The Godling Chronicles:Book 05 - Madness of the Fallen

by Brian D. Anderson

  Only six should be easy enough. They may be deadly to mortals, but they were in no way a threat to him. He decided to go to their right and take them one at a time. However, the second he moved they began falling back at a speed he had never seen from a Vrykol before.

  This may be more challenging than I suspected, he thought.

  He changed direction and headed straight at their center, knowing they would surround him. But it didn’t matter. He certainly wasn’t going to be defeated by this small group of abominations. He stopped just as the first Vrykol came into view.

  The thwack of two bowstrings simultaneously being loosed brought a sinister grin to his lips. The creatures at either far side were hoping to catch him off guard. But he was never off his guard. He stepped back, allowing the missiles to whiz by him and disappear into the darkness of the dense forest. The Vrykol halted.

  “Ah! The last of the first born,” came a voice that echoed from seemingly everywhere at once. “Are you still as fierce and defiant as I remember? The way your kind would scream…it was like sweet music. I so loved burning your cities…and your people. Their suffering and pain warmed my spirit.”

  Felsafell snarled. “Show yourself, Melek. I have no patience for your mad games.”

  The disembodied sound of childlike laughter echoed tauntingly. “You will play my game. You will indeed. Then you will tell me where the creature you travel with is hiding. But first, a small test.”

  All six Vrykol burst forth, unsheathing cruel steel. Felsafell suspected that these would be far more dangerous than those he’d previously encountered. This suspicion was quickly confirmed.

  He moved left and leapt forward, high enough to pass over the advancing foe. But before he’d even landed, the Vrykol had spun around and was bearing down on him. Though not as fast as Yanti, it was considerably faster than the creatures he and Gewey had faced in the Spirit Hills. His feet had barely touched the ground when he was forced to duck and roll beneath the Vrykol’s steel. His fist smashed into the back of its head, sending it stumbling forward.

  Another Vrykol closed in. Felsafell crouched, and with his massive strength, struck it in the mid-section. The force of the blow would have sent the beast flying, but Felsafell caught its sword arm and ripped it from its shoulder. An ear-rending shriek pierced the air.

  The detached arm was still gripping the sword as Felsafell swung it around and with a growl, took the head of another foe. Before the injured Vrykol could gain its bearings, he reached over and tore its head off too.

  “Enough!” thundered Melek. The remaining Vrykol stopped and backed away.

  Felsafell watched closely as they all turned and headed south. To his right he then heard soft footfalls deftly navigating the weeds and roots of the forest floor. A young, fair-haired human male appeared from the darkness, as if stepping from behind a curtain.

  “You are different from what I remember,” remarked Felsafell. “More…mundane.”

  Melek smiled. “Being inconspicuous has advantages. Though I must admit, I wish I’d had more time to choose a form. I would have preferred to appear a bit older.”

  “No doubt it is easier to deceive your human prey in this form,” said Felsafell, not disguising his contempt. “But you do not fool me. You are the same monster you have always been.”

  Melek’s eyes darkened. “Mind your insults. I am not Darshan, and I do not look at you in awe. To me you are just another mistake of the Creator. One that I will correct here and now if you are not careful.”

  “I do not fear you, Melek,” Felsafell growled. “Do what you must.”

  Melek cocked his head and smirked. “In due time. But for now I am wondering where your companion is? You know, the one who is behind the love I see in your eyes.” He took a menacing step forward. “If you tell me, I may allow you to go free.”

  Felsafell clenched his fists and glared. “You will not find her.”

  “You think not?” Melek chuckled and shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps she can stay hidden. And perhaps you can resist what I have in store for you.” He moved a bit closer. “Or perhaps I will forget about her altogether and allow you to help me in other ways.”

  “If you think to coerce me,” said Felsafell. “You are wasting your time.”

  “Time?” scoffed Melek. “What could time possibly mean to either of us?”

  “It should mean something to you,” he countered. “Once Darshan arrives he will see through your masquerade. Then your time will be up.”

  Melek threw back his head in laughter. “Darshan? He is a child, easily manipulated. And once he discovers that he is truly no match for his enemy, he will have no choice but to accept an alliance with me. Which brings me to my next question. Where are the remaining god stones?”

  Felsafell met his question with silence.

  Melek sighed. “So you wish to test your endurance? Very well.” He took another step. “If you would like to experience the exquisite ways I know of how to inflict suffering, I will oblige.”

  Felsafell could see the tiny changes in Melek’s expression and knew that he had to act quickly. Melek had moved close enough for him to almost reach out and touch him. Close enough to strike. His fist shot out so fast that even a god would struggle to see it. But instead of flesh, his blow passed right through Melek’s form as if through a mist.

  “You are a fool, first born,” Melek said. His tone was calm and unemotional. “I am not unaware of my power, as is the child Darshan. You can no more defeat me than you could your own kin.”

  The dim light from the stars and moon suddenly went black and Felsafell was struck blind. But he knew the area well and could recall every tree and bush that surrounded him. The sinews of his legs burst into life as he made a desperate dash to escape.

  “To where do you run?” taunted Melek, his voice carrying on the wind into Felsafell’s ears. “Do you run to your love? Do you run to Darshan? Give in, first born. Nothing can save you from me.”

  Felsafell knew that he had passed the tree line and was now out in the open; he could hear a few wagons plodding down the nearby road. The main gate to the city was to the north. In the opposite direction the road split to lead both east and south. His keen hearing could help him navigate even the densest wooded areas, but it would be easy for Melek to ambush him.

  The angry realization then settled. Why would he even bother doing that? He can likely take me at any time he wishes.

  “Do you really think you can run blindly forever?” asked Melek.

  Felsafell skidded to a halt. “Then face me!” he shouted.

  Almost at once the veil of darkness lifted. He was no more than a few dozen yards away from the road. The tall grass surrounding him was still for a few moments, then bent low as a stiff breeze blew in from the north.

  “So you wish to fight me?”

  Felsafell spun around. There was Melek, still smiling broadly and holding a dagger in each hand. “You didn’t use a weapon with the Vrykol,” he remarked. “I would be happy to lend you one of mine.” He held out his left hand, offering the blade. When Felsafell did not respond, Melek shrugged. In a blinding flash the two daggers vanished. “You’re right. It’s better this way.”

  Felsafell seized the initiative and charged. But Melek had anticipated his move and stepped aside, at the same time driving a foot hard into his gut. Such was the force of the impact, Felsafell was sent flying. Even so, he landed on his feet with uncanny agility, eyes fixed on his opponent.

  “Predictable and clumsy,” remarked Melek. “Unbefitting for one of your kind.” He held out a hand and waved him in with the tips of his fingers. “Come, try again.”

  Felsafell would not be goaded. He squared his shoulders and waited for his opponent to come to him. Not that this helped. Despite his readiness, the blow still struck his jaw before he realized that Melek had moved. He tried to step back, but was struck three more times and sent sprawling.

  He looked up and pushed himself to his feet. Melek
was standing in the same spot he had been before, smirking. “Did you really hope to win?” he asked. “I mastered the power that Darshan now wields like a lumbering oaf, thousands of years before your people were even created.”

  Felsafell spat blood on the ground and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “If you are so powerful, why do you need him? Why enlist the aid of a lumbering oaf if you are so mighty?”

  “I have my own reasons,” Melek replied. A hint of anger had seeped into his voice. “For now, all you need to know is one thing. Should you continue your defiance, what little time that remains of your life will be spent in agonizing pain, the like of which you have never imagined.”

  Felsafell knew that attacking would only result in further injury, and that running was equally useless. “Then do what you will,” he challenged. “For I will tell you nothing.”

  Melek’s smile took on a sinister quality. “We shall see.”

  Felsafell lowered his eyes. The first blow that struck his temple was massive and very nearly sent him straight into unconsciousness. He fell to one knee. He knew that one more would be all Melek needed. He thought of Basanti and hoped she would heed his request to stay where she was. If she did, Melek might not find her - and perhaps Gewey would.

  For the first time in many thousands of years despair crept into his heart. Would Gewey be able to triumph over such power? Before he could answer his own thoughts, the second blow sent him into darkness.

  Chapter 24

  Gewey looked out from their small landing craft as it headed for the shores of the Tarvansia Peninsula. Ahead of them, the wreckage of the ruined ships protruding from the water was a depressing sight.

  On drawing closer, his heart seized when he recognized the familiar curved bow of an elf vessel. It must have been caught unaware and assaulted with the strange new weapon they had seen in Baltria. His only consolation was that he knew Aaliyah still lived. There was a short time when he’d felt unfathomable anguish from her and he feared that she had lost Nehrutu. Her anguish though, was very soon replaced by immeasurable joy. But there was no explanation for this sudden change. Whatever had happened, she was still keeping her thoughts closely hidden.

  Linis and Dina had decided to join him in going ashore, and it was only after a very long argument that Dina was able to prevent her mother from coming along too. It helped that Kaylia had intervened and agreed to stay on board with Nahali. She would know what was going on through Gewey, and he had sensed no enemies – only a small group of elves.

  As the landing boat slid onto the sands they saw an elder elf woman approaching from atop a low dune. Linis raised his hand in greeting. The woman returned the gesture, though without a great show of enthusiasm.

  Linis introduced himself and the others, taking care to use the name of Gewey rather than Darshan.

  “I am Aquilia,” she said, giving a slight bow. “What brings you ashore?”

  “We spotted the wrecks as we were passing and wondered what had happened,” Linis replied.

  The woman sighed. “I was not here at the time. But I have spoken with many who were.”

  She went on to describe the destruction of the ships as related to her by wounded survivors of the battle. “It was as if our enemy had acquired the wrath of heaven as its ally,” she concluded. “The dead and wounded were beyond counting.”

  Linis and Gewey exchanged glances.

  “You don’t have the look of a warrior or seeker,” said Linis. “So what is your purpose here?”

  “We came to heal the wounded who could not travel,” she explained. “Once we had done all we could, a few of us remained to keep watch lest more enemies approach. In fact, had you not landed, we would have sent word ahead to have your fleet intercepted before you reach the next port.” She smiled and sighed. “But the name Linis is well known among all the elf clans, and your ships will now pass unmolested. Even though, I do not recognize the rest of your companions.”

  “They are friends,” said Linis. “But not known widely among our people.” He lied convincingly, though it was against his nature to do so and chaffed his morals.

  “Then they are most welcome,” she replied

  “Do you have need of supplies?” asked Linis.

  Aquilia nodded. “If you could spare any, we would be most grateful. Game is scarce and there is little vegetation this close to the ocean. We have been forced to venture further and further from our camp to find what we need.”

  “You shall have it,” said Linis. “But you will only require enough for your journey home. Angrääl has been defeated in Baltria.”

  Her face brightened. “That is good news indeed. These old bones long for my soft bed. Come, let us tell the others.”

  The camp had been set up a few hundred yards back on the far side of the dunes where the sand gave way to firmer grassland and sparse pines. Gewey offered to return to the ship and make arrangements for supplies to be brought ashore. Meanwhile, Linis set about gathering any information that might be useful.

  The elves still there were mostly elders and healers who had come from their lands in the east to aid their kin as best they could. All of them were delighted to hear the news of Angrääl’s defeat and now appeared as anxious as Aquilia to return home. They informed Linis that most of the wounded who were unable to travel under their own power after being treated had already been moved back to their homeland by wagon. This included both elves and humans.

  “They will be the first humans to set foot within elf borders since the Great War,” remarked Linis approvingly.

  The others shrugged indifferently.

  “The world changes,” said Aquilia. “Old elves like us can only watch and hope. Our fighting days are far behind us, and most of us who remember the Great War will be gone soon enough.”

  Linis quickly realized that there was little of practical value to be learned from this group and so allowed Dina to guide the conversation. An elf named Froemis was from her mother’s village and knew of Nahali, but said that those living there had thought her dead for many years. He appeared very pleased to hear that she was in fact still alive and returning home.

  Linis could see the fatigue in everyone’s eyes and posture, but this disappeared as soon as he mentioned the elves of the desert.

  “It was they who captured Baltria,” he explained. “And they still hold it at this very moment. One of their kin travels with us now - a woman sent as an emissary for her people.”

  “To think that those legends of a lost tribe really were true,” remarked Aquilia. “If only we could meet her.”

  “You will meet many of her people very soon, I suspect,” said Linis. He went on to tell them what he knew of the desert elves, and about his time among them. They were amazed to hear of their long life and rejection of the flow.

  By the time Gewey returned, everyone was laughing and talking as if they had not a care in the world. While Linis and Dina were happy to talk for a while longer with their new friends, Gewey ventured off to scout the area. The lessons learned from turning back the storm had been well remembered, and he soon discovered that they could be applied in other useful ways. By allowing his spirit to drift free and spread wide, he was able to see over vast distances quite easily. He made certain that the elf elders would be traveling back home unmolested, at least for the first day.

  Eventually they all said farewell and returned to the ship. While Gewey was making his way across the deck he noticed that a carved figure had been fixed to the rail surrounding the main wheel. He groaned as he realized what it was and pointed it out to Kaylia.

  “A few of the sailors have even made pendants with your likeness engraved upon them,” she told him.

  “Yes,” remarked Dina. “You appear to have gained quite a following.” She paused to look closely at Gewey before adding: “I wonder where it will all end?”

  * * * * *

  The remainder of the journey was without incident. Gewey ensured that the wind was in their favor, but spent m
ost of his time in the cabin. Kaylia told him that the crew had built a small shrine to Darshan in their quarters, and that his name could be regularly heard throughout the ship in quiet prayers. Gewey tried telling them to stop, but each time they simply looked at him with stricken expressions and begged forgiveness. Eventually, he could do nothing more and was forced to accept the situation.

  After some thought, he decided to disembark just west of Valshara to see Lady Selena. Weila, Linis, Dina, and Nahali would all accompany him and they would determine their next move from there. When the time came for them to board the small landing boat the entire crew lined the deck to bid the group farewell. Rugged sailors wept as they descended the rope ladder, many of them shouting out desperate pleas for a blessing. Gewey waved in response, then using the flow of wind and water, caused the boat to speed away.

  The sun was just setting when they reached the shore, though Gewey was in no hurry to arrive at his destination. After selecting a suitable spot on the beach to make camp, he watched the fleet disappear slowly into the distance.

  While sleeping he could feel Melek’s presence, albeit distant and unfocused. He knew that Melek was aware of him too, though he seemed content to leave Gewey alone for now. This in itself was unsettling. Melek was powerful, true – but thousands of years in captivity had allowed his madness to fester. In his mind the people around him were inconsequential. He would not hesitate to burn them all if he thought it would gain him advantage.

  During the next few days Gewey set a leisurely pace and kept all conversations light and friendly. By the time they arrived at the gates of Valshara he was feeling much more at ease. Dina was treating him with far less suspicion and doubt now. In fact, she and Kaylia had begun having almost girlish conversations about where to live once the war was over. Kaylia had practically begged her and Linis to choose Sharpstone, stating that she had no desire to be the only elf living in the village.

  It was heartening to see that the gates of Valshara were now fully repaired, and that soldiers were standing at regular intervals along the ramparts. Six elves in polished leather armor and carrying long spears guarded the entrance. They recognized Gewey instantly and snapped to attention. As the gates swung open a trumpet blared a greeting, its shrill blast echoing off the cliffs and temple walls.