The Godling Chronicles (Shadow of the Gods, Book #3)

by Brian D. Anderson

  “I refuse to—” started Gewey, but Kaylia pulled away.

  “If it means saving our people, then you must,” said Kaylia. Her voice was tender and sad. “I fear losing you.” She gave Aaliyah a contemptuous glance. “But not to her. Go, and learn what you must to save us from the darkness that comes. I will be waiting.”

  “You have made a wise decision,” said Aaliyah.

  Theopolou placed his hands on Gewey and Kaylia. “If this is to be, then you shall complete the bond. You cannot know what perils lay ahead. I would see you as one before you are parted.”

  Kaylia smiled and took Theopolou's hands. “Thank you.” She released him, and looked at Gewey. “Assuming you are agreeable?”

  Gewey nodded, smiling. “Of course, I am.” He scanned the area for Linis. “Would someone tell Linis to come here?”

  Bellisia stepped forward. “I will find him.” She left and returned with Linis a short time later.

  Linis grinned, and squeezed Gewey's shoulder. “I am happy for you.” He glanced at Kaylia. “Both of you.”

  “Kneel,” said Theopolou.

  Without another word Kaylia and Gewey fell to their knees. Theopolou placed his hands on their heads and began to recite the ritual. Though Gewey couldn't understand the language, the sound of Theopolou's voice caused images to erupt in his head. Colors swirled and danced until he was dizzy, and he had to reach out to Kaylia to steady himself. The moment he touched her he could feel their bond grow stronger, taking root within his soul. Minutes passed until he realized Theopolou was no longer speaking. He looked across at Kaylia. Her face was aglow with joy. He could feel every fiber of her being. In that moment, he knew how deeply she cared. It was as if the bond they shared before was a shadow of what it had become.

  “Normally, the ceremony is a bit more involved,” said Theopolou. “But every minute you have left together is precious.”

  Gewey and Kaylia rose. Aaliyah was expressionless. The rest of the elders bowed and took a step back.

  “When shall you depart?” Theopolou asked Aaliyah.

  “At dawn,” she replied. “My ship is less than two days journey.”

  Theopolou turned to Gewey. “Prepare whatever you intend to take with you, then return here.” He took Kaylia's hand. “In the meantime, come with me.”

  Linis smiled. “I envy you, my friend.”

  “One day, such joy will be yours, Linis,” said Gewey. “I just know it.”

  Linis let out a hearty laugh and slapped Gewey on the back. “I hope so, but now...this is your time.”

  Gewey and Linis went to his pack. He wanted to travel as light as possible. As he sifted through his belongings, he told Linis what Aaliyah had said, and the bargain he had made with her.

  “I will go with you,” offered Linis.

  “No,” said Gewey. “You're needed here. If the elves are going to gather for war, you must help.” He looked across the field to where Nehrutu was speaking to the other elves. “You must learn whatever they can teach you. It's why I'm going. To learn what I must.”

  “Be careful, Gewey,” warned Linis. “She is unlike any elf I have known. She may tempt you in ways you cannot imagine.”

  Gewey smiled. “She can try. But as long as my heart belongs to Kaylia, she will fail.”

  When Gewey finished packing he returned to where the others were still gathered. Theopolou waited. His smile made him seem youthful. Kaylia stood just behind him. She had changed into a white silk dress, tied at the waist by a thin gold sash. Her hair fell loosely about her bare shoulders. Gewey’s heart raced at the sight of her familiar but breathtaking beauty.

  Theopolou took them both by the hand and led them across the field and past the pavilion. An area had been hastily cleared just out of sight of the camp, and a small tent had been erected. It was large enough for two, and no more.

  Kaylia turned to her uncle and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He smiled the loving smile of a father. Theopolou took her hand and placed it in Gewey's, then turned and walked away. Kaylia looked deeply into Gewey's eyes then led him inside.

  Chapter 8

  Lee and Jacob had ridden at an easy pace for the two weeks after taking a riverboat up the Goodbranch River. They waited until they were three days north of Sharpstone before returning to the road. They could not risk being seen. From the sailors, Lee had heard news of the faithful occupying his beloved town, and he had to fight the urge to do something. But Millet would have to deal with them. It was now the duty of Lord Nal'Thain, not Lee Starfinder, to save Sharpstone. His tasks lay elsewhere.

  Jacob had been relatively quiet during the journey. Lee had tried many times to engage his son in conversation, but the boy had little to say. A few times Lee tried to teach Jacob sword techniques, and though Jacob learned quickly, he could tell that his heart wasn't in it.

  “We'll arrive in Klinton by sundown,” said Lee. The air was bitter cold. Jacob was bundled in a small wool blanket. “We should change clothes before we get there.”

  “Why?” asked Jacob.

  “We must blend in with a less than savory crowd,” Lee explained. “If we're to get information, and not be discovered, we can't march in as lords of Hazrah. There are towns near the foothills of the Razor Edge Mountains where news of Angrääl can likely be heard. The bandits and mercenaries make it their business to know the comings and goings of the land.”

  Jacob sniffed. “So? We're a week from the foothills.”

  “Yes,” said Lee. “But our deception should be believable. I'm hoping to find someone heading north. We can pose as sell-swords. Possibly hire on with a merchant. It will go a lot more smoothly if we arrive up north in character.”

  “And what makes you think that these people will know anything about my mother?”

  Lee shrugged. “They may not. But at least they'll know the best way to get into Angrääl unnoticed.”

  About an hour before they reached Klinton, they stopped and donned clothing Lee had acquired from the deckhands on the riverboat. Simple brown wool shirt and pants, and travel-worn boots would fit in nicely.

  “These clothes smell,” remarked Jacob, with disgust.

  Lee smiled. “All the better.”

  Klinton was little more than a trading post. Miners and trappers used it to peddle their wares, so as not to make the long journey south. Though not as dangerous as the towns near the Razor Edge Mountains, it did attract highwaymen and bandits of all sorts, hoping to find merchants foolish enough to travel without an escort.

  The street lamps were just being lit, and the main avenue was still busy. The taverns still would be empty. Lee hoped to get lodging before the local riff-raff took to drink. He was familiar with this town, though he hadn't been there for many years. The last time he was there, he had gotten himself into a tavern brawl in which Millet was nearly knifed. He chuckled under his breath at the thought of Millet scolding him after the fight. He missed his company, now more than ever.

  Lee led the horses down the main avenue, then down a side street to one of two lodging houses. It was by far the most run down.

  “We're staying here?” asked Jacob. His lip was curled in disgust.

  “We'll be staying in far worse before it's over,” Lee replied. “Compared to where we're going, this is a palace.” He dismounted. “Stay with the horses until I get a room and arrange a stable.”

  Lee entered the lodging house and stood just beyond the doorway. The main hall was sparsely furnished with a few chairs and a wooden bench. An old blackened, brick fireplace in the far left wall burned brightly. Still, the room was chilly and unpleasant. A fat, balding man wearing a stained tunic was asleep in the corner, a mug of ale precariously balanced on his round belly. The lodge was otherwise empty.

  Lee slammed the door shut, startling the innkeeper awake. The mug fell to the floor, shattering and splashing ale on the man's dingy trousers.

  “Bloody hell!” cursed the innkeeper. He looked down at his spilled ale and grumbled. When he saw
Lee standing there he frowned. “What do you want?”

  “A room, fat man,” said Lee. “And be quick. And send someone to stable my horses.” He reached in his belt and pulled out two coppers.

  This did nothing to change the innkeeper's demeanor. “Do I look like a groom to you?”

  “No,” Lee replied. “Grooms are cleaner. Now get off your backside, and have my horses tended.”

  The innkeeper snorted, then threw himself to his feet with a grunt. He walked over to Lee and snatched the coppers from his hand. “Grant!” he bellowed harshly, spittle flying from his mouth. A rustle came from behind the door just on the other side of the counter. A moment later, a bent old man emerged. Smiling a stupid, toothless grin, he moved with surprising speed.

  “Yes, sir?” said Grant.

  “Go stable the horses outside,” growled the innkeeper. “And don't take all night.”

  Grant spun around and dashed out the door. Lee followed. After unpacking their belongings Lee tossed Grant a copper.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” said Grant, almost groveling.

  “Just see that they're well-tended,” said Lee.

  “Of course, of course,” Grant replied. “You can count on me, sir.” He bowed low then led the horses away.

  “What a wretched creature,” said Jacob.

  Lee looked at his son. “I would say pitiful, rather than wretched.”

  The innkeeper showed them to their room and without a word, shuffled off, cursing under his breath. The room had four walls, three cots, and nothing more. A cold draft seeped in from the cracks in the rotten floor timbers and the window had been boarded up.

  Lee grinned at his son. “I've stayed in worse.” He placed his pack in the far corner. “We'll find a meal elsewhere. I doubt the good innkeeper will provide one.”

  Jacob tossed his pack next to Lee's. “I hope the food in this town is better than the lodging.”

  “Don't count on it.” Lee led Jacob from the room and back to the main hall. The innkeeper had retaken his place in the chair, holding a new mug of ale. “If anyone touches our belongings, I'll hold you accountable.” He tapped the hilt of his sword.

  The innkeeper scowled. “Your things will be fine.”

  The nearest tavern didn't even have a name, only a sign that read ‘Tavern.’

  Lee surveyed the streets. The traffic had thinned a bit, and Lee suspected that in an hour or two the lodges and taverns would be full; he hoped with people that could be of use. Inside was unremarkable, and typical for a trading post tavern. Two long tables spanned the breadth of the room to the left side, and several small tables surrounded them. A fire burned in the hearth to the right beside a small bar. The bartender, a thin waif of a man, was busy arranging rows of clay mugs. The scent of cooked meat filled the air. Lee knew this would be replaced by the stench of ale and unwashed bodies soon enough.

  “I suppose you'll be wantin' to eat,” called the bartender, not bothering to look up.

  Lee approached the bar and slid four coppers to the bartender. “I'll be wanting information as well.”

  The bartender raised an eyebrow, and quickly shoved the coppers in his pocket. “That'll be fine.” He looked up, his gaunt, unshaven face bore the lines and pits of too many winters. “And what information will you be wantin'?”

  “I'll let you know,” Lee replied. “For now, just bring me and my friend some food.”

  Without another word the bartender spun around and headed to the kitchen. Lee and Jacob took a seat at a table, farthest from the door.

  “Do you gamble?” asked Lee.

  Jacob shrugged. “When the urge strikes.”

  Lee nodded approvingly. “Good. There will be games, and I want you to join in.” He took two silver coins from his purse and gave them to Jacob.

  “And what will you be doing?” asked Jacob.

  “Watching,” Lee replied.

  About halfway through their meal, people began arriving. Within two hours the tavern was full to bursting, and with just the sort Lee had counted on. Mostly locals lined the long bench tables, but the outer tables were taken by a myriad of tough looking characters. As Lee had instructed, Jacob joined in a game of dice in the corner by the bar. By midnight, the place was getting rough. Several fights had already broken out. In one, a knife had been pulled and a local man was nearly gutted by what looked to be a sell-sword. Luckily, it had been stopped before it got too far out of hand.

  Jacob was doing well at dice, and had nearly doubled his money. This naturally did not sit well with the regulars, who were accustomed to fleecing newcomers. Lee knew he would need to keep a close eye on him. He made certain that a pitcher of ale stay full, and constantly on the table, though he only pretended to drink. Better to have all your wits. Jacob, however, did not take such precautions, and let the ale flow freely.

  Lee took notice of several merchants, accompanied by stout swordsmen. One particularly fat merchant was letting his coin pass a bit too easily, and his tongue wag too loosely. Before long he was boasting about his adventures and wealth between long draughts of wine. The guard he had with him looked irritated, and more than a bit on edge. The bartender had told Lee that the merchant had dealings in the north, and always stopped there on his way to Angrääl.

  “You accuse me?” Jacob's raised voice snapped Lee to attention.

  Jacob and three locals had squared off in the corner, and Jacob's hand was on the hilt of his dagger. The locals had already grabbed up bottles; one had brandished a small knife. Lee leaped to his feet, and pushed his way through, to the commotion. Lee made it just as Jacob was about to pull his dagger.

  “What the hell is going on here?” roared Lee. His eyes looked accusingly at Jacob. “What did I tell you, boy? You'll send us both to the hangman's noose.” He stepped in front of Jacob and roughly snatched him by the collar. “Get to the table, whelp!” He pushed Jacob aside, nearly lifting him off his feet.

  Jacob glared. “They—”

  “I don't care!” Lee pointed to the table. Reluctantly, Jacob walked away.

  “Your friend owes us money,” growled a short stocky man, a wine bottle in his hand.

  Lee faced the man, his eyes dark and dangerous. “So you say.”

  “W-well...” he stammered. He looked to his friends for support, but they recognized Lee as someone not to be trifled with. “Just keep him away from us.”

  Lee looked the men over, then pushed his way past them. When he arrived back at the table, Jacob was cursing under his breath, and draining a mug of ale.

  “Did you learn anything?” asked Lee. His tone was not angry.

  Jacob refused to look up. “Never touch me again.”

  “Calm yourself,” said Lee. “I only did that so we wouldn't have to fight those idiots. I have another fight in mind.” He nodded towards the fat merchant. “He's been drinking and boasting all night. It's only a matter of time until someone tries to shut his mouth.” He reached over and took Jacob's mug. “And if you're going to be of use, you need to stop this. Now, what did you learn from the locals?”

  Jacob clenched his jaw then gradually relaxed. “All I heard was that there's been a lot of people coming through from the north. Whether they're from Angrääl, they didn't say. They also mentioned that winter came early, but that’s nothing new. Other than that, they spent their time trying to switch dice on me.” He pulled his winnings from his pocket and jingled the coins in his hand. “They failed.”

  Lee slapped him on the back. “Those dice skills may come in handy. If we can't find employment as sell-swords or bodyguards, we're going to run out of coins soon, and I'm rubbish at games.”

  Jacob smiled in spite of himself.

  “Shut your stupid mouth, braggart!” a voice bellowed over the noise of the crowd.

  Lee got to his feet. “Watch my back. And try not to spill any blood...unless you have to.”

  Across the room the fat merchant was being confronted by two large men. Both wore swords, and were looming o
ver the merchant. His guard was unsure what to do and stood a few feet behind, fingering his sword and shifting nervously.

  Lee made his way across the room and positioned himself behind the men. Jacob was on his heels. One of the men had moved to the side and was eying the guard, who clearly had decided to do nothing.

  “You say you fought off ten bandits?” growled the largest lout. He pressed his face into the merchant's. “Let's see how you handle me.”

  The merchant, fueled by too much wine, didn't back down. “You sir, would be a waste of time and effort.” He glanced over his shoulder at his guard. “I'd rather just have my friend deal with you.”

  The man roared with laughter. “I think your...friend, would rather not.” He looked at the guard. “I'll give you this one chance to leave.” The guard paused, then turned on his heels and left the tavern.

  The merchant turned pale. “Well, ummm.” He looked around the room. The tavern patrons were clearly enjoying the spectacle.

  “What do you have to say now?” said the man.

  Lee stepped around, putting himself between the man and the merchant. “That's enough.” Jacob moved to Lee's left facing the other man. “Leave him be.”

  The man sneered. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I'm with—” he turned to the merchant.

  “D-Darius,” the merchant stuttered.

  “I'm with Darius,” Lee continued. He glanced sideways at Darius. “I think it's time to call it a night. Don't you?”

  “Indeed,” Darius eagerly agreed.

  “Jasper,” Lee said to Jacob. “Escort Darius outside.”

  Jacob nodded sharply, and helped Darius to his feet. The merchant stumbled to the door and into the street, nearly falling on his face.

  Lee backed away towards the door, his hand on the hilt of his sword. The two men followed. Once in the street, Lee called to Jacob. “Take him to our room. I'll be along shortly.” He smiled fiendishly, as the two men exited the tavern and drew their swords.

  “You need—” said Jacob.

  “I need you to take care of our new employer,” said Lee. “Isn't that right, Darius?” The merchant nodded his head vigorously. “These two brutes are mine.”