“So it would seem, but for my chains,” the Smith replied. “I cannot leave the Forge. The chains that bind me here are both my leash and my lifeline. I wear them of my own accord, knowing that should I remove them and leave this place I will die, likely in a matter of hours.”
“Surely you are not that old,” Elaina asserted.
“Old, no. Dying, most certainly. I am of a race of beings similar to you in that we do not age as mortals do. But timeless as we are, we can still be killed. When I realized I was dying I fled here, where I have had millennia to understand what afflicts me. Now that you are here my freedom lies before me.”
“Millennia?” Elaina asked incredulously.
“Indeed. Now my freedom is at hand. You will do as I ask and I will do all I have promised. If you fail at your task or betray me, I will shatter your husband’s Soul Stone, and his spirit will be stuck here in this place, unable to return to you or ascend to the next plane. For him it will be a torment that will be unending.”
“Who are you, and how could you do such things?”
“Because I have lived longer than you can fathom!” The Smith shouted angrily. “Before your Allfather was a lusty gleam in his father’s eye I was . . .” The Soul Smith hesitated, struggling with an unseen burden.
“Who were you?” Elaina asked. The question hung in the air as the Soul Smith attended to something with the urn.
“I was a god . . .” the Soul Smith answered dejectedly. “The heavens bowed before me, and worlds without number knew my name. The name of Apollos was both feared and revered.” His voice rose as millennia of frustration and betrayal began to burst from him. The old Smith continued: “Now that life is a memory, stolen from me by those I shared it with. I made gods of men, and instead of reveling in the glory that was theirs they stole my Throne and my life.”
“Apollos?” Elaina asked. “That would make you . . .”
“Father to your Allfather,” The Soul Smith answered, finishing the stunned Astarii’s sentence for her. “Alphaeus was my first born, Mythos my second. I taught them everything. Shared my life with them. They were gods among men and yet they plotted against me. All that I had given them—it was not enough for them.”
“How did you end up here?” Elaina asked, saddened by Apollos’ tale.
“My firstborn, Alphaeus, your Allfather, conspired with my own wife to poison me. That poison still courses through my veins. It is an ever-present threat looming over me. If it weren’t for the power of the Soul Forge sustaining me I would have already succumbed. They fed me the poison by degree. The dose was so small at first that I didn’t notice its presence in my system until I was caught in its debilitating grasp.”
“What of your second son, Mythos?” Elaina asked. “You say he also plotted against you. He has set his sights on our world—what should we expect from him?”
“Mythos was less subtle. When his brother’s poison had weakened me sufficiently, Mythos seized the opportunity and drove a knife into my back.”
Elaina, shook her head in disgust. The thought that one could do such to their own family disturbed her.
The Soul smith continued: “It was no ordinary knife. As soon as it struck my flesh, the cursed blade began to suck the very life out of me. Fortunately, a fight broke out between my sons, and in the confusion I was able to escape their grasp and make it here. Neither of them knows of the Soul Forge and both of them believe me to be dead. While they struggle against each other to divide my Kingdom, I fight for my life. If it wasn’t for my interference you would never have known this place even exists.
“One of the followers of Mythos was fumbling with powers beyond his ability to understand. I led him here. In exchange for his removing the dagger and healing my wound I taught him what he sought. Once he understood the powers of the Soul Forge he asked me to craft him a staff of power, I did so, but the price was delivering a Soul Stone to you.
“I knew that sooner or later your love for Marcus would lead you here and grant me the final element I need to be free.”
“—the antidote for the poison your son gave you,” Elaina answered with finality.
“Indeed, and you will get it for me.”
“What will you do when you are free?” Elaina asked.
“What is it to you?” Apollos answered sharply.
“Now that I know who you are, it is everything. You waged war in heaven once. What will stop you from doing so again?”
“Do not pretend you are in a position to negotiate, Elaina,” the Soul Smith replied, ignoring the question. “You will do this for me or I will shatter Marcus’s Soul Stone so fast your world will end.” Sensing the buildup of power within Elaina, Apollos continued: “Before you contemplate something foolish, Elaina, you must understand that as long as I am connected to the Soul Forge you cannot prevail against me.”
“Don’t play with me, Apollos,” Elaina said with defiance. “You are at the gates of death. One little nudge and you’ll sleep in her embrace at last.”
“You speak a truth, Elaina, but also a dire presumption. Are you willing to stake what’s left of Marcus’s life that you are right? I am, but then I have nothing to lose but time. After millennia of being trapped at this Forge I can endure a little longer. If you are wrong, first you’ll lose Marcus, then perhaps your own life. Who knows? In time your sons may also pay for your sins.”
“A truth and a presumption?” she asked. “Speak plainly, Apollos—patience was never my strong suit.”
“I speak in riddles, Elaina, because I am perplexed at how you can know so much and yet be so ignorant. I wonder if your infantile intellect is capable of understanding the magnitude of the knowledge I have given you.
“You are so caught up in the conflict that consumes you,” he continued, “that you have failed to grasp the import of the very place in which you stand. We stand here in this place between planes of existence. You know that Death is the gateway—do you honestly think that she will take her gatekeeper? I think not. As long as I am the Soul Smith I cannot die. Immortality is the Soul Smith’s reward.
“Now decide—will you aid me and earn my favor, along with your lover’s life? Or will you cast your lot with those who will bear the full weight of my wrath when I am freed? Mark my words, Elaina. I will be free.”
Elaina pondered soberly her predicament. This was not at all what I had imagined. The knowledge of the Soul Smith’s identity changed everything. The being before her had reigned for eons as the supreme power in the universe, his rule absolute. By his will worlds were subjugated, by his whim entire peoples enslaved or purged. Could she grant freedom to such a being?
“What will you do when you are free?” Elaina repeated her earlier question, albeit with less confidence than before.
Apollos examined the Astarii before him. Her deflated demeanor told him all he needed to know. There was little need to be coy now. “I will paint the stars red with the blood of those who have betrayed me.”
Elaina looked at the shackled Smith, then at the Soul Stone that held the essence of the man she loved so dearly. Whatever the price, it must be paid, Elaina told herself, unwilling to be parted from her husband again. “Tell me what must be done,” Elaina said quietly.
Apollos smiled. “You will need to venture to Empyrea—it lies forgotten between the realms controlled by my sons Alphaeus and Mythos. It was almost destroyed when they turned on each other. Neither of them holds any sway there so you should be able to move freely. Be warned, though—its people will not welcome you. Any kinship they might have felt with Alphaeus was shattered when he abandoned them, and as one of his servants you will not be welcome.”
“I no longer serve him—I am in exile,” Elaina responded.
“I know that, but the Empyreans do not. They will know you by your magic. Tread carefully.”
“I understand,” Elaina replied, knowing instinctively that the Smith was more concerned for her success or failure than he was for her well-being. “Where will I f
ind the antidote you seek?”
“That is the simple part,” he replied. “There is a flower native to Empyrea, called Mousillion in the old tongue. It means ‘sleeps embrace.’ The small red flower serves as a slow-acting toxin that gradually shuts down the victim’s bodily functions. An overwhelming fatigue wears the victims down until they slip from reality into the sleep of death. In a mortal this might take place over days. For me, at the height of my power the change was almost imperceptible at first. Now without the Forge’s sustaining influence I would soon perish.
“The fascinating part of this is that the flower’s stem contains the very antidote required to combat its effects. Thus you will see animals freely eating it without any ill affect as they consume the entire plant, the poison of the petal being neutralized by the beneficial elements contained in the stem of the plant.
“I need you to gather those stems, boil them into a tea that I can drink, and bring it to me. If you do so, Marcus is yours. If you fail me, I will take from you everything you hold dear. Do we have an accord?”
Elaina looked longingly at the pulsing red Soul Stone, then at Apollos. “I will do as you ask. Ensure you can do as you have promised, Apollos. If I think for even a moment that you have lied, I will see you stuck here for another thousand years.”
“Do not fear, Elaina. I will deliver as I have promised.” Apollos swept his right hand before him and a portal formed before Elaina. “This will take you to Empyrea. Take your journey quickly—I cannot maintain the portal indefinitely.”
Elaina took one last glance at the vessel that would restore her Marcus to her. Swallowing a nervous gulp, she plunged through the portal.
Chapter 24
The journey back to Andara had passed without incident. With the Kairon pillaging all of Cidea and Vitaem suffering under the surge of water unleashed by the Disciples, there was little risk of hostility. Alsarius had traveled north, heading for the Frosted Peaks, a mountain range that ran across the northern reaches of Sevalorn. In spite of Yaneera’s protestations, the Disciples could not be deterred. Jonas was adamant that there was life beyond the perilous mountains and Alsarius agreed. Foolishness, Yaneera thought to herself. If the Disciple seeks to freeze to death, I’ll not stop him.
Yaneera found herself at home not free and powerful but trapped. She welcomed the gifts the Disciples brought with them, but their presence unsettled her, and recent revelations about the nature of the Kairon did nothing to relieve her concerns. True, the people of Andara prospered, crops were growing steadily, and the drought had broken. With that relief the people’s mood had softened towards her. With food in their bellies and a fresh crop on the horizon her people were not only pacified—they were pleased.
The nobles were restless, though. Fortunately they had been rendered impotent by Yaneera’s popularity with the people. Jonas preached regularly throughout the city, his fiery rhetoric ensuring that the people knew from whom their good fortune sprang. The priests of the Allfather had fled the city, fearing for their lives as their once-faithful followers turned against them.
Jonas entered the Throne Room, a very satisfied expression on his face.
“What has you so excited today, Jonas?” Yaneera asked, a little unsettled by the Disciple’s good mood.
“What is there not to be excited about, Yaneera? Our agenda moves forward steadily. Your people stand ready to throw themselves at your enemies. In the west Cidea burns as the Kairon raid and pillage their way through your enemy’s lands. Vitaem is reeling in the aftermath of the flood that struck their city. With the northern Kingdoms on our side or crushed beneath our forces, we can now turn our attentions south to the Dwarves.”
“What of Khashish?” Yaneera asked. “I would not have thought the Shah one to bend so easily to our cause. Khashish has always fought vigorously to maintain its independence.”
“On the contrary—Talan reports that although the Shah was hesitant to embrace our cause initially, he has now made great strides towards embracing it. Talan anticipates the Shah will support us in wiping these idolatrous Dwarves from the face of the land. Even now the Shah musters his forces to support us. Have you sent word to Vitaem since our demonstration?”
“Indeed I have,” Yaneera replied, smiling at the thought. “This time I sent it via alternative means. If we are successful we may intimidate them into joining our cause. Even if they refuse, they will be so busy skulking in their flooded fortress that they will not dare venture out—the missive will ensure our borders remain secure while we move against the Everpeak.”
“Excellent,” Jonas declared. “All is progressing according to our plans, Yaneera. Not only will you be the youngest Empress in the history of your people, but soon you will be the first ruler to unite all of Sevalorn under your rule. Mythos will be pleased with our progress. Once we break the Dwarves’ spirit, perhaps they, too, will see reason.”
“No, Jonas. You do not know them as I do. They have pledged to serve the Allfather. They will give their lives before forsaking him. Even were they to cast him aside, Rauger made an attempt on the life of King Tharadin, and there will be no forgiveness for that. Tharadin’s Oath, sworn in blood, will be borne out or carried to his grave. For our sakes I hope it is the latter.”
“What is it about these Dwarves that worries you so, Yaneera? Have I not proven to you that the might of Mythos will prevail?”
“His might will matter little in the conflict that is to come, Jonas. These Dwarves were fashioned from the mountains they call home. When the Allfather gave them life he gave them great gifts. You saw what became of Rauger. Your magic alone will not be enough.”
“That is what your army is for, Empress Yaneera. We Disciples will do all we can to make our presence felt on the field, but it will be the army you command that will carry the day against whatever trickery these Dwarves employ against our kind. We will have Khashish and the Kairon—we may yet be joined by Vitaem and the remnants of Tres Cidea, not to mention the armies of the Empire of Andara that continue to grow. It may be the largest army this world has ever seen.”
“And if we succeed,” she began, “we’ll be responsible for the genocide of an entire race, Jonas. Doesn’t that give you a moment’s pause?”
“No. It does not. Idealism is the currency of fools, Yaneera—never forget it. This is the price Mythos demands—undeviating devotion to his cause. When you have lived as long as I have lived, you gain perspective. Here on this world you are an Empress and I am a Disciple, each of us revered for who we are and what we represent.
“But among the stars,” he continued, “we are but two lives floating in a sea of souls. Without Mythos I would have died a child, the foolish victim of a carnivorous parasite, and you—without the aid of Mythos your people would have starved to death, while your neighbors picked apart the bloody carcass of your empire.
“With his favor—with the blessing of Mythos—look what we have become. You will rule this world and I will continue to gain favor in the eyes of him whom I serve. Enjoy your place in the cosmos, Yaneera, but never forget—one soul is as good as another to our God. We need him much more than he needs us—he can always find other souls to build up his power. If we fail, we’ll soon be replaced by a more willing vessel.” As he concluded, the Disciple turned to depart.
“Where are you going, Jonas?” Yaneera asked, a little unsettled.
The Disciple turned. “To prepare your forces, Empress. The Kairon have had long enough to sate their appetites. I will send Karesa with a message for Arsenath. He and the Herd are needed here. Karesa will facilitate their crossing of the Elkhan. With such a direct route they should arrive swiftly.
I will also send word to Talan and the Shah—Khashish will join us in the Vernaldhum, at the foothills of the Everpeak. Together we will crush these infernal Dwarves and unite Sevalorn beneath your banner. Your neighbors will not want to bend the knee before you, but if the choice is obeisance or death, you will be surprised how willing they are.”
/> “I will have Mavolo aid you in readying the army,” she declared. “When do we strike?”
“The land is vast, Empress. By the time our messengers carry our commands to our allies and they raise their banners, I expect it will be at least a month before they arrive at the Everpeak.”
“Then send word swiftly, Jonas. As we speak, our enemies are in disarray. We must strike before they can regather their forces and coordinate against us.”
“My thoughts exactly, Yaneera. I will see it done. Rest easy and do not let thoughts of these Dwarves trouble you any longer.” The Disciple swept out of the chamber.
As he departed Yaneera sighed. So many thoughts troubled her. The Everpeak had never been breached. Even if they succeeded in gaining access to the mountain, it would be bitter, close-quarters combat in unfamiliar terrain. The victory Jonas spoke of would come at the cost of untold thousands of lives—Andaran lives among them.
Everything about the conflict made her uneasy: The price of success would be paid by those around her. The Dwarves themselves would become extinct, an entire race little more than a footnote on the pages of history. It was a difficult thought to countenance—try as she might Yaneera could not justify the pending genocide.
On the other hand, failure was even less palatable. Even if she survived, her benefactor Mythos would likely replace her with a more willing puppet. The thought put the Empress in an impossible position. Like a single drop battling the Elkhan, I’m swept inexorably onwards.
Yaneera finally identified the persistent feeling that had been clawing at her heart these past few months: loneliness. For all she had gained, she had lost so much. Will that be the price of my continued success? If it were, would I wish to pay it? Yaneera shook her head in frustration—there was little choice but to continue.
Chapter 25
The Grand Council Chamber of Vitaem was in an uproar. Counselors were loudly contending with each other across the gallery. The room that was usually a model of peace and civility was a warzone as the speakers bickered angrily over a response to the river attack. Beltain had abandoned the Chancellor’s seat and was making his way through the chamber trying to restore a semblance of order so that the meeting could commence.
When The Gods War: Book 2 - Chronicles of Meldinar Page 17
