“I have not the strength to speak to them now,” he replied. The small fire a few yards away was inviting, and the bedroll Aaliyah had set up for him looked soft and comforting.
“What should I tell them?” the soldier asked.
Nehrutu paused, then sighed. “Tell them to join me by the fire.” He knew he must speak with them, regardless of his mood or condition.
He sat motionless by the fire, gazing blankly into the dancing flames. They were an awful reminder of his beloved ship’s fate. He had watched in utter disbelief as, flaming from end to end, it sank into the deep waters. He now felt totally defeated. Even with Aaliyah by his side, he still couldn’t help but fall into despair.
Never could he have imagined the devastation the enemy was able to unleash. Angrääl had waited until they were ashore before attacking. Then their ships sailed in and launched balls of infernal hell, one after another, onto their decks. The explosions were unbelievable to behold. He could feel his fellow elves trying desperately to use the flow to repel the attack, but Vrykol had gathered on the deck of every enemy ship, rendering their powers useless. Only a very few of their vessels had escaped the carnage.
Elf sailors who had spent a lifetime at sea now wandered along the shore, confused and despondent. Most of them had not set foot on dry land in hundreds of years. The navigators did their best to comfort their comrades, but it did little good.
There had barely been time to haul in the few survivors onto the beach before they were attacked from the north. Only the speed of the elves and the determination of their human allies prevented a total slaughter. It had taken two days to drive the enemy back, and the loss of life was beyond imagining.
The Angrääl ships had sailed away, but it mattered little. Their backs were to the sea, and an army that outnumbered them three-to-one was massed to their front.
Nehrutu could hear the nimble footfalls of the elf seekers approaching. He looked up to see three of them, all clad in soft leathers and wearing long knives. Following close behind was an elderly elf woman, her deep olive complexion unable to disguise her many years.
“Greetings, Lord Nehrutu,” said the lead seeker.
It took a moment for Nehrutu to recall his name. “Greetings, Jahra. What news?”
“The enemy waits,” he replied. “They seem content to allow us to remain here.”
“They prevent us from aiding King Lousis,” said Nehrutu. “They will defeat him in the north, then turn and crush us like worms.”
“Where is Lady Aaliyah?” Jahra asked.
“Still tending the wounded.” He rubbed his temple. “Her strength is far greater than mine.”
Jahra motioned to the elf woman. “This is Kionia. She has come from the eastern elf lands.”
The woman stepped forward and bowed. “I have brought healers with me to give further aid to the cause. I wish I could bring swords as well, but there are too few of us to defend our own homes as it is. All who could, have already joined you here or with the humans in Althetas.”
“I am sad to say that we are in dire need of healers,” Nehrutu told her. “Your help is most welcome.”
“My brothers and sister are already at work,” said Kionia. She cast a sorrowful gaze to the north where the healing pavilions had been erected. “I should join them.”
Nehrutu waited until she was out of earshot before turning his attention to the seekers. “Is there any way for us to get around the enemy?”
Jahra shook his head. “Not with so many. And they have Vrykol scattered throughout their ranks. Even if we could find a way around the humans, the foul beasts would detect us.”
“I need to send word to King Lousis of our situation,” said Nehrutu. “Can this be done?”
The seeker thought for a long moment. “Perhaps. I may well be able to pass unnoticed if I go alone. But if I am caught, you will of course have no way of knowing that your message was not delivered.”
In spite of his warning, Jahra appeared to be optimistic about his chances. Nonetheless, Nehrutu frowned. “I will not send you unless there is strong hope for success. I cannot afford to lose your talents.”
“I will go,” called a voice from a few yards away.
Nehrutu recognized Jraleel, a sailor from Aaliyah’s destroyed vessel. His face was stone and carried the hint of fury. He strides were long and deliberate.
“I admire your bravery,” said Jahra. “But you do not know these lands, and regardless of your powers, you are not trained as a seeker.”
Jraleel squatted down beside Nehrutu, his eyes fixed on the seeker. “I have no intention of traveling by land. My kin and I can construct a small raft and follow the coast north.”
Nehrutu placed his hand on Jraleel’s shoulder. “Are you certain you can-”
“My heart is broken,” he snapped, silencing Nehrutu. “My home is destroyed. My feet feel the solid earth for the first time in hundreds of years.” His eyes welled with tears. “But I still live. And my duty to my people remains.”
“Then I shall accompany you,” the seeker said, with obvious admiration. “You will need my help once you land.”
“I am grateful for your company,” said Jraleel. “As for the rest of my brothers and sisters, they are in need of vengeance.” His expression grew dark. “They wish to fight.”
“That wish will certainly be granted,” said Nehrutu. “I have no intention of allowing Angrääl to cage us. One way or another, we will break through.”
At that moment he spotted Aaliyah approaching. A young human soldier was walking by her side in order to steady her as she trod wearily on the sand. Her shoulders drooped and her delicate fingers clutched at the soldier’s arm. When only a few feet away from the fire, she dismissed her escort. Without a word, she took a seat beside Nehrutu, allowing herself to lean against his sinewy shoulder.
The seekers and the sailor quickly excused themselves. Aaliyah didn’t appear to notice.
“Bond with me,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
Nehrutu wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
“I know we decided to wait until we returned home so we could share our joy with our families,” she continued. “But I fear we will never see our shores again. I would not die without your spirit within me.”
“Nor would I,” he replied softly. “And I only need to share my joy with you, my love.” He kissed the top of her head.
Aaliyah sat up and gazed into his eyes. He could feel her spirit drawing near, and allowed his will to submit. In just moments, the rush of her heart filled his soul. All at once he understood true happiness. Renewed strength flowed into his limbs; he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. A tear fell as he fathomed the depths of sorrow that the war enveloping them had caused her. And yet he knew that her profound love for him was as unyielding as his was for her.
The parting of their lips left a lingering sensation of warmth, and the melding of their spirits made his mind reel.
Aaliyah rose, her own strength having returned as well. She gently pulled Nehrutu to his feet. “I have arranged for a wedding tent to be erected down the beach about a mile away.”
“When did you do this?” he asked, but her only response was a loving smile.
Nehrutu knew he should be making plans to march his army north, but at that moment his heart was ruling his actions. The world could burn for all he cared. He would risk the wrath of a thousand demons to have this one night with his beloved.
Their walk to the tent seemed to take a lifetime. His desire had been set aflame by a torrent of emotions and the sensation of being as one with Aaliyah. With each step he could feel his power growing; not only that, he could now feel Aaliyah’s strength as well. He had always known she was by far the most talented among the elves, but only now did he truly understand the extent of her power.
As they approached the small tent Nehrutu felt an odd sensation through their bond. It was a dark and immeasurably potent presence.
“Is that…?”
he began.
“Yes,” replied Aaliyah, hearing the question before it was asked. “That is Darshan.”
Nehrutu stared at her, stunned. “I never thought his spirit could feel so…menacing.”
“It is not always that way,” she said, her voice suddenly distant. “There are times when his spirit is beautiful to behold. But I fear as more evil surrounds him, his heart will become ever more cloaked in shadow.”
“And if that happens?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.
“I am not certain,” she replied in a whisper. Her eyes then brightened and she smiled impishly. “But tonight is not a night for troubling thoughts - or Darshan.”
She took Nehrutu’s hand and led him into the wedding tent. Though the sunrise may herald their deaths, the coming night was to be for life and love.
Chapter 3
Gewey crept along the banks of the Goodbranch, the moonlit mist hovering inches above the water. The snow covered ground glowed eerily as he peered to the western shore. Linis was several yards to his back, moving silently in the shadows.
The clumsy footfalls of the Angrääl patrol caused Gewey to grin. The fools should have fled like the others, he thought. The journey back through the Eastland had been uneventful. Elf scouts reported that enemy troops were moving south to avoid confrontation, apparently willing to allow them to march west unmolested.
Lee had laughed when hearing of this, suggesting that Angrääl knew they were led by the mighty Darshan and feared his wrath. He was probably right, at least to an extent. The Reborn King had no reason to lose men and supplies in a direct assault. Ultimately, this war would be decided not by armies, but by a final battle between the two gods that now walked the earth. Darshan would face his foe. Then, and only then, would the killing end.
He reached out with his senses. Aside from the tramping of the soldiers and the cold gentle breeze sifting through the pine needles, nothing stirred. He glanced to the north. Sharpstone was a mere twenty miles away.
Gewey stopped and waited for Linis to catch up. The elf looked at the river and scowled. “I do not enjoy swimming in freezing cold water,” he remarked.
Gewey grinned. “Neither do I.”
The words had hardly passed his lips when a massive gust of wind wrapped itself around the duo, lifting them skyward. Linis gasped and instinctively clutched hold of Gewey’s arm. In seconds, they were high above the river and drifting toward the far side. Gewey struggled not to laugh at Linis’ unease.
When they finally returned to solid ground, Linis stiffened his back. His mouth twisted into a frown. “And I enjoyed that far less,” he said.
Gewey chuckled. “My apologies, my friend. But it was the easiest way to cross.”
“Only birds are meant to fly,” the elf muttered as he checked his blade.
Gewey gave Linis’ arm a fond squeeze, then returned his attention to their task. The soldiers were a quarter mile to the southwest. Gewey could sense that most of them were huddled around a large fire. Four others were keeping watch at the perimeter. They would be dealt with first.
The amusement over the river crossing quickly vanished and they made their way through the thin forest of pines and leafless oaks. Gewey allowed the flow to rage: it felt like a welcome friend. He desired to hold it within all of the time but Kaylia still feared it could drive him mad, as it had so nearly done on their journey to The Chamber of the Maker. He knew it was pointless to argue with her. She was probably right anyway. He had come close to losing himself several times – the closest of all at the fortress of the Vrykol – and though it was ecstasy at first, it was inevitably followed closely by feelings of fear and guilt once he realized what he could become.
As soon as the first soldier came into view, Gewey halted. “Go around and capture the guard to the far west,” he whispered, just loud enough for elf ears to hear. “I’ll deal with the rest.”
Linis flashed a look of protest, but Gewey ignored him and began to creep forward. Clenching his jaw, the elf shifted direction and disappeared into the shadows of the trees.
Gewey’s skill at stealth, taught to him by Kaylia, was now beyond that of any elf seeker. He moved to within a yard of the guard without making a sound, invisible to all apart from perhaps Linis or Lee – and even they would struggle to see him.
The snap of bone broke the silence as Gewey twisted the man’s neck. He could easily have used the flow of air to destroy the entire group in an instant, but his hatred for the Reborn King and all those who followed his banner burned hot. He wanted them to know fear before they died. A quick death for three of their guards was the only mercy he would be displaying.
Linis had already secured his captive as Gewey laid the third guard’s body gently onto the virgin snow. He fixed his eyes on the remaining soldiers gathered around the fire. Most were quietly sipping on warm cups of wine. Others whispered quietly in idle conversation.
Slowly he slid his sword free, the familiar warmth extending his powers beyond reckoning. Using the flow of the earth, he caused the ground to tremble. Instantly, loud shouts sounded as the soldiers scrambled to their feet, their frozen fingers fumbling for their weapons.
Faster than a human eye could see, Gewey rushed in, his blade cutting through three men in quick succession. Their blood spewed out, staining the white ground. Before any of the others had fully grasped what had happened, Gewey disappeared back into the darkness.
Cries of fear and panic echoed through the forest as the men pressed their backs to the fire. Again Gewey rushed in, this time with a primal yell that caused some of the soldiers to drop their swords in sheer terror. Four more of them rapidly fell.
This was all the remaining soldiers could stand. In fits of chaos, they bolted in every direction. But Gewey was not about to allow them to escape. A wall of flames erupted, encircling the men before any could make it more than a few feet. The roaring of the fire rapidly muffled their wails of horror and pleas for mercy. By now, every single one of them had dropped his sword and fallen to his knees.
Gewey felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder. It was Linis.
“End this,” said the elf.
Gewey turned. “My home is not far from here, and they have invaded it.”
“There was no way they could have known this,” countered Linis.
Gewey glared. “They chose their side.” He faced the flames. “And they chose wrong.”
A gap in the blazing wall appeared. Without another word, Gewey walked inside and the opening closed behind him. Screams tore through the air as he finished what he had begun.
In moments, the sounds of the dying ceased and the fire vanished. Gewey stood over the bodies, his expression blank. With a sniff of satisfaction, he walked over to their bound and unconscious captive.
Linis was unable to hide his revulsion at the carnage and cruel manner in which the soldiers had died. He stared at the ravaged bodies for what seemed like a long time before steadying his nerves and moving to join Gewey.
“You have changed, my friend,” he said. “And I am not certain it is for the better.”
“I am still the person I have always been,” responded Gewey, his voice soft, yet still bearing a power that made him sound inhuman. “But the part of me that is Darshan cannot allow these vermin to go unpunished.”
“They were only soldiers,” countered Linis. “What crimes did they commit to warrant such a terrible end?”
Gewey met Linis’ eyes. “They have murdered the helpless and defiled temples.” Steel was in his tone. “And I will not speak of what they did to the priestesses in Gath.”
Linis furled his brow. “And how is it that you know of these things?”
“I looked into their hearts,” he replied. “I could see what they had done - and what they would do in the future.” He glared at their captive with intense anger. “This one was part of a patrol that slaughtered a group of refugees fleeing the west. Men, women and children – they spared none. They left their bodie
s alongside the road for the scavengers to pick their bones clean. These are not men. They are vermin.”
Linis bowed his head. “If this is so, then they do indeed deserve death. But I cannot help but fear for your soul. Such wrath can blacken your heart beyond redemption.”
Gewey leveled his gaze, then, after a few moments, forced a thin smile. “You’re right, of course. It’s a danger I have faced for quite a while now. If it wasn’t for Kaylia, there’s no telling what I would do - or what I might become.”
There was a lengthy pause. Linis eventually returned his attention to the still unconscious prisoner. “What do you intend to do with him?” he asked.
Gewey closed his eyes. “I’ll leave it to you. I already know what I need to know. They were ordered to report if we crossed the river here. There is an army in Baltria and another in Kaltinor, but this soldier doesn’t know their strength. All their other forces have fallen back to the north.”
“You use the flow of the spirit to know his mind?” asked Linis.
Gewey nodded. “It’s dangerous. I have to touch a person's spirit and take their memories. It can be…damaging.”
“And did you damage this one?” asked Linis.
Gewey shook his head. “No. He is still the same wretched creature he was before.” He rose to his feet and turned toward the river. “I leave his fate in your hands.”
He returned to the riverbank and waited. A few minutes later Linis joined him, the ice in his stare telling Gewey of the captive’s fate. At once he felt a pang of regret. Not for the soldier’s death, but for allowing Linis to deliver the final killing stroke. His friend felt deeply, and his compassion was without measure. He killed only when he must, and never took joy in the act.
After a few seconds of silence, Linis sighed heavily and looked to the far bank.
Gewey laughed. The flow of air burst forth and caressed the surface of the water. In less than a minute, a narrow bridge of ice had formed.
“I thought you would rather walk across this time,” he said, smirking.
This helped to lift Linis’ dark mood. He smiled and nodded approvingly. “As will the others, I suspect.”
The Godling Chronicles:Book 05 - Madness of the Fallen Page 3
