His words sent a cold chill down Basanti’s spine. Several seconds passed before she could compose herself sufficiently to speak. “Then you have wasted a journey,” she told him. “I have no intention of leaving. My duty is here.”
“A duty to who?” he snapped. “The gods? The very beings who cursed me for protecting you? Is that who you still serve? I know you, Basanti. By now you will have groveled and begged before them. You belittled yourself when you asked them to heal me. Well, I am not healed. I can feel the wound in my spirit even now. And it has grown and festered. Pleasures I once relished no longer hold any joy for me. My rage is so great that at times I can barely contain it.” His eyes burned with hatred. “But, at long last, I have found a way to end my torment.”
Basanti hesitated, afraid to hear what he might say next. “How?” she eventually asked.
He straightened his back and held his head high. “The gods must die. Their reign must come to an end. And I know how this can be done. I have learned their secrets.”
Basanti was mortified. Springing up, she seized hold of her brother’s arms with a force that surprised even herself. “No. You must abandon such plans. War on the gods is unthinkable. You will end up….”
Her lips trembled. “You will die…and I could not bear that.”
“Let them try,” he challenged. “I have openly defied them. I have torn down their temples and desecrated their altars. I have killed their servants and cursed their names. Where is their vengeance? Where is their wrath? I’ll tell you. It is nowhere. They do not care enough to bother.”
As his fury rose, so did his voice. “They interfere with the world of mortals, leaving nothing but devastation in their wake, then turn their backs and leave it to others to pick up the pieces. And who is here to mend what they have broken? I am. So it is I - King Rätsterfel – who will free humankind from the blundering and indifference of the gods.”
By now, Basanti was weeping openly. “Please stop,” she cried. “I cannot hear more.” She could not force herself to look at him. “Leave this place…and me....now.”
“I will leave,” said Yanti. “And you will come with me. Though it pains me to take you against your wishes, in time you will understand.”
Basanti shrank back as her brother moved closer. As he was about to seize hold of her, a blur of gray shot across the tent, slamming into Yanti and sending him skidding across the floor. He shook his head, dazed from the blow, and looked up. Felsafell was standing between him and his sister.
“You will not touch her,” Felsafell snarled.
With a roar of anger, Yanti jumped to his feet. In the blink of an eye, a dagger appeared in his hand. Then he charged.
Felsafell waited. An instant before Yanti reached him he spun left, and, as his onrushing opponent drew level, struck him on the back of the head. Yanti stumbled before whipping his dagger around. But fast as he was, Felsafell was much faster. He ducked, easily avoiding the blade and brought his fist crashing into the side of Yanti’s jaw. The impact was immense, twisting Yanti’s head so far around that it would easily have killed a mere mortal man.
Before Yanti could recover from this terrible blow, Felsafell ripped the dagger away from his grasp and sank it into his chest. Yanti cried out before falling flat on his back. Felsafell was on top of him in a flash, pinning his opponent and pulling the blade free again. Yanti tried to throw the hermit off, but cold steel pressed firmly against his throat.
“No!” shouted Basanti. “Don’t kill him!”
Dark, thick blood poured from the wound in Yanti’s chest, and in a trickle from the corner of his mouth. Basanti’s dream flashed through her mind. It’s happening, she thought. Felsafell really is going to kill him.
But her plea did not fall on deaf ears. The pressure of the knife slowly eased.
Felsafell stared at Basanti for several moments, then looked down at Yanti. “Leave this place and never return. You may have placed yourself on a mortal throne, but you are not beyond my reach.” He jumped up and tossed the dagger toward the entrance. “Do not think that because I have allowed you to live this time, I will ever do so again.”
Yanti tore a piece of cloth from his robe and covered his wound. He turned to Basanti, but she averted her eyes. “So be it,” he said coldly. “You will not see me again.” He strode out, stopping only to retrieve his dagger.
The instant he was gone, Basanti fell to the floor. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she began rocking back and forth, weeping uncontrollably.
Felsafell rushed to her side, but as soon as he touched her she flailed her arms wildly, striking him on the face and chest. Undeterred, he pulled her close. After a while she stopped struggling and clutched at his sleeves.
Shilsa burst in. “What happened, My Lady? Are you hurt?”
Basanti turned her face away. “I’m fine. Please leave.”
After a brief hesitation, the woman obeyed.
“Promise that you will not kill him,” Basanti whispered through her tears.
Felsafell brushed her hair away from her eyes. “I will not allow him to harm you. But I will not kill him unless you consent.”
“Thank you.”
They stayed where they were for more than an hour without saying a further word. Finally, Basanti wiped her eyes and sat up. She gave Felsafell a fragile smile and embraced him tightly.
“You seem destined to keep saving me,” she said.
“I will always be here to save you.”
He paused before continuing. “I am sorry that you were forced to witness me fighting your brother, but had I not, he would most surely have taken you to Kratis by force. And I have no doubt he would never have allowed you to leave.” Tenderly, he lifted her chin. “If that had happened, then the result of my actions would have caused you immeasurable pain. For I would have stormed his gates to get you back, and undoubtedly slaughtered any who dared to hinder me. As long as I draw breath, no one will ever harm you.”
“I know, my love.” She leaned in and kissed him gently.
“I was only just able to be here in time,” Felsafell told her. “When I discovered that King Rätsterfel is in fact Yanti, he was already on his way to see you.” He lowered his eyes. “And what else I learned about him is deeply troubling.”
Basanti clasped her hands to her heart. “Tell me. What has my brother done?”
Felsafell was unable to look up at her for several seconds. Finally, he sighed with reluctant obedience. “Very well. Not long after I arrived in Angrääl I discovered the king’s motives and the full extent of his resolve. The atrocities he has committed against those who serve the gods are too terrible to speak aloud. But more than that, he has designs on heaven itself. He seeks a power that could give him the strength to set the world ablaze.”
“He told me he wanted to make war on the gods,” Basanti interjected. “Also, that he has found a way to destroy them.” She was trying hard not to think about the lives Yanti had taken, nor of the fate those who served in the temples must have suffered.
“He believes he has,” said Felsafell solemnly. “During his travels he discovered a book containing the secrets of The Sword of Truth. His intention is to find it and use it to murder the gods.” Seeing that Basanti was becoming increasingly upset, he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “But his plan is doomed to fail. Amon Dähl will stop him.”
“I know of the Sword,” said Basanti. “Pósix once spoke of it. She said it contained the power of all nine gods, and that it holds the key to heaven itself. Though I must admit, I have never understood why they would wish to create such a thing. I’ve also have heard about the Order of Amon Dähl, and how they are the protectors of a great and terrible secret.”
She paused as the first hint of fear washed over her. “What if he finds it?”
“He will never do that,” Felsafell assured her. “You have nothing to fear. The Order of Amon Dähl keeps it safe, and it is well beyond your brother’s power to steal it. It is unlikely h
e could even find the order, let alone the Sword itself.”
“And if he did?”
“Then nothing could stop him.”
After a long silence, Felsafell broke the ominous mood with a silly smile. “But it does not matter. As I said, he will not find the Sword, and he will not take you to Kratis. So all is well.”
Basanti nodded with feigned acceptance. At the same time, she was certain Felsafell knew how afraid she still was that her brother might find a way to succeed. But after what had happened earlier, she considered it best to push her anxiety aside. Her love had returned, and for that at least, she was glad.
She was also reluctant to tell Felsafell of her latest conversation with Pósix. Partly because she wanted him to remain with her without thoughts of parting, but mostly because her heart could take no more. Not for a while.
Just a week, she told herself. Then I’ll send him away. She kissed him again, this time with urgency.
Just one week of joy. It was now a prayer…a promise…a bargain.
Pósix must accept it.
Chapter 12
Gewey concentrated on the swirling mass of pitch-black smoke. But without the flow to help him he was unable to make any sort of connection. Melek was standing immediately behind him with both hands firmly gripping his shoulders.
“Feel the power inside you,” Melek whispered in his ear. “Use your will to overcome what you see.”
Gewey gave a sharp nod and redoubled his efforts. They had been at it for weeks. At least, he thought it was weeks. Sometimes it felt like minutes. Other times he could scarcely remember the world outside of this terrible place. These non-stop attempts to create a portal were taking their toll on his mind. The howls of the human spirits were growing ever louder and more desperate. Several times he thought madness would take him as well, but Melek would produce a cup of wine and a word of encouragement and then he would regain his wits.
“I need to rest,” Gewey said. His head was splitting from the exertion. “I can barely think.”
Melek’s hands tightened their grip to the point of pain. “Do you think your enemy is resting?” His tone was cold and harsh. “Do you think he complains about being tired? No! He thinks his schemes have succeeded and you gone forever. Soon, he will sweep down and slaughter all that you love in your absence.”
His voice dropped to the very lowest of whispers. “He will seek out Kaylia. He will take her and your child for his own. He will twist her mind and corrupt your child’s spirit. They will live out their lives as little more than broken slaves.”
His words rapidly became pictures in Gewey’s mind. He could see Kaylia sitting beside a golden throne, their infant child in her arms. A crown was atop her brow, and on the wall behind her was a banner with broken scales splashed boldly across it – the sigil of the Reborn King. Her eyes were vacant and her expression of one utterly defeated.
“He covets her,” Melek continued. “And if you remain here, he will have her.”
Gewey let out an anguished cry. “I will not let that happen! I will kill him first! Do you hear me? I will rip him limb from limb!”
“Yes,” Melek coaxed. “You will. We will. We will make them all pay.” He relaxed his grip. “But first we must escape.”
Gewey took a deep breath and renewed his efforts, his desperation to save Kaylia and his desire to please Melek both raging. But even now, he was still unable to make any progress.
This time it was Melek who shouted out in frustration. “Have you not heard me? Is your mind completely addled?”
Startled by the outburst, Gewey lowered his eyes in shame. Melek’s discontent pained him. He desperately wanted to make him proud. But no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t able to.
“I....I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I’ll try harder.”
A strong, self-assured woman’s voice carried over the wind. “You’ve tried hard enough, Gewey Stedding.”
Both he and Melek spun around. From out of the choking dust appeared a young woman dressed in the robe of a novice from the temple of Ayliazarah. Her flaxen hair fell carelessly about her shoulders, and her sharp eyes and flawless ivory skin were matched in beauty by her graceful movements. She approached with confident strides.
“Who are you, human?” demanded Melek.
“Does the mighty Melek not know?” the woman replied mockingly. “Is this not your domain?”
The howl of the mad spirits rose in intensity. The woman frowned. “And to think those poor souls didn’t understand their true power in this place.” She shot a fiery gaze at Melek. “For that you will pay, beast.”
“Silence, woman!” roared Melek. The landscape changed in an instant. Towering flames and razor sharp rocks sprang up from the ground, while surges of searing hot air blasted them from all directions, sending Gewey stumbling back.
The woman laughed. “Is that the extent of your power, Melek?” She waved her hand and the land transformed once again, this time into a green meadow dotted with multicolored wildflowers. “Much better. Don’t you think?”
“H...How…” Melek stuttered. “What are you?”
“Melek is thinking that I would be a better tool to use than you, Gewey,” the woman said. “But whatever he has told you, it is a lie. He means to escape Shagharath and then rule heaven and earth alone. No matter what you think, he is not your ally.”
Gewey took a menacing step forward. “Melek is the only one who has ever told me the truth.”
The woman was not impressed by his display. “Is that so? I am shocked at you, Gewey Stedding. So easily taken in by this charlatan.”
“That is enough!” shouted Melek. He crossed the distance to the woman in only a few steps, his hand reaching out to grab her.
The woman’s fist shot out just before he made contact, crashing into Melek’s jaw and knocking him flat on his back. He landed with a loud thud. After laying there in shock for a few seconds he scrambled to his feet, staring at her in stunned disbelief.
“Do not touch him!” Gewey cried out, rushing forward with rage set on his face.
Just as he reached her, the woman’s body turned to mist. With nothing solid to grasp hold of he passed right through, his momentum causing him to stumble and fall to one knee.
“I can see that Melek has been hard at work on you,” she remarked with distaste.
Confusion and fear ran through Gewey. Rising up, he quickly took a few steps back.
“How is this possible?” hissed Melek. “You are human. You should not be able to–”
“This is your prison, Melek,” she snapped, cutting him off. “Not mine. Nor that of any other mortal soul. Here, you are the weak and we the strong.” She closed her eyes and listened to the cries of insanity. “If they had only known, you would never have been able to drive them mad.”
“Melek tried to help them,” argued Gewey.
The woman huffed. “Is that what he told you? And you believed him?” She looked closer at Gewey and scowled. “But of course you did. He has poisoned you with his deceit and bile. He hoped to make you his slave, and from the look of it, he has very nearly succeeded.” She cast a sideways glance at Melek. “He tortured them out of pure malice, and for his own sick and twisted pleasure – tortured them until they were driven mad. They never knew that in Shagharath they are far more powerful than he. And the irony of it is, Melek had no idea that the humans he so despised and tormented were the very ones holding the key to his freedom.”
“You lie!” shouted Melek, his face red with fury. “Mortals are weak and useless. What power could they possess?”
“And yet a mortal knocked you down as if you were nothing more than a small child,” the woman jeered. “A mortal turned your nightmarish realm into a place of beauty.” She raised her arm in a grand sweeping motion to indicate the landscape she had brought forth. “And a mortal will now undo the evil you have visited upon her friend.”
“Your friend?” said Melek. He gave a sarcastic snort. “You are no friend to
Darshan.”
Gewey could only stand and watch. His mind was clouded, and though he dearly wanted to come to Melek’s defense, he did not know how. Whoever this woman was, she could easily overpower him.
The woman gave Gewey a kind smile. “I am a friend to him. Though he may not recognize me as I appear now.” In a flash of light, the form of the young and beautiful woman transformed into the old and sturdy frame of Maybell.
Gewey gasped, eyes wide.
“Yes,” she said in her familiar voice, spreading her arms. “It is me.”
“But you…before...you were...” struggled Gewey.
She completed his sentence for him. “Beautiful?”
Gewey could only nod.
“I was not always an old woman,” she explained. “And here, I am able to look however I choose.” In another flash of light, her younger self returned. “And now I choose to be young once again.”
“How did you get here?” asked Gewey. He took a nervous step forward.
Melek snarled and spat on the ground.
“The same way that you did,” she replied.
“But why?”
Maybell sighed. “To save you, of course. Why else would I come here?”
“Don’t listen to her, Darshan,” cried Melek. “She is here to trick you. To turn you against me.”
“You’re half right,” admitted Maybell. “I am here to turn him against you.”
Gewey stepped back again. “I’ll not turn on Melek. He has shown me the truth. He is my…”
He wanted to say ‘friend’, but a different word came out.
“Master.”
Maybell’s face tightened. She folded her hands in front of her waist. “We cannot move forward until I undo this.” She shut her eyes and lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Gewey. This is going to hurt.”
As Gewey stiffened, Maybell vanished, only to reappear behind him an instant later. Before he could move she had wrapped her arms around his torso and held him tightly. At first he struggled with all of his might, at the same time shouting out every curse he could think of. It was futile. Her strength was far beyond anything he could have anticipated. He quickly realized that he was helpless.
The Godling Chronicles:Book 05 - Madness of the Fallen Page 13
