Relic of the Gods: (Echoes of Fate Book 3)

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Reyna’s green eyes looked up at the ranger. “You have found her?”

  Asher could feel the hope that still lived inside the princess. He could hear it in her voice and he wanted nothing more than for that hope to return and infect them all, as it always had. Faylen’s survival had softened the elf, but there was still a palpable discord between them. It was still a foreign feeling to want another person to like him and he didn't dwell on it for too long. The weight of Paldora’s gem bore down on him again, reminding him that his lack of control over the stone was the source of all their troubles….

  “Alidyr has her. It looks to be the home of Calmardra’s governor.” Asher turned to the east, where the building towered over those around it.

  “Filled with Darkakin no doubt,” Nathaniel commented.

  “No,” Asher removed the red cloth from his eyes and settled back into his ordinary senses, “I could only find a single Arakesh inside the entire house. I couldn't find Thallan, either. They must be securing the perimeter of the city.”

  “That’ll make getting out all the harder,” Nathaniel opined.

  “What are they doing to…” Reyna swallowed her words before she could finish the question.

  “Faylen’s alive,” Asher replied with a gentle hand on the princess’ arm. The ranger took it as progress that the elf didn't shrug him off.

  “So how do we get in?” Nathaniel asked, steering the topic away from Faylen’s state of captivity.

  Asher hugged the shadows of the roof and took in the chaotic horde below. “There’s no way to cross the street without the Darkakin seeing us; they’re everywhere. The only way in is underground, through the sewers. There’s access just north of here.”

  “I don't much fancy exploring the sewers of Calmardra,” Nathaniel said with resignation.

  “We won't be exploring, I know the way.”

  Nathaniel arched his brow. “You already know your way through the labyrinth of sewers?”

  Asher felt the usual restraint creep up on his response, the instinct to keep all of Nightfall’s secrets. “Not every lesson in Nightfall is physical. The layout of every palace, castle and governor’s house is in the library, as well as what lies beneath them. All had to be committed to memory before our first… mission.”

  Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Of course it did…”

  “We’re wasting time,” Reyna announced.

  Asher simply bowed his head and led the way. It took longer to get there than the ranger would have liked, but avoiding the mob of Darkakin was essential. The covering to the sewers was exactly where it was supposed to be and the three descended into the dark. Unfortunately for Asher, his senses came alive and exaggerated the foul smell. The ranger only wished he wasn't so desensitised to the foul odours of the world. With a hand on each other's shoulder, the companions soon found themselves under the governor’s palatial house.

  “What about Alidyr?” Nathaniel asked, drawing his sword before the ascent.

  “Alidyr is sleeping in the room above Faylen,” Asher replied, his eyes shut tight. “The assassin is on the roof now.”

  “Still no sign of Thallan?” Nathaniel glanced down the darkened tunnels.

  “No.” Asher clenched his jaw, aware of the only outcome to their rescue. He turned to the princess in the dim light of the cover above them. “Your bow is the only thing an Arakesh cannot avoid. It’s also a weapon that can kill Alidyr. If he becomes aware of our presence I will stall him and give you the time you need to flee. Keep a hold of that bow. Even if you make it out of this house, Thallan is still out there. Oh… and don't forget to take the gem.” The ranger hefted the pouch to show them where they could find it in a hurry.

  “We’re not leaving anyone behind this time,” Nathaniel stated firmly.

  Asher was sure Reyna was about to argue, but the elf took a breath and locked eyes with the ranger. “We free Faylen... or we all die tonight.”

  Asher nodded his head, but he knew this was to be his last night on Verda’s soil. It would be impossible to free Faylen without alerting the Arakesh or Alidyr; their senses were too good. He would throw himself at an unbeatable enemy to ensure their survival.

  It struck the ranger on his way up the ladder that he was prepared to die for another. It went against everything he had been taught in Nightfall and jarred with those ancient instincts that had clearly been with him since his childhood in The Wild Moores. It felt good.

  The governor’s house was dark, just as the Arakesh liked it, but the firelight from outside found its way through the gaps and exposed the luxury of the interior. With Alidyr’s diamond-tipped short-sword leading the way, Asher crept through the house with practised ease. Reyna was equally quiet behind him, but Nathaniel’s leathers squeaked loudly in the ranger’s ears. It was only a matter of time.

  The smell of exotic incense and blood found Asher’s nose and he followed it into the room on the third floor. The sight of Faylen was both elating and heartbreaking. The elf was strung up by her wrists in the middle of the chamber, her clothes caked in mud and blood. Long, black hair shrouded her features with her head hanging as limply as her hands and feet.

  Asher quickly turned to Reyna and pressed a finger to his lips, anticipating her gasp. The princess stopped herself from making any sound and remained firmly in the doorway with one hand over her mouth. As one, the companions entered the room and made for Faylen, each checking the corners and shadows. There was too much light now for the Nightseye elixir to take effect, but the ranger knew the beating of their hearts would give them away.

  As if brought upon by that thought, the lone Arakesh he had detected earlier dropped down onto the open balcony, beyond the sunken bath. The assassin stood half-in-half-out of the shadows for a moment, a sentinel in their way.

  Asher sighed; there was nothing for it now. “Get her out.”

  His words stirred Faylen and the elf looked up from her stupor in confusion. From joy to horror, her expression gave away multiple emotions washing over her all at once.

  “No…” Faylen’s voice was hoarse. “You shouldn't be here.”

  Reyna cupped her mentor’s face in her hands and kissed the elf on the head. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

  “Get her out, now.” Asher moved around the shackled elf to stand between them and the approaching assassin. Nathaniel and Reyna wasted no more time and went to work on the binding around Faylen’s wrists.

  The Arakesh had already removed both of his short-swords from his back and fallen into an attacking stance. His movements were cautious, an unusual sight for an Arakesh.

  “You’ve heard of me then…” the ranger goaded, pulling free his silvyr short-sword.

  The assassin kept his mouth shut and allowed his actions to speak for him. Their swords collided with an ear-splitting clash that would wake even the dead. They had maybe seconds before Alidyr arrived.

  “Asher!” Nathaniel called. Faylen was draped between the knight and the princess.

  “Get out!” Asher replied between parrying. The ranger thrust a strong boot into the Arakesh and pushed him further away from the main doors.

  The song of battle was interrupted by an insidious laugh that echoed from the doorway behind them. Asher knew that laugh. The ranger halted his attack on the assassin and turned back to see Alidyr Yalathanil stepping into the light.

  17

  Making friends

  Tauren once again found himself awed by the view of the northern realms. For all of its splendor, the town of Barossh was not the focus of his attention, but that which lay beyond it. For the first time in his life, the White Owl looked upon the ocean. The Adean sprawled across the horizon, dominating the view and hypnotising the young man with its rhythmic tide. Even the air had a smell and a taste to it that was foreign to the southerner.

  A part of him felt as if he could fall in love with the ocean, but the roaring waves were just as deadly as they were mysterious. The moment he lost his footing, the water would
claim him and never let go.

  “Fancy a dip?” Doran asked from astride his warhog.

  “I can't swim,” Tauren replied.

  “That makes two of us.” The dwarf scratched his chin through his thick, blond hair. “Swimming’s for elves!”

  Glaide came up on their side. “A dwarven comment if ever there was…”

  “There’s just so much of it,” Tauren said absently.

  Doran snorted. “Oceans tend to be that way, lad. Better to find a nice, comfy mountain, I say.”

  Glaide laughed. “What would you know of comfort, son of Dorain? You use boulders for pillows!”

  “Bah! Ye humans are too soft. Grarfath and Yamnomora made the world hard for a reason, ye know.”

  “Who are they?” Tauren asked, struggling to even repeat the names in his mind.

  “Who are they?” Doran echoed. “Ye don't know about the dwarven gods?”

  Tauren could only shrug. His education had been focused on various fighting styles and the art of pick-pocketing.

  “Your lessons will have to wait, Doran,” Glaide interjected, his dark eyes gazing into the west. “Hadavad returns from her scout.”

  Tauren looked out over the green plains, between them and Barossh, to see the mage riding on her white horse. The young southerner was still trying to get his head around the idea that the old, bearded man was now a woman, and an attractive one at that. It seemed that Glaide and Doran, however, had no trouble adjusting to the mage’s new form, and so Tauren did his best to take this new world of magic in his stride.

  Hadavad joined the head of the caravan, where General Kail and his soldiers trotted along the Selk Road. Tauren and the others rode up to hear the mage’s report from the north, where the land was hidden beyond Barossh.

  “They’re abandoning the town,” Hadavad announced. “A caravan, not unlike ours, is travelling north, toward Velia.”

  “Why would they abandon the town?” General Kail asked. “Do they think us invaders?”

  “I can't imagine they would,” Glaide replied. “We don't look much like a horde of Darkakin.”

  Tauren did his best not to stare at Hadavad and addressed the group. “They must have received word from Galosha by now. The people of Barossh must know we mean them no harm.”

  Hadavad adjusted the staff strapped to her back. “There is only one who can command an entire town to leave their homes...”

  Tauren caught on immediately. “You believe that King Rengar has ordered this?”

  Hadavad flashed her vibrant, blue eyes at Tauren. “The king of Velia has spies everywhere. The destruction of Karath and every town between The Arid Lands and Alborn will not escape his attention. It would be more surprising at this point if Rengar didn't know about an army of Darkakin.”

  “Aye, the mage’s right,” Doran agreed. “I bet the good folk of Galosha aren't that far behind us, either.”

  Glaide nodded his bald head. “King Rengar is pulling his people back to the capital. Perhaps there is hope for some resistance after all.”

  The caravan of thousands continued along the dusty road until the fine buildings of Barossh gathered around them. The town was strewn with random belongings that had been dropped by rushing families. Those that were still collecting their things quickly stopped what they were doing and ran north at the sight of Tauren and the others.

  A dozen Alborn guards, in red cloaks, appeared from the crowd of those still fleeing and presented the southerners with a line of pointed halberds.

  “Run!” the guard in the middle shouted at the townspeople. “Join the others! We will hold them off!”

  Those closest to the guards changed direction and ran down the main street, heading north. Tauren could see from the faces of the other guards that they didn't all agree with holding them off.

  Tauren decided to appear less threatening and hopped off his horse. “We are not here to fight!” he shouted in his best northern accent, careful to accentuate his words. Without a sound, Hadavad was by his side with her staff in hand.

  “Stay back Darkakin scum!” The guard thrust his halberd at the pair.

  “Darkakin?” Tauren was almost offended. “We are not Darkakin.”

  The lead guard took an extra moment to look upon those behind Tauren and Hadavad. Though Kail and his soldiers presented a fearsome wall of armour and horses, there was no missing the rags of previous slaves and the carts of goods and donkeys. The guards straightened up, abandoning their battle-stances.

  “You are very brave to stand before so many,” Hadavad said, “but we mean your people no harm.”

  “You are the refugees from The Arid Lands?” the guard asked with the tone of someone who still feared for their life.

  “We are like you,” Tauren replied. “People who have been forced to flee their homes.”

  “We received word from Galosha of your journey north. I’m afraid the people of Barossh cannot offer you any aid. King Rengar has ordered a retreat...” The guard hesitated. “Is it true then? The Darkakin have invaded?”

  “They have breached Syla’s Gate from lands unknown,” Tauren explained. He could still envision the wicked horde climbing over the rubble and debris of the massive gates, like angry ants rushing from a disturbed nest.

  “Alec!” one of the other guards hissed. “We should be leaving with the others, now!”

  The talker, Alec, considered his comrade’s words before turning back to Tauren. “My king gave no orders concerning your people. I cannot stop you from travelling through these lands, but I cannot say you will be welcome in Velia.”

  Tauren nodded his head solemnly. “When your king hears the drums, he will be happy to have every sword hand in the realm.”

  “Should you find yourselves at Velia’s gates, I will attest to the civility with which you journey across our lands. I pray to the gods that you will be welcomed as allies in these dark times.” With that, Alec and the town’s watch turned about and joined the organised chaos of fleeing their homes.

  Tauren looked about at the near-desolate Barossh. “General Kail. I would ask that your soldiers remain stationed along the main street and see our kin through to the other side. We don't want these people’s homes to be sacked in our passing.”

  “I don't see what difference it will make, Salimson.” Kail emphasised his new name with just enough inflection to suggest he didn't agree with it. “The Darkakin will surely burn it to the ground.”

  “Maybe so,” Tauren countered, “but let it be ruined by savages and not the people of The Arid Lands.”

  General Kail twisted his mouth, considering his reply, but deigned to nod his head and bark orders at his men. Doran and Glaide parted from the caravan and met Tauren and Hadavad by the side of the street.

  “That was very good of ye, laddy,” Doran said with a dour expression, “but couldn't ye have waited until we found a tavern? Not a drop of ale has passed my lips in days!”

  Glaide laughed deep in his throat. “Come, master dwarf. Our next stop is Velia, where there is no shortage of taverns…”

  The two rangers continued along the road, leaving Tauren and Hadavad, who decided to walk the streets with their horses’ reins in hand.

  “What do you think really awaits us in Velia?” Tauren asked.

  “For five centuries, I have seen the realm fall into skirmishes and bloody battles for territory, or even on the whims of a foolish king…” Hadavad sighed and the light left her face for a moment. “But I have never seen a war such as this. I’m afraid my wisdom can offer no insight.”

  Tauren glanced at the staff on the mage’s back. “At least we have magic on our side,” he said with a lighter tone.

  Hadavad smiled and Tauren found it hard not to imitate her. “You have a lot of optimism for someone who has lived under oppression their entire life.”

  Tauren laughed. “My brother used to say that winning breeds optimism. I guess I've won a lot,” he said with a cocky smile.

  Hadavad nodded along.
“Your achievements will no doubt go down in history, young Salimson.”

  With a single word Tauren was reminded that the woman beside him was not his age, and that they had both come from very different backgrounds. Hadavad’s was a world of magic and mystery, his of blood and sweat.

  “I’m sorry,” Hadavad said, looking down at her own body. “I’m not usually around people when I transition from one vessel to the next. It’s good for me though, I need to stop talking like an old man.”

  Tauren shrugged. “Whether you’re young, old, man or woman, I’m just happy to have you on our side. I’ve lost too many owls already…”

  Hadavad put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “They gave their lives for a better world, just as each of my apprentices has. Never forget your place in the world, Tauren. There are always going to be those who need to survive to see the dreams of others come true, and carry it forward. It is a burden we both share…”

  Tauren wasn't quite sure he agreed with the mage’s insight. “I would gladly die alongside my countrymen if this war demanded it. If the foundation of a free Arid Lands had to be built atop my bones then so be it.”

  “I am not doubting the lengths you would go to or your honour,” Hadavad explained. “But always think; if you weren't here to see those foundations laid, who would you trust to do it?” The mage glanced at General Kail in the distance.

  The White Owl had no reply to that, though the question was sure to plague his mind for some time.

  18

  Mount garganafan

  Soaring over the land at neck-breaking speed was becoming addictive. After so much time, Gideon had grown accustomed to Ilargo’s flying and even relaxed into it, allowing the realm of mortals below to explode around him in unimaginable brilliance. It brought such joy that the young Dragorn even forgot the woes of the world and his enormous task, for a time. They had taken flight at dawn and journeyed into the rising sun until the peak of the largest mountain in Verda broke the horizon.