The Godling Chronicles : Bundle - Books 4-6

by Brian D. Anderson

  “And then we can go home,” added Aaliyah with a longing sigh. Both of them smiled wistfully at the thought of seeing the shores of their homeland once again.

  It was an hour before dusk when they caught sight of a lone elf seeker appearing through the brush. He raised his hand in greeting and broke into a dead run.

  He halted a few feet away, his face alight with joy. “Lord Nehrutu. You live! How is this?”

  Nehrutu shrugged. “I suppose you could say it was a miracle.”

  The seeker laughed. “Then the day is replete with miracles. I was sent to tell Lady Aaliyah that the way to Althetas is clear.”

  “So you have defeated the enemy?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “There was no need. Something else defeated them. Their bodies were burned and strewn about like Fall leaves. If you had not already told us of Darshan’s death, I would have thought it done by his hand.”

  Aaliyah smiled knowingly. “Perhaps it was. Come. Walk with us.”

  “Will we rejoin the army?” the seeker asked.

  “No,” she replied. “We are going directly to Althetas. There is much to do.”

  Chapter 17

  Lee and Millet were at last nearing the end of a slime-coated tunnel that began just beyond the western walls of Baltria and led directly into a ruined warehouse on the fringe of the city. Lee was hoping fervently that the invaders had not yet discovered this ancient smugglers’ passage and sealed off the exit. The filth from hundreds of floods was causing the air to reek so badly that Millet had already vomited twice along the way. Lee thought to tease his former servant, but Millet was every bit a lord these days and one stern glance told him that it was a bad idea.

  A story for a warm fire and good friends, Lee thought, grinning.

  When the pirates had shown him this tunnel many years ago, the warehouse was in the possession of a local merchant who had made most of his fortune by smuggling in goods from the west. It was in a perfect location for such dubious business, being near to the wall and frequently flooded. The repugnant smell alone was enough to keep most people clear, and those few authorities that could not be bribed imagined it to be long abandoned. The hordes of rats and other swamp vermin were also a big help in keeping any unwanted visitors well at bay.

  Lee held his breath while pushing up against the steel trapdoor and felt a surge of anxiety when it at first failed to move. He pushed again even harder, and this time it screeched open just enough for him to peer into the gloom. It looked like the place had now been abandoned for real, though not so very long ago. A few broken crates of goods, so molded and deteriorated that they were unrecognizable still lined the far wall. One thing was for certain. The rats were definitely far fewer in number. Without the pirates and dockworkers providing them with a non-stop source of discarded food, most had undoubtedly found better pickings elsewhere.

  With a grunt, Lee pushed hard yet again on the trapdoor, and suddenly there was almost no resistance at all. With an unexpected rush it flew completely open. The loud crash of metal striking against the stone floor caused him to wince and remain absolutely still until he was certain that no one was reacting to the noise. Millet scowled and shook his head.

  Once out of the tunnel, they took a closer look at their surroundings.

  “I thought this place could not have gotten worse,” remarked Millet. “I was wrong.”

  “At least the guards won’t likely come around,” Lee told him.

  Millet blew a blast of air from his nose as if this would banish the odor. “Not unless they enjoy smelling like the underside of a sewer.”

  Lee flashed a playful grin. “Look on the bright side. In our present malodorous condition, no one will want to come near enough to figure out who we are.”

  “Either that, or they’ll know we don’t belong in the city,” countered Millet. “We should avoid being seen...or smelled, if we can.”

  After pulling his hood over his head, Lee led the way across to the exit. Millet groaned several times as his foot sank deep into muck and mire.

  A missing board in the old and rotting wooden door had left a sizeable gap. Lee peered through and quickly established that there was no one about. The sun had set an hour ago, though the street lamps had not yet been lit. All the better, he thought, easing the door open just enough for them to pass through.

  Lord Lanson Brimm’s estate was on the other side of the city, so it would take them at least two hours of dodging in and out of alleyways and dark corners to get to the manor district undetected. Lee hoped that his old friend still lived. During their last meeting Lanson had indicated that he would no longer turn a blind eye to the crimes of Angrääl. Lee now regretted shaming the man into behavior that would most certainly place him at risk, and quite possibly get him killed.

  As they wound their way through the city they saw that, although the streets were empty of citizens, Angrääl troops were everywhere. Fortunately, they were far too busy to take much notice of Lee and Millet.

  “Word must have arrived that the elves are coming,” remarked Lee.

  “So it would seem,” agreed Millet.

  It took them longer than expected to reach their destination. Several times they were forced to hide while hundreds of soldiers marched from the direction of the docks toward the main gate.

  Normally at this time of day the avenues of the manor district would have been filled with wealthy merchants and nobility on their way out for an evening’s entertainment. But as with the rest of the city, no one was about, and only a few lights could be seen in the windows of the lavish homes.

  Lanson’s estate was as opulent as one might expect for a man of his outward extravagance and charm. The wrought iron gates and fence surrounded lush gardens and a veritable labyrinth of well-manicured paths, fruit trees, and marble fountains. The grand house itself was built in northern fashion – two stories of dark polished granite fronted with imposing columns supporting a broad marble porch. A wide veranda directly above the porch spanned most of the upper floor.

  Lee was relieved to see that the gates were unguarded and open. They followed the main drive for a while before turning off onto a red slate path that would take them to the servants’ entrance at the rear of the house. Millet, with his hood pulled down as far as it would go, led the way.

  The sturdy oak doors that guarded a large kitchen were closed, though the tantalizing scent of freshly baked bread escaped from within. Both men's mouths began to water.

  Millet pounded hard and took a step back. Curses could be heard coming from inside. Moments later the door creaked open.

  “We don’t give to beggars,” snapped a thin, middle-aged woman with dark hair.

  “I apologize, miss,” said Millet in his humblest voice. “But I have a message for Jansi.”

  The woman scrutinized the pair. “Give it to me. I’ll see that he gets it.”

  “No ma’am. I was ordered to give it to him in person.” Millet could see that the woman was not about to make this easy. “We’ll take an awful beating if I don’t give it to him. It won’t take but a second.”

  She sniffed the air and curled her lip. “Well you’re certainly not coming inside smelling like that. Wait here. I’ll see if I can get him to come down.” She turned and slammed the door.

  “Well,” said Lee. “At least we know he’s here.”

  Millet nodded. “But I don’t recall the Brimm house ever turning away hungry people who came calling. This may have been a wasted trip.”

  Ten minutes passed before the door reopened. There stood Jansi in a simple brown robe and a dagger in his right hand.

  “Speak your message and be gone,” he demanded.

  Millet pushed back his hood. “You should put that dagger away before you cut yourself, my friend.”

  Utter astonishment appeared on Jansi’s face. He stepped quickly outside and shut the door behind him. “Have you lost your wits? What are you doing here?”

  “At this moment,” replied Mille
t. “We are standing at your door, very much hoping that you can help us.”

  “Is that Lord Starfinder?” he asked.

  Lee revealed his face and smiled. “It is indeed.”

  Jansi regarded him for a moment, then looked back at Millet. “I gave you more credit than your master for common sense. But it seems I was wrong.”

  “He is no longer my master,” corrected Millet. “And I’ll thank you to show me a bit of courtesy.”

  Jansi held up his palm. “Forgive me. But you have no idea the risk you are taking by coming here. If you are caught....”

  “Soon it won’t matter,” interrupted Millet. “The walls of Baltria are about to fall and Angrääl will be driven out.”

  “If you speak of the elves that are on their way here,” Jansi shot back, “then you are mistaken. They will be blasted from the field before they fire the first arrow.”

  Millet and Lee gave each other a knowing smile.

  “More than just the elves are coming,” said Lee. “Darshan is leading them.”

  “Are you sure of this?” Jansi asked incredulously. “Darshan is coming here?”

  “I see you have heard the name,” said Lee.

  Jansi shrugged. “Everyone has heard the name of Darshan. But no one is sure what to believe.”

  “If you allow us to come inside,” said Millet, “and for the love of the gods give us a bath and a change of clothes, we will tell you all that you want to know.”

  Jansi thought for a moment. “You must wait here until I can dismiss the kitchen staff. Once they’re gone, I’ll let you in.” He opened the door and ran inside, returning a moment later with a loaf of bread. “This will have to do for now.”

  “Thank you,” said Millet, bowing.

  Jansi went back inside, smiling at the duo in spite of himself.

  Millet and Lee found a spot in the shadows behind a lemon tree where they devoured the bread and settled down to wait. Lee kept a vigilant ear on the comings and goings at the front entrance throughout. Thankfully, no one else came calling.

  More than three hours passed before the kitchen staff eventually filed out of the house. Lee’s sharp hearing picked up their chatter. Many of them were remarking how odd it was that they had been told to leave through the front entrance that evening.

  Jansi returned a short time later.

  “Is Lanson at home?” asked Lee.

  “My lord is quite ill,” Jansi replied. “However, he knows that you are here and wants to see you as soon as you’re cleaned and changed.”

  Lee’s face tightened at the news. “How ill is he?” But the man’s bleak expression already told him the answer to that.

  Jansi ushered them inside and through the kitchen. A stone staircase in the pantry at the far end took them up to the second floor where bedchambers, the library, and Lanson’s personal office were all situated. Lee could hear the remaining maids and cleaning staff downstairs busying about their duties.

  Jansi showed them to their separate rooms. Millet and Lee’s eyes lit up when they saw that both of these were equipped with a shower. Clean clothes were in the wardrobes, and to finish things off, Jansi soon returned with a bowl of beef stew and a bottle of wine for each of them.

  Once cleaned and dressed, Lee took his meal to Millet’s room. Jansi checked in on them just as they were sitting down at a small table close to a window overlooking the southern garden.

  “My lord’s room is down the hall and the last door on the left,” he told them. “Join him there once you’re ready.” He left with a polite nod.

  “He seems greatly worried,” said Millet. “I hope that it is only his master’s health that occupies his thoughts.”

  “I sense no deception in him,” said Lee. “Only deep concern.”

  They hurried through their meal, then followed the directions Jansi had given. The polished double doors they came to were slightly ajar, allowing Lee to push them open just far enough to look inside. The room was dimly lit, with only a single lantern on a table in the far corner.

  The spacious chamber appeared warm and welcoming. Lee could see immediately that the dark wood furnishings and plush purple rugs had all been imported from the northern towns near Hazrah. Even the immense four-poster bed was not unlike the one that he himself used to sleep in back home.

  Thick cotton blankets covered a small lump on the bed, with only a head peeking out to show that it was indeed Lanson. But this was not the vigorous man Lee had known. His eyes were sunken deep into his skull and surrounded by black circles. The rest of his face was ghostly pale, and his thin, dry lips bore a grayish color.

  “Don’t lurk in doorways, Lee Starfinder,” Lanson said. His voice was raspy and his breathing labored.

  Lee stepped inside. Millet followed close behind.

  “I see you’ve managed to womanize your way into a sickbed,” said Lee, using his best lighthearted tone.

  “Naturally,” he replied, a fragile smile forming. “But it took more than half the women in the city to lay me so low.”

  Two chairs awaited them beside his bed. Lee took the one nearest to his old friend.

  “So you’re still causing trouble, I hear,” said Lanson. “When I received news that the faithful had been slain in Sharpstone, I knew it had to be you.”

  “Actually, that was more Millet than me,” Lee told him. “I have turned my lands and titles over to him.”

  Lanson managed a loud laugh, but the effort of this brought on a spasm of coughing. “Best thing you could ever have done,” he eventually croaked. “You always were a poor excuse for a noble, Lee. Too idealistic. And too rash.” He looked at Millet. “I hope you’ve finally put him in his proper place, My Lord.” There was no sarcasm when he used the title.

  Millet smiled and nodded. “I had done that long before I became a noble.”

  Lee leaned in. “Tell me what afflicts you, old friend?”

  Lanson shifted, managing to prop his head up. “Oh, nothing that death won’t cure.”

  Lee and Millet clearly did not find this amusing. Lanson sighed. “I’m afraid I am a casualty of war. After you left the city, I did what I could to hinder the efforts of the Reborn King. I was actually shocked at how many others I was able to enlist to my cause. Apparently, I had underestimated the worth of the Baltrian nobles. We did our best to disrupt things, but with only limited success. Most of us are now dead. The lesser nobles were executed – their bodies hung from the city walls. Those who had enough influence to avoid the noose began dying one by one of a mysterious illness. I suppose I fall into that category.”

  “I should have never talked you into this,” said Lee.

  Lanson scowled. “You didn’t talk me into anything. All you did was point out what I already knew in my heart.” He reached over and took hold of Lee’s hand. “I will die with no regrets.” He chuckled, but this brought on another short fit of coughing. “If we win this war, maybe for once in my life I’ll be called brave. For certain they’ll say that Lee Starfinder was brave, but Lord Lanson Brimm…now he was a most courageous fool, if ever there was one.”

  “You’ve always been brave,” said Lee.

  Lanson shook his head with the look of a guilty child. “Only when I was drunk, I’m afraid. But enough about me and my decrepit state. Jansi says Darshan is coming. Is this true?”

  “It is,” Lee affirmed. “And when he gets here I’ll bring him to you. Perhaps he can heal you of this mystery illness.”

  “That would be good,” said Lanson. “But I don’t think I’ll make it long enough for him to arrive.” Lee started to argue, but Lanson held up his hand. “You must listen to me, Lee. The enemy has a weapon. A terrible weapon. It was shown to us shortly after you escaped from here. Three of the faithful who had attempted to flee the city were taken outside the walls. Every noble in Baltria was ordered to bear witness. They tied them to posts and placed a white ball about the size of a man’s head at each one’s feet. All three balls had a long wick that ran into its
center. Another of the faithful then lit these wicks, and a few seconds later the deserters’ bodies were blown completely apart.”

  He shuddered. “I was a hundred feet away, and the force of the fireballs still knocked me over.”

  “What are they made of?” asked Millet.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “They keep that secret, and allow no one near them. But they have hundreds stored away - and catapults to launch them too. If your friends assault the gates they’ll be blown apart.” His eyes closed as he suppressed a cough. “Some nights you can hear them training in the swamp. The whole city shakes. Darshan had better be as powerful as people say, otherwise his entire elf army is doomed.”

  “Where do they keep these weapons?” asked Lee.

  Lanson chuckled. “I thought you’d ask me that. That’s why I told Jansi to speak to a couple of your friends about scouting the area.”

  Lee looked confused for a moment, then it hit him. “Barty and Randson! They’re here?”

  “They said they were here to gather information,” he replied. “Though they didn’t tell me it was Millet, not you, who’d sent them.” He gave a lopsided smile. “They have been rather tight lipped. I didn’t trust them at first, but Randson can be quite convincing when he wants to be. Smart lad, too. When this is over I hope that you will find him something more rewarding than a gardener’s position.”

  “I will indeed,” said Millet. “When do you expect them back?”

  Lanson shrugged. “It shouldn’t take long. The Angrääl soldiers are busy preparing for an assault. They won’t bother with two stragglers wandering about.”

  “And what of the city guard?” asked Lee. “I didn’t notice any of them on the way here. Only soldiers.”

  “Most been inducted into the army,” said Lanson. “After the faithful wiped out the king and his family there was no one to stop them.”

  Millet was shocked. “They killed them all? Then who rules Baltria?”