The Godling Chronicles:Book 05 - Madness of the Fallen

by Brian D. Anderson

  “Be quiet!” ordered Melek. But Maybell only shook her head and looked at him in disgust.

  “And even with all your power,” she continued, “you were still not satisfied. You needed unquestioning obedience. And it was not enough for you to subjugate heaven. You needed to rule all of creation as well.”

  A city appeared before them, its once tall spires broken and engulfed in flames. The screams and cries of its inhabitants carried on the wind, leaving a smile on Melek’s lips as he watched from a few hundred feet away.

  A small group of people began climbing down a rope on the east wall in an attempt to escape. Melek sneered and sent an inferno to consume them. Their agonizing cries and the stench of their burning flesh drifted across the field where he was standing.

  “Melek!” Ustrea’s voice boomed out. A moment later she appeared in front of him. Before he had any time to react, she slapped him hard across his cheek. “How dare you do this? What gives you the right?”

  Ignoring the blow, Melek laughed. “You are too attached to these pitiful creatures, my love. They have become a disease – a disease which I have deemed unworthy of the Creator’s gifts.”

  “You have no authority to decide this,” Ustrea told him. “Only the Creator can choose their fate. Not you.”

  “And where is the Creator?” he snapped back furiously. “She has made no effort to stop me. Have you heard her voice? I have not. And yet I am forced to look upon this once pure and tranquil world and watch these beasts desecrate the very ground that provides them with life.”

  He surveyed the destruction and nodded with satisfaction. “Soon they will be ready to follow the path I set before them.”

  “So you mean to rule these people?” Ustrea asked.

  “Those that survive, yes.”

  “And should the Creator make her displeasure known and tell you of your folly?”

  Melek laughed. “She will not. And soon it will no longer matter.”

  Ustrea’s eye widened. “What are you saying?”

  He gave her a loving smile. “My dear wife. If our Creator will not act, then I must set things to rights. Then I will become the Creator. I will cast her out and do what she will not.”

  His words hung in the air like vapor. Ustrea backed away, tears streaming down her face. She turned and vanished.

  “The arrogance,” said Maybell. “To think you could raise yourself so high.”

  “But when was this?” asked Gewey. “I couldn’t tell what race those people were. They looked…” He paused. “Well, they somehow just didn’t look right.”

  “It’s how Melek sees them,” Maybell explained. “You are only seeing things as he does, and to his eyes all people look the same. But I suspect it was during the time of the first born. I don’t believe he knew what a human was until he met you.”

  “Then what about the children he killed?” Gewey asked. But he already knew the answer.

  “The very first elves,” Maybell confirmed. “But his crimes run far deeper. His rampage of death spread like a plague as he destroyed city after city. And all of heaven was powerless to stop him. Well...all but one.”

  “I will not see this,” grumbled Melek, lowering his eyes.

  Melek walked the devastated streets of the once magnificent city. Charred bodies littered the avenues and sidewalks, and the foul stench of decay was already beginning to set in.

  He had been surprised at how difficult these creatures were to kill. Their spark had been made to never burn out, so it had taken him some time to puzzle out a way of extinguishing it.

  “You have been busy, my husband.” Ustrea appeared from around a corner a few yards ahead. “Is your appetite for carnage sated yet? Have you killed enough?”

  “Before I came here,” he replied. “I did not know what it was to kill. Not really.”

  “And now that you do?”

  “It is different to what I expected,” Melek mused. “In a way, quite liberating. But it’s a pity these creatures were made unable to slay each other. Think how much joy I would be able to experience in that. There are so many ways to inflict pain and suffering. More than I could have ever thought possible. If only they could see as I see.”

  “And if they could?” asked Ustrea. “What would you do? Incite them to fight one another? Would you have them burn the world to cinders? Would that entertain you?”

  Melek scrutinized his wife. “What is it, my love? Why have you come? I know you find this distasteful. Why witness it?” He took a step forward, but Ustrea moved back. “Why do you shy away? You have nothing to fear from me.”

  He looked at her even more closely. “Something is different. You are…changed.”

  “Yes, my love,” she confessed. “I am changed. But no more so than you. You have become lost to me. You have blackened your heart and turned your back on everything we hold sacred.”

  “What have you done?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “Only what I had to do.”

  A tiny object flew from her hand. Melek gasped with surprise and threw himself to his left. The missile missed his neck by a hair’s width, instead burying itself into a half burned wagon a few feet behind him.

  A rage that caused the very ground to shake filled Melek as he realized his wife’s intent. “You seek to destroy me?” he accused.

  Ustrea did not respond. Instead, she ran headlong at her husband, the dagger that had suddenly appeared in her hand slashing furiously at Melek’s chest. He instinctively twisted aside, but the tip of the blade still found his earthly flesh. He let out a cry as, for the first time ever, he felt pain.

  Ustrea was not about to allow him time to get hold of the situation. She pressed the attack. Melek dodged and spun in desperation, at first uncertain of what to do.

  Three more times Ustrea drew blood. But then Melek begin to realize that, for some unknown reason, she was in a weakened condition. Compared to how they usually were, her movements that day were relatively slow and clumsy. She thrust the blade at his gullet again, and this time he was able to catch hold of her arm. He crushed it in his powerful grip. Ustrea cried out as the dagger fell to the ground.

  Melek no longer cared why she had changed; rage was blinding him to all but vengeance. His fist smashed against her temple. She fell back, but he pulled her to him, striking her over and over until her legs collapsed beneath her.

  In that moment, Melek thrust his hand deep into her chest. Not with his physical being, but with his godly form. Letting out an ear splitting yell, he ripped Ustrea’s spirit from within its earthbound shell. He raised the formless and radiant essence aloft for a moment, the blood lust still coursing wildly through him. Then, with a scowl contorting his features into a mask of pure evil, with a single motion he tore it apart.

  The two pieces of what had once been Ustrea flickered and then vanished.

  Melek touched the wounds inflicted upon him by his wife. They were already beginning to close. His hands were covered with her blood, as were his shredded garments. It was then that the awful realization of what he had done struck him.

  He fell to his knees and wept.

  “You killed her,” whispered Gewey. “You killed your own wife.”

  Melek could not respond. A single tear fell from his eye.

  “Ustrea realized that he must be stopped,” said Maybell. “And she knew that her children did not possess the power to do this.”

  “So how did they defeat him?” asked Gewey.

  Maybell nodded toward where Melek still knelt.

  In a flash of light, all nine of Melek’s children appeared. Gerath was in front, his eyes searching the area.

  “Where is mother?” he demanded.

  Melek looked up at his son. In an instant he knew why Ustrea had been diminished. She had passed on a part of herself to their children.

  “I will ask you one last time,” said Gerath, this time far more aggressively. “Where is mother?” His eyes took in Melek’s bloodstained clothes and hands, also th
e dart lodged in the wooden wagon behind him. Then, he saw his mother’s lifeless body lying on the ground a few feet behind his father.

  “You forced her to betray me!” Melek shouted. Leaping to his feet he ran at Gerath, arms outstretched and hands curled into savage claws ready to rip his son apart.

  Gerath waited for him to come with clenched fists.

  They smashed together with a thud that sent shock waves reverberating through the ground. Even with the added power that his mother had passed to him, Gerath was still not as powerful as Melek. He was thrown violently twenty feet down the cobbled street, two bloody gashes already opened up in his chest. Ignoring the rest of his children, Melek chased after him, spanning the distance before Gerath could regain his feet. He slammed his foot onto his son’s throat and raised an arm high. His earthly flesh faded into a godly spirit, poised to send Gerath to the same fate as Ustrea.

  His hand was already plunging down and a mere parchment’s thickness away from Gerath’s chest when the rest of his children seized hold of him and pulled him away. Melek thrashed and kicked with a mad man’s ferocity, his immense strength very nearly proving to be a match for their combined efforts. But somehow they managed to hold on long enough for Gerath to recover and draw a dart from his pocket. It was identical to the one that Ustrea had thrown. With ominous purpose, he moved in.

  Gerath grabbed his father’s hair and yanked his head straight back. Melek screamed with terror and fury, but to no avail.

  “This is for all of those you have slain,” announced Gerath ceremoniously. “For our children…and for our mother.” Having spoken these words, he sank the dart into Melek’s neck.

  His father’s body instantly went limp.

  “Now you know what he really is,” said Maybell. “And now it is time you returned.”

  At the sound of this, Melek exploded with rage. “I will not be left here! You will not do this to me!” In a mirror image of his attack on Gerath, he charged at Maybell.

  Maybell grinned wickedly and sent a blast of air at the fallen god. Melek was sent sprawling, as if struck by an enormous hammer.

  He pushed himself up and glared at her. “This is not over, mortal.”

  Barely were these words out of his mouth when he was surrounded by a swirl of dust and smoke. Within moments he had completely disappeared.

  “Where did he go?” asked Gewey.

  “Don’t concern yourself with Melek,” she replied dismissively. “I will deal with him soon enough.”

  Gewey frowned. “Aren’t you returning with me?”

  Maybell touched his face tenderly. “I cannot. My body was destroyed when I came to Shagharath. There is nothing for me to return to.” The sound of the mad human souls echoed distantly. “Besides. I have a new purpose. To heal those poor creatures of the wounds inflicted by Melek. Here, I can create a paradise of my own choosing. And I’m safe from the Dark Knight’s power.”

  Gewey was rendered speechless by Maybell’s sacrifice.

  She pulled his head down and kissed his cheek. “You are a good and kind man, Gewey Stedding. And you will prevail. I know it.”

  Gewey embraced her tightly. “I have no way to thank you for this. But I will never forget you.”

  Maybell giggled, the laugh matching her youthful form. “I should hope not. And I hope you will be the one to escort me to heaven when the time comes.”

  “You have my word,” said Gewey. He released Maybell and bowed low. “I will personally hold your hand while you walk through its gates.”

  She sighed. “What a wonderful dream to hold on to. But you should not delay any longer. Your destiny and, more importantly, your wife awaits your return.”

  A silver light appeared a few feet away. It was oval shaped and just tall enough for Gewey to walk through.

  “All you need do is step inside and you will be returned to your body,” explained Maybell.

  Gewey started to speak, but she placed her slender, unblemished hand over his mouth.

  He chuckled and turned to face the light. After taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

  Maybell watched with a satisfied smile as Gewey vanished from view. But her satisfaction was fleeting.

  From seemingly nowhere, the sound of wild howls suddenly assaulted her from all directions at once. Intense heat began blistering her skin and thick choking dust attacked her eyes. It took a moment for Maybell to realize that it was the souls of the mad humans who were responsible for this attack.

  “Fool.” It was the voice of Melek. “You think me without power or influence?”

  The dust lifted just in time for Maybell to see Melek passing through the portal, laughing triumphantly.

  She cried out and immediately banished the light.

  But it was too late.

  Melek was free.

  Chapter 13

  For two days everyone waited anxiously. Once word spread that Maybell had sacrificed her own life in order to save Darshan, songs praising her courage could be heard ringing out in many quarters of the camp.

  Lee and Jacob spent most of their time in quiet conversation: Lee telling his son about his many exploits, and Jacob telling of his own youthful misadventures. Millet joined them occasionally, but he understood that Lee felt an urgent need to spend more time with his son, so for the most part he left them alone.

  Linis, Dina and her mother used the short respite to get to know each other better. It was clear that Nahali approved of Linis’ union with her daughter, and often wept tears of joy at the sight of them together.

  No one knew how long they would need to wait. Kaylia had regained her wits completely and was sleeping well, comforted by the knowledge that her unorem would soon be back in her arms.

  In spite of her reservations regarding Maybell’s chances of success, Dina had decided to delay the funeral rites until Gewey returned. This pleased Kaylia, who took time to learn the significance of the ceremony that Maybell had requested.

  Bevaris and Tristan, ever the vigilant warriors, took a group of elves to scout the surrounding area. It was feared that if the enemy thought Darshan gone forever, this would embolden them and prompt an attack. Lee was hoping that, since Kaylia had slain all of Gewey’s attackers, word of his demise would be slow in arriving to agents of Angrääl.

  Several villagers from Sharpstone had ventured into the camp to speak with Lee and Millet. Most wanted to go west and join in the fight. Their outrage at the occupation of their town, combined with their utter inability to fight back at the time, made it almost impossible to dissuade them. But Millet, ever the voice of wisdom and reason, eventually convinced them that they were needed far more by the people at home than the armies fighting in the west.

  Before departing, some of the villagers asked to hear tales of Darshan. They had heard rumors of his powers and triumphs and were now desperate to hear more. Given Darshan’s true identity, Lee felt this was a bad idea. But Kaylia thought differently. She stepped in and regaled them with tales so fantastic and full of heroism that everyone left the camp in total awe.

  “It gives them hope when they hear that such power fights for them,” she explained. “And I would see that the people of my unorem’s home have as much hope as I can provide.”

  Lee did not dare to argue.

  On the morning of the third day Kaylia rose up early and set about educating the sand masters, explaining to them the different landscapes and obstacles they would be facing during their trek west. Weila was far and away the quickest learner. Not only was she soon able to name and describe more than fifty different plants, she could also state where they could be found, which ones were good to eat, and which had medicinal properties.

  Kaylia was just about to lead the sand masters into the nearby forest for further lessons when her legs suddenly gave way and she crumbled to the ground. Weila was instantly at her side.

  “Are you ill?” she asked. “Is it your child?”

  Kaylia looked up at the old sand master, a broad smile on he
r face. Without replying, she sprang to her feet and ran at full speed toward the pavilion where Gewey’s body lay. The six elf guards protecting the site moved quickly aside when they saw her coming.

  She was still at full speed and closing rapidly when the flap opened and Gewey stepped out, shielding his eyes and squinting at the morning sun. Before he even had time to gage his surroundings Kaylia crashed into him, sending them both tumbling down onto the soft turf. The moment Gewey’s back struck the ground she began showering him with innumerable small kisses. This continued for several minutes until Kaylia finally completed her welcome with a single long kiss of deep passion, utter relief, and unending devotion.

  Gewey allowed the renewal of their bond to envelop his soul and wash his spirit clean. It was almost painful when their lips parted. He made no move to rise, content merely to gaze into Kaylia's eyes from the flat of his back.

  “You have no idea how beautiful you are to me,” he whispered, touching her belly. “I love you both.”

  Kaylia's emotions burst forth and she embraced Gewey again, weeping for joy. “I knew you would come back to me…to us.”

  By the time they finally got to their feet Lee and Jacob had arrived, while Linis, Dina, Nahali and Millet could be seen fast approaching. Weila was transfixed, for now unable to do any more than simply stare in disbelief. Jacob reached out and touched Gewey’s arm, just to be sure that he was real. But it was Lee who was the first to embrace him.

  “I’m sorry,” said Gewey. “I should have never said–”

  “Now is not the time for apologies,” Lee told him. “Even if they were necessary. That you live is a miracle.”

  The others took their turn in welcoming Gewey back to the land of the living. Dina did so somberly while still holding the urn containing Maybell’s remains.