The Godling Chronicles : Bundle - Books 1-3

by Brian D. Anderson

  Chapter 22

  Gewey was the first to rise the next day. He got dressed and wandered downstairs, following the smell of sausage. Angus was setting up the table when he spotted him at the door.

  “Please sit,” Angus urged him, pulling out a chair. “It’s good to see an early riser around here.”

  Gewey thought about waiting for the others, but dismissed the thought when Angus placed a plate filled with sausage, eggs and fresh biscuits in front of him. To top it off, there was even fresh orange juice. In Sharpstone, orange juice was rare; the only times he’d had it before were when his father had taken him to visit Lee as a child.

  The sun was shining through the windows and Gewey could hear the bustle of a new day beginning outside.

  “It’s been some time since the sun has broken through,” Angus observed, pleased.

  “Let’s take it for a good omen,” Broín said as he strode into the room.

  Gewey felt embarrassed for not waiting to eat, but Broín didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Angus brought him a plate and some juice and he immediately started in himself.

  “You said very little last night, my young friend,” Broín noted. “What are your thoughts on what goes on in the world?”

  Gewey had to wash down a mouthful of sausage before answering. “Honestly, it’s hard to make heads or tails of it. Compared with what I’m used to, things have been moving very fast.”

  Lord Broín nodded with understanding. “Yes, indeed. Things feel out of control, even for those of us who are more accustomed to dealing with the fast pace of the world. But I’m curious, how did you become involved in all of this to begin with?”

  Gewey was unsure how to answer. Broín could see his unease and waved his hand.

  “Forget I asked,” he said. “Let’s talk about your companions instead. I’ve noticed you seem quite comfortable traveling with elves. Have you always been so accepting?”

  “I think the elves are a wonderful people,” Gewey replied earnestly. “After being around them, it’s hard to imagine why they aren’t welcome among us. They may be terrible and dangerous when they want to be, but they are also wise and full of joy. I’ve never seen anyone who loves his brother so selflessly, or defends his honor so passionately. Of course, my experience is limited to the few I’ve met.”

  “You are wise beyond your years,” Broín told him. “Now, if you would allow me, I would give you something.”

  “Please,” Gewey protested. “Your hospitality is more than enough.”

  “But I insist,” he said, leaving the table. A few minutes later he returned carrying a long sword sheathed in a black leather scabbard. There were symbols running down the length of the scabbard in silver inlay, and to Gewey’s eye, they appeared to be the same type of ancient writing that decorated Lee’s box. Broín attached the scabbard to a studded leather belt, and then handed it to Gewey. “This sword was given to me by the King of Gol’Giatha for saving the life of his son when I was a young man. I want you to have it.”

  Gewey stared at the weapon, stunned. “This is too much. I can’t possibly accept this.”

  “You can, and you will,” Broín said sternly. “Whatever quest your friends are on, I would have to be a blind fool not to realize that you are a big part of it. If I wanted to guess, I would say you’re probably the most important part.”

  “Why would you say that?” Gewey asked nervously.

  “You’re not a servant,” he replied. “You’re not a warrior either. And your friends take special care when anything to do with you comes up.”

  He leaned back in his chair, evaluating Gewey. “You’re young - too young to be on such a dangerous journey by all accounts, and yet you carry yourself as a man ten years your senior. Whatever your reason for being here, I would have you as well protected as I can make possible. This sword will never break nor dull, and it has never been drawn from its scabbard; once drawn, only the person who has done this will be able to wield it, and no other. More than that I do not know, but it is certainly a most special weapon. But for myself, I’ve always used the sword passed down to me by my father. I have no use for another.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” said Gewey, looking the sword up and down.

  “Now that’s a kingly gift,” Lee remarked as he and the others walked in. “May I see it?”

  “Please do not unsheathe it,” Broín requested. “As I told your young friend, once drawn, it will only serve one master - or so I was told.”

  Lee raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Then by all means, Gewey, draw your sword.”

  Gewey hesitated only for a moment before doing as instructed. The sword slid easily from its scabbard, as if it had only just been oiled. The blade glimmered brightly, touched by the light coming in through the windows. Suddenly he felt his hand grow warm and the hilt began to throb. He wanted to throw the sword down, but he found himself unable to let it go. He gasped in shock, nearly knocking over the chair beside him. Then, as quickly as the sensation began, it was gone.

  “What happened?” Gewey exclaimed. “Why did it do that?”

  “Do what?” Lee asked, concerned. “What did you feel?” Gewey described what had happened.

  “I know what you experienced,” Dina announced, stepping forward. “Hand Lee the sword, but be careful not to lose your own grip on it.”

  Gewey held out the sword, holding the tip of the hilt in one hand and cradling the blade in the other. Lee touched the flat side of the blade and instantly drew back, wincing in pain.

  “You’ve seen such a thing before,” Dina said, referring to her medallion. “But I’ve never heard of a sword being forged like this.”

  “So what the King told me was true,” Broín said, satisfied. “The Order of Amon Dähl would love to see this.” Dina froze and stared at him.

  “My dear,” he chuckled. “I suspected at least one of you must be of the Order the moment I heard Lee’s story last night. I guess now I know which one.”

  “Does anyone else suspect?” she whispered.

  “Not likely,” he replied. “Your lot is pretty secretive, and not too many people read as much as I do - no one I can think of, in fact. But every time I’ve ever run across stories about the Sword of Truth, the name Amon Dähl follows right behind. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t certain until just now. Only someone of that order, or maybe an elf, would have seen a material like this being used. But don’t fret; it’s just another in a long line of secrets that will keep me company when I die.”

  He smiled pleasantly at Dina, and then turned to Maybell. “But enough chit-chat. Angus will take you to the Temple District whenever you’re ready, Sister.”

  “Thank you,” she said, sitting down to eat.

  “I’ll be accompanying her as well,” Lee added.

  “Of course,” he replied. “As for the rest of you, I assume you don’t want to be spotted by unfriendly eyes, so please tell me if there is anything you need and I will see that you have it.”

  “A lifetime supply of orange juice,” Gewey blurted, before he could stop himself.

  Broín chuckled loudly, nearly doubling over with his laughter. “A lifetime supply might be more than I can provide, but you will not want for it while you’re here. It’s a favorite of mine too, so I keep plenty.”

  Gewey turned red and thanked him.

  Once everyone had finished breakfast, Angus showed Maybell and Lee to a waiting carriage and climbed up with the driver. Gewey and Kaylia sat in the parlor with Lord Ganflin as he showed them a popular card game from Althetas. An entire pitcher of orange juice sat on the table beside Gewey.

  Millet busied himself with preparations for his journey. After a short but fierce debate with Lee the night before, Millet decided to venture out alone to purchase horses and provisions for the ride to Hazrah. Broín offered to accompany him, but Millet insisted he would rather be alone.

  Dina, Malstisos, and Broín went to the study. Dina had planned to reveal her heritage to the elf, but
apparently, Prustos had already done so. Malstisos offered to explain the elven code of honor to her, and Broín insisted on joining them, not wanting to miss an opportunity to expand his knowledge.

  After lunch they all gathered together in the parlor to exchange tales and sing songs. Gewey noticed that many of the stories were just slightly different versions of those he had heard back home. The names and places were different, but the themes were the same. He had no voice for song, so he left the singing to Dina and Kaylia, who he thought had far more beautiful voices than his own.

  Broín and Ganflin recited poems, but when it came to Gewey’s turn, he could think of nothing to share.

  “Come now,” Broín encouraged him. “Surely you know a song from your home, or at least a story told to you as a child.”

  “Yes,” Malstisos said, grinning merrily. “I weary of these lofty tales spun by men of learning. I would rather hear a simple tale told by simple folk.” Everyone cheered him on until it was clear they would not be satisfied until Gewey took a turn.

  Gewey took a deep breath and tried not to be too aware of all the eyes looking at him. “Long ago,” he began, “there were two brothers named Bernard and Kyle who were the sons of a farmer. The farmer owned two large pieces of land: one in the fertile lowlands, and one in the rocky hills. When he passed away, he left the brothers all his land and possessions. Bernard loved his brother very much, so when Kyle came to him and asked to be given the rich lowlands so that he would have the means to marry his love, Bernard agreed, even though this meant he couldn’t afford to start a family of his own. Kyle swore that one day he would buy Bernard a farm next to his and share all that he had with his brother.

  “Years passed, and Bernard waited as his brother took his wife and had three fine sons. He hoped that his brother would honor their agreement, but as the time wore on, he never did. Finally, Bernard became too old and weak to work his land, and because of his brother’s betrayal, he had no sons to work in his stead. Kyle had become rich and bought up all of the lowland farms in the county, but because he was selfish, he never did anything to help his poor brother.

  “One day, a great storm came and the rivers overflowed. With nowhere else to go, Kyle went to the high hills with his family to take refuge. But because he was ashamed, he did not go to his brother for shelter. Instead, he sat with his family in the pouring rain atop a high hill and watched as all of their crops were swept away by the flood.

  “The next day, the youngest of Kyle’s sons became very ill, and in his desperation he took the boy to his brother’s house.

  “Bernard greeted his brother with joy and helped him nurse his son back to health. ‘Why do you help me?’ Kyle asked. ‘I have wronged you and broken my promise, and because of that you have no sons.’

  “‘Yes, you have wronged me, brother,’ Bernard replied. ‘You have left me alone here on this rocky hill. Your shame has kept you from me. But that does not change that I love you. And though I have no sons, what has been worse is having no brother.’

  “Bernard’s words held no hatred: instead, he wept with joy at the sight of the brother he had missed so much. Kyle vowed that when the water receded, Bernard could come live with him and his family.

  “The farmer’s heart swelled with joy, and when the land dried, they all headed down the rocky hill together. On their way down, they saw that the rains had uncovered gold that ran from Bernard’s house, all the way to the basin. Kyle offered to have his sons collect the gold for Bernard, but Bernard insisted that they share it amongst themselves; as long as he was with his family, he had all that he wanted.

  “The younger brother refused, and sent his sons to bury the gold, making them promise not to dig it back up until the two brothers were both dead. Together they went back to the lowlands, where they happily spent the remainder of their days.

  “When the brothers died, the sons went to find the gold, but it was all gone except for two interlacing veins. Try as they might, they could not remove this gold from the ground. It was then the sons knew that the spirits of their father and his brother rested there, so they left it buried for all time.”

  “Now there is a story for elf ears,” Malstisos cheered. “Your father told you this?”

  “Yes,” Gewey answered. “When I was a small boy, he made sure to tell me a story every night. He even traded with the merchants for storybooks when he had told me all that he could remember.”

  “He sounds like he was a good father,” Broín said.

  “He was,” Gewey agreed, suddenly missing him very much.

  There was a loud knock at the front door. Broín went to answer it, and moments later he returned holding a letter. Concern showed on his face.

  “What is it?” Lord Ganflin inquired.

  “A letter has arrived for Gewey,” Broín said, handing it to the boy.

  “For me?” Gewey asked, startled. He opened the letter and read it. “You must find Lee right away.” His voice sounded frightened.

  “I will go to the Temple District and find him immediately,” said Broín. “Do you know what temple he and Maybell would have gone to?”

  “Ayliazarah,” Gewey answered. Broín nodded and flew out of the door.

  “What does it say?” Kaylia asked anxiously.

  Gewey handed her the letter. His own name was written just above the broken seal.

  ‘To Gewey Stedding of Sharpstone’

  ‘I wish to speak to you on behalf of my master. I mean you no harm and will be awaiting your presence at the Bean and Broth tavern. Bring who you wish, but I will be alone and unarmed. Do not flee. All of your movements are being watched, and it would be unfortunate if you did not hear what I have to say. I will wait for one hour.’

  It was signed ‘Saylis Fernmen’.

  “I will go with you,” Kaylia said firmly.

  At first Gewey was going to tell her ‘no’ - that he didn’t want to put her in danger. But one look at her face told him there would be no argument.

  “The rest of you must stay here,” he said. Gales of protest came from the remainder of the group, but Gewey was determined. “We can’t all be in the same place if this turns out to be a trap. The rest must stay here until I return.”

  “Do you plan to wait for Lee?” Dina asked.

  “For as long as I can,” he replied. “But if he is not back in time, then I must go without him.”

  Gewey went upstairs to retrieve the sword Broín had given him. While still in his bedroom, he drew it. The blade sang as it slid from its scabbard. He stared at it for a long moment, and then sheathed it again.

  “I hope you won’t need it,” Kaylia said from the doorway. “But all the same, it is good to be prepared.”

  She tapped her finger on the hilt of her long knife and smiled wickedly.

  Chapter 23

  It took the carriage thirty minutes to get to the Temple District. Lee had the box wrapped and stuffed inside a cloth sack. He hoped the Sister they were going to see would be able to help, but he wasn’t optimistic. Maybell, on the other hand, was excited to see the woman, and told Lee many times along the way about her unparalleled knowledge in lore.

  “She is by far the most learned Sister in the order,” she said. “If anyone can help us, it’s her.”

  “No doubt,” said Lee, smiling patiently. “And I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

  “We were novices together,” she told him for the fifth time. “And best friends.” Maybell had the excited look of a young girl seeing a temple for the first time. The carriage stopped in front of the Temple of Ayliazarah, and Angus hopped down to open the door for them.

  “We may be quite a while,” said Lee. “Feel free to leave. I’m sure you have other things that you’d rather be doing.” He reached into his pocket and tossed Angus a silver coin.

  Angus looked at the coin as if Lee had insulted him, and then passed it to the driver, who was more than happy to accept. “My instructions are to be at your disposal,” he said. �
��I shall be here when you are ready to leave.”

  Lee could barely contain his laughter. He bowed to the man and walked Maybell up the stairs to the temple.

  The interior looked much like the temple in Kaltinor, except that smaller statues of the other eight gods surrounded the large statue of Ayliazarah in the center of the entrance hall. In the corners of the hall, several plush chairs were set up in small circles, and a short brass table with a thick glass top stood in the middle. At least a dozen novices buzzed about their business, and nearly all of the chairs were filled with men and women reading and talking.

  Maybell stopped a passing monk. “Is Sister Ruthisa here?” she asked him.

  “She would most likely be in the archives,” he answered courteously. “Do you need directions?”

  Maybell smiled. “No, thank you, brother; I know the way.”

  Maybell led Lee up a flight of stairs and down a narrow hall to a marked door. Inside, tall shelves filled with hundreds upon hundreds of ancient-looking books lined the room.

  “Ruthy,” Maybell called out as she poked her head down each row of shelves.

  “Here,” an old woman responded, exiting one of the rows at the far end of the room.

  Though Maybell had told Lee that she and the Sister were the same age, the woman he saw looked much older. She wore light blue and white robes, and her silver hair was wrapped in a thin silk scarf.

  She was bent with age, and her stride was little more than a slow shuffle. In her arms she held a thick leather book that was nearly half as big as herself. She looked up though a pair of thick spectacles and smiled widely

  “My word,” said Ruthy, feigning irritation. “I thought you’d forgotten about me, you witch!”

  “Don’t just stand there,” Maybell chided Lee. “Help her with that large and probably very boring book.”

  Lee suddenly felt like a guilty child, and he rushed to take the book from Ruthy’s arms.

  Ruthy looked at him firmly. “Don’t let that old hag boss you around,” she scolded. “The day I can’t carry a bloody book on my own, I’ll just go ahead and die.”