“Thank you,” said Lousis.
“I visited High Lady Selena before we marched south,” added Mohanisi.
Lousis straightened. “Is she well? Did she ask about…?”
Quickly realizing that he was sounding like a lovesick youth, he stopped talking.
The corners of Mohanisi’s mouth lifted slightly in a knowing smile. “She asked me to tell you that you must not forget your promise. She also asked that, should you put yourself in danger, I should drag you to the rear…kicking and screaming if necessary.”
Lousis chuckled. “And I assume she made you swear that you would do exactly that?”
“She did,” he affirmed. “And I always keep my word.”
King Victis soon joined them. Though the news of Theopolou’s death did not upset him as much as it did Lousis himself, it still clearly pained him. Lousis offered his friend and fellow monarch his condolences.
Soon, a messenger arrived to escort them to the meeting, where there were now at least sixty humans and elves gathered. After greeting Mohanisi, Bellisia immediately began searching for Theopolou. On failing to find him, she noticed Mohanisi’s expression. A harsh understanding immediately rushed over her. She staggered for a moment, then allowed her young elf assistant to help her over to a soft patch of grass just in front of where Mohanisi would speak.
The crowd settled and Mohanisi stepped forward. After giving a respectful bow, he began his speech.
Everyone remained hushed as he told of his journey to the Steppes. But that quiet was not to last for long. The very moment he spoke of Theopolou’s demise, sobs and laments erupted throughout the elf ranks. Even some of the humans were clearly distressed. The few who had known Theopolou were well aware of his honor and courage. Those who did not know him were still knew of his reputation. It took nearly twenty minutes before everyone had settled down sufficiently for the meeting to continue. Even after that, there was still much whispering of prayers and stifling of tears.
At the completion of things, the crowd fell still and quiet.
“Spread the word of Theopolou’s passing,” Mohanisi instructed them. “Tell them how he died. Let everyone know of his sacrifice and courage.”
Slowly, the gathering dispersed. Only Bellisia and her assistant remained. Her face was racked with grief, with tears flowing in steady streams down both of her cheeks. After King Victis had excused himself, Lousis and Mohanisi sat beside the grieving woman. The guards moved to surround them, but one stern look from the king warned them to keep their distance.
“Tell me the story again,” sobbed Bellisia, swallowing hard. “Leave out no detail.”
Mohanisi did as asked. When it was over, Bellisia rose to her feet on unsteady legs.
“He never knew how much I truly cared for him,” she said. She spoke as much to herself as to everyone else. “Though we had been adversaries in the past, I always respected him. It never occurred to me that he might die. He seemed to me…eternal. Our eldest and most wise.”
“He was indeed,” said Mohanisi. “His song will be sung in this land, and in my own, until the stars fade into oblivion. I will personally write his tale into our books of legend so that the name Theopolou will be known throughout countless generations.”
“Thank you,” said Bellisia, drying her eyes. “Then he is indeed eternal.” She reached for her assistant. “I think I need to rest for a short while.”
She allowed herself to be led away toward her tent. Lousis and Mohanisi watched her until she had vanished into a crowd of soldiers. They then made their way to a pavilion where maps had been set up on a large, but poorly constructed table.
It seemed that their only hope for victory lay in surprise. The enemy was camped about ten miles away, and that gap needed to be rapidly closed before Angrääl had time to launch its terrible weapon. Only the elves and the cavalry possessed the speed to accomplish this, which meant that elf casualties would be high. This bothered Lousis greatly, but the elves assured him they would not sacrifice others when their duty was clear.
It didn’t take long for the elves from the Steppes to integrate themselves into the rest of the army, and before dawn they were all but prepared. The name of Theopolou could be heard throughout the camp and was quickly becoming a battle cry.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, the plans were in place. Lousis called for his horse and wished all his commanders good luck. He said a silent prayer, though he knew there was no one to hear it. Nevertheless, it gave him comfort. Spurring his horse forward to a quick trot, he made his way to the front line. Both humans and elves cheered as he passed.
Ahead was a vast hilly landscape. The enemy would be waiting atop the rise just beyond his vision. Lousis closed his eyes and took a long, steady breath. The field fell still.
A moment later the uneasy silence was broken by the sound of rapid hoof beats.
A rider approached from over the ridge. It was one of Lousis’ scouts. He motioned for his guard to let the man through as soon as he was near.
“They’ve pulled back, Your Highness,” the scout blurted out.
Lousis jerked up straight. “What?”
“The enemy is marching to the coast,” he replied. “I just received word from Lord Chiron’s seekers. The assault on his force has ceased and he is on his way. Three of his seekers report that they have spotted the enemy to the south and heading east.”
Lousis considered this news for a long moment. What could it mean? Had they given up?
A split second after this thought entered his head, he knew that it was just wishful thinking. Whatever the reason behind this retreat, it would only be so that they might gain a greater advantage later on.
Mohanisi, Victis and several others quickly joined Lousis. He conveyed to them the messenger’s news.
Every possibility they could think of was discussed. Suddenly, a flash of realization washed over Victis’ face.
“I think I know why they leave,” he told them. “Angrääl has burned every city and every port with the exception of one - Dreslin Cove, which is Tarvansia’s northernmost port. At first I thought it was merely good fortune, or perhaps they lacked the time. But now I think I can see why they spared it.”
The reason suddenly hit Lousis as well and his heart sank. “They’re landing more reinforcements,” he said.
Victis nodded. “Why else pull back unless it’s to bolster your force? As it stands they outnumber us. Should they land more men it will be an utter slaughter.”
“How far is Dreslin Cove?” asked Mohanisi.
“Less than a week’s march,” Victis replied
As he could see his hopes for victory vanishing, Lousis let out a roar of frustration.
“Perhaps this is not so,” offered Mohanisi. “There is no way to know their plans for certain. We should send seekers to investigate.”
Lousis did not want to dismiss Mohanisi’s words, but he knew in his heart that Victis’ assessment was right. “Send them,” he ordered. “But tell them to be swift.”
Without another word, Mohanisi walked away and disappeared behind the lines.
After a moment’s thought, Lousis looked to his captains. “Tell everyone to stand down but remain vigilant and at the ready.” With a snap of the reins, the king’s horse sprang to life. His guard scrambled to follow as he set off rapidly back to camp.
How could Angrääl have raised such a force? Lousis wondered while riding along. Was the world blind? Did no one take notice? Or was his enemy simply far more cunning than he could have fathomed? This final question stuck in his mind, forcing him to think back over every battle they had apparently won.
Had they really been victories? Or was it all a part of some devious grand design formulated by the Reborn King?
Back in his tent, Lousis sat heavily down, staring at the ground. What he chose to do now could very well determine the fate of the world. Darshan was far removed from this battle and could not help him. He could rely only on his own judgment. And should
he fail, the young god would have nothing to save anyway, bar ashes and ruin when he returned.
A cup of wine was suddenly shoved in front of his face. Lousis looked up and blinked. He hadn’t noticed Victis enter and sit in the chair across from him.
His friend was smiling broadly. This irritated Lousis.
He pushed the cup away. “I see nothing to smile about. It would seem we have run out of luck. If you are correct – and I am almost certain that you are – then we have less than two weeks before our enemy wipes us from the face of the earth.”
Victis shrugged and took a drink. “My old friend. It is a miracle that we still live. Through sheer force of will we have fought an army, the like of which has not been seen for five hundred years. I doubt the Reborn King expected to be so fiercely resisted.” He leaned forward, his smile unbroken. “You know that there is only one course of action you can now take, don’t you?”
Lousis’ irritation was turning into anger. “If I knew that, would I not already have done it?” He threw up his hands. “If you know, please don’t keep it to yourself.”
“The way I see it,” said Victis, “we could stay here and wait to be slaughtered. But where is the honor in that? His calm tone and bright expression was a far contrast to Lousis’ angry scowl. “Or we could retreat to Althetas and wait for them to burn the city down around us. But that would only get more people killed.”
“I am aware of all this,” yelled Lousis. “Don’t you think I have not thought about it already?”
“I know you have,” he replied. “And you have seen what I have seen. That there is no way for us to win. We are doomed to die. So why fight for victory if it is out of reach?”
Lousis glared at his friend with growing confusion. “So what do you propose?”
A menacing glint appeared in Victis’ eyes. He raised his cup in a toasting gesture to Lousis.
“We march. If I am to meet my end, I would have it in the manner of my own choosing. The enemy moves slowly. We could catch them before they near the coast and combine with any reinforcements. They will never expect such an attack, and that gives us the advantage of surprise. At minimum, we’ll take many of them with us before we fall.”
Draining his cup in a single gulp, Victis threw it dramatically into the far corner of the tent. “And you never know. Perhaps we will win, after all.”
For a moment or two there was silence. Lousis’ scowl gradually became a broad grin. “Guard!” he shouted.
One of his personal guards hurried inside. “Send out orders,” the king told him. “We march as soon as we can be ready.”
The guard saluted and left.
“You do know we are marching to our ruin?” Lousis said, now in a far more lighthearted tone.
“I know nothing of the sort,” Victis replied. “I say we march to our glory.”
Both men laughed heartily and quickly finished off what remained of the wine, now disregarding the cups.
Lousis told Mohanisi and his captains of the plan. At first they were shocked, but as the audaciousness of what the king was proposing sank in, their enthusiasm grew. Before long they were full of the idea.
In less than an hour the army was prepared and all set to move forward.
Mohanisi walked up to stand beside Lousis’ horse. “You do realize that you will make me into a liar,” he said. “Lady Selena will not be pleased.” His tone was typically serious. Rarely did he smile or show emotion.
“And why is that?” said Lousis. “I intend to live.” He paused. “Hell...I intend to win.”
Even though he tried to stop himself, the corners of Mohanisi’s mouth began turning up. Higher and higher they lifted until his smile was big and cheerful.
Then, all at once, he threw his head back in unrestrained laughter.
*****
In spite of objections from the human commanders, Nehrutu and Aaliyah decided to inform the army of Gewey’s fate. Lord Vasko, a stout, humorless man from Sieren Bay, pointed out that there was nothing to be done, and that knowledge of his death would only demoralize the troops.
Though Nehrutu agreed, Aaliyah would not be dissuaded. Through their bond he could feel her pain slowly turning inward and becoming wrath. She had come so far and fought so hard, and now the very person they thought was destined to save them all was gone.
At first, the news had exactly the effect that Vasko predicted. Word of Darshan’s demise spread like a disease, infecting everyone. Whispers of surrender and rumors of desertion could be heard throughout the camp… even from some of the elves.
Aaliyah took no notice of this, instead issuing orders for the entire army to be gathered along the shore. Nehrutu wanted to comfort her, but surges of white hot fury kept him at bay. She had come to a decision and her heart had hardened. Whatever she was going to do, he knew that surrender was out of the question.
The narrow beach could barely hold the entire army, forcing everyone to stand tightly together. Aaliyah was nowhere to be seen, and after a time the mood began to get restless. Nehrutu could feel that she was near, but when he tried to find her he was met with stern resistance. He was quickly learning that their bond carried with it a responsibility to respect the privacy of the other, even when you were desperate to know the thoughts behind their emotions.
Just as voices were starting to grow loud and irritated, the wind suddenly rose, gaining strength until it was a roar in Nehrutu’s ears. He could feel the power raging through his mate as never before. He reached out and offered to add his strength to hers. This time he was met with gratitude and acceptance.
“Darshan is dead!”
Aaliyah’s voice descended from high above. The sheer volume and power of her words caused people to flinch from shock before gazing skyward.
Aaliyah was using the flow to carry her more than fifty feet above the water. Clad in armor, her blade in hand, and with hair whipping about like dark flames, she appeared to those below almost like a goddess of war.
All eyes were fixed upon her as she drifted down over the surface of the churning sea. The white caps of the breakers lapped at her feet, while the spray from the waves crashing onto the shore formed a mist around her slender frame.
“Darshan is dead!” she repeated. “Because of this my heart aches…and I am afraid. Do you not also feel the fear that corrupts your heart now that our savior is no more?”
Nehrutu stared in wonder as tiny flashes of light appeared, swirling and dancing around every soul assembled on the beach. The sound of bells and the laughter of a thousand children drifted on the wind. Just at that moment the sun was at Aaliyah’s back. She held out her arms and the light split, spreading her shadow across the water and centering her silhouette in the setting sun.
He knew that Aaliyah was using the flow of the spirit. Through their bond he could feel it echoing within him like music inside a great stone amphitheater. He had experienced its effects before when with Darshan at the feast in Valshara. That time it had nearly broken his mind. But this was different. Powerful and limitless, yet gentle and kind. So completely unlike the frenzied might that was Darshan.
“But now,” she continued. “It is time to banish our fear and embrace our fate. Elves! Your lands and loved ones need your courage. Will you now abandon them? Will you cast aside bonds of family? For soon our enemy will scorch the earth from the desert to the sea.
“Humans! Your cities burn and your people are ravaged by war. Will you throw down your swords and leave them to the mercy of an enemy who knows not the meaning of the word? Will you allow them to murder your kin and destroy your homes with impunity?”
The flow settled on the army, but rather than penetrating them, it washed over everyone like a gentle rain. Their faces became flushed and their eyes filled with the fire of renewed passion: a determination that was more akin to love than fury.
“Darshan is dead!” The words tore through the air. “And now it is left to us to save ourselves. And to save those whom we love.”
&nbs
p; Her eyes fell on Nehrutu as she floated toward the shore. The army gave way sufficiently for her feet to touch the sand just in front of her husband.
“And it is those we love who will fill our spirits with the strength for victory.”
The crowd exploded with cheers and cries of vengeance against Angrääl and its king.
Aaliyah touched Nehrutu’s cheek, smiling. “Let us show the Reborn King and his armies what it means to make war on free people.”
Without even waiting for orders to do so, both elves and humans immediately began filing from the beach and making ready to march on the enemy. Aaliyah and Nehrutu stood watching them until they were alone. She then took Nehrutu’s hand and led him back to camp.
He looked into her eyes as they arrived. “That was….”
He was incapable of finding the right words to finish his thought. Instead, he sent his feelings of awe and joy through their bond.
“It was necessary,” Aaliyah said, kissing his cheek. “I would not have a lie become their battle cry. And yet, I would not have them lose hope either.”
“So you think we can be victorious without the power of Darshan to aid us?” he asked.
“I think we no longer have a choice.” Her voice was resolute. “And I will most surely not wait for the Reborn King to sail across the Abyss and attack the lands I love.”
Chapter 11
Basanti sat cross-legged on the carpet inside her spacious tent. The marble floor beneath kept it cool and pleasant against the heat of the summer.
She had left her name behind long ago. Only two people now knew her as Basanti, and she missed both of them terribly. These days she was known as the Oracle of Manisalia. At first she hated life in the small town. The people had erected a temple for her to live in, but she had never felt comfortable within the opulent marble structure. Its cavernous halls and chambers made her loneliness even more pronounced. And when it was proposed that a statue be erected in her honor, she had come very close to running away.
The only respite from her solitude, other than the people seeking her wisdom, was when Felsafell came to visit. She had grown fond - more than fond - of him. She always thought it was amusing when people would see her walking the streets of Manisalia on the arm of a bent, scraggly old man. Only she could see his true form in all its splendor. But his visits were becoming ever more infrequent and short as demands on her time increased.
The Godling Chronicles:Book 05 - Madness of the Fallen Page 11
