Gewey knew what Kaylia was about to do only a split second before she did it.
“I think you have nothing to worry about,” Kaylia told Malorie, pulling off her scarf and revealing her elf ears. “If I have not harmed you after such an insult, I think you have little to fear from my kin. The old hatreds are a thing of the past, as you can plainly see.”
The three women gasped in unison, staring in sudden terror.
Gewey quickly stepped forward and pulled Kaylia away.
“We should return to our room,” he told her.
“Nonsense,” said Kaylia. “I have watched my kin die to protect these people’s meaningless lives, so I have earned my place at this feast. Especially being that it was bought with the gold of our enemy.”
She jerked free from his grasp, pushed her way through the crowd, and took a seat at a table near to where the musicians were playing. Gewey sat down beside her, nervously scanning the crowd for a reaction.
It was not long in coming. In well under a minute, everyone else who had been sitting at their table was on their feet and backing right away, as if suddenly confronted by some terrible demon. As more and more people began staring in Kaylia’s direction, the dancing and singing gradually faded. Finally, the music stopped altogether. Only anxious murmurs of fear could now be heard in the otherwise deathly silent room.
“Oh my, oh my!” Minnie’s voice came from behind them, cutting right through the tense atmosphere. She rounded the table and sat directly across from Kaylia. “I wish you had mentioned you are an elf, my dear.”
“What should it matter?” Kaylia shot back coldly.
“Well, for one thing, I could have prepared the folks for it,” she replied. She reached over the table and lightly touched Kaylia’s hand. “But as things are - so be it. Pay no mind to these gossips and dullards. You are my guest and that’s that.” She stood and addressed the crowd. “Do you hear me? Kaylia is my guest. Any of you who don’t like it can leave now.” Her eyes fell on Malorie. “And that includes you.”
Malorie stiffened her back and huffed.
Minnie’s husband walked up. Holding out his hand, he bowed. “I’ve always wanted to meet an elf, Miss Kaylia. I would be honored if you would dance with me.” He grinned at Minnie. “And just so you know, my name is Vernin, not old goat.”
Kaylia sat motionless for a long moment, then took the old man’s hand.
“Music!” shouted Minnie. “You’re not being paid to gawk like idiots.” She kissed her husband’s cheek. “And don’t you go hurting yourself.”
After a few seconds the music resumed, allowing Vernin to escort Kaylia onto the dance floor. The crowd watched in silence as the two danced and spun with the rhythm. Vernin moved surprisingly well for a man of his advanced years, leading Kaylia expertly around the room. Gewey could feel Kaylia’s anger and apprehension dwindling.
“He really is a sweet old goat,” said Minnie. “And you two don’t need to worry about this bunch. They’ll warm up soon enough once the brandy sets in.”
The song ended with Kaylia hugging Vernin and kissing him fondly on the cheek. He bowed in return before making his way through the still silent crowd to the bar. Kaylia rejoined Gewey and sighed with satisfaction.
“You know that was foolish,” he said.
“Yes,” she admitted, smirking. “But tomorrow we can lose ourselves in the Spirit Hills, so I imagine there is little harm done. And I did enjoy silencing that hag Malorie.”
Seeing her spirits lifted was enough to make Gewey smile. Slowly, the people returned to their merrymaking. Before long, they began coming over to introduce themselves to Kaylia. Mostly it was a simple hello and welcome, but bolder villagers were keen to know about her and her people. In less than an hour she was completely surrounded by eager townsfolk asking a myriad of questions.
Gewey recalled when he’d first met Kaylia, and of how unwilling she had been to say anything about herself or her people. Now, she seemed perfectly happy to do so. A few of the village men, apparently not wanting to be outdone by an old man, even dared to follow Vernin’s example by asking her to dance. Kaylia was pleased to oblige. A handful of people such as Malorie and her two friends still chose to keep their distance, but before the night was over, Gewey could easily have imagined that elves were commonly seen in Vine Run.
It was well after midnight before the celebrations died down. No one wanted to leave while Kaylia was still there. Reluctantly, she and Gewey said goodnight and retired to their room. As they approached, Gewey noticed that their door was ajar. His muscles tensed and he instinctively pushed Kaylia behind him. The flow filled his limbs as he burst inside.
There, sitting cross-legged on the bed, smiling his customary crooked smile, was Felsafell. He wore his usual buckskin clothing, and his gnarled walking stick lay across his lap.
“A lovely sight,” said Felsafell. “Bonded elf beauty and her handsome mate.”
Kaylia entered and shut the door.
Gewey breathed a sigh of relief. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”
“I think you are,” said Felsafell. “And indeed you should be. Wasting time looking for an old man’s house you could never find would only serve to frustrate an eager mind. Nothing there but keepsakes and memories. None worth a copper to anyone but me.” He hopped up nimbly and looked Gewey in the eyes. “The power you used is not as you had hoped. Dangerous and vile, yet with it you must do what seems impossible.”
“I don’t understand,” said Gewey. “When I use the flow of the spirit it doesn’t feel evil or vile, but the results are terrible and unpredictable.”
“Temptation is seductive, oh yes, it is,” said Felsafell. “Pleasing and soft. And though evil it is not, vile it remains. Long ago did the gods abandon it. A world of the mindless and soulless was all they could create. Yet you must do what they could not.”
Gewey recalled the people in Valshara leaving offerings at his door and shuddered at the thought of the hordes of worshipers he could create. He told Felsafell of this, and of the encounter with the soldiers.
“Then you have seen what must not be,” said Felsafell. “And now you understand your foe’s greatest weapon.” He turned his back and lowered his head. “Strong it is.” His voice was oddly somber. “And a weapon he has mastered. He steals your time and hope, and he will certainly overcome this world unless you can thwart your own nature.”
Gewey cocked his head. “My nature? Are you saying that my being a god is a weakness?”
Felsafell shrugged gawkily. “You could say that. Yes, you could. Your foe is human, though a god he wishes to be. It tempers his power, it does. Makes it easy to control. No worshiper does he create, nor do his victims drive themselves mad. Ensnares their hearts he does. Oh yes. Through loyalty his strength grows, but it is a loyalty taken, not given.”
“So must I learn to be more like him?” asked Gewey, incredulously. “Must I be able to ensnare the will of others without turning them into sycophants?”
Felsafell laughed. “Were it only so simple. A shame it is not. You must break his power without imposing your own. You must turn a hammer into a needle. A blacksmith must be a jeweler.” He smiled at Kaylia. “And your bonded mate must be at your side. Or the earth will be lost to your spirit.”
“That part will be easy,” said Kaylia. “I will never leave his side.”
Felsafell raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Easy you think? Will time and circumstance spare you a jagged path and a hard choice? Long I have lived in the world. I see much though learn less. But hard learned lessons are never forgotten. Sometimes love is an enemy when shared too deeply.”
“I share my love with many,” countered Gewey. His voice was unwavering. “But none do I love more than Kaylia.”
“I can see that told him you have not,” said Felsafell, his eyes shooting between them. “But tell him you will, or our journey together ends here. The Child of Heaven cannot march to his destiny in ignorance.” He took a step
back, his face grave and resolute.
Gewey turned to Kaylia. “What is he talking about?” He could feel her sudden anxiety threatening to overwhelm her.
A tear fell down her cheek as she glared angrily at Felsafell. “I would have told him in my own time.” She looked back at Gewey and took his hands. “I…I am with child.”
Gewey remained silent for a moment, dumbfounded. He blinked hard and shook his head. “Are you sure?”
“The elf woman from the Steppes was a healer,” she replied, her voice wavering. “She knew of my condition at once and made it known to me. That is why I have been unable to govern my anger.”
Gewey felt a rush of elation, but it was mixed with fear. “Why did you hide this from me?”
“We are on a dangerous road,” she explained. “I worried that your mind would be distracted from what must be done. I was afraid you would abandon your duty in order to protect me and our child. Please forgive me.”
The trace of fear inside Gewey vanished as he listened to her explanation. Now, an uncontrollable wave of pure joy rushed through him. “You never have to apologize to me. Whatever I may face, I will face it with you by my side. I will not let our child be a source of fear and doubt.” He reached out and pulled her to him in a tight embrace. “Our child will be a source of strength. I swear it.”
“I was afraid you would try to send me away,” she said. Her tears of happiness flowed freely.
He gently eased her back. With a tender smile, he touched her cheek. “I could never send you away. If our child is to be safe, you must be where I can protect you.”
“That is well and good,” said Felsafell. “For she is needed and I am satisfied.” He moved to the door. “And even an old man knows when to leave young love to their rapture. The morning will find us among the hills I call home. With the dawn I will return.” He shot them one last crooked grin and left.
Gewey and Kaylia slept very little that night. Instead, they lay staring into each other’s eyes, whispering softly and bathing in the love that flowed between them.
Chapter 11
The road east from Sharpstone led directly into the Jerrica Hills that bordered the Eastland kingdoms. After Lee and Linis had satisfied themselves that they were not being pursued, they decided it was safe for the group to take the main road. If a large force were to approach they would easily hear it and have time to get everyone out of sight.
All of their remaining sell-swords had collected their pay, along with a bit extra, and had turned south to the coast. Lee didn’t mind losing men whose loyalty could be bought, though he did have concerns that a loose tongue might bring an enemy searching for them.
He had always disliked traveling eastward. The road snaked through endless hills and shallow valleys, and the terrain was deceptively rugged. Tall grass hid the rocks and pitfalls from view, making a cross-country journey perilous and even more time consuming than usual.
Most of Lee’s time was spent with Millet in quiet conversation. Millet again recounted the events after they had parted just north of Baltria, while Lee spoke of his journey in more detail, although not of the fate befalling Penelope. Linis, when he was not laughing and talking with Dina, kept himself busy by training Jacob in the ways of the seeker. As for the soldiers, they were a hardy and loyal group, with most of them having served Lord Ganflin for many years. Bevaris and Tristan took it upon themselves to see to their needs, and soon Linis insisted that the knights should take over command, saying that they understood human tactics and methods far better than he. Bevaris seemed most pleased by this.
On the fourth day, they ran across a small caravan of merchants heading west to Helenia. Lee managed to discover that although Angrääl had not yet sent any significant forces to the Eastland, word had spread about the gathering of their armies in the north. The people were afraid, and the various kings and queens had sent tributes in the hope that they would be spared.
The snow had begun to fall in earnest by the end of the first week, forcing them to take refuge in Lathila, a small farming village, in order to purchase warmer clothing and blankets. Most of the soldiers were accustomed to the warm climate of Althetas and were ill prepared for such harsh cold. The small inn didn’t have enough rooms to house the entire party, so Lee paid a local farmer to open his barn. Dina was allowed to stay in the farmhouse and sleep with the farmer’s two young daughters. That evening, Linis and Jacob convinced Millet and Lee to accompany them to the local tavern.
The tavern was typical for a small village. Hearths burned brightly on opposite sides of the room, and a long bar spanned its width from corner to corner. Cheerful townsfolk occupied most of the simple wood tables and benches, leaving only a few still available. An old man was playing a lute beside the bar; his lack of skill told Lee that he was most likely just a local making a bit of extra coin rather than a true traveling minstrel. Still, it was a welcome change from the biting cold of the long road.
Concerned about drawing additional attention to their group, Linis had wrapped his head in a wool scarf to disguise his elf features.
“I do not like that you must hide,” grumbled Millet. “Not after everything you’ve done and sacrificed.”
“The time is coming when I will no longer have to hide,” Linis told him. “But for now I must. Though I admit living openly among humans in the west has made it difficult for me to go back to the way things were. Only now do I realize the effect it has had on me.”
Lee ordered a round of ale and a hot meal. It wasn’t long before songs were heard throughout the hall and Lee was telling tales of his youthful exploits. Jacob listened with interest, especially when Millet stopped his former master to see to it that he was telling the story accurately.
It was almost time for them to depart when Lee and Linis stiffened. Their hands slid to their weapons as the door opened and a tall, cloaked figure entered.
“Vrykol,” hissed Lee.
At once Jacob leapt to his feet, but Linis grabbed his arm.
“Do nothing,” the elf said. “Wait until your father or I make a move.”
The Vrykol scanned the hall before slowly approaching their table. It stopped only a few feet away and pushed back its hood. Linis let out an audible gasp as the face of an elf was revealed. Its black hair was tied in a ponytail and its dark complexion was a stark contrast to its ice blue eyes.
“Such a shame that these fine people know not of the greatness in their presence,” said the Vrykol, bowing. “It is indeed fortunate to run into you here.”
“Shortly, you will not consider yourself so fortunate,” said Linis.
The Vrykol tilted its head and frowned. “Now, now. It would not do if we fought here and innocent villagers were to be hurt.” Its face turned to a slight smile. “Besides, I only came to greet you. Can enemies not be civil to each other?”
“You are an abomination,” seethed Linis. “I will offer you no kindness - only the edge of my blade.”
Lee looked around the room. A few people were already taking notice of the Vrykol, believing it to be an elf. “Say what you have to say, then I would flee if I were you.”
“Bold and rash,” said the Vrykol. “Just as I have been told. But you need not worry. My business, as well as my master’s, is done in this part of the world…for now. If you seek aid or allies, you will be sorely disappointed. And the elves of the desert are all but destroyed by now.”
“So you seek to turn us back?” asked Millet.
The murmurs grew as more people began noticing the newcomer.
“No indeed,” it replied, amused. “As I said, I only wanted to meet you and your brave companions. The fierce Lee Starfinder, son of Saraf, and his loyal servant Millet Gristall.” Its eyes shifted across slightly. “And this must be Jacob. I have heard good things about you as well. It is no small matter to betray your own father.”
Jacob’s face turned red with rage.
“Leave now, beast,” growled Linis. “Or the crowd will be no protection
for you.”
The Vrykol ignored the threat. “And the name of Linis is certainly known to me - a legend among the elf seekers, to be sure. Only Berathis could surpass your skill. But alas, he is slain. By Lord Starfinder I heard.”
Lee shot up from his seat, his sword drawn in a flash. The Vrykol stepped back, holding out his palm.
“Kill me if you will,” it said. “But know that I am not alone. If I do not return to my comrades, the woman Celandine will die. At this very moment I have men outside the farmhouse where she awaits your return.”
The veins on Lee’s forehead bulged. “And if she is harmed I will...”
The Vrykol gave a sneering laugh. “Save your threats. I have not harmed her. She is of no interest to me other than as a means to ensure my safe passage from this tavern.” He strode gracefully over to the exit. “I am truly honored to have met you. And I suspect we shall meet again.”
The moment the door closed behind him, the tavern erupted. Shouts and curses from frightened villagers combined with speculative whispers about Lee and his companions. Not that their opinions were of any concern to him at that very moment. Brushing the locals aside on his way out, Lee ran as fast as he possibly could back to the farmhouse, the others as close on his heels as they could manage. To their great relief, they found Dina sitting quietly on the front porch wrapped in a thick wool blanket and sipping a cup of warm cider.
Linis immediately headed to the barn and roused the men, while Dina went inside the house to retrieve her long knife. Within a few minutes the house was completely surrounded by Ganflin’s soldiers. After satisfying himself that the men were in position, Linis went to look for signs of the Vrykol. He returned a half hour later.
“They were watching from about two hundred yards away,” he said. “They must have arrived just after we left, otherwise I would have certainly heard them.”
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