The Gaellean Prophecy Series Box Set

by C S Vass

  Sighing, Godwin turned back towards the center of the camp. The rain continued to fall.

  Chapter 3

  “The storm is trying to throttle us!”

  Zabiah laughed as the rain pounded the leather tarps and protective canvasses that covered the Kirishelliwan camp. Godwin sat next to the man and watched as the surrounding fires continued to burn despite the vicious storm. He did not need to ask in order to know that some kind of powerful spellwork went into crafting those flames, and that they kept more at bay than just the chill.

  “Traveling is going to be a mess after this,” Godwin observed. “It’s not cold enough to keep the frost and snow on the ground. The world is going to turn to mud.”

  “Mud and shit,” Zabiah said. “But we’ll trudge through it all the same.”

  The two men were perched on a hill watching the spectacle of nature unfold before them. A feeling of enormous gratitude swelled in Godwin’s heart. Had they not been so fortunate as to encounter the Kirishelliwan, then they would have had to endure the misery of the storm with what small protective gear they had. Instead, he was within the protective care of the Eternal Children, well-fed, and not quite sober thanks to some rather sweet honey-wine Zabiah had shared with him. And all that before noon.

  “These storms won’t dissipate anytime soon,” Zabiah said. Godwin suddenly realized that his companion was older than he first thought. While his body was limber and muscular, the lines around his eyes revealed that Zabiah had several decades on Godwin. “Once they turn on and off like this, we always have at least a few weeks of the Chillway rains.”

  “The gods of spring and winter clashing,” Godwin said, remembering the story from his childhood. “Who do you think will win?”

  “Who?” Zabiah laughed. “The same as always wins. Spring… eventually. But winter is fixing to put up one bitch of a fight from the looks of it.”

  Putting aside the casual conversation, Godwin said, “So the camp is set and as protected as we can hope to make it. You were going to tell me about this Witch Queen.”

  Zabiah’s smile immediately disintegrated. It unnerved Godwin to see one of the Kirishelliwan so disquieted. Even in the most dire of circumstances, the Eternal Children were famous for their resiliency.

  “Yes, I suppose I did,” Zabiah said. “You should know, after all. You’re a Shigata. Sooner or later this will come to your order, I think. King Boldfrost won’t have any others capable of dealing with it. But where to begin? You see, I don’t know everything. Not by a long shot.”

  “Incomplete information is better than none,” Godwin said. “I suggest you start at the beginning. As best as you know it, anyway. I don’t think we’re going anywhere anytime soon. We have time for a long tale if need be.”

  Zabiah nodded. “Very well. One more thing first if you’ll allow it.” Before Godwin could answer Zabiah was up and running off towards the tents. Godwin waited patiently, curious to see what the man was doing. He returned a few minutes later holding a fat candle with runes painted on the side of it in bloody red ink.

  “A ward?” Godwin asked, surprised.

  “Don’t mock, Shigata. If you knew what I did, you would understand. This is not something I care to speak of anywhere, much less in the wild. Protected or not, the Witch Queen is not a foe to take lightly.”

  Knowing better than to mock him, Godwin nodded as Zabiah lit the candle.

  The effect of the rune candle was immediate. Godwin felt as if someone had wrapped them in a very thick blanket of fur. Something about it wasn’t only comforting, but made him feel smaller. Almost invisible.

  “Very well,” the Shigata said. “If you’re ready now, then I’m more than eager to hear what you have to say.”

  “I suppose the first thing you need is a quick political question about Tjeri Province. That’s where this whole nightmare starts. Do you know much about it?”

  “Not really,” Godwin admitted. “I know that Jon Octovos rules in Andreji and Shorn Holdfast rules Fjorwelleker.”

  “Bjorn Holdfast,” Zabiah corrected. “But yes, you’re right. Those two men are at the heart of this.”

  Godwin swallowed. It felt as though hardly any time had passed since he sat in the same room with Jon Octovos, vowing to find his niece.

  “Now what you need to know is that Andreji has always been home to the Temple of Ashanimara, and Fjorwelleker is home to the Guardians and their massive Library. In recent years, as I’m sure you’ve heard, Ashanimara’s power has waxed tremendously. The followers of the Wolf Goddess have grown bold and converted many new believers to their blasphemous temple. These werewolves have been known to cause quite a disturbance in Tjeri. You see, they love blood more than country.”

  “That’s not only been a problem in the East,” Godwin said. “Even the hamadryad I encountered spoke of the eastern werewolves that have been plaguing the Chillway. It seems their fangs have indeed grown long.”

  “Quite right,” Zabiah said. “Now, Commander Holdfast has also been impacted by the sudden surge of power from his neighboring city. As his people protested more, the Commander of Fjorwelleker ordered the Guardians to devote all of their resources to finding some sort of counter-measure. Well, they did just that and more. I don’t know what black magic they found in their dusty old scrolls, but about a year ago there were reports of a vicious power coming from the countryside of Tjeri Province close to Fjorwelleker. There were many signs of the disturbances. Strange happenings on farms. Missing children. A slew of murders—all of them leading back to the same killer.”

  The fierce winds had whipped the surrounding trees into a frenzied dance as Zabiah spoke. Their leaves thrashed against the black skies while smaller debris crashed through the woods like claws on bark.

  “What exactly led them back to the same killer?” Godwin asked.

  “Blood magic,” Zabiah said severely. “The victims were seemingly chosen at random, but the bodies were all used in some sort of ritualistic sorcery. Any who came across them were said to have terrible visions of a Witch Queen raised from another realm in the basement of Fjorwelleker’s Library. Make no mistake, these are not the lesser illusions of simple warlocks. I speak of true visions of a woman in black, hair streaked in blood, bringing a sword in one hand and—no, but that is enough.”

  Godwin was surprised to see Zabiah’s eyes trembling in his head. Nonsense or not, the man was scared to the bone. He would have to choose his words wisely if he hoped to get any additional information out of him.

  “Tell me, Zabiah,” Godwin said. “How did you come to be so intimately acquainted with the stories of these visions?”

  “It’s not secret,” Zabiah said. “The ones who told me are the followers of Ashanimara. The werewolves of the East told me.”

  Godwin eyed the man as the wind howled. Deciding at once, he said, “But that’s not the only reason you know.”

  Zabiah met Godwin’s gaze. Lines of fear were etched deeply into his face. “No. It’s not. But that part of the story isn’t relevant to you. How I encountered these things is not something you need to concern yourself with. What you should know, Shigata, is what happened in the Tarsurian Empire after the Witch Queen was unleashed. You see, Commander Holdfast wanted some kind of weapon that he could use to force Commander Octovos to control the Ashanimara cult. What he got instead was a terrible scourge unleashed across the land. This eventually spiraled out of control to the point where it had Emperor Hercinium’s attention.”

  Godwin laughed darkly. “I don’t suppose the Emperor took kindly to the sudden distraction.”

  “On the contrary, Godwin, Emperor Hercinium is not the type of man to let an opportunity go to waste. He ordered the quarreling between Octovos and Holdfast to an end. He told them each that they had stumbled across too much power for their own good. Using his own elite sorcerers, he was able to speak directly to both the Ashanimara cult and the new menace that had plagued Tjeri.”

  “I see,” Godwin said. “So Emper
or Hercinium was able to persuade the two factions that there were pastures of far more bounty to be plundered here in the West.”

  “It was hardly work to persuade them,” Zabiah said. “Whatever else you may call the Empire, it is not weak. Hercinium would have dealt with each threat in turn if he had to. There was no way he could tolerate an entire region of his domain falling into such chaos. It seems likely that he allowed both of their cults to continue in some fangless form in the East, so long as they carried out their bloody activities here in the West.”

  “The Witch Queen and the Wolf Queen,” Godwin mused. “Both here on western soil. Just as we’re dealing with one of the worst demon outbreaks in memory. Tell me, Zabiah, is this hell that we’re living in?”

  Zabiah laughed. “Many have thought so, Godwin. But let me tell you one thing. Hell lasts forever, and there’s no way out of it no matter what you do. There is, I think, some small relief in the utter hopelessness of hell. Here our choices still have consequences and therefore meaning.”

  “I see,” Godwin said, staring at the raging countryside. “A land worse than hell. What better place for a Shigata?”

  Zabiah did not answer, but watched the storm silently as a streak of lightning reflected in his mirror-like eyes.

  After a time of silence, Zabiah took his leave. Godwin continued to watch the eruption of water that swept over the countryside. No doubt that under normal circumstances he would have been off immediately to report to the Sages what he had learned. But the Sages were gone, and with every passing day it felt more and more unlikely that he would ever get them back.

  Such thoughts led his mind to drift towards Yaura and Logun. Had the other two been successful in convincing the leadership of the West to send the Shigata back to Black Wolf? They had to be. It would be sheer idiocy for the western lords to refuse them. Then again, thinking about those in power and the choices they might make gave Godwin the distinctive feeling that his heart was sinking into the pit of his stomach.

  But it wasn’t just that, the Shigata realized. He didn’t feel this way simply because of the many threats that circled his country, or because the order to which he had dedicated his life was in shambles. Something else was bothering him, though he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Like a nerve itching under the skin, the more he tried to scratch at it, the deeper it sunk into him and internalized the discomfort.

  Suddenly the thought blasted across his mind. He had hardly seen Robert yet that day other than a few quick words at breakfast. The Tarsurian was more at home in the Kirishelliwan camp than he was anywhere else in the West.

  What if Robert did not want to continue on with him?

  The thought was a troubling one, though Godwin could not have said exactly why. He realized that he had grown fond of his Tarsurian traveling companion, and at the same instant another more terrible thought popped into his head. He had also mistreated Robert rather severely. It was poor judgement on his part, probably instigated by his own wicked disposition.

  The first time came at the Three Sisters. He risked Robert’s life without so much as thinking about the consequences. Worse, he did it through deception without even telling Robert that he was planning on using him for vampire bait. The thought of it disgusted him now. How could he have possibly been so callous?

  Then there was the incident when they found the village. He had been downright furious at Robert. He called him Tarsurian, as if it were somehow his fault. He vividly recalled the hurt and confused look on Robert’s face as he said the words. The thought stung him. Robert had done nothing to deserve it.

  Finally, as if a floodgate had broken open in his mind, a thousand smaller scenes rippled across Godwin’s internal eye. The cacophony of insults, hollering, and degradations he had thrown at Robert made him feel physically sick.

  God’s-be-damned idiot!

  Man-whore!

  Fool!

  Run for your life, you imbecile!

  The feeling sat strangely with Godwin. He could not remember ever feeling so angry at himself for the way he spoke to someone. But Robert was not like anyone he had ever met. He never judged Godwin. Never made him feel as anything other than desired company. A wanted traveling companion. And all the easterner got out of the deal was constant life-threatening circumstances and a barrage of mockery. It was no wonder that Robert was nowhere to be found. He probably would rather stay with the Kirishelliwan, who at least knew how to treat people properly.

  “Godwin.”

  Godwin looked up and being pulled from his own pondering thought for a half a moment that the voice was Robert’s. Instead, Shane, leader of the Kirishelliwan, was standing before him. “What thoughts are you brooding on over here?”

  “Please, sit and rest, grandfather,” Godwin said respectfully.

  “I thank you,” Shane laughed. “Forgive me, but these old bones would feel far more comfortable in my own tent. While it would be nice to watch the storm, I feel that my hip would chasten me terribly for it. Come with me. We have some things to discuss.”

  “Of course,” Godwin said, cursing himself for his stupidity.

  Getting up, he followed Shane back to the large, horsehide tipi that drifted smoke from the top like a simmering volcano. Inside a rush of warm air greeted him.

  “Come, have some wine,” Shane said merrily as he rested besides the stone-pit fire.

  “My thanks, but I fear that I slip too easily into drink when I stay with the Eternal Children. Water is fine for now.”

  Shane nodded. “You did well with the hamadryad,” he said. “Though I’m glad I arrived when I did. Had you killed it, there would have been problems for my people.”

  Godwin started to apologize, but Shane waved him off. “Don’t dwell on it. You’re a Shigata, and you were under attack. What were you supposed to do other than defend yourself? But I didn’t ask you here to talk about the demons of the Chillway. Not that demon, at least.”

  “Shane,” Godwin said, realizing how eager he was to speak to the Kirishelliwan’s leader. “What can you tell me about the troubles facing your people? In just a few short weeks, this camp has transformed from a festival to a military base.”

  “Yes,” Shane agreed. “Hard times make hard people. The city-folk continue that saying to the effect of hard times make hard people, which make good times which make soft people, which make hard times… but I’m not so sure about that. In any case, you’ve observed correctly, Godwin. The demons are more plentiful and aggressive than ever. The stars continue their strange dance. Sun warriors creep through the woods. And you’ve now been informed of the presence of the Witch Queen.”

  “Yes,” Godwin said. The smoke in the tent was beginning to make him feel sleepy, but he shook it off. “Though I don’t understand exactly what she wants.”

  “Other than chaos? Perhaps nothing. I don’t believe she’s trying to ease the path for Emperor Hercinium to march into the West, although I don’t exactly see her factoring in if that’s a byproduct of her actions.”

  “But I don’t understand,” Godwin said. “What is she? Some spirit from Fjorwelleker? A rival to Ashanimara?”

  “Those guesses are as good as mine, Godwin. The truth is, without a functioning Shigata, I don’t know who can deal with such a threat. The way things are… the structure cannot hold. I fear for Gaellos. I fear for the Kirishelliwan. When we disappear from the Chillway, as we must if this continues, the countryside will be a land of ravenous monsters. Once that happens, the walls of the cities will get thicker and taller while the hearts of those who dwell within them will grow black and cold as hibernal dust.”

  “What then would you do?” Godwin asked.

  “What could I do?” Shane replied. “I have not the power to shape the course of history. Not without some help at least.”

  “What are you—?”

  Shane held up his hand before Godwin could finish asking his question. The Shigata watched as Shane stood and retrieved something from another part of th
e tent. When he returned, he was holding some kind of circlet in his hand.

  “Do you remember the Sea Crown, Godwin?”

  Godwin gasped. Memories of dozens of vodyanoi with their strange toad-like heads flooded his mind. “How did you acquire that?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Shane said. “Do you know what it is? Do you know the power that it commands?”

  “No,” Godwin whispered, still utterly shocked. “I still can’t understand how you came across that.”

  “I don’t understand its power either,” Shane said. “But I know enough to know that its magic is great. Not great enough, I think, to challenge the Witch Queen. But great enough to buy time for a group of dying nomads being hunted through their native lands.”

  Godwin could only shake his head in disbelief. A fierce look came back into Shane’s blue eyes. He wore the face of a man who contemplated terrible things.

  “Godwin, understand. Destiny is a chess master who sets the board, but even the humblest of pawns can throw a game into chaos. I have communicated with the Frost Elves. I know that your journey takes you to Iryllium, to the girl and your old master. To the lost Shigata who is so central to all of this. I tell you with all urgency: do not abandon this quest. You must find the girl, Lyra. You must find your old master, Reinko Assini.”

  Godwin was so distraught he could hardly speak. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “How do you know any of these things? What does Lyra have to do with any of it? Or Reinko? Or Kanjo? Why are you showing me that terrible crown? Please, you have to tell me what you know. How else can I be of use?”

  Shane’s lip trembled and for a moment Godwin thought the old man was going to scream at him. Suddenly, as if the life had gone out of him, Shane collapsed into his seat and sighed. He was silent for a long while. When he looked at Godwin again, there was more than anger in his eyes. They burned with hatred.