The Last Goddess

by C.E. Stalbaum

  Chapter Seventeen

   

  The Highland Forest was immense. It stretched for hundreds of miles south along the coast and was nearly the same width at its center. From a traveler’s perspective, it was about as foreboding as climbing up a mountain; the trees were packed tightly together, and the thick underbrush was nearly impassable. Tiel, however, had assured them it wasn’t completely trackless, and insisted he knew a way to get them through it without too much hassle. 

  Rook was pleasantly surprised to find out the young man was right—more or less. They managed to cover probably fifty miles through the dense terrain in a couple days, which was about three times faster than he had expected. The monk had only looked lost a handful of times, and in each instance he’d managed to find a landmark that had gotten them back on the right track.

  It was near nightfall on the second day when he insisted they were close to Jehalai. Rook’s aching muscles and tired feet wanted to believe him, but he hadn’t seen a single trace of civilization anywhere. And the closer dusk came, the less likely it seemed they would be sleeping in a real bed tonight.

  “You didn’t just build a giant tree-house out here and call it a monastery, I hope,” Van commented as he hacked his way through another thick barrier of underbrush. Behind him, Rynne gently escorted their horses along behind her; the group hadn’t actually been able to ride in hours.

  Tiel shook his head. “It’s hidden for a reason. We have many enemies, and they are persistent.”

  “Right,” Van muttered, hacking away another low-hanging branch.

  “I think it’s beautiful,” Rynne said. “Unblemished, majestic…”

  Van snorted. “That wasn’t what you were saying when we found those spiders in your bedroll last night. I didn’t think Sunoans could swear like that—”

  “No one asked you. Just keep slashing things like a good grunt.”

  Selaste leaned in to Rook’s ear. “Do they ever stop?”

  “Sometimes,” he said. “Not often.”

  “It’s just up here,” Tiel called from up ahead of them.

  “You said that four hills ago,” Van complained. “And I still don’t see a screlling thing.”

  The monk didn’t reply, but he did surge up ahead to the top of the hill before putting his hands on his hips and smiling broadly. The incline was steep but passable, though it took a bit more effort to get the horses to follow. Once Rook finally got up there, he half-expected some glamorous, sparkling spire to greet them.

  Instead, there was nothing.

  “You were just messing with our heads, weren’t you?” Van grumbled. “I bet we’re not even going in the right direction.”

  “We’re already here,” Tiel said, his smile widening.

  Rook frowned and glanced out over the hill. By all appearances, it looked exactly like the last dozen miles of forest they had traveled through. He considered asking Tiel if he was hallucinating from dehydration, but then Selaste threw up her hand and a sparkling orb of light flashed in her palm. She tossed it forward down the hill where it splashed against a tree—and then, bit by bit, the entire forest began to unravel.

  The transformation started slowly but quickly accelerated. Some of the trees disappeared entirely, floating away like sand in a breeze. Others grew larger and more foreboding, and the forest canopy’s shadow widened over a much larger area. Up ahead, one of the great oaks morphed from a thick but simple tree into a sprawling, one-story marble building.

  But most shocking of all were the bushes not ten feet from them. As Selaste’s magic passed over them, the leaves were replaced by strands of cloth and the branches by human limbs. Within seconds a half a dozen fully formed human men stood where the trees had once been, their arms crossed and eyes narrowed as they warily sized up the newcomers. They wore simple red robes, and their bald heads bore intricate Edehan tattoos. They didn’t appear to have any weapons, but having seen Tiel in action, Rook didn’t find that particularly reassuring.  

  “Good afternoon,” an elderly man standing at the center of the group called out. Thin-faced and sporting a wild shock of silver hair, he was the only one who hadn’t shaved his head bald. “Welcome to the monastery of Jehalai.”

  Rook forced himself to blink rather than stare blankly. “Greetings. I have to admit I wasn’t expecting…that.” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “My name is—”

  “Nathan Rook, formerly a captain in the Ebaran Vanguard,” the old man declared. “Your associate is Lorvan Corbyle, once a sergeant under your command. And you, my dear, are Rynne Vorani, Sunoan musician and playwright.”

  “You seem to have us at a disadvantage,” Rook replied coolly. “Though I’ll take a guess that you must be Master Jonas Bale.”

  The old man smiled. “It is good to finally meet you.”

  “You already know the reason we’re here, I imagine,” Rook said, nodding towards Selaste. “We found something you lost.”

  Bale studied the woman carefully, and the monks around him did the same. None of them appeared nearly as excited as Rook had expected—certainly not at all like Tiel had been. In fact, as a group they seemed more plaintive than anything.

  “I wondered what fate would eventually bring to us,” Bale said quietly. “When Tiel messaged me a week ago, I admit I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. This is certainly an interesting outcome.”

  “Interesting?” Rynne asked. “We just brought the Messiah straight to your doorstep, and all you have to say is ‘it’s interesting?’”

  The Kirshane Master smiled faintly. “I’m afraid you misunderstand. I was never expecting you to bring us the Kirshal. I was merely curious to see what the imposter would look like.”

  Selaste’s face froze. “What are you talking about?”

  He visibly sized her up, and for a long moment no one spoke. Eventually he grunted softly. “Do you really not know, I wonder? Could you be as much a pawn in this as they?”

  Rook frowned, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong here… “What do you mean?”

  “I’m afraid we already found the Kirshal, Mr. Rook,” Bale said softly. “And she is dead.”