The Godling Chronicles : Bundle - Books 1-3

by Brian D. Anderson

  “What is she exactly?” asked Aaliyah. “What authority does she possess?”

  “She is the Amal Molidova,” Weila replied reverently. “She is the spiritual leader of my people. In times when a single voice must guide us, we have chosen for it to be hers.”

  “And the sand masters?” asked Gewey. He had assumed they were the leaders of the desert elves.

  Weila held her head high. “We concern ourselves with matters of the desert. Our task is the well-being of our people as they journey through the dunes. Once our folk are safely home, our responsibility ends. War and turmoil are rare, so we do not often need a single voice to guide us. But things have changed. The Soufis are forming an army. This has never happened until you arrived.”

  Gewey felt Aaliyah's unease. Since he had returned her spirit to her body, he could increasingly share what she was feeling. It was similar to the bond he had with Kaylia, only more subtle.

  The light ahead quickly grew brighter and brighter until the surrounding area was awash with blue illumination. Gewey could feel the flow growing ever more powerful with each step. The light seemed to be rising from the ground, and soon an immense, fifty-foot high statue came into view. At first he was unable to make out what it depicted because of the light dancing playfully across its surface. But as they drew closer, the image cleared. It was of an elf woman in a flowing gown, face upturned and holding aloft a silver urn. The urn was tilted forward, allowing a constant stream of shining blue liquid to spill out.

  When they were only a few yards away the ground changed from sand to polished white marble. Gewey realized that this was part of a massive round platform. In its center was a pool more than one hundred yards in diameter, filled with the blue liquid that poured from the statue. The white marble reflected the light from the water, giving off an eerie yet calming glow that made Gewey think of being within a dream. The flow was so strong that it very nearly entered him before he could stop it.

  “Wait here,” Weila ordered. She walked around the edge of the pool and disappeared behind the statue.

  Gewey and Aaliyah waited in silence, gazing into the water. Nearly an hour passed before Weila returned carrying a small tan reed basket. Beside her walked a tall, thin elf woman with golden hair falling loosely about her shoulders and all the way down to the back of her knees. Her alabaster skin was made more pronounced by her penetrating, dark green eyes. She wore a blue satin robe that was tied at the waist by a silver cloth and embroidered with hundreds of tiny, intricate silver swirls that interlaced to form one large pattern. Her ageless features were thin and delicate, yet bore the seriousness of authority. Her bare feet made no sound as they touched the cold marble. Just before she reached them, Gewey could smell a salty sweet fragrance that reminded him of the wild flowers after a spring rain.

  “I am Lyrial.” Her voice was feminine and soft, yet commanding. “Weila has brought news that Pali fell in the Black Oasis, fighting at your side.”

  Gewey wasn't sure if he was to speak, so he just nodded.

  Aaliyah stepped forward and bowed. “I am....”

  “I know who you are,” she interrupted. “And you know who I am. You are here so I can determine if your arrival has anything to do with the recent gathering of a Soufis army. Once I have found the truth of the matter, then we will discuss Pali.”

  “I can assure you, we do not have anything to do with the Soufis,” said Aaliyah.

  Lyrial’s expression gave nothing away. “We shall see. But I am not a discourteous host. You shall eat and rest. Then we will talk. Weila will see to your needs.” Turning, she made her way back to the statue and sat cross-legged beside it.

  Weila opened the basket and pulled out two thin blankets, a loaf of bread, some dried fruit, and a bottle of wine. “You will have a few hours before she will speak with you. I suggest you rest until then. I will return shortly before sunrise.” She turned to leave, then paused. “Don't worry about the cold. The Waters of Shajir will keep you warm enough.”

  Once Weila was gone, Gewey and Aaliyah laid out their blankets and ate their meal. The bread was plain and tough, but the fruit sweeter than expected. The wine wasn't as good as some he’d had in the past, but it went down well enough.

  “What should we do?” asked Gewey, leaning back on his elbows.

  “What can we do?” Aaliyah lay down and closed her eyes. “If we run, we will either be killed or forced to kill those who are not our enemy. We will rest while we can, and then speak to Lyrial. Hopefully, we will be able to convince her that we have nothing to do with the Soufis.”

  “I may be forced to tell them what I am, you know.”

  Aaliyah opened her eyes and looked at Gewey. “That is for you to decide.”

  Gewey lay down and allowed himself to drift off to sleep. Aaliyah was right. What else could they do but rest and see what the dawn brought?

  Chapter 21

  Gewey and Aaliyah were woken by Weila. She offered them both a cup of clear, sweet-smelling juice, which they gratefully accepted. However, its fragrance did not prepare Gewey for the sour taste that followed. His face twisted and he nearly spat it out.

  Weila laughed. “It is from the fruit of the ganhi bush. It is sour, but very good for you.”

  “Is Lyrial ready to see us?” asked Aaliyah.

  Weila nodded and pointed to the far end of the pool near to the statue. “Go to her. I will wait here.”

  “You're not coming?” asked Gewey.

  “As I said, this is a matter for the Amal Molidova, not a sand master,” she explained. “Do not worry. We have spoken of Pali, and she does not hold you to blame any more than I.”

  Gewey and Aaliyah finished their juice, then made their way around the pool to where Lyrial sat waiting. Two flat round cushions had been placed in front of her. She motioned for them to sit. She wore a pair of loose-fitting, cream, linen trousers and matching blouse. Her platinum blond hair was now in a tight braid that fell all the way down her back and wound around her waist, ending up in her lap. As she looked at them, her bright green eyes twinkled in the blue light rising from the water. Her face had the same timeless quality Gewey had come to know in elves, yet he knew she must be quite old.

  Lyrial's eyes darted back and forth from Gewey to Aaliyah. “I do not think you are in league with the Soufis. So do not fear.”

  “That is good,” said Aaliyah. “And know that we come in friendship.”

  Lyrial raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? It is hard to imagine that those who exiled my people so long ago have suddenly had a change of heart. No. I believe that if you desire friendship, it is out of necessity. Whatever the troubles are in the west, I think you have brought them with you.”

  “First, I would say that it was not my people who exiled you,” said Aaliyah, her tone forceful and steady. “My people are from across what you know as the Western Abyss. But do not think that is a reflection on the other elves of this land. I do not believe they even remember you exist. Certainly those living today had no part in your exile.”

  Lyrial shook her head and let out a huff. “It would stand to reason that their arrogance and folly would shorten their memories.”

  “Your kin do not seem to share your attitude,” said Aaliyah. “Those we spoke with seemed pleased that the elves of the west would come.”

  “It is for them to live and die, free in the sands,” she shot back. “It is for me to protect that freedom. Their hearts are not as burdened as mine. They do not read the ancient lore.” She paused and sighed. “Still, I am not unwilling to welcome others if my people truly wish it. And stories of the elves from across the Abyss have been told long before we came here. But if your people have returned after all this time, then perhaps it is you who have brought war.”

  “I can only tell you we have not,” Aaliyah retorted. “We have been unable to return until now.”

  Lyrial sighed. “Very well then. Tell me your tale.”

  Aaliyah told her story, beginning with their arrival, and
ending when they left for the desert. All she left out was Gewey's identity as a god. “I know that Weila told you why we came, and that we had intended to leave your desert in peace,” she concluded.

  “She told me what you allowed her to know,” Lyrial replied. “But you have not revealed all. What is it you fear me to learn, I wonder?”

  Aaliyah stiffened. “I have told you all that you need to understand - that we are guiltless regarding the Soufis. Anything else is our affair.”

  Lyrial placed her finger to her chin and met Aaliyah’s gaze. “Is that so? You may not have caused the Soufis to gather yourself, but I’ll wager that whatever it is you fight most surely can be held responsible. Soufis are wretched slavers that plague the sands. They may be cunning and fierce, but they would never gather in such great numbers on their own. They raid and flee.”

  “I will say nothing more on the matter,” said Aaliyah.

  Lyrial and Aaliyah stared into each other’s eyes, neither one blinking.

  “What she hasn't revealed is me,” Gewey interjected. “I am what she will not tell you of.”

  Aaliyah stiffened, then folded her hands.

  Lyrial was unable to prevent herself from laughing. “You? And what could she possibly reveal about you?”

  “We came here to retrieve what was guarded within the Black Oasis,” he said. “They were gifts. Gifts left for me by my father -Gerath.”

  Lyrial burst out laughing again. “You think a half-man is something new to us? You think us ignorant fools?”

  “I am not a half-man,” Gewey asserted. “And it was not Aaliyah who burned the Soufis. I did.”

  “I see.” Lyrial stood. “So you claim to be a god, and not a half-man? That would be something indeed - if it were true. Of course, such an outrageous claim can be settled easily enough.”

  She held out her hand. Gewey took it and she led him to the edge of the Waters of Shajir. “Do not move,” she instructed. In a flash she drew a dagger from her sleeve and cut the back of his hand.

  Gewey winced, more out of surprise than anything else, as his blood trickled into the shimmering liquid. The effect was instant. The second the blood touched the surface of the water, the ground began to rumble. Beneath the waters, a billowing red cloud boiled up, rapidly covering the entire pool. Suddenly, a thunderous boom knocked them both off their feet. Fire erupted from the urn atop the great statue, shooting hundreds of feet into the air. The flames fanned out then fell quickly back down again before disappearing in a blinding flash just a few feet above the ground.

  Gradually the earth stopped shaking and the blood red water transformed back into its original blue color. Lyrial remained where she was, eyes wide and mouth agape. Gewey got up and offered her his hand. She gazed at him in awe. Only after a long moment did she allow him to help her to her feet and lead her back to where they had left Aaliyah. Lyrial still looked stunned, unable to speak.

  Just then, Weila ran over. “What happened?”

  Lyrial finally found her voice. She motioned for them all to sit. “It seems that this concerns all elves, Weila. You should stay.” She leaned forward and stared into Gewey eyes. “How is this possible? Can the end times be here at last?”

  “I don't know anything about that,” said Gewey. “But if you will allow me, I'll tell you my story as well.”

  Lyrial nodded. “Of course. Yes, please.”

  Gewey recounted the events of his life, beginning with the death of his father. Several times he had to stop and backtrack as he remembered details. Lyrial and Weila took a special interest when he told of his bonding with Kaylia, asking him three times to repeat the details of this.

  More than two hours passed before he’d finished. By then, the light of the morning sun had painted the sky red and purple. Gewey got to his feet, rubbed his neck and stretched his arms.

  “Then it has come to pass,” Lyrial whispered to herself. “Your name - Darshan. We have heard this before. It is the name of the one who will herald the end times. It is said that your coming precedes the reunion of the elves, and the upheaval of the world. The waging of a great war that will remake creation and reveal a new destiny for the elves.”

  “I have no desire to involve your people in any war,” said Gewey. “I came here only for the gifts of Gerath. Now that I have them, I intend to leave you in peace.”

  Lyrial shook her head and smiled benignly, as a mother speaking to an ignorant child. “The Soufis have gathered for war. The one you call the Dark Knight is clearly behind this. He either intends to make war on us, or to march them from the desert and make war on you. Either way, we cannot allow it. If the Soufis attack us, then it will be their doom, but if they leave the sands...”

  Her jaw tightened. “I will not allow the filth of the desert to visit their horrors on the rest of the world. And if this Dark Knight would call on such people to fight for him, he has revealed to us his true nature.”

  “What will you do?” asked Aaliyah.

  “We have already begun to gather our forces,” said Lyrial. “And our scouts are watching every move the Soufis make.”

  “Then you should take care to watch for the Vrykol,” said Gewey. “They are powerful and deadly. It was a Vrykol that killed Pali, and nearly killed Aaliyah. If they are with the Soufis, you must be careful. They can only die if you remove their heads.”

  “I will inform my people of this,” said Weila grimly.

  “If the Soufis attempt to leave the desert, we will stop them,” stated Lyrial. “Once they are dealt with, we will go west for the first time in many generations.” She got to her feet and looked at the statue, her arms across her chest. “And though this may be our end, we will not be idle while evil floods the world.”

  “How many are you?” asked Aaliyah.

  Lyrial turned back to face Gewey, her chest swelling with pride. “We can raise an army of twenty-thousand in a short time. Twice that, if needed. But it would take longer.”

  “And how many are the Soufis?” he asked.

  “They have three times our number at least.” Lyrial smiled viciously. “But they could have ten times that, and still they could not hope to defeat us. It is long past time we dealt with them once and for all. The atrocities they have visited on the people of this land will finally be avenged.”

  “I would hear more of your people,” said Aaliyah. “Your desert is filled with wonders I have never dreamed of. The scholars of my land could spend generations studying the Blood of the Desert alone. And this.” She pointed to the statue. “Who built it?”

  Lyrial sat and crossed her legs. “It was here long before we arrived. The legends say it was built by the gods. And as far as our tales go, it will be a pleasure to tell you of the desert. For all my people's merits, they care little for my stories.”

  “That's not true,” Weila protested jokingly. “I have listened to you ramble on for six-hundred years and never complained.”

  Both Aaliyah and Gewey's eyes grew wide wide.

  “How old are you?” asked Aaliyah.

  Lyrial smiled. “I am seven-hundred and four. But Weila is far older.” She could see the confusion in their expressions. “This surprises you?”

  “Indeed,” said Aaliyah. “I am nearly three hundred. The elders of my land rarely see six. How is it that you live so long?”

  Lyrial thought for a moment. “Perhaps it is that we do not steal life from the earth. Perhaps that power shortens your life.”

  Aaliyah looked closely at both Lyrial and Weila. “That may be. Or perhaps it is the desert itself that extends your life.”

  Lyrial nodded. “That could also be. It is said that the power of the Creator first gave life to the world here. And that it was here that the gods were born. It is quite possible that our legends are more than just stories.”

  “If it is the desert that extends your life,” said Aliyah, “then I fear what will happen if you try to leave it.”

  Lyrial pondered this for a moment then said: “I cannot allo
w this to concern me. My people will not be trapped by our own mortality. We will know soon enough if what you suggest is true.”

  “But....” began Gewey. Lyrial held up her hand, silencing him.

  “There is nothing to discuss,” she asserted. “Our course is set. I will not dwell on it. Now, if you still would like to hear stories of my people?”

  “Of course,” said Gewey.

  For the next few hours, Lyrial told them of how her people were exiled for protesting over the enslavement of humans, and how they came to live in the desert. She spun tales of adventure, tragedy and joy. She told them of their fight with the Soufis, and their protection of the humans from slavery. Weila looked bored and began dozing.

  “Your people have lived a noble life,” Aaliyah remarked once Lyrial had finished. “That you were exiled for objecting to the subjugation of humans connects with our own history.”

  “A story you can tell me another time,” said Lyrial, rising to her feet. “I will not delay your mission any longer.” Weila handed her a small silver flask. Lyrial walked to the pool and filled it. “Take this,” she said, handing the flask to Gewey. “The Waters of Shajir are powerful. Their healing properties are unmatched. A single drop will heal the deepest wound.”

  “Thank you,” said Gewey, bowing low. “It will serve as a reminder of your kindness.”

  Lyrial bowed in return. “Once we have defeated the Soufis, I will march my people to the western edge of the desert. There we will await word from you. For now, Weila will take you to the shore.” She smiled at Aaliyah. “I look forward to our next meeting. Please tell our kin that were are overjoyed to reunite with them.”

  Aaliyah nodded. “I will. And I know they will feel the same. Your friendship will be of great value in the days to come.”

  Lyrial took one final lingering look at Gewey before smiling and walking away. Gewey’s eyes followed her as she departed.

  “Come, Darshan,” said Weila. “If we hurry, I can have you back to the shore by nightfall tomorrow.”