironically the only beautiful thing in all of Hel. Contrasted against the harsh background she was even more stunning.

 

“Shut up bitch!” He growled in retort his face still burning for her nails onslaught.

 

“Now that's no way to talk to a lady,” She told him sweetly. “you're being very disrespectful!” She slapped him with the back of her hand across the broad of his face. The great iron chains strained and groaned as Freinze wildly lunged against his restraints in an effort to break free.

 

“Don't be like this, if I have to be forceful it isn't nearly as much fun. It's much more enjoyable to break a captive mentally It provides a rather exhilarating effect.” She reflected. Freinze stood with his arms crossed silent, defiant to her bidding. Reluctantly, he admitted that his face had begun to throb horribly from her ruthless assault. He felt that to momentarily concede until she became more adjusted to his presence and attitude was no sign of weakness.

 

“Come on, talk to me! The quiet ones are dreadfully boring. Are we alive over there? converse with me bastard of Ori.”

 

Freinze looked at her scathingly, “As far as I know father hasn't died. He hasn't perished. No one's filched his life. Well, not yet anyways. That honor belongs to me; so I'm not technically a bastard now am I?”

 

“You might as well be where you are now. You're cut off from everyone, except me of course, for a long, long, long time ”

 

She walked up to his immobile body and slowly traced the outlines of his arm and chest. “Why the women must've thrown themselves at you, look at these muscles. I admit if it was not for this unfortunate ,” she said lightly tap-ping his right cheek “I might have ended up as one of them. Most of the committers of godly treason are spindly, withered old men who thought they were more powerful than we were. Never have I gotten such a fine physical specimen as yourself, and the King of the God's son at that. What a achievement you'd be.” Helen looked off mock dreamily.

 

“I'm not a conquest woman, I would not touch you after a million of years of chastity.” He snarled.

 

“You mindset will change,” She said knowingly “Besides you filth, you're not worthy enough, not skilled enough, for my bed.”

 

“You're not worthy of your position you stupid whore of a woman. I assume you made quite a powerful `persuasion' on my father to gain this post.”

 

She pulled her hand back, palm ready to deliver another blow to his face, Freinze glared daring her to strike him again. Suddenly she lowered it. “Do you know why I did that? I did it because partly because I refuse to be run in circles for eternity be-cause you have no command out of the hateful things that come from your mouth, but mostly because you need to know I hold all the power. I'm in control. Control of the food, the water, the chains, yes the pain. I control Hel itself” Helen turned around letting him stare at her exposed back as he thought about what she said.

 

After reflecting he asked wistfully “Can you control your repulsive bitching too?” She turned around raked his chest deep with her nails.

 

She adjusted the strap of her dress which had fallen array during her assault then stormed out from the small room with a huff, calling over her shoulder, “You don't know what your missing you vile, brute!”

 

As he viewed her retreating hips sashay into the distance he muttered “I didn't get to be the God of mischief by standing around stoically! She be begging for me by the time my tenure ends!” This image he found particularly funny. His laugh could be heard by the frazzled Goddess of the dead pounding upon her ears like a slap to the face.

 

“I will conquer you Freinze the bastard! You will burn for me, you will scream for me. You will plead for the very essence of my being!”