by Aaron Oster
“Yes,” Ragnar replied. “And don’t give me that look. This is important.”
“Fi-i-ine,” Elyssa said, rolling her eyes.
“As it turns out, he wasn’t coerced at all,” Ragnar continued, ignoring her rotten attitude. “According to him, the humans simply came to him and asked him to forge them something, though he refused to tell me what it was. They treated him kindly, and one of them even made him laugh a couple of times…Laugh!”
“So?” Elyssa asked.
It was clearly a big deal, or Ragnar wouldn’t think to mention it. But still, what could be so significant about Ivaldi doing something as simple as laughing?
“Ivaldi hasn’t laughed even once in the last thousand years!” Ragnar exclaimed.
“And how would you know that?” Elyssa asked. “You’re only three-hundred and seventy.”
“Three-hundred and sixty-nine, thank you very much,” Ivaldi huffed.
“Your birthday is next week,” Elyssa replied with an eye-roll.
Of all the things the dwarf could be sensitive about, she’d never understood why it was his age that bothered him so much.
“And until then, I’m still three-hundred and sixty-nine,” Ragnar repeated. “But that’s beside the point. I know, because my father told me that he’d never seen Ivaldi laugh in all his time, and neither had his father before him.”
“If you say so,” Elyssa said with a shrug. “Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?”
“Yes,” Ragnar replied, much to her surprise. “The prospect of marriage. I know you don’t like to talk about it, but you’ll be an adult in just a few more months, and tradition dictates that you have to find a husband by then.”
“Screw tradition,” Elyssa snapped. “I don’t like any of the suitors Gilderon brings me. They’re all so boring!”
“I know,” Ragnar said carefully. “However, sometimes we must marry for political reasons and not for love.”
Elyssa blew out a long breath, slumping even further in her seat. She’d known this day would be coming soon. The day when Ragnar stopped telling Gilderon to leave her alone and started pushing for her to get married as well. It was the right thing to do for her people, as she had no siblings, and her closest relative was a third cousin. And when she thought of that idiot taking the throne, getting married and producing an heir suddenly looked a lot better.
“Fine,” she replied tiredly. “I’ll think about it.”
Ragnar gave her a nod, then turned slightly as someone called out to him.
“I’ve got to get going now. The new head of the Guild will be calling a meeting tomorrow around noon to introduce himself and give us an update. I’ll see you then.”
Elyssa blew out another breath as Ragnar’s form vanished. They’d received news that Marcus had met an unfortunate ‘accident’ and would be retiring his position. Elyssa wasn’t an idiot and knew that meant that he’d simply failed too many times. While most didn’t know it, the gnomes were utterly ruthless in their rulings, so she wouldn’t be surprised is ‘retirement’ was just another word for ‘dead.’
Her mind wandered back to the troubling thought of needing to get married. She’d already seen pretty much every suitor that the elves had to offer, which meant she’d likely have to choose the best of the lot to marry. She ran her fingers through her hair, tucking a lock behind one of her pointed ears.
Her elbow accidentally bumped the small switch next to her, and the frozen image of the human invader was once again displayed before her. Elyssa reached to close the image, but paused, hand hovering over the button as she examined his facial features more closely. Now that she was looking, he really was quite handsome.
He was a bit taller than most elves, probably around the height of the stronger beastmen. His features were strong, and he was clearly powerful. Someone like this had to be important in the human lands as well, especially if they wielded power to hurt gods.
Elyssa felt a small smile curl the corners of her lips, as all the separate problems she’d been facing suddenly began to come together. She wasn’t even sure if it was possible for something like what she had in mind to happen, but if there was a chance, then she would see it through. And, as Ragnar had so eloquently pointed out – people marry for politics all the time.
***
Gwendolyn appeared back at the entrance to the warehouse, still clutching at her stomach. The initial shock of the wound had been bad enough, but for some reason, it wasn’t healing, which worried her to no end. She was a goddess, someone blessed with immense power. Even if someone managed to hurt her, she should have recovered instantly, but something was very wrong here.
She replayed the scene in her mind once again as she shoved the sliding door to the side. She had the mortal dead to rights. Her attack had been perfect, with enough power to utterly obliterate him. But, when she’d struck, her power had been completely destroyed. Something had lashed out at her through that spear and broken her hold over her weapon. As a result, her construct had shattered.
The worst part was what had come after — the pain. Morgan had executed a perfect sweep with the spear, slicing her stomach open, but the cut wasn’t the worst part. It was what had come after even that. A blast of energy had then rocked her to her very core and ripped through her body. It had temporarily disrupted her control over her own power, and for just an instant, she’d been vulnerable.
Had someone with enough power attacked her then, even someone who wasn’t a god or wielding a magic spear, she could have been killed! She’d regained control quickly enough and had managed to get away. In hindsight, she realized that she should have stayed and continued fighting. The human was greatly weakened and had taken a lot of injuries, though she hadn’t failed to notice how he’d somehow managed to use a two-handed block, even though she was sure that one of his arms was both broken and dislocated.
That was hardly the most pressing issue. Even more frightening than all of that, was the fact that she was still bleeding. She had to make sure that the others knew what had happened.
Gwendolyn stumbled into the common area, where Sarah, Katherine, and Morgan were all ignoring Herald as he tried to speak. They all looked up as she entered, their carefree and bored looks immediately turning to those of concern and outright shock as they beheld her.
“What the hell happened to you?” Herald asked.
Gwendolyn ignored him, turning to each of her other three companions in turn and giving them a pointed look. She’d warned them all to take Herald’s warnings about the human seriously, and now she’d been injured, something that was supposed to be impossible. She swayed then, the world looking oddly hazy for some reason, but she had to have the last word, if only to let them know that they’d been wrong.
“Told you…so,” she managed to get out. The words had barely left her lips as she collapsed forward, the world around her going dark as consciousness abandoned her.
***
Marcus crouched in the underbrush, listening as the search parties passed, his heart pounding with terror. As soon as he’d gotten the news that his latest scouting party had been killed to a man and that the goddess was fighting against the invaders, Marcus had immediately fled. He’d already had a go-bag prepared for just such an occasion. Judging by how many beastmen were out here hunting for him, he was glad he’d taken precautions.
The Council of Five were utterly ruthless, and with his latest failure, they’d likely decided that it was time for a change of leadership. With the gnomes, that normally meant death, and Marcus was far too young to die. Well, in his opinion, anyway. More loud crashing forced him back down as he prepared to move again, flattening himself against the ground and waiting for the troop of beastmen to pass.
Right now, there was only one place that he knew of where he’d be safe. None of the other races would grant him safe harbor, not with their standing alliance, so his only other option was to throw in his lot with the humans. Perhaps they wouldn’t kill him on sight, a
nd would only take him prisoner or something. Maybe they’d even listen to what he had to say if he told them he had information about their enemies.
He’d be betraying Faeland, but by this point, he honestly didn’t care. A continent that would allow such monsters like the Council of Five to be in power didn’t deserve to survive. The world would be better off without them.
The sounds of stomping boots lessened, and Marcus sprang to his feet, making a mad dash towards the shoreline. He’d prepared a boat there a few weeks in advance, and it was now his last hope of escape. His breathing became labored as he tried to move faster, imagining beastmen leaping at him from the shadows and ripping his body to pieces.
Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and Marcus was soon clear of the tree line, running for all he was worth towards the open water and the boat that bobbed in the rippling waves. It wasn’t a large vessel. It was big enough for perhaps four people, but small enough that he could sail on his own. It was risky to take such a small boat into the open ocean, but anything larger would have been impossible to hide or sail on his own.
He threw furtive glances behind him as he ran for the small ship but reached the mooring lines without spotting so much as a hair of the pursuing beastmen. Clearly, none of them thought he’d try and escape this way. After all, why would he possibly want to set sail when there was nowhere for him to go? They would think that he’d try and find refuge with the dwarves or perhaps the trolls.
“Bunch of idiots,” Marcus muttered, unlooping the last line and scurrying on board.
“Marcus, so glad you could join us,” a deep and very-familiar voice said.
Marcus felt his heart skip a beat and turned slowly to see that he wasn’t as alone as he’d imagined. Four smaller, shriveled gnomes sat on the deck of his small ship, while a fifth, middle-aged one, stood at their center. When one looked at this group, they wouldn’t really see much of a threat. In fact, they wouldn’t even see anything in common at all.
Marcus saw it, though. The look. They all had it, every single one of them. Their eyes shone hard and black, holding the malice that only those who were seeking power above all else could—the Council of Five.
“Take us out, will you?” Shedra, the one who’d greeted him, said.
It was only then that Marcus noticed that two more gnomes were on board, each at one of the oars. Marcus whirled, intending to make a mad dash for the shoreline. He might not have his ship, but he could still escape.
“Stop.”
Shedra didn’t raise his voice, change inflection, or otherwise make a move to intercept him, but Marcus’s body immediately locked up, muscles freezing under the command of the Speaker for the Council of Five. This position was given only to the strongest of the gnomes, and they would have the distinct honor of not only being on the Council, but also speaking for them, thus the title.
“Turn around,” Shedra commanded, and Marcus obeyed, feeling his body moving against his will.
“Good. Now sit down.”
Marcus did as he was told, and Shedra smiled.
“What are you going to do with me?” Marcus asked as the rowers began taking them out onto the open ocean.
“Come now, Marcus,” Shedra said with a click of his tongue. “You’re not stupid. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
Marcus did, in fact, know what they were going to do to him. He just didn’t understand why the entire Council had come out here to see it done.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’re all here,” Shedra said, as though reading his mind. “Well, the answer to that question is quite simple. You see, you know too much, Marcus, and unlike those who entrust others to do their dirty work, the Council believes that it is of the utmost importance we do this ourselves.
“Others might be sloppy, deceitful, or simply make a mistake. We’ve seen it happen time and time again, where someone who was believed to be deceased, miraculously came back from the grave. We are not that sloppy, and we do not make mistakes. When we want someone dead, we do the deed ourselves.”
Marcus swallowed hard as the other members of the Council fixed him with their cold, merciless stares. It was true that he knew too much. He’d been too smart for his own good and had failed to impress. Now, he was only a liability that they would gladly dispose of. With his pending death looming before him, Marcus had to have some final word and say something to spite them. He was a dead man either way, so why fear the Council now?
“I know who you’re really working for,” Marcus hissed. “The deal you’ve struck. Don’t think you’ll get away with it!”
Instead of worrying the others as he’d been hoping, Marcus only found grins. Wizened, old, and toothless smiles greeted his declaration, along with Shedra’s gleaming smile.
“Oh, my dear Marcus. We already have!”
Marcus opened his mouth to retort, when Shedra made a quick movement of his hand. The world tilted crazily for a moment as Marcus’s perspective changed. There was a light thump, and he stared up confusedly at the gnome now towering over him. Then, his brain realized that his head was no longer attached to his body and surrendered to the void.
Shedra turned to the two gnomes who’d been rowing and gestured to the decapitated body.
“Weigh him down and throw him overboard. We can’t have him washing up on shore.”
They jumped to obey, and Shedra turned to address the other Council members.
“Now that he is out of the way, we can…”
A voice, deep and ancient, whispered in their minds then, and as one, all of the gnomes prostrated themselves.
“It is done, master,” Shedra said, his face pressed to the wooden planks. “He is out of the way, and no one else knows.”
There was no audible reply, only a sense that they had pleased her. The presence was then gone, leaving the quivering gnomes alone on the deck. Shedra was the first to rise, watching as the two oarsmen went back to bundling up Marcus’s body. They would have to be dealt with as well, but only once they got back to shore.
The others were too old, and he didn’t much feel like rowing himself. Their plans were coming along nicely, and before long, they would rule Faeland. Not the elves, not the dwarves, and most certainly not the humans!
***
Morgan sat with his legs folded up beneath him as he watched Grace’s unmoving body. They were back in the North Kingdom and had already gone through their debriefing with Katherine and her generals. They’d made sure to feed Herald some false information as well and had subtly hinted to Le’vine when they were being less than truthful. She’d been brought into the loop on Herald’s treachery and was on board with keeping him close.
Katherine had tried to rope Morgan into dinner after that, but he had used Grace as an excuse to get out of it. He hadn’t told her the full story of the spear but had made sure to display it to everyone, making sure they knew he’d managed to injure a god with it. He had no doubt that Herald already knew, and if not, he would find out shortly. Plus, it would give everyone hope that their chances of success were greater than zero.
One might think that he’d be worried about theft, but Morgan had gotten the distinct impression that if anyone other than him touched the spear without permission, bad things would happen to them. He also wasn’t planning on letting her out of his sight. A weapon this valuable needed to be kept on him at all times, and the spear agreed. While some might think it odd of him to take a weapon into bed, Morgan simply didn’t give a shit.
After the meeting, he’d actually gone to Grace’s suite and fetched her, bringing her back to his own room to hear her story. She’d washed up and changed, so she no longer smelled like death. He, on the other hand, still desperately needed a bath, so when she’d finished recounting all that had happened, he’d handed her a core and told her to move up to rank 8, while he’d gone to clean up. The time had come for her to become a real supermage.
The process had taken most of the night, with him sitting and observing her cores as sh
e forced the last of her mana and chi to combine into a single core. As soon as she’d succeeded, a wide grin had spread across her face, and she’d promptly collapsed into a dead heap on the ground. Morgan had gone through much of the same when he’d combined his cores, so he knew not to panic. Even so, seeing her lying there, unmoving and not breathing, was a little disconcerting.
If not for the fluctuations of reiki in her core and throughout her body, he had a feeling he’d be a lot less calm right now. Lumia chose that moment to come fluttering in through the open window, carrying with her a small slip of parchment.
“From the alchemists?” he asked as she landed in his lap.
“Yeah,” Lumia replied, sliding under his hand and signaling that she wanted to be scratched. “They were quite pleased with your discovery.”
“Grace deserves all the credit for that,” Morgan replied, obliging the small drake and scratching her neck, as he unrolled the small slip of parchment.
Grace had told him all about Ivaldi’s miracle injection. Much to his surprise, she’d then produced a single syringe filled with the orange liquid. Never before had he been so proud of his young apprentice as when she’d done that, because it told him that she was finally starting to use her brain.
Unrolling the parchment, Morgan read over the alchemist’s findings. He wasn’t surprised to learn that they’d never even heard of half the ingredients, meaning that they likely all came from Faeland. Morgan had already known he’d have to go back there soon, but figured he’d have just a little more time. Still, a miracle medicine like Grace had described could help millions of people, especially in a prolonged war.
He’d have to meet with Katherine and the other rulers to discuss another trip into enemy territory. He didn’t know where he could find all these ingredients, but he had a feeling that Ivaldi could tell him. The dwarf probably wouldn’t be happy about them stealing something from him, but he got the feeling that the dwarf would acquiesce, if only to get rid of him.
