The Godling Chronicles:Book 05 - Madness of the Fallen

by Brian D. Anderson

  Chapter 19

  Basanti squinted up at the noonday sun. Most people found the warmth of the Fire Hills unbearable, but she thoroughly enjoyed it.

  It was shortly after the goddess had changed Yanti that they’d first come here. They discovered an ice-cold spring that was so well hidden, only the two of them knew how to find it. They had spent almost a full year together doing little more than talking and resting, though her brother had never much cared for the heat. Still, he endured it for her sake.

  Those were the days before his fall. The days before they became reviled and hunted.

  The thick turf covering a small hill she was resting on made it feel like a soft bed of goose feathers, while the sweet scent of wild flowers mingling with the earthy aroma of damp tree bark and moss created a fragrance that was uniquely pleasing and wholly unforgettable. A dense jungle surrounding this thirty-mile enclave of green hills, geysers, and hot springs effectively kept most people away, so Basanti had always found it the perfect place to clear her mind and cleanse her heart.

  Felsafell had offered to leave her alone here for a time and guard the perimeter, but she merely kissed him and smiled a refusal. They had spent far too long apart already.

  She often wished for the ability to bond their spirits in the same way that the elves did. The thought of being so close to Felsafell caused Basanti’s heart to ache with longing. But even without the benefits of such unity, she had never been more certain of her love…or his.

  With a howling hiss, a column of steam erupted from the top of a nearby hill. Basanti frowned. The air would soon be filled with the smell of sulfur – the one thing she didn’t like about the Fire Hills. She sat up and sighed. I guess nothing is totally perfect, she thought.

  She spotted Felsafell cresting the next hill and smiled, laughing at herself for not yet having grown accustomed to his transformation into original form. Though he was truly magnificent, she often still saw the odd little hermit who loved her. And the fact that only she could see his true self was a constant source of pride.

  “What were you thinking, my love?” Felsafell asked.

  “I was thinking of how adorable you were as a little old man,” she admitted.

  He flashed a smile. “Actually, I miss it myself.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet. The strength of his arms was unrelenting, yet tempered with great care. “I could return to that form if it pleases you.”

  The memory of the pain he’d endured while changing was still fresh in her mind. She shuddered. “No. When this is over we’ll find a place where no one will give you a second look.”

  He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “I don’t know if such a place exists. But it matters not who stares and gawks, just as long as your eyes are among them.”

  “I always missed the way you speak to me,” she said.

  “I will still sound like a wild madman when I speak to others,” he replied, grinning. “I never could speak their language properly.”

  “I’ll teach you,” she offered, taking his hand.

  Abruptly, they stiffened, both feeling it in the same instant. The presence they had hoped to escape was now entering the jungle.

  “Come,” said Felsafell. “If we leave immediately we can avoid him.”

  Instant sorrow washed over her. “No. We cannot. He is set to task by his master and will never relent. Even if Darshan is victorious, it will change nothing.” She lowered her head and wiped a tear. “This is inevitable.”

  “I have given you two oaths,” said Felsafell. “I cannot...will not...break them.”

  “I know,” she replied. “You will not have to.”

  Basanti kissed his cheek and led him down the hill.

  They walked in silence until they came to a small clearing full of thick moss and colorful wildflowers. At the center of this, Felsafell had long ago placed a small wooden bench for the two of them to sit and talk. Wonderful memories had been created in this setting. And now they would all be overshadowed by tragedy.

  Basanti sat down. “Leave me. I will speak to him alone.”

  Felsafell’s eyes narrowed. “I will not allow him to harm you.”

  “He won’t. His orders are to take me with him to Angrääl. I have no intention of that happening.”

  He leaned in and kissed her with devoted passion. “I will not be far away.”

  Basanti watched as he disappeared behind the hills, secure in the knowledge that he would protect her, but at the same time fearful of what that protection might mean.

  Beads of perspiration formed on her cheeks. She closed her eyes while sending her thoughts out to Yanti. I know you are coming. Turn back, brother. Please. But there was no response.

  In less than an hour she heard his muffled footsteps crushing the turf just behind her.

  “It is good to see you, sister,” Yanti said. “It truly is.” He took a seat beside her.

  Basanti opened her eyes and looked at him with a woeful gaze. “I had hoped you wouldn’t come.”

  “And I had hoped you would remain hidden,” he countered. “You must have known that my master would seek you out.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I knew. But I also knew he believed Felsafell to be under his power, and hoped he would not think it necessary to send you.”

  “I never believed that,” Yanti said with a jeering grin. “Felsafell is far too old and stubborn. But the Reborn King does not listen to me.” He scanned the area. “I assume he is not far away?”

  She ignored the question. “When I first heard that your master was claiming to be the reincarnation of King Rätsterfel, I hoped that the limit of his ambition was to build on your legend. I prayed he had not found you.”

  “That is how it began,” said Yanti. “He used the stories of King Rätsterfel to inspire and create fear. But then he uncovered an ancient tome revealing where the gods had imprisoned me beneath the Weeping Mountains. It wasn’t long before he came to my prison and…changed me.”

  “I never wanted you to be imprisoned,” said Basanti. “I begged them to…”

  “To kill me?" He raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you asked of your gods?”

  He held up his hand before she could answer. “Don’t feel guilty, sister. I know you did so out of love. You asked them to give me a gift and they refused you. Instead, they buried me in the bowels of the earth to rot. Being trapped there all but drove me insane. You can’t imagine the never-ending darkness. I watched from within my own mind as hope faded away and I lost all notion of who I was. When my master opened my prison I thought I was dreaming. But instead, I was thrown into a nightmare.”

  He paused to take a deep breath. “You cannot defeat him. Not even Darshan has the power to cast him down. He has strength you cannot fathom.”

  Tears welled in Basanti’s eyes, and one by one they began to fall. “I am so sorry that I failed you. And I am sorry that your torment continues. But you’re wrong about Darshan. His power grows, and he will defeat your master. And when he does–”

  “Your savior has no idea what he will face,” Yanti snapped sharply. “My prison was not the only thing my master discovered hidden in the deep of the mountains. Thanks to the lack of wisdom amongst those you serve, he is now far more powerful than any god could be. Darshan has taken Baltria, and he imagines that this will draw the Reborn King out of Angrääl to a battleground of his choosing. He does not understand that the battle is already over.”

  He looked into Basanti’s eyes, his face tense and pale. His mouth twitched. “When at last they meet, Darshan will fall.”

  “What else did he find in the mountains?” asked Basanti.

  Yanti's hands trembled. “I cannot say. The power held over me forbids it.” He glanced in the direction where he knew Felsafell was waiting. “The old hermit knows. Or at least, he should. And if he slays me, he will tell you.”

  She reached over to take her brother’s hand but he pulled away. “There is so much I want to say,” Basanti told him. “So many things I
need you to know.”

  Yanti managed a smile. “I know you love me, sister. And that is what makes me wish for death. Know that whatever I have become, I have always loved you…and I am sorry.”

  He got to his feet. “Come out, old hermit!” he shouted. “It is time for us to settle accounts.”

  It took only a few seconds for Felsafell to appear.

  Yanti smirked. “So, I finally get to see you in your true form. Quite a bit more impressive than before.”

  Felsafell ignored his words and looked to Basanti. She was openly sobbing.

  “I release you from your oath,” she whispered. “Do what you must.” She stood up on unsteady legs. “But I cannot watch.”

  Yanti and Felsafell both looked on as she walked away. Then, inevitably, their eyes met.

  “Before we end this,” said Yanti, his tone sincere and steady. “I would like to thank you for keeping her safe all these long years.”

  Felsafell nodded. “I love her. And once you are gone, my commitment will remain.”

  Yanti huffed a laugh. “That is assuming you turn out the victor.”

  Felsafell’s legs parted and his muscles tensed. “For both of your sakes, let us hope that I do.”

  A hissed curse slipped from Yanti’s mouth. He then leapt forward with inhuman speed, a dagger appearing in his hand from seemingly nowhere. Felsafell only just managed to move aside in time as the blade passed less than one inch from his throat.

  Before Felsafell could strike back, Yanti ducked low and spun, his left leg extending sharply. It smashed into Felsafell’s right ankle, knocking his foot away from the ground. Felsafell stumbled for a moment before quickly regaining balance.

  Yanti rolled away, out of reach.

  “You have grown stronger,” said Felsafell. “It would appear your master has been generous.” He pointed to the dagger.

  Yanti sneered with contempt. “You didn’t think I would challenge you without hope of victory, did you?”

  Felsafell did not bother to reply. He spanned the distance between them in the blink of an eye, smashing his fist hard across Yanti’s jaw. Yanti grunted as the sheer force of the blow lifted him from his feet. But then, in an amazing display of skill, he tucked his legs in tight and allowed his body to continue spinning. He landed on one knee, the hand still gripping his dagger pressed to the ground. Felsafell was on him before he could rise, but Yanti drove at him low. To escape the lunging blade, Felsafell was forced to jump vertically, so allowing his opponent the space to roll away beneath him.

  Yanti rapidly regained his feet. His eyes were twin balls of fire, blazing from the thrill of the battle. In total contrast, Felsafell looked to be calm and in complete control of his emotions.

  His appearance unnerved Yanti for a moment. Perhaps he toys with me, he thought. The idea was rapidly dismissed. He charged in again, flipping the blade in his hand, then falling to the right. This time he felt the tip slice through flesh. But Felsafell did not cry out. Instead, Yanti felt a booted foot kick him hard in his ribs. His body flew at least ten feet into the air. He tried to land in an upright position like before, but this time he was too unbalanced. He hit the soft ground on the flat of his back.

  He jumped up, slashing in tightly controlled motions. Felsafell loomed above him, seemingly unconcerned when the blade again cut deep, this time into his stomach. With effortless fluid strikes, his ebony fists smashed repeatedly into Yanti’s face. Yanti staggered back, dazed and confused. He stepped hard to his right and thrust low in a vain attempt to keep Felsafell away, but this time his steel found only air. The man was already to his left. He caught only a flash of Felsafell’s boot before the heel sank hard into his gut.

  Yanti winced and was sent sprawling. He tried to raise his dagger, but steely fingers crushed his wrist. The weapon dropped into the soft turf with barely a sound.

  Before Yanti could move again, Felsafell was behind him, a sinewy arm wrapped around his neck. He struggled for a moment but quickly stopped. It was pointless. He was beaten.

  “I am truly sorry, Yanti,” said Felsafell with genuine remorse.

  Yanti gasped out a quiet laugh. “I am not.”

  Pain suddenly shot through his skull like a piece of hot steel in the center of his brain. He screamed and writhed in Felsafell’s grasp as his master bestowed upon him the penalty for failure.

  “Do it now!” he pleaded.

  With one quick and powerful twist, Felsafell snapped Yanti’s neck then ripped his head from his shoulders. His screams of agony immediately ceased, though for several long moments they continued to echo in Felsafell’s mind. He stepped away and allowed the body to fall.

  After pausing briefly to utter a quiet prayer, he set off to where he knew Basanti would be waiting. He found her sitting cross-legged on the ground with eyes shut and a tiny smile on her face. He sat beside her, confused by her demeanor.

  She took hold of his hand and leaned on his shoulder. “I heard his final thoughts,” she said. “They were of gratitude, relief...and joy. I wasn’t sure how his death would affect me. I loved him so much, but now that it is done, I am comforted that he no longer suffers. And I’m happy I was able to see him one final time. In the end, you saved him for me. And I thank you, my love.”

  After dressing Felsafell’s wounds, they sat together quietly until the sun began to set. Basanti then stood up, stretched her arms and sighed.

  “Are you weary?” asked Felsafell.

  “No,” she replied. “But I will sleep, nonetheless. Tomorrow we must leave here and seek out Gewey Stedding. Yanti told me that when the Reborn King uncovered his prison, he also discovered something else hidden within the mountain. He said you would know what it was.”

  Felsafell nodded slowly, a grave expression appearing on his face. “I heard you speaking to him. It can only be one thing that he found. Four of the god stones were buried within the same mountain as Yanti.”

  Basanti gasped. “If he has found a way to use their power…”

  “Then he may be beyond the strength of Darshan,” said Felsafell. “But there is something more that troubles me. While I waited for you, I felt a presence. One that I have felt once before when a great evil plagued the world. One that should not be here. One that could unleash an evil beyond reckoning. And if I am right, then Shagharath has opened.”

  Basanti stiffened and turned pale. “Then we cannot wait until morning. But where should we go? To Baltria perhaps? Yanti said that Gewey has taken the city.”

  “No,” he replied. “The presence I felt is near Althetas. And if Melek really is free, we must discover what he plans before Darshan confronts him.”

  There was a long silence. Then, in spite of herself, Basanti began to laugh. “And I imagined that all we had to overcome is a madman with the power of creation at his disposal. But obviously the fates believe this is not challenge enough.”

  Felsafell joined in with her laughter. “Not for creatures such as us. Our love is so vast that it requires the greatest of obstacles. And it seems the fates intend to oblige us with exactly that.”

  Basanti wrapped her arms around his neck. “On second thought, perhaps the world can survive until morning.” She kissed him passionately.

  “I would not dare to argue,” he replied, smiling.

  Chapter 20

  Gewey spotted Lee sitting alone on a bench in the rear garden of the Brimm estate. He had been out of sorts ever since the death of his friend, Lanson. Sadly, Gewey had not arrived in time to heal the man. Lee was trying to act unaffected, but it was clear that this particular death had touched him deeply.

  Millet had explained earlier that the pair were close friends in their youth. He'd also told Gewey how Lanson, in spite of the danger to himself, had helped Lee and him to flee Baltria only a few months previously.

  “I think Lee sees it as a part of his youth passing away,” Millet concluded. “Lanson Brimm was vigorous and carefree in the same way that he once was. It’s what brought them close all tho
se years ago. And he was a good man to boot.”

  With no offspring or natural heir, aside from a few personal items to be distributed amongst his friends, Lanson had left everything to Jansi. To Lee he’d bequeathed an ivory handled dagger. Lee wept when he saw this, but said nothing as to why it was so special to him.

  He smiled as Gewey approached and invited him to sit. Gewey gladly accepted.

  “I hear you are sparing what remains of the faithful,” Lee said with a hint of displeasure.

  “I am,” he confirmed. “Though the Baltrian citizens who joined are all exiled from the city. The others can go home. Or wherever else they choose.”

  Lee nodded but said nothing.

  “I know you don’t agree,” Gewey added.

  Lee shrugged. “I know it’s the morally right thing to do. But war isn’t a moral act. It’s savage and brutal. It brings out the hatred and darkness of our nature. To think otherwise is foolish. The men you release will come back to fight you again and again until you are ultimately forced to kill them.”

  “Perhaps,” said Gewey. “But soon the fighting will end. I have to ask myself – how much more blood do I want to spill? I could have slaughtered every Angrääl soldier that breathed Baltrian air. But the truth is, even if I killed every single man under the Dark Knight’s command, the war would still not be over. It only ends when he dies.”

  “And then what?” asked Lee. “Have you thought about that? Do you think people can just return to their homes and be welcomed with open arms after having served the enemy?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Gewey. “Perhaps not. But exterminating them isn’t the solution. In the end it may be that those who fought with Angrääl can never return home. But then I wonder, what if my father had chosen such a path? Would I welcome him back?” He hunched forward, his elbows on his knees. “I’m sure I would. That he survived would be enough for me.”

  “You may be right,” said Lee. “But I don’t think I can ever forgive what this war has taken from me. After the death of your father, Lanson was the last remaining friend I had from my life as Lord Nal’Thain - apart from Millet, of course. Everything that I once was now seems to be disappearing.” He shook his head and rubbed his face. “I don’t know why this has affected me so much. I wasn’t even aware of how deeply I cared for the old scoundrel.”