The Reborn King (Book Six)

by Brian D. Anderson

  The Vrykol gave her a broad toothy grin. “Most people don’t see me for what I am so quickly. But then, you have some experience with my kind, do you not?” Her voice was richly feminine. Not the raspy wheezing of the others. She motioned to a spot near the fire. “Sit. The meal is nearly ready.”

  Kaylia did not move or say anything.

  “Come,” she insisted. “I know you haven’t eaten for days.” She cast a quick glance around. “I’m sure my kinsmen - I guess you would call them that – did not take such needs into account during your journey.” Her eyes fixed on Kaylia unblinkingly, her pleasant demeanor never wavering.

  After a lengthy hesitation, during which the rest of the Vrykol and the four half-men spread out to join the others, Kaylia eventually complied. She took a seat opposite the girl but remained silent. The Vrykol that had sent Gewey to Shagharath was much like this one, she considered – unblemished and looking very much alive, though its elf body had been, to her mind, far more unsettling than this human form.

  “I am Jillian,” the girl announced, bowing her head slightly.

  Kaylia raised an eyebrow and spoke at last. “I didn’t know that your kind had names. But I suppose I was always too busy taking their heads to ask.”

  Jillian laughed. “If you think to anger me, you’ll find it very difficult. But you’re right. I am the only one who has taken a name. The others don’t see the sense in it.”

  “Why name the dead?” scoffed Kaylia.

  Ignoring the jibe, Jillian removed the rabbit from the spit and tossed it over. The heat burned Kaylia’s hands, but she refused to show any pain. She wanted to throw the food back, but hunger was making her weak and she needed to stay strong. Her face twisted in disgust at the prospect of eating food prepared by this foul creature. Regardless of what the girl looked like, she was no better than her cloaked brethren. Forcing down her first mouthful of the meat, Kaylia struggled not to vomit.

  Jillian allowed Kaylia to finish her meal in silence, though her eyes never strayed from her face throughout.

  Once done eating, Kaylia tossed the bones into the night and drained what little was left of her water. “Why are you keeping me alive?” she demanded.

  “Ah. This is the part where you hope to learn of our plans.” Jillian leaned back on her elbows. “I cannot tell you that, I’m afraid. There is every chance I shall not succeed. And should that happen, I will not jeopardize my people’s future with a loose tongue.”

  Kaylia let out a sarcastic laugh. “Your people? You can’t be serious.”

  “And why not? Why should the Vrykol not have kinship? We may not share human or elf motives or morality, but we are just as unique to this world as any other creature.”

  Kaylia spat on the ground. “You are an abomination spawned by evil. And soon the world will be done with you forever. How you can speak of motives and morality is beyond reason. Your motives are to obey your master, and you are utterly lacking in any morality.”

  Jillian frowned. “You don’t know just how wrong you are. We do have motives beyond our master’s will. And is not our desire to continue surviving a form of morality?”

  Kaylia was taken aback. The look in Jillian’s eyes was close to pained and desperate.

  “As of now, we are cut off from our master’s voice,” Jillian continued. “He has abandoned us. So we must fight for our very existence.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Kaylia. “What do you mean, he has abandoned you?”

  Jillian paused to sit up straighter. “The Vrykol walk the earth due to the grace of our master. He made us, and his voice speaks to us from the moment we are created. But now that voice has gone silent.”

  Kaylia was baffled by what she was hearing. “So why have you taken me? If your master did not order it....”

  “We took you so we could show him that we are worthy of survival,” she said, cutting her off. “We will aid his victory in the hope that, in his mercy, he will grant us a place in his new world.”

  “But you are not making sense,” Kaylia countered. “If he is done with you, why has he not just killed you all?”

  Jillian lowered her eyes. “Even the Reborn King has limits. To kill us all would take much time and effort. At least, that is our guess. And as the time of his battle with Darshan approaches, his attention is focused elsewhere.”

  Kaylia thought on this for a moment. “So you intend to use me as a weapon against Gewey?”

  “There is no use for me to deny something so obvious,” she replied.

  “Then why leave our son? Why not try to take us both?”

  “We allowed your son to stay behind so that you could be captured unharmed. I feared you would fight to the death should we try to take you both. And from the look on your face, I think I was right. We need you intact…for now.” Her last few words bore a hint of menace. She then stood up and waved a dismissive hand. “That is all you need to know.”

  Kaylia scrutinized Jillian as she walked away. She could almost forget that she was speaking to a Vrykol. She wanted to know more, but thought it best not to press the issue at this time. She was certain there would be many days of travel ahead, and if she had learned anything from Lord Theopolou, it was that patience is often a powerful ally.

  Jillian disappeared into the night, followed by three other Vrykol. Kaylia took the opportunity to try and get some sleep, but found it impossible to remain so for more than a few minutes at a time.

  The sun was still below the horizon when they headed out. Their pace was quick, though not overly so. Just before midday, Kaylia was allowed to fill her water skin from a tiny stream they had come across. Jillian also provided a few wild berries to sustain her.

  They continued traveling due east for most of the day, but turned slightly south late in the afternoon. From time to time Kaylia could hear the sounds of human travelers to the south and guessed they were not far away from the road that ran north of the Spirit Hills – though precisely where they were she couldn’t be certain.

  Just as the sun was setting, Jillian called for a halt and then vanished into the brush. Less than an hour later she returned carrying a large sack. From this she removed a loaf of bread and a few strips of jerky.

  “You must do without a fire tonight,” she said, handing Kaylia the repast. “There are humans nearby, and I would prefer not to have to dispose of their bodies should they discover us.”

  Kaylia looked at the food with the same revulsion as before.

  “Come now,” Jillian chided. “It was given to me by a group of human merchants and prepared by their own hands. Be grateful they were not elves. They would have known at once that I am not human. Then we would have been forced to kill them.”

  “And why did you leave the humans alive?”

  Jillian sat down on a fallen tree a few yards away. “My master has a love for humans. You may find this difficult to fathom, but Vrykol only kill humans when we must. Not that we would hesitate when it is needed. Nor do we feel guilt when doing so. I suppose he must have made us that way.”

  Kaylia plopped down on the ground and tore off a piece of bread. “And what of elves?”

  She smiled wickedly. “That is another matter. He does not hold them in high regard. But for now, they are not our concern. So long as they do not have the misfortune to encounter us, we will spare them. Not that it will do them much good eventually. Once our master is victorious, he will deal with all of your people in his own way.”

  The Vrykol’s words and callous smile brought Kaylia’s anger to the fore, but she managed to conceal it well. “You are assuming he will win,” she said evenly.

  “Of course I am,” Jillian responded. “Darshan cannot defeat him. He lacks both the strength and the will.”

  Kaylia sneered. “Actually, from what I see, your master is a coward. He hides behind his walls and sends his minions to do what he cannot. He has tried many times to kill Gewey…tried and failed. Soon he will wish he had never laid his hands on the Sword of Tru
th. And when this war is over it will be the Vrykol, not the elves, who are dealt with.”

  Jillian regarded Kaylia and nodded. “You truly believe that, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes. Your faith in Darshan is absolute.” She laughed softly. “But faith will not save him. Or you for that matter.”

  Kaylia glanced over at the half-men. “And what of your faith? Do you think the Reborn King will reward you for corrupting half-men and hatching small-minded schemes?”

  “I think we are left with little choice,” she countered. This time it was her turn to feel a flash of anger. But unlike Kaylia, she was unable to hide it.

  Kaylia smiled, pleased to have elicited the reaction. But she did not want to press Jillian too far, not knowing what she might do should she completely lose control. Instead, Kaylia turned her attention to her meal.

  Jillian glared at her for a full minute before standing up and stalking off into the forest.

  The following day they had only walked for a short time when Jillian called for a halt. She and four other Vrykol sped away west. They returned more than an hour later.

  “We are followed,” she announced. “It would seem that your elf friend intends to rescue you.”

  “Aaliyah,” Kaylia whispered. “You fool.”

  “That she is,” agreed Jillian. “And a not-very-stealthy fool at that. Though granted, she moves more swiftly than I would have thought possible.” She flashed a sinister grin. “But that won’t save her, of course.”

  Kaylia’s stomach knotted. Aaliyah wouldn’t stand a chance alone…or even with a dozen others to help. “Please, let me speak to her,” she pleaded. “I’ll make her turn back.”

  Jillian sniffed. “It’s too late for that.

  * * * * *

  “I think I have their attention,” said Aaliyah. “They chased me for a while, but I was able to outrun them easily enough.”

  Basanti nodded sharply. “Good. Now we will see if they are as dim-witted as I am hoping they are.”

  She reached for the hilt of the sword hanging at her side, but recoiled the moment her flesh touched it. This would be the first time she had ever wielded a blade. And though she was certain that her lack of experience would not be a hindrance, she knew that she must be able to at least grip it. So far, she had nearly broken into tears each time she tried.

  “Are you sure you can go through with this?” asked Aaliyah.

  Basanti squeezed her eyes tightly shut, then, with sheer willpower, forced her hand to grip the weapon. Slowly the steel slid free of its scabbard and she was able to hold it up in front of her face. It was more than a minute before she opened her eyes. The revulsion she felt was clearly visible on her face as she examined the weapon from hilt to tip.

  “I am certain,” she answered weakly. “It’s just hard.”

  “What will happen to you?” Aaliyah had tried to talk to Basanti on several occasions previously about her intentions, but each time she had merely given a fragile smile and ignored the question.

  The Oracle sheathed the blade and wiped her hand on her blouse, as if the sword had actually sullied it. “I will become as my brother was – corrupted and vulnerable. A stain will be upon my spirit that I will never be able to wash clean.”

  “Then why are you doing this?”

  “Because I must. There is no one else who could succeed. Kaylia must not be left in the hands of our enemy. She could be used as leverage against Gewey, or perhaps even worse. And besides, she is my friend. I will not abandon her to the cruelty of the Vrykol.”

  Aaliyah gently touched Basanti’s shoulder. “And I am your friend also. When this is over we will find a way to repair whatever damage is done.”

  Basanti reached up and took hold of her hand. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I only regret that my time with Felsafell has ended. But I suppose I must be grateful for what we've already had. It was far more than any mortal could hope for. Yet far less than I imagined in my dreams.”

  “Why must it end? Will he not still accept you?”

  “As I said, I will be as my brother was. Once tainted, violence and death will follow me always. I will no longer be the person he fell in love with. And I cannot put him through such torment. His love for me would keep him by my side, but he would be forced to watch as I descended into darkness.” She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “Much better that he live with a memory of who I was before.”

  “I think you wrong,” Aaliyah said, wiping away Basanti’s tears as they began to fall. “He would rather be with you, regardless of what you have done or might become.” She choked back her own tears. “Do not give up hope.”

  Basanti embraced Aaliyah tightly. “I…I will try.”

  After a few seconds, Aaliyah took a step back. “I know I should have already asked,” she said. “But do you really think you can defeat so many?”

  “I’m as sure as I can be,” she replied. “Once I cause death, a force will be released inside my spirit that I have kept contained for thousands of years. Though I doubt its full strength will last, for a time I should be as mighty as Felsafell, maybe even more so.” Her face stiffened. “But after that, I will not be myself any longer. When Kaylia is free I will leave you…and you must neither attempt to dissuade me, nor follow.”

  “But I thought you agreed not to lose hope?” Aaliyah countered.

  “And I will keep my word,” she said, smiling. “I hope that when heaven is open, Pósix will take pity on me and release my spirit from this body.”

  Aaliyah glared with sudden frustration and anger. “That is not good enough. There must be another way.”

  “I wish there was,” she admitted. “But regardless, until the gods are free I will be a danger to all those around me. Until then, I must stay hidden from both the enemy, and my friends.”

  Aaliyah searched hard for a convincing rebuttal, but could not overcome Basanti’s logic. If she would jeopardize the safety of the people she loved, then there truly was no other choice.

  “Then let us get this done,” said Aaliyah. She drew her blade. “But know that if I must petition Pósix at the very gates of heaven, you will not spend the rest of your life in exile.”

  “I think we should wait until the dawn breaks,” Basanti responded. “Until then, I would ask you to sit beside me and tell me more about your home. Your stories make it sound so remarkable.”

  Aaliyah sheathed her sword. “Of course.” She smiled lovingly, knowing that Basanti was asking for visions of places she believed she would now never get to see for herself. A final request from a condemned woman.

  They found a patch of soft grass and sat together until the sun was nearly upon them. Aaliyah regaled her with tales setting forth the majesty of her lands. The dense jungles that were home to birds of such brilliant colors that one would catch their breath at the very sight of them. The mountains of the far west where the great cave bears roamed and hunted, some of them so massive and strong that they could fell a fully grown pine tree with a single swipe of their paws. There were also the tall redwoods where she was raised, many of them towering so high that on certain days their tops would be hidden by the clouds.

  “It all sounds wonderful,” Basanti sighed. “I could spend a thousand years exploring such a place. And Felsafell…” His name stuck in her throat and her voice became a whisper. “He would have loved it too.”

  For a moment she was totally lost in her thoughts of peace and love. Then, a sudden transformation took place. The song of steel sang out, slicing through the cool morning air. Basanti no longer appeared awkward with the weapon in her hand. The instant her eyes gazed upon the gleaming steel blade, her normally compassionate features became hard and unyielding.

  Aaliyah knew exactly what to do and drew her own sword. Giving only a sharp nod, she sped away toward the Vrykol camp. She vanished in an instant through the dawn mist.

  Basanti forced any lingering thoughts of her love and hopes into the recesses of her mind and focused on the task ahead. For
thousands of years she had kept herself pure – untainted by blood and death. Now she would unleash a torrent of unbridled fury. All she held sacred would be washed away in a single act.

  A heat began to rise within her chest, rapidly spreading throughout her entire body. Her face twisted into a snarl and she knew she was ready.

  Swiftly, she set off to follow Aaliyah’s trail.

  Chapter Nine

  Linis hissed a curse while treating his wounds with the thick pungent salve given to him by Therisa. Throbbing pain had set in from the dozens of tiny scratches caused by the jagged thorns of the dense barble bushes surrounding Theopolou’s manor. The barbs bore a mild poison that, though not strong enough to kill, was sufficient to cause severe irritation, as well as a nasty infection if left untreated.

  Normally he could have easily navigated his way through the thorny gauntlet without injury, but found it impossible to do so while carrying an infant in his arms. Speed was essential, and the quickest way to Valshara was through a forest that had been specifically cultivated to keep away unwanted visitors – mainly humans who were not as agile and would certainly suffer tremendously should they try to get through. Unfortunately, this same deterrent had clearly not been a hindrance to either the elves or the Vrykol.

  The look in Basanti’s eyes just before she had departed on her mission was still uncomfortably vivid for Linis. Never had he seen someone so utterly tormented by the inevitability of their own future. He had wanted to comfort her, but could find no words that would do anything more than cause her pain to sharpen.