The Shadow Of Fallen Gods

by V. R. Cardoso

  Phaedra touched his arm gently, grimacing. She shook her head. “I can numb the pain.”

  “Do it.”

  The spell worked quickly, and Fadan felt his entire body relax as the pain faded slowly away.

  “Thank you…” He took a deep breath. “Oh, Goddess, thank you…” It took a couple more breaths, but suddenly he felt focused, his senses coming back sharp. “Let’s go. We need to destroy that catapult and get out of here.”

  “They’ve detached units from the main assault,” Phaedra said, climbing back onto her horse. “They’re moving to cut us off.” She extended an arm and helped Fadan climb up behind her.

  “We’ll worry about that later.”

  “Okay then.” Phaedra kicked her horses’ haunches and they launched into a gallop.

  They rode through a row of tents, slipping between pairs of soldiers engaged in melees. Fadan dealt a couple of blows with his sword to enemy soldiers as they passed, helping his troops as much as possible without actually stopping.

  They rounded a supply wagon, finally reaching the catapult. Five guards protected the huge machine, and they drew their swords as Phaedra reigned the horse to a stop.

  “I can’t destroy it,” Phaedra said over her shoulder. “Persea’s orders. I’m sorry.”

  “I got this.” Fadan sheathed his sword and tapped into his runium reserve, channeling a fire spell. He made sure to burn a considerable amount of runium as he prepared the spell. He wanted to damage that thing beyond any hope of repair.

  He released his magic, opening the palm of his hand towards the catapult…

  But nothing happened.

  Fadan looked at his hand, mystified.

  “What are you waiting for?” Phaedra asked. The five soldiers by the catapult stepped towards them, and she pulled on the reigns so the horse would back away.

  Fadan tried again, burning even more runium this time. Once again, nothing happened.

  “Oh, screw this, I’ll do it.” Phaedra whispered a quick incantation and swung a hand towards the catapult. Nothing but a few harmless sparks flew off her fingers. She cursed. “They’re wearing Syphons!”

  “Goddess damn it!” Fadan drew his sword.

  The Legionaries formed a half-circle, closing on them.

  “We need to get out of here,” Phaedra said, fear seeping into her voice.

  “No, not before we destroy that catapult.” Fadan cast around, searching the battlefield for any reinforcements he might call upon, but there were none. His entire cavalry battalion was engaged with enemy Legionaries, and they looked about to be overrun.

  The half-circle of Legionaries drew within striking distance, and Fadan swung his sword at the one nearest to him, hitting the base of his neck. He staggered back, dropping his sword and clutching the wound, blood running through his fingers.

  “Give me these.” Fadan reached around Phaedra and took the horse’s reigns from her hands. He steered the animal sideways so his right flank, the one where he had his sword, was facing the enemy.

  One of the four remaining soldiers attacked and Fadan parried. The man shifted left, changing his angle of attack, and thrust with his sword again. Fadan twisted his arm, parrying the blow, but the soldier attacked again in a fluid sequence.

  “Fadan!” Phaedra cried.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw what she meant. Another enemy had stepped in to attack, taking advantage of the distraction caused by his comrade. No one alive would’ve had reflexes fast enough to parry the two swords simultaneously. Instead of trying to do so, Fadan kicked him, his boot slamming into the face of the new attacker, who fell over on his back in the mud.

  But there were still two others to worry about. They circled left, trying to flank their prey. Fadan glanced from one side to the other, weighing his single sword against three threats. It was just a fraction of a moment of hesitation, but it was enough.

  He heard Phaedra gasp, and when he looked down, there was a blade sticking out of her gut.

  “No!”

  The Legionary pulled his sword back. It came away with a sickeningly wet squelch. Phaedra howled and doubled over, tears running down her cheek.

  “No, no, no, no…” Fadan grabbed her as she started to fall to one side, keeping her in the saddle. He sunk his heels into the horse’s flank, spurring it away. “Retreat!” he shouted, the horse barrelling over an enemy soldier. “RETREAT!”

  23

  Defiance

  Gloom hung about the cave like a thick haze. Fevers had taken hold of the wounded and seemed to be getting worse by the hour, no matter how dutifully Lyra tended to them, cleaning wounds and changing wet cloths. The melody of Darpallion’s mandolin softened the feverish wails but had little effect on the foreboding silence those still healthy had fallen into.

  When Leth had returned with news of their newfound ship, morale had improved considerably. Unfortunately, like straw thrown upon a pile of embers, the flames of hope had burned tall and bright, but briefly.

  “Where in the mother’s name did he even find a mandolin?” Leth grumbled, fists balled on top of an improvised desk made of wooden crates.

  “In the middle of all this, it’s the music that’s bothering you?” Clea asked.

  Leth sent her a sideways glance. “It’s disrupting my ability to feel miserable.”

  Clea looked outside, the cave’s opening framing a patch of gray canopies, the unnatural lack of wind lending the image an eerie feel. “How long do you figure Aric’s been gone? Two days?”

  “How should I know? Dusk lasts longer than mornings and afternoons in this place.”

  “Sooner or later you’ll have to call for a search,” Clea said softly.

  Leth chewed the inside of his cheek. “Sure. I’m just wondering who’ll be left to form the search party.”

  Heavy steps echoed their way and Leth turned to see Naquad approaching his desk, dust and pebbles crunching beneath his feet. “I’ve just handed out our last two rations.”

  “I know,” Leth said. “I’m the one who rationed our food.”

  “Some of my people haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

  “Again, I’m aware of our resource situation,” Leth hissed.

  Naquad sent a sideways glance at the line of wounded on the cave’s flor. “How much longer are we going to wait, then?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “I have sailors dying from simple infections, and now the ones with no wounds are going to die of starvation. We have a ship and enough people to sail it. We should leave while there’s time.”

  “Goddess damnit, Naquad!” Leth jumped up and the barrel he was using as a chair tumbled sideways and rolled across the floor. “You think I’m enjoying myself? We came to this island for a reason. I’m sorry, but that reason is far more important than me, you, or anyone else on this expedition.”

  “Expedition? You hired us to sail after a frigate, not this crap!”

  “Yeah, and my hunters and I should be out there looking for our Captain and the relic, but instead we’re standing watch over this cave because of your wounded.”

  “You’re giving me very few options, here. I’m not going to allow my people to—”

  Leth stuck a finger in Naquad’s face. “Don’t! Don’t you dare—”

  “Lieutenant!”

  Everyone inside the cave turned towards the opening. Trissa stood in the threshold, panting heavily. “It’s the Captain! We spotted him beyond the gully to the north. Tharius is bringing him here.”

  “Thank the Goddess!” Leth pushed Naquad aside and dashed away.

  “Is he alone?” Darpallion asked, the sound of the mandolin stopping as he placed it down and raced after Leth.

  “I don’t know,” Trissa replied. “I think so.”

  Everyone who was able to rushed outside. As they did, Tharius emerged from a thicket, his arm around a limping Aric, lending support.

  “Took you long enough!” Leth said, smiling. “Wait…” He aimed a finger a
t an object in Aric’s hand. “Is this…?”

  Aric raised the Cup of Kallax, the purple metal seeming dimmer reflecting the gray forest around them. “It is…” He looked beyond tired. Deep, dark circles ringed his eyes in the rest of his ice-pale face. Beneath mud-caked breeches, his legs trembled a little, but he still pushed Tharius’s arm away as soon as they stopped, managing not to crumble to the ground.

  “Where’s Eliran?” Darpallion asked, head swiveling as if he expected her to step out from the tree line at any moment.

  “She… they got her,” Aric managed to say. He turned to Leth. “Gather the Company. We need to go back for her.”

  Leth nodded and was about to dash away when Naquad’s voice held him in place.

  “This is what you came here for?” He indicated the chalice with his chin.

  “The Cup of Kallax,” Aric explained. “A sacred relic we—”

  “I don’t care,” Naquad interrupted. “Maybe that thing is as important as you say, maybe not. For the sake of my lost crew-members, I sure hope so.” Behind him, a small crowd of his sailors murmured their agreement. “But right now, all I care about is leaving this place, and your friend here has found us a boat.”

  Leth confirmed Aric’s questioning look with an uncomfortable nod. “It’s not far. I left Dothea behind to watch over it.”

  “Not far,” Naquad echoed. “So now that you and your precious relic are here, it’s time to go.”

  “Yeah!” the sailors cheered.

  “Me and my crew are going to get the ship and anchor it by the beach near the Heron’s wreck where you hunters will help us load up our wounded. Then we can all get the heck away from this Goddess forsaken island.”

  Aric raised a soothing hand. “Listen, we are going to do all that, but we need to go get our friend, first.”

  “No.”

  Aric was stunned. “What do you mean, no? We can’t leave her behind.”

  “Why not?” one of Naquad’s sailors asked, his face twisted into a scowl.

  “We’ve lost our share of people,” another said.

  The sailors’ chorus of protests rose, Naquad standing in front of them with arms crossed.

  “Are you all insane?” Aric snapped.

  “Alright, alright!” Leth stepped between Aric and the sailors, hands raised pacifyingly. “Everyone please calm down. First of all, get back to your posts.” He pointed at Tharius and Trissa. “You get back to your watch points.” He turned to Lyra. “You get back to the wounded. Everyone get busy! Come on!”

  Slowly, reluctantly, they all complied, hunters and sailors alike. Only Darpallion stayed behind, being careful enough to stand a few feet to the side.

  “Okay,” Leth continued when they were finally alone, addressing Aric. “You said they took Eliran. What happened?”

  Aric took a deep breath. “There were dozens of them. Archons and Kallaxians, all spell throwers.”

  Leth frowned. “Kallaxians?”

  “It’s a long story. Anyway, I had the chalice. Eliran faced them all so I could escape with it.” He shook his head as if trying to shake off the memory. “Fire take me!”

  “Wait,” Naquad said. “So, you don’t even know if she’s alive?”

  “If there’s even a small chance that she is, we need to go back for her.”

  “Aric… you said there were dozens of them,” Leth said. “How could she survive that?”

  “They may have use for her alive. You never know.”

  Leth shook his head. “I’m sorry, Aric. I know you don’t want to hear this, but even if she was alive, do you think she’d want you to risk losing the chalice just to save her? She would want you to get as far away from this island as you possibly can.”

  Aric stood there, trembling, unable to reply but refusing to concede.

  “Aric, you know I’m right…”

  “Listen to your friend,” Naquad added. “We need to focus on saving the ones we can.”

  “We need to focus on making sure Astoreth doesn’t get the chalice back,” Leth urged. There was a prolonged silence. “Aric?”

  “Yeah…” Aric said at length, nodding absently as if his head belonged to someone else.

  Naquad unfolded his arms and exhaled in a mixture of satisfaction and relief. “Good. I’ll gather my crew and head for the ship.”

  “I’ll help,” Leth told him. “Go ahead, I’ll be right with you.” As the first-mate turned to leave, he grabbed Aric’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  Aric nodded again, then watched in silence as Leth followed Naquad. For a moment, his hands and legs had stopped shaking and he looked at the chalice in his hand. It felt as though someone else was holding it, like he had left his own body, leaving it a hollow shell. He didn’t even hear Darpallion’s footsteps as he approached.

  “If you want to do it, I’ll help,” the bard offered.

  Aric turned to Darpallion, a sinking feeling returning to his stomach. He almost welcomed it. “Weren’t you listening? They’ll just leave without us. Even if we save Eliran, we’ll be stranded here. What’s the point?”

  “Then we stop them from leaving.”

  Aric studied Darpallion from head to foot, making sure the bard was serious. “You understand what you’re saying?”

  “I thought I was pretty straightforward.”

  Aric stared at the bard for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, then. Follow my lead. Don’t say a word.”

  * * *

  The crew of the Heron spread out across the frigate, each sailor manning their station as quickly and efficiently as if it had been their own ship for years. Naquad watched over the entire process, barking out occasional orders. Dothea, who had stayed behind to watch over the ship, joined Aric, Leth, and Darpallion at the foredeck and sat down by the railing, sharpening one of her blades.

  “You said there were how many bodies?” Aric asked, scanning the main deck.

  “I counted at least ten,” Leth replied, his eyes also running the ship’s length. There were absolutely no signs of Dothea’s earlier handiwork.

  “Well, Dothea, you’re nothing if not thorough,” Aric said.

  “I can make a mess, but I also know how to clean it,” Dothea quipped, sheathing one knife and going to work on another.

  “Somehow, I find the cleaning part even more unsettling than the rest,” Leth muttered.

  “Dragon!” Darpallion shouted.

  Aric turned on his heel and followed the bard’s finger. A winged silhouette circled around a tall mountain peak in the middle of the island, a long tail trailing behind it.

  “Third sighting so far,” Leth said casually. “Tharius spotted one when we first came ashore. Orisius spotted another while foraging yesterday.”

  “Always near those mountains?” Aric asked.

  Leth nodded.

  Heavy boots stomped across the wooden deck and Naquad burst between Aric and Leth, grabbing onto the railing, eyes wide. “We’re too exposed out here. That thing is going to spot us in no time!”

  “Relax, first-mate,” Aric said coldly. “Dragons don’t come near water. Why in the mother’s name do you think they like the desert so much?”

  Naquad didn’t look too convinced, but he backed away from the railing nonetheless. “If you say so.” He returned his attention to the ship’s crew. “Alright, lads. Time to get going. Raise anchor! Oars out! Come on, sprightly now!”

  A series of oars sprouted from the lower decks, splashing into the water as they did. The ship groaned into motion, gliding across the calm waters of the bay.

  “So, why are you here?” Leth asked, leaning on the railing next to Aric.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why didn’t you stay at camp? You’re probably more useful there.”

  Aric glanced at his lieutenant but simply shrugged.

  Leth exhaled loudly. “This is not going to go well.”

  “It’s happening,” Aric said matter-of-factly. “You can either help or stay out of my way.”<
br />
  “Actually…” Leth paused, shifting his weight tensely. “There’s a third option…”

  Aric raised an eyebrow. “What did you just say?”

  “Goddess damn it, Aric!” Leth exploded. “You can’t go around hurting innocent people! All these sailors did was help us get here, and this is how you repay them?”

  “They’re threatening to strand me on this island!”

  “They’re threatening to leave without you,” Leth corrected. “It’s different. They’re perfectly happy to take you with them now.”

  “Leth—”

  “Aric!”

  The two of them stared at each other, teeth clenched until Leth pushed himself away from the railing and strode off.

  “You two fighting?” Dothea asked.

  “Just a disagreement,” Aric muttered.

  The ship cleared the bay’s entrance and a powerful wind began to blow, tall waves shaking the ship. Naquad shouted a series of orders and the oars were retracted, the topsails unfurled. The ship curved west, following along the coastline. From this perspective, the island looked almost normal. Tall cliffs jutted into the ocean like teeth, the waves crashing against them with thunderous roars.

  “Is your friend going to be a problem?” Darpallion asked lowly, approaching Aric.

  “Don’t worry about my friend,” Aric replied, his eyes fixed on the foaming swirls of the sea. It did not bring him pleasant memories.

  “When do we strike, then?” Darpallion pressed.

  “Certainly not while we’re at sea!” Aric hissed. He looked over his shoulder and saw Leth whispering something into Naquad’s ears. The first-mate stiffened and sent Aric an intense glare.

  “And her?” Darpallion motioned towards Dothea, still sharpening her blades. “Should I not worry about her either?”

  “Why are you doing this?” Aric asked. “What’s in it for you?”

  “You’re calling me selfish?” the bard asked, looking offended. “After all I’ve done to bring you here? Need I remind you I saved your life in that tavern in Tabriq?”

  “Why, though?” Aric turned to the bard. “At the time you claimed you did it because you were with the rebellion, but that isn’t true.”