The Godling Chronicles : Bundle - Books 4-6

by Brian D. Anderson

  Before Gewey could object, Lee held up his hand. “If Vrykol are anywhere in Baltria, they’ll sniff you out in a second. I should take Millet with me as well. The two of us know Baltria better than anyone, so it shouldn’t be a problem to move about unnoticed. Especially when they have an elf army led by the mighty Darshan bearing down on their city walls. They’ll be far too busy worrying about you to care about us.”

  “Once you’re inside, what will you do?” asked Kaylia.

  “I suppose I’ll have to improvise,” replied Lee, giving an elaborate wink.

  “Are you sure you should take Millet?” Gewey asked.

  Lee chuckled. “I know him well. He won’t allow me to go alone. And he is even more familiar with the back streets of Baltria than I.” His smile slowly vanished. “Besides, if Millet doesn’t go, Jacob will insist that he does, and I can’t have that. If either Millet or I are caught, we’ll likely be killed. Both of us have lived long enough to welcome our end, should it come to that. But Jacob has not. I know I can’t keep him out of danger all the time. After all, this is a war. But I’ll feel better if my son is under your protection while I’m gone. The thought of something happening to him…”

  “You are like a second father to me,” said Gewey. “Well…a third actually, now that I think about it.” Lee’s smile returned. “That makes Jacob my brother. So do what you need to do. I will watch over him.”

  “Thank you,” said Lee. With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet. “I should go speak with Millet. I think I saw him with a bottle in his hand earlier. Hopefully he’s only found one, otherwise he’ll be in a foul mood come morning.”

  “So you leave tomorrow?” asked Gewey.

  Lee nodded. “And I suggest you follow quickly. Speed is your best ally.”

  Gewey watched as Lee disappeared into the camp. The sounds of the celebration suddenly seemed dull and dreary as he thought of yet another battle to come.

  “So you intend to draw the Dark Knight out,” said Kaylia.

  “Yes,” Gewey replied. “Though that’s not the only reason I see for taking Baltria. I fear that we may not arrive in time to save King Lousis. But word of Baltria’s fall will travel far faster than an army can. And I don’t think the Dark Knight will ignore such a bad turn of events to go unchallenged. As we have already discussed, losing Baltria will disrupt his supply line and stop his advance cold.”

  “Of course, taking the city is one thing,” Kaylia pointed out. “But how do you intend to hold it?”

  Gewey shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if we hold it. The elves will continue west after the assault.”

  Kaylia cocked her head. “If you don’t intend to keep it, why risk the lives?”

  A faint smile formed on Gewey's face. “When I was a young boy, my father sent me to Miss Havershan’s house in town three days a week to study. She taught most of the children in Sharpstone – at least, those whose parents could spare the extra pair of hands. The first day I went, a boy named Walton Vessty decided he didn’t like me. I couldn’t tell you why, but he made it clear that he was not my friend, and made it his mission to make my life difficult. Each day after lessons he would round up his friends and follow me home, throwing rocks at me the whole way.”

  “What did you do?” asked Kaylia, clearly bothered by the idea of someone tormenting her unorem, even as a child.

  Gewey shrugged. “What could I do? I was outnumbered, and they were all bigger and older than me. So I ran.

  “Eventually, when my father found out what was happening, he went to talk to Mister Vessty. Well, I can tell you, Mister Vessty was a mean-natured son-of-a-pig farmer. He told my father that if I had a problem with his son, best that I solve it myself.”

  “And did you?” asked Kaylia.

  “In a way,” he replied with a smirk. “My father told me that the next time it happened I should walk right up to Walton and punch him on the nose. Well sure enough, the next day he and his friends were at it again. So I turned around ready to do what my father had told me. But for some reason – and I have no idea why – I picked up a rock instead and threw it as hard as I could. It hit Walton right between the eyes and knocked him out cold.”

  Kaylia gave a loud laugh. “Served him right.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Gewey. “I thought I might have killed him at the time, but luckily there was no serious harm done. And though we never became friends, he did not bother me again - ever.”

  “So is that what attacking Baltria is all about?” asked Kaylia.

  “In a way,” said Gewey. “So far, we’ve been running and running while our enemy continues to assault us on all sides. He thinks we can’t do a thing to stop him, and hopes to draw me to his lair where I am at a disadvantage. But if we are successful and deny him Baltria - even for a short time - that could turn the tide in our favor. We will be the aggressor. People need to be shown that the Reborn King is not all powerful. Then perhaps they will not be so afraid and begin to rise up against him.”

  “And those same people may be slaughtered in the process,” Kaylia told him. “The Dark Knight is not a boy, and he will not be so easily deterred.”

  Gewey sighed. He couldn’t deny that she was speaking the truth. Nonetheless, he also knew that it was the right thing to do. As long as the enemy was allowed to press forward, the Dark Knight would remain in his fortress, unassailable and secure. The only path to victory was to disrupt his plans and force him out.

  Baltria was going to burn – Gewey knew that - and he was going to be the one responsible, either in taking the city or defending it. But it was a sacrifice he would have to make. The western kingdoms would not be the only ones to feel the agony of war.

  Kaylia hopped up, pulling Gewey with her. “Come. Dance with me. There will be time for war tomorrow. Tonight is for celebrating the memory of Maybell.”

  Gewey pushed troublesome thoughts to the back of his mind. Soon he and Kaylia were spending the rest of the evening in high-spirited merriment. Luckily, Lee had reached Millet before he’d found a second bottle of wine and they had now retired to a bedroll at the edge of the camp. Gewey spotted them talking in hushed whispers with Lee drawing lines in the dirt, presumably mapping out their entry into the city.

  It was near dawn by the time the elves began to bed down. The music continued on, but in contrast to the up-tempo melodies of the early evening, the tunes were now soft and sweet.

  Gewey spoke to Lyrial about his intentions. She seemed unconcerned.

  “It matters not where we fight,” she said. “We will follow you into any fray – and we will be victorious.”

  Bevaris was less optimistic, though he voiced only a few half-hearted objections. Gewey could tell that the man was still unnerved by his miraculous resurrection. Tristan, on the other hand, was much more accepting of the matter and had no problem in telling Gewey the foolishness of his plan.

  “You’re completely mad,” the younger knight said, his mouth twisting in a disapproving scowl. “We’ll never take Baltria. I don’t care how many fireballs you throw at them. The walls of the city are fifteen feet thick and twice as high. They’ll rain down arrows so heavily that they’ll blot out the sun.”

  “You must trust me,” Gewey replied. “I promise I can take care of the walls and the arrows. The fight will truly begin once we’re inside. I can’t be in all places at once, and I doubt Angrääl is going to surrender the city easily.”

  Tristan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Get us inside and I can promise that the city will be ours.”

  Though it was obvious that Bevaris didn’t agree, he simply bowed and began gathering the sand masters. Battle plans needed to be made.

  Gewey was acutely aware that their success would hinge entirely on his ability to bring down the walls and gate. There was a time when he would have held doubts over this, but ever since returning from Shagharath he’d had a much greater understanding as to the extent of his powers. He was now confident that he could destroy the wall, regardless
of how thick it was.

  The sun was breaking the horizon when Kaylia led him back to the pavilion. She insisted that he sleep for at least a few hours. The elves needed only a short time to prepare and seemed unconcerned that they would be marching with very little rest.

  Just as Kaylia pulled back the flaps to usher him inside, he glanced over to where he had seen Lee and Millet talking earlier. Their bedrolls were now gone. Jacob was sitting there alone, looking very displeased.

  Gewey smiled inwardly. Better angry then dead.

  * * * *

  Lee was humming a tune that Millet had taught him when he’d first arrived as a scared yet excited young boy in the home of Dauvis Nal’Thain. The road they were riding along was easy for now, almost entirely because Gewey had frightened the enemy away for at least a hundred miles.

  Lee’s mind drifted back to those early days. He had been so excited to explore the world around him. And though his escapades then had only ever been in the close vicinity of Hazrah, they had still seemed like a never-ending series of wild adventures to a boy who had spent most of his time before that locked away in a temple.

  “You still remember that one,” remarked Millet with a lopsided smile. “I sang it to you when you were young.”

  “It made me feel safe,” said Lee. “The manor was so big and imposing. I was crying that night, just before you came into my room.”

  “I know,” said Millet. “You tried to hide it…but I knew. You may not have missed the temple, but you missed your mother much more than you were willing to admit.”

  “You always knew me better than I knew myself. And you knew what to say when I was alone and afraid.” Lee sighed. “You know, I don’t think I’ll see the end of this war, old friend.” His tone wasn’t dark or ominous. Instead, it was accepting…almost welcoming.

  Millet chuckled. “I’m amazed that you’ve lived this long.” He then looked at his friend and realized he was not jesting. “Why do you say such things?”

  “I don’t know.” Lee shrugged. “It’s a feeling, no more than that. It’s like an itch just out of reach. The more I try to ignore it, the more it bothers me.”

  Millet pretended to scowl. “In that case, I’m glad you asked me to come with you. I assume your intention is that we die together.”

  Lee laughed merrily. “That was indeed my plan. Why else would we be riding into an enemy stronghold, just ahead of an elf army, led by an angry god?”

  Millet joined in Lee’s laughter. “You know, since I became Lord of the House Nal’Thain, it seems as though I’ve become as big a fool as you.”

  Chapter 15

  King Lousis rode beside King Victis at the vanguard of their magnificent army, backs straight and heads held high. Age and weariness had fallen away from both men, leaving only two fierce warrior kings riding boldly to meet their fates.

  Mohanisi had chosen to walk at the rear with Lady Bellisia, who, along with the other more gifted of the elder healers, had continued to work herself far beyond her normal measure of strength. It was only after no small amount of persuasion that she eventually agreed to ride in a wagon rather than continue on foot. Even then, she was reluctant to rest. Most of her time on board was spent with other elders examining the enemy weapon. Mohanisi suggested that perhaps Aaliyah might be able to further the investigation should they see her again. She was by far the most learned among them and had studied for many years on a myriad of subjects.

  The Angrääl army was moving far more swiftly than Lousis would have thought possible. He had managed to close a little on the enemy, but remained fearful that he might not be able to catch up with them before they were reinforced. If that happened, the battle would be fierce…and very short.

  On a brighter note, Lord Chiron and his forces were only a few hours away and would be joining them well before nightfall.

  “They’re giving us quite a chase,” remarked Victis, maintaining his optimistic tone.

  “They must sense that death is on their heels, my friend,” Lousis joked.

  Even though a little contrived, the two monarch’s jovial mood as they set off that morning had done much to raise the morale of the soldiers. Combined with a bright cool day, it wasn’t long before songs of triumph – of both elf and human composition - were ringing out from the ranks.

  They were well into the afternoon when the sound of trumpets calling out from the west was first heard. Lousis scanned the horizon and was soon able to see the column of haggard and war beaten soldiers led by Lord Chiron coming into view. He immediately ordered a halt, at the same time calling for healers to attend the newly arriving wounded.

  Lord Chiron rode up astride a black mare, his leather armor so beaten and damaged that it looked as if it could fall from his body at any moment. Nonetheless, his familiar, good-natured smile was still very much in evidence. Despite having come straight from a hard fought battle and a long ride, his eyes sparkled with energy.

  “It’s good to see you are still amongst the living,” called Lousis.

  “Am I?” Chiron shouted back, glancing down at the sorry state of his attire. “Until just now I couldn’t tell. I guess the fates still have business with me.”

  Both Lousis and Victis let out a hearty laugh.

  “I’m afraid that may be to meet your end here with us,” said Victis.

  Chiron positioned his horse alongside the two kings. “Then I could not ask for better company. Tell me what goes on here?”

  Lousis told him of their intention to catch the enemy. Chiron approved enthusiastically. But the mood instantly darkened when the subject turned to the death of Theopolou. The news hit Chiron severely and he remained silent for several minutes.

  “How did Bellisia fare?” he finally asked, swallowing back his tears.

  Lousis shrugged. “She appears to be managing. Though there is no doubt that she feels the loss keenly.”

  “As do I,” said Chiron. “But there is no time for mourning. We must be swift if we are to catch our prey.”

  “Can your people march?” asked Victis.

  “We are not spent yet,” Chiron told him. “Though our ragged appearance may cause you to believe differently.”

  “We think that we can catch them by tomorrow if we press our pace,” said Lousis.

  “We can halt long enough to treat your wounded,” added Victis. “But no longer.”

  Chiron nodded sharply. “Then I will tell my captains to make ready.” Excusing himself, he set off to find Bellisia.

  Lousis couldn’t help but feel pity for the elf elder. He had been every bit as close to Theopolou as Bellisia - possibly even closer. From what Lousis had been told, Chiron had been Theopolou’s chief supporter when Darshan was first revealed to his people. The two of them had even fought together in the Great War. It boggled the king’s mind to imagine losing a friend you had known for five hundred years. He remembered how close to utter despair he had come when Lord Maynard was slain outside his manor. Chiron must be hiding unfathomable pain.

  But, so are we all, he told himself.

  The mood in the camp that night was light and cheerful. Both humans and elves were aware that the next day would likely be their last, but it didn’t seem to matter. After having been through so many trials together, they were now happy to meet their destiny among comrades both old and new. Two widely conflicting peoples had originally entered the crucible, and they had emerged as one, solid in their unity.

  At least some good has come of this horror, considered Lousis.

  He decided to sleep in the open air that night, much to the chagrin of his guard. The danger of the enemy sending an assassin still existed, and the Vrykol could be as stealthy as they were deadly. But Lousis would not be dissuaded. Soon, Victis, Chiron and Bellisia elected to join him.

  Chiron and Bellisia looked to be in better spirits. Lousis guessed that perhaps their mutual friendships with Theopolou was in some way helping them to heal each other. He watched as they sat close, reminiscing with lighthe
arted tales of Theopolou in days long past. He couldn’t help but think the two elders would make a good match. These thoughts quickly brought High Lady Selena back to his mind. Lousis wondered if he would ever see her again. He promised himself immediately that, should he return safely, they would wed as soon as possible. And if she said no, then he would spend the remainder of his days trying to convince her to change her mind.

  As dawn broke, the seekers returned. Angrääl had ceased its march and was apparently turning to fight. A mixture of fear and elation swept over King Lousis.

  If they could win this day, then perhaps they could push on to the coast and engage the enemy there as well, catching them off-guard. And if not completely off-guard, at least soon enough to prevent them from setting up solid defenses.

  “They are three miles to the southwest,” reported a young seeker.

  “Good,” Lousis acknowledged. “Then let’s not keep them waiting.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Victis. “We would not want to be discourteous.”

  The two men shared a short laugh before urging their horses into a slow walk. Trumpets blared as the army advanced, battle cries and songs heralding their approach.

  They had only traveled a mile or so when a long series of massive explosions were suddenly heard in the distance. Though unseen, the resulting tide of shock waves that swept into their ranks was powerful - strong enough to have the men wobbling on their feet and the horses rearing with fright. Minutes later, columns of thick, black smoke began rising up from beyond the hilltops.

  Lousis halted the army immediately.

  “We should send scouts,” suggested Victis.

  Lousis nodded in agreement and began ordering the captain of his guard to locate the elf seekers who had brought him the earlier report.

  “Do not trouble yourself, Your Highness,” called Chiron, who was already making his way through the ranks. “I sent three of my elves the moment I heard the disturbance.”

  Bellisia was at his side. Her eyes were now bright, and she no longer had the appearance of someone on the brink of collapse. In one hand she gripped the staff gifted by Darshan, in the other a long sword.