“No!” His cry shook the ground as the sword struck its target.
Kaylia jerked forward and fell to the ground, the hilt of the blade nearly crushing her skull. Gewey leaped over the flattened body of the Vrykol and was at Kaylia's side without pause. She was face down, blood pouring from the wound on the back of her head. Immediately he tore the sleeve from his shirt and pressed it tightly over the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.
“I will not lose you,” he cried. “Not now.”
He closed his eyes and let the flow rage through him. Slowly, he allowed it to pass into Kaylia, focusing his mind on her injury. At first he wasn't sure that anything was happening. Then he felt it. The wound was closing, and the flow of blood lessened to a trickle. Gewey could feel this draining him, making him weaker, but he didn't care. When the wound had closed completely he stopped and gently turned her over. It was then he heard Linis approaching. The elf paused beside the Vrykol and beheaded the mangled body.
“She lives?” asked Linis, out of breath.
Gewey nodded, cradling Kaylia in his arms. “She lives.” Tears were streaming down his face as he stroked her hair tenderly. “Thank the gods, she lives.”
Linis knelt beside them. He placed his hand on Gewey's shoulder and squeezed. “You did well, my friend.”
Nearly ten minutes passed before Kaylia stirred. Her eyes fluttered open as her hands slid up Gewey's chest and wrapped themselves around his neck. “I knew you would come,” she whispered. She pulled him close and embraced him tightly.
Gewey could feel the bond between them growing ever stronger, and allowed himself to be engulfed by their connection. He hadn't realized just how much a part of himself their bond had become until it had been weakened. And now it had returned, he was happy to bathe in the sensation.
Linis stood, his legs still a bit unsteady. “We cannot stay here.” He looked down at Kaylia. “Can you travel?”
Kaylia reluctantly released her hold on Gewey and sat up straight. “I am fine.” She noticed the seeker’s condition and frowned. “But you are clearly not well.”
Linis smiled. “I will be fine once I have had a chance to rest.” He peered into the forest for a moment. “For now I can sense no pursuit. But I would have us far from this place come sundown.”
Gewey listened for signs of anyone nearby. “I can't sense anything, either. But I think you're right. We should get as far from here as we can.” He looked over at the body of the beheaded Vrykol and his face darkened. He stood, helping Kaylia to her feet.
“No need to coddle me,” she scolded playfully. “From the look of you two, I am by far in the best condition.” Without another word she strode away north.
“I take it you will lead,” remarked Linis.
Kaylia glanced over her shoulder. “I know these lands very well. Maybe even as well as you, seeker. My captors wasted their time if they thought to confuse me.”
A wave of anger shot through her bond with Gewey when she mentioned her captivity. Gewey felt a sudden urge to hunt them all down and make them pay, but quickly pushed it from his thoughts. This was not the time.
Kaylia led them skillfully through the forest until the light of the day waned. By then they had traveled many miles. Linis managed to keep pace despite his growing fatigue.
“I will scout the area,” he said when they finally stopped to make camp.
“No,” said Kaylia, firmly. “You are too weak. I will see that the area is unwatched.” She turned to Gewey and took his empty flask from his belt. “There is a stream nearby, and possibly some herbs. In the meantime we will risk a small fire. Attend to it, if you please, Gewey.”
Linis tossed her his flask as well. “You may find jawas roots in these parts, or perhaps yellow silisia bulbs.”
Kaylia nodded and disappeared into the brush.
Linis offered to help with the fire, but Gewey wouldn't hear of it. “We need you strong again,” he said. “You must rest. I can build a fire without help.”
Linis smiled and sat down against a nearby tree. He allowed his eyes to fall shut and his mind to drift.
By the time Kaylia returned, Gewey had a small fire crackling cheerfully. Linis was still leaning against the tree, arms folded and eyes closed.
Kaylia handed Gewey his now filled flask and sat next to him by the fire. “I could not find jawas, but silisia was plentiful.”
She withdrew a handful of small yellow flowers from her belt and began tearing them into tiny pieces. The air filled with a sickly sweet odor that reminded Gewey of plum brandy, only stronger. Once she was finished, she opened Linis' flask and placed the shredded bulbs inside. Tearing a strip of cloth from her sleeve she tied the flask to a long twig and held it over the fire. “It’s not as good as jawas, but it will help.” She glanced over at Linis. Her expression was grave.
“What's wrong?” asked Gewey.
“Nothing,” she replied. “It is just odd to see someone such as Linis in this state.”
“He got that way healing me,” explained Gewey. He recounted the fight with the Vrykol.
“Then it is a wonder he was able to make it this far,” said Kaylia. “Healing of that sort is not easy, and the cost is great. She touched the back of her head where the sword had struck, then looked deep into Gewey's eyes. She leaned in and kissed him gently. “You are powerful to have healed me the way you did. Such a feat would have incapacitated even the strongest elf.”
Gewey flushed bright red. His heart was pounding and he could still feel the warmth of her lips, even though they were no longer on his. It took him a minute to speak. “I honestly don't know how I did it. Since we left the spirit world, it's like I understand the flow in my heart - but I still can't understand it in my mind.” His thoughts turned to how the Vrykol had been able to block his abilities. “There's too much I don't understand.” He waved it off and smiled. “I wasn't able to reach out to you when the elves held you captive. I think somehow the Vrykol was responsible, but....”
He shook his head and took hold of Kaylia's hands. “Tell me what happened?”
Kaylia told him about her time in captivity. When she was done, she dropped the flask next to the fire and kissed Gewey again, this time long and deep.
“What was that for?” he stammered.
Kaylia smiled. “Because I feared I would never again have the chance. And...”
She grabbed Gewey's collar roughly, and met his eyes. Her smile had vanished. “As we are bonded, it is my right.”
There was a long pause, then they both burst out laughing. Gewey felt as if a weight had been lifted from his heart. They spent the next hour huddled together in silence, staring into the fire. Their bond made words unnecessary. Kaylia finished the tea and left it to cool.
“It will be ready by daybreak,” she said. “Linis should drink most of it, but be certain you have at least a mouthful.” She lay down on the forest floor. “Strong as you are, I can tell that healing me has taken its toll on you.”
Gewey hadn't noticed until that moment how much his body ached. He lay next to Kaylia and allowed his mind to drift into hers. He felt closer to her than ever before.
A satisfied smile washed over his face as sleep finally took him.
Chapter 3
As Millet and Dina neared Sharpstone, Millet's spirits noticeably lifted. When they were only a mile from town they spurred their horses to a quick trot. Millet looked to and fro, taking in familiar sights and grinning happily. Martha Tredall, one of the village mothers and the wife of Hallis Tredall, the cooper, was the first person they encountered. Martha was a short, sturdy woman with short mouse-brown hair and a cheerful demeanor. She’d had many past dealings with Millet, and he’d built a good rapport with both her and her husband. Nonetheless, as soon as she saw the two riding up, her typical good-natured smile turned to a sour stare.
Millet took a quick glance at his dusty, stained shirt and trousers. Once tan, they were blotched with mud, making him look more like a farm
er than a lord. Dina fared a bit better. She had chosen a dark brown blouse and matching pants, which hid the dirt from the long road far better.
“And just where have you been, Master Millet?” Martha asked when they were by her side. “Off making trouble with that Starfinder fellow, I imagine.” She looked back down the road they had come along. “I see he's not with you. So much the better. We have enough troubles here without the likes of him around.”
“Mind what you say, Martha Tredall,” said Millet. “Lee Starfinder has never given you reason to speak ill of him. He's given your husband more than his share of business.”
Martha lowered her eyes. “He has, true enough. But that doesn't excuse him for bringing trouble to our town, now does it?”
“What trouble?” asked Millet, steadying in his horse.
Martha looked up at Millet. Her eyes were filled with anger. “Those bloody faithful. They started arriving just after you and Lee made off with young Gewey Stedding.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Gewey's not coming back, is he?”
“Why do you ask?”
She stepped close. “Because they keep askin' about him - those faithful, I mean. They've asked everyone in town if they know where he is.”
Millet suddenly felt very exposed on the road. “And what do you tell them?”
Martha stood up straight and held her head high. “I don't tell them nothin'. I don't care how much gold they throw around. Besides, I don't know nothin' anyway. Last I heard he went north with Lee. Not that I believed a word of it, but that's what we were told by Lee's servants. From what I hear about those faithful, they're from up north themselves. I figure if Gewey went that way for real, they wouldn't be down here lookin’ for him.”
Millet thought for a moment. “How many of these faithful are there?”
Martha shrugged. “Not many. Ten or so maybe. But they got lots of gold. They make your master look like a beggar. And they use it, too. They've practically bought the town. There's not a shop or farm in Sharpstone that isn't caught up with them somehow or other.”
“Where do they stay?” asked Millet.
“They built themselves a big house just north of town. Not far from your master’s place.” She took a step back and glanced at Dina. “You and your friend might want to stay away. They ain't hurt no one yet, but they look like they could.”
Millet's eye narrowed. “No, my dear. I will not be staying away.” He looked down the road toward town. “And just so you know, Lee Starfinder is no longer master. I am.” He spurred his horse. Dina followed closely behind.
The way to the manor took them to the outskirts of town. The few people they passed on the way stopped and stared. Some dashed away. When they arrived at the entrance to one of the many roads that led to the house, Millet slowed his horse to a walk.
“I take it this is not the homecoming you were expecting,” said Dina.
Millet dropped his head and took a deep breath. “I wasn't certain what to expect. I thought Angrääl might be watching Sharpstone, being that it is Gewey's hometown. But I didn't expect them to set up a base here.”
“What are you going to do?”
Millet looked up. Anger burned in his eyes. “I'm going to kick them out of my town.”
As they approached the house, Millet caught sight of two servants busy tending the garden. He recognized them as Barty Inglewood and his son, Randson. Lee had hired them five years ago. Originally from Gath, they were as stout and dedicated workers as a person could hope to find. Their faces lit up when they saw Millet.
“I thought you'd left us for good,” called Barty. He set down his rake and removed his work gloves, shoving them into his pocket. His son only glanced up and nodded from where he was trimming the hedges, then went back to his work.
“As did I,” said Millet.
“Randson,” called Barty. “Help Millet and...”
“This is Dina,” said Millet. “A friend. This is Barty Inglewood and his son, Randson. They are by far the best gardeners for a hundred miles.”
“A friend of Millet's is my friend as well.” Barty bowed awkwardly. “And where is Lord Starfinder?”
Millet and Dina dismounted and began unpacking their gear. “Lee will not be coming.”
Barty rubbed his chin. “I see. I've never heard you call him Lee before, so I reckon you have news to tell.” He began gathering their things. “You'll be wanting to wash up. I'll get Lydia started on your rooms and a bath. Mealtime may have to wait for a couple of hours though. Most everyone is staying down at the Stedding farm now days.”
“Lee instructed for the farm to be cared for,” said Millet. “But I don't think he intended for his entire staff to move there.” He took a quick look around. “Who's left?”
“Me and my boy, of course. Lydia does most of the housework, and Trevor, the old cook Lee hired a couple of years ago is still here. But he doesn't move around so good anymore, so Lydia helps in the kitchen too.” He slung a pack over his shoulder. “No one wants to be around here for too long now all those newcomers are about. The rest of the staff comes about once a week to see to repairs and the like, but then they're off again. If Lord Starfinder didn't pay so good, they’d all be moved away by now.”
Mention of the newcomers brought tension to Millet's face.
“I see you've already heard about them,” said Barty. He started toward the house. “Well, don't you worry. They don't come calling here any more. Me and my boy ran them off.”
Millet kept silent as he and Dina followed Barty through the front door. The house was exactly as Millet remembered. The main hall was just beyond the door and furnished with heavy oak couches and chairs covered with soft suede upholstery. The walls were decorated with exotic tapestries that Lee had acquired during his many travels. A fire crackled in the hearth at the far right end, and two silver lamps glowed dimly against the wall behind the couches. Just next to the fireplace was a door leading to the dining hall and sitting room, while on the near corner was another one that led through to Lee's study and bedrooms. The hardwood floor was covered with a large, blood red rug woven with delicate silver patterns. Lee had purchased it in Dantory when he was not much more than a boy.
Millet moved to the wall to avoid stepping on the rug as he made his way to the near door. It would be a shame to muddy such a beautiful thing. “I will take the master suite,” he said.
Barty cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.
On reaching the master bedroom door, he asked Barty to show Dina to a guest room and stepped inside. Barty could see that Millet was now in charge, and obeyed at once. Millet took a long look around. The large bed was built from flame maple, polished and stained to a dark brown, while the green coverings on top were soft and thick. Millet had often envied Lee such a comfortable sleep. In the corner were two chairs and a small round table where Lee used to take his breakfast. A book of Baltrian poems rested on the table, still open on the last page he had been reading. A large wardrobe in the corner remained ajar from Lee's quick departure, and a bookcase against the wall still bore all the signs of his rummaging through it. Millet took a deep breath and began to unpack. It was his now. All of it. For good or ill, he was lord of the manor.
Randson brought a washbasin and hot water a few minutes later. After he had cleaned and changed, Millet strode back to the main hall. Dina was already waiting for him. She now wore a blue cotton dress and was sat in a chair thumbing through a small leather-bound book.
“Lee certainly liked books,” she said. “There must be fifty in my room alone.”
Millet smiled and took a seat across from her. “He did indeed.” He leaned back and rubbed his neck. “There is much about Lee Starfinder that lives in this house.” He began pointing out the tapestries and other various decorations, telling Dina where they came from and how Lee had acquired them. Dina smiled and listened patiently.
After a time, Lydia entered the room. Dressed in a dark brown skirt that reached all the way to the floor and a white
cotton shirt, she was tall, lean, and despite her advancing years, looked as if she could labor alongside any man. Her once-black hair was now streaked with gray and wrapped in a tight bun.
Lydia looked disapprovingly at Millet. “What business do you have in Lord Starfinder's chambers?”
“Fetch Barty, Randson, and Trevor,” ordered Millet. “I have something to tell you all.”
“Trevor's cooking supper,” said Lydia.
Millet's faced hardened. “Then tell him to stop.”
Lydia glared at Millet for a moment, then stormed off toward the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned, followed by a thinly built old man wearing a tan shirt and trousers. He was covered from head to toe in flour. The old man beamed when he saw Millet.
“Good to see you, old friend,” said Trevor. He looked at Dina. “I see your taste in company has improved.”
Dina stood and introduced herself. Trevor bowed and started to take a seat on the couch.
“I'll not have you getting flour all over the furniture,” shouted Lydia.
“Calm down woman,” said Trevor. “I'll clean it.”
“You sit too,” Millet said to Lydia.
The front door opened and Barty and his son entered. Millet motioned for them to be seated as well.
Millet retrieved the parchment that Lee had given to him when they parted and handed it to Lydia. She and the others read it for several minutes before returning the document to Millet.
“I don't know who Lee Nal' Thain is,” said Lydia. “But if you think for one minute that…”
“You know full well who Lee Nal' Thain is,” Millet countered. “As do the rest of you.” He stood. “Lee has given me rights to his lands and titles. That includes this estate.”
Lydia huffed. “And what do you intend to do with these ‘rights’, might I ask?”
The Godling Chronicles : Bundle - Books 1-3 Page 67
