Fury Lingers: Book One of The Foreseen Trilogy

by Ethan Spears

  “We are going into your command tent. Not only is the idol undoubtedly smuggled away somewhere inside, but it would be best to complete this unpleasant task without your men having full view of it.”

  Keenas moved forward, but Aoden put a hand up to stop him without thinking. He felt his thin chest under the cloth, the minor resistance it offered his hand. It was then that he noticed how slight Keenas’s body was. For a man so well-known for his martial prowess that one could simply say ‘The Soldier’ and any elf would know who you were talking about, he was dangerously thin and lacking the crafted muscle of a warrior. For a wild moment, his anger gave him thoughts of shoving Keenas back, hard. Surely he would be easy to move, surely he would fall, and surely the men would see. But then the madness passed and he found himself staring at an incensed Archon.

  “You dare to lay a hand on my person, you mouthy half-breed?” Keenas brought his own hand up and shoved Aoden’s away with such surprising force that he spun out of Keenas’s way and tumbled over one of the tent’s poles.

  “Sandglass!” he shouted in warning. His mouth filled with grass as he hit the ground. Keenas strode over him.

  “Clumsiness unbefitting an elf,” Keenas muttered, reaching for the tent flap.

  “UUUUURRRRAAAGH!”

  Mergau’s ear-splitting, animalistic shout rent the air. Face down on the ground, Aoden could only picture her launching herself out of the tent at Keenas or some other insanity. He rolled, finding only Keenas standing at the entrance to his command tent looking in, from all appearances in utter shock.

  “Wasuku,” Keenas rasped, passing through and vanishing inside. Aoden picked himself off the ground and hurled himself towards the flap. He flung it open to the scene inside.

  Mergau was on her hands and knees, holding herself up over a fresh puddle of vomit, shining with sweat even in the dim light. Keenas was kneeling next to her and Aoden was sure he was a moment from putting Mergau out of her misery, but to his surprise, Keenas placed his hands on her arm to help her up.

  “Gods, she’s as green as an orc! What is wrong with her?”

  Aoden was too confused to answer. Mergau’s elf illusion looked all wrong. Her hair was wiry and white instead of the smooth brown it had been before, and though her features were clearly elvish, Keenas was right about her skin being a deep olive green. He was wondering what had caused Reggy’s amulet to malfunction until he noticed it lying on the ground at the foot of her bed.

  The spell wasn’t perfect, but she had gotten it off just in time.

  “Answer me! What is wrong with her?”

  “The poison,” Aoden muttered, the truth leaking out as he stared at the horrible mess she had become from casting the illusion spell. Keenas fixed him with a deathly glare.

  “You’ve poisoned her?”

  It took Aoden a moment to register what he heard. “What? No! I didn’t poison her! It was”—he realized how ridiculous it would sound if he truthfully said ‘an orc assassin’—“a jealous lover,” he finished weakly. It sounded unbelievable leaving his mouth, and Keenas seemed to think so too, but before he could express his opinion, Mergau began to struggle feebly against him.

  “Relax, woman, I’m here to help.”

  “She’s just been poisoned,” Aoden said, flailing his arms dramatically, trying to draw the Archon’s eyes off Mergau. “She’s not feeling particularly trusting of others at the moment.”

  “Oh?” Keenas turned to him. “And she would trust you?”

  “Of course,” Aoden lied confidently. “We’re old friends. She wouldn’t trust anyone else to care for her in this state.”

  “Care for her? This is how you care for her? Look at her! She’s disheveled, delirious, and sick. She looks like she hasn’t changed clothes in a week. And she reeks of what I can only assume is sweat, though if it is, it’s the foulest smelling sweat I’ve ever encountered. And I don’t see any medicine here.”

  “Ah, medicine…” Aoden scanned the room. His eyes fell upon the little clay bottle that he had confiscated from Dorim. He scooped it up and waggled it in the air. “I have medicine right here. It will suppress the pain and nausea. She’s in need of another dose.”

  “Give me that,” said Keenas, snatching it from his hand. “How do I know this isn’t more poison?” He pulled the stopper from the bottle and shook up the contents, then wafted it towards his nose. He pulled back so sharply that he almost dropped the bottle and began coughing violently. “What in the—oh gods, what an awful stench! I don’t know any poison maker who would make such a wicked-smelling concoction, but this seems right up the Apothecary Corps’ alley.” He offered it to Mergau, but she turned and hid her face, knocking his hand away as it neared. “And for pain-relieving medicine, she seems reluctant to take it.”

  Aoden moved forward and took the bottle back. “Mergau. Mergau, listen,” he said, trying to coax her head towards him with his free hand. “You have to stop fidgeting and listen.”

  “What is that? Is that Krik?” said Keenas, dumbfounded.

  “I don’t have time to explain. Mergau!”

  “My head is pounding,” she whimpered, her head lolling in his hand. “I shouldn’t have done that. The pain… I need to stop.”

  “No! No, don’t stop the spell. We’ll be exposed, so do not drop the illusion, alright? Here, drink this.”

  She pulled away. “What is… why am I drinking this? It smells strongly.”

  “We’re in a lot of danger right now, so please just trust me. Drink it, lie down on the bed, and pretend to sleep, and maybe we won’t die.” He pressed the vial to her lips, pouring a few drops into her mouth without any resistance from her, then stoppered and stowed the bottle. He helped her to her bed, which she collapsed onto readily. For a heartbeat, he saw her disguise falter and vanish, but then she tugged on her blanket and disappeared beneath it.

  Aoden hovered over Mergau, not wanting to turn back around. His heart was racing and he was sweating entirely too much. He could feel Keenas’s eyes on his back and could think of nothing else to do but pray to Annowyn for mercy as he watched Mergau’s moaning and writhing gradually settle until she was quiet. He labored to think of some good lies but lost his train of thought when Keenas cleared his throat behind him. Aoden took a deep breath, put on an appropriately angry scowl, and turned to face the Archon.

  He found Keenas averting his gaze. The intense aura he was producing before had evaporated and he now looked sheepish and unsure. Aoden felt his frown soften through no will of his own.

  “I, uh,” Keenas muttered. The Archon cleared his throat again. “I think I’ve perhaps approached this the wrong way. I may have let my personal views color this whole engagement. Do you mind if we start again?”

  “I kind of do, actually. It was bad enough the first time.” To Aoden’s utter astonishment, Keenas’s face flushed, but his eyes also flashed angrily. “But I suppose we could give it a try,” he amended.

  To his relief, Keenas’s anger subsided. “That barb was fair. I’m a better man than how I’ve acted towards you, and I find myself ashamed of my conduct. I heard that the giant had been slain and his trinket taken by a group led by a half-elf and I reacted poorly. As an archon, I should be above such pettiness. I let my prejudice dictate my behavior, and for that, I apologize.”

  Aoden took a moment to absorb this. “You apologize?”

  “Yes. You don’t get to where I am in life if you cannot acknowledge when you’ve made mistakes and work to rectify them.”

  Aoden was slow to return to courtesy. “While I can appreciate the sentiment, why the sudden change of attitude?”

  “Plainly, I mistrusted you and your intentions because of your parentage, thought you undeserving of trust, but it seems that was not the case.” Keenas gestured towards the lump of bedding that was Mergau. “Your friend there would put her life and safety in your hands, a trust not easily afforded. It’s an admirable thing. It reminded me that I wasn’t looking at some strange, unknown crea
ture, but a flesh and blood elf. I won’t forget it again.”

  Something stirred in Aoden’s chest. Archon Keenas, perhaps the greatest elf to walk the land, was acknowledging Aoden as an elf? He felt a foolish pride and a wetness to his eyes despite all the other anger and resentment he held. He also felt guilt at having earned that recognition through lies and subterfuge, but at least he wasn’t going to be hung, so it was a wash.

  “Archon Keenas of family Shume, at your service,” he said cordially, giving a fraction of a bow.

  “Commander Aoden, at yours. I’m afraid I don’t know my elven family name, but I took the name Halfelven long ago.”

  “Aoden? ‘All of Aden?’ An auspicious name,” he said with a half-smile; it wasn’t the mocking sort he used earlier but one of genuine humor.

  “My father left my mother with only two things: me, and that name.”

  Keenas nodded. “It’s not surprising that ‘Saliel’ was no true part of your name.”

  “As you can imagine, I’m not fond of that nickname. But let’s get down to the business concerning Magragda’s golden idol. Perhaps now you’ll be more accommodating as to why you want it?”

  Keenas scratched his lip and studied Aoden for a long time, his head moving back and forth as if weighing some object in his mind. “Alright,” he finally said. “I feel like I can trust you with this information which, not to sound fat-headed, is no small thing. All I ask is that you listen in silence.”

  “Not exactly an encouraging request, but I’ll agree.”

  He offered Keenas his chair, but Keenas refused and took one of the cloth stools instead. Aoden set out some wine, glasses, and dried fruit he had and, after some hesitation, took out the idol as well and placed it on the table, then sat down himself.

  “An ugly thing,” Keenas said after removing his gloves, getting comfortable, and taking a sip of wine. “Just as the sources said.

  “Let’s start with a name. This idol isn’t just some trinket Magragda was carrying around with him. Judging by the fact that your squad took it as a trophy, I believe you felt it too, even if you didn’t realize it. That’s because the idol is no giant’s bauble, or even elven or human, but something higher. It is believed to be a creation of Annowyn, goddess of justice and mercy.” Keenas nodded at Aoden’s look of surprise. “I understand her to be more popular among humans, especially among the old paladin orders. One of these orders was gifted this item—legends say from the goddess herself, but you know how legends tend to grow over time—and it kept them safe, pious, and just. The paladins put it on display in their meeting hall so that others would know they were working with Annowyn’s divine authority, but this was back in a time when dwarves were still plentiful in Nilriel.

  “One day, a dignitary from the Shalemane clans with an intellectual leaning happened to stop by the enclave to observe their work. He saw the shining golden idol on display and was overcome by greed. He lied to the paladins, saying he knew a smith who could repair the damage that had been done to the idol over the hundreds of years they had it. As a show of good faith, he left his diplomatic papers, escort, and mark of office behind, but once he had the idol, he fled and was never seen again. The order of paladins collapsed shortly thereafter.

  “The idol was lost for a time, but reports finally cropped up concerning barbarians in the south who worshipped the thing. Another order of paladins swept in to retrieve it, wiping out the barbarians in the process, including the women and children. However, their lack of mercy is said to have angered Annowyn, who tainted the artifact, causing a curse to fall upon whoever possessed it, and soon their order was torn apart by infighting, the leader being beheaded by his second-in-command in the streets after a public duel. As you can imagine, trust in the order plummeted, and they were soon disbanded.

  “From there, the idol is said to have appeared in various places, offering either protection or misfortune in turns. One necromancer apparently burned to death in his laboratory while in possession of the artifact, while one of the great Triarchs, Melor the Pious, was said to hold it. Many of these claims are impossible to verify, but our last solid lead was some ten years ago when Magragda toppled a great tree near Lunorom. He was purported to pull the idol from among the roots, though no one knows how it came to be buried there, nor how Magragda knew its location, the families who claimed the tree admitting no knowledge of it. The warrant on Magragda has been outstanding ever since.

  “When scouts began reporting sightings of the giant in the Lycrord, I used my influence to have the bounty increased, upgraded Magragda to ‘kill on sight,’ and sent messengers to spread the word, hoping to drum up interest in hunting him down. I also had two specialized squads trained to hunt giants sent out, but they returned with nothing, not even a trace of his trail. With this in mind, you can imagine my surprise when news reached me of the bounty being claimed. I ordered a copy of the report from Archonite Valdon, and that leads us to where we are.

  “This thing’s history is why I wish to claim it. That ugly little statue has the capacity to bless every action our army takes, the results of which would be immeasurable. With the Restraint barely a year from expiring, you can see how this would be a boon to us. Grand Vanir Ilori, the three Vanirs, and several archons, including myself, have deemed it absolutely necessary that this idol serves its given purpose.”

  Archon Keenas took a sip of his wine, signaling that Aoden could speak again with a wave of his hand.

  Aoden sat back, having moved to the edge of his seat at some point. “I could see why you would want it,” Aoden admitted. “An entire army blessed by the power of the idol would be an incredible force. But the risk seems substantial: how do you know it wouldn’t curse us all?”

  “That was why I came for the idol, Aoden. Our nation is at an impasse the likes of which we’ve never known: we may be facing true and utter defeat. Most of the citizenry, military, even many leaders, seem incapable of recognizing this fact. Thankfully, the Grand Vanir, the King, and others with the power to take action are not so blind. We move to secure our future.

  “With the impending Orcish invasion, the idol could save thousands of elven lives, if not hundreds of thousands, but it could also be our downfall. I was going to take it and observe how our strength shifted. If I liked what I saw, we would keep the idol close and use its power for the good of the elven nation. If things turned sour, I’d bury it or throw it into the ocean. The last thing I’d want is someone keeping the idol who had no idea what it was capable of; they might doom our people and not even know they had done so.”

  Aoden sighed. He began to slide the idol across the table. “With what I’ve heard, I cannot refuse you the idol. That would be—”

  “Hold that thought,” said Keenas. “As I said before, I started off on the wrong foot with this whole situation, and that was true even before a word was spoken. I was certain that I had to get my hands on the idol before something terrible happened, but in truth, I already knew where the idol was, and I knew what it was capable of. Needing the idol in my possession wasn’t necessary and was born of unreasonable pigheadedness. I—and others who have studied the idol’s history—theorize that coming by the idol with lust for it in your heart is what causes it to bestow the curse, but I was ready to take that risk to remove it from the hands of an untrustworthy half-elf. Again, I was wrong to come to that conclusion.”

  Aoden looked at the idol. “So, what happens from here?”

  Keenas folded his hands. “In truth—and apologies if this comes off as callous—you’ve come across the idol in the best possible way; the former owner was killed, but so was the elf who slew him, allowing it to come to your hands freely. I do not believe the curse will show itself. Thus it is in the interest of our nation if we leave it in your possession. Now that you know what you need to know about the idol, we need not risk the wrath of the curse by forcing you to give it up. You must, however, protect it properly; do not store it in your tent anymore. Keep it on your person at all
times and do not ever let it out of your sight. Report to me at once if you see any overt signs of ill luck. I no longer have any intention of taking it from you today, but I will be watching for the curse. If the idol works in our favor, you likely won’t see me again. Should I feel like the curse has manifested itself, I will come to retrieve the idol and dispose of it personally. Do not let anyone else lay a finger on it, even should the King himself come asking after it, understood?”

  Aoden nodded. “I am honored by your trust. I’ll make its protection my top priority.”

  “Good.” Keenas stood up and donned his gloves. “Under no circumstances are you to utter a word of this to anyone, no matter how much you trust them. If anyone asks about the idol, it’s just a trophy. If your men ask about this discussion, tell them I’m holding you to secrecy.” He laughed lightly. “I’m sure it will do wonders for your popularity.”

  He waved Aoden over to the tent flap as he passed through and Aoden joined him outside. The men were milling about, each having found some task suspiciously close to the command tent with which to occupy themselves. Most of them stopped any pretense of work when the pair stepped out. Keenas swept the camp with his eyes, smiling and nodding to the men.

  “Remember,” he said, turning to Aoden with a sharp salute, “absolute secrecy.”

  “Of course, sir,” said Aoden, returning the salute.

  Keenas broke off and strode from the camp, giving the men the smallest of waves as he passed through. Moments before he was mobbed by his men with desperate inquiries, he saw Keenas vanish into the woods as suddenly as he came, and it was strange to think that he was ever there to begin with.

  Chapter 17

  Loyalty and Terror

  As far as Aoden could tell, Mergau had fully recovered, but she never spoke of leaving. Not that he was going to complain—she was a treasure trove of knowledge for his reawoken curiosity—but she also had no reason to stay. It was as if she wanted to be around him, but that was probably just his attraction to her illusion talking, something he still had trouble shaking off. He even asked her directly why she was putting herself at risk like this and not going home. She had looked panicked for a moment, then claimed it was because she hadn’t finished with his books yet. So he was at least certain that his books weren’t the reason.