The Godling Chronicles

by Brian D. Anderson

  The Godling Chronicles

  Book Seven

  Journey of Fate

  Brian D. Anderson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Published Longfire Press, March 2018

  Cover art by John Anthony Di Giovanni

  Copyright © 2018 Brian D. Anderson

  More from Brian D. Anderson

  The Godling Chronicles

  The Sword of Truth (Book One)

  Of Gods and Elves (Book Two)

  The Shadow of Gods (Book Three)

  A Trial of Souls (Book Four)

  Madness of the Fallen (Book Five)

  The Reborn King (Book Six)

  Dragonvein

  Books 1-5

  The Vale

  Behind the Vale

  Books by Brian D. Anderson and Steven Savile

  Akiri

  The Scepter of Xarbaal

  Sands of Darkness

  Dragonbane

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dedication

  In loving memory of my brother, Hunter Vaughn Anderson (December. 16, 1986 – March 21, 2018)

  An old soul with the heart of an angel

  Chapter One

  Heaving a groan, Jayden paused to wipe a sleeve across his sweat-soaked brow. He squinted upwards. The sun was at its zenith, meaning there was still a full half day to go. Which in turn meant yet more long hours of mindless, back-breaking tedium to contend with before respite finally came. And what did he have to look forward to as a reward for all this effort? Only an endless succession of exactly the same thing in the dreary routine that was his life.

  He absolutely hated this time of year. But then again, he hated everything about farming. One more season, he silently promised himself. Just one more year and then he would definitely leave and join his sisters in Baltria. He had already remained in Sharpstone for far longer than he’d intended. The problem was, his mother was desperate to keep him here. As for his father…he pretended to be on his side, but Jayden could tell that he really didn’t want him to leave any more than his mother did. All the same, it was his mother’s objections, along with the guilt that only she could induce, that was the main factor in keeping him stuck at home.

  “I’ve already lost your sisters,” she had told him only a week prior, her eyes rapidly filling with tears.

  “You didn’t lose them,” he argued. “You can see them whenever you want.”

  “That’s not the point,” she shot back. “You’re all I have left. Once you are gone…” A sudden rush of sobs had rendered her unable to continue.

  Had anyone in living Sharpstone been passing by and witnessed her weeping, they would have imagined their eyes were playing tricks. Kaylia, the elf warrior turned farmer. A woman with a heart harder than granite. That was what people said about her.

  Jayden didn’t like that the villagers considered her in this fashion. He knew his mother to be a kind and gentle person who was generous to a fault. Admittedly she had a temper, but unless anyone was foolhardy enough to upset or endanger those she cared for, it was usually kept well in check. She claimed not to mind the way others thought about her, though in truth, he thought it hurt her feelings considerably.

  “Busybodies, the lot of them,” she often remarked, and Jayden could understand why she felt this way. The spring after his sisters left home, his Aunt Dina had convinced her to join the village mothers. This had been an unmitigated disaster. Her direct manner and intolerance for gossip did not go down at all well within the group. After only one meeting, there was scarcely a woman in Sharpstone who did not feel that she had been insulted by his mother in some way. Unsurprisingly, she was never asked to return. On top of that, it had taken his father at least a month, and no small number of gifts, to calm things down.

  The field he’d been assigned to plow that day was relatively small compared to most of the others. For once, his usual grueling work schedule had eased off a little, and Jayden thought this only right. As the son of Gewey Stedding, the owner of more farmland than all the rest of the farmers combined and second only to Millet Gristal in wealth, one would think life for him would be easy. But no. Instead, he was regularly assigned twice the amount of work given to all the hired hands. That alone was enough to foster his discontent. Worse still, twice the work also brought with it twice the criticism. The disapproval in his father’s eyes whenever he failed to finish his tasks on time was infuriating. There was never a harsh word; his father was not like that. But his stare – that said plenty.

  Today, however, was different. He needed to be home and bathed early, as his father was due back from Gath at any time. And not a moment too soon. He had been away for a week, and his mother always became short-tempered when he was gone too long.

  The plow horse snorted and stomped.

  Jayden regarded the animal with a sour expression. “Why are you so eager to work? There’ll be plenty more of it to do tomorrow.”

  And the day after that...and the day after that, he added silently.

  He was just about to resume his labor when he heard a familiar and most welcome voice call out his name. Turning, he saw Linis striding up from the narrow road at the edge of the field, a broad smile across his face. Jayden shed his harness and ran up to greet him.

  He gave the elf a fond embrace. “I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”

  “Your mother said she needed a hand with the preparations,” Linis told him. “Tomorrow is a big day, after all.” He shifted over to take a look at the field. “Though from what I’m seeing, you might still be quite busy by then.”

  Jayden frowned. “You’d think I would be allowed one day off.”

  Linis gave a laugh and slapped him on the shoulder. “Patience. Your birthday isn’t until tomorrow, lad.”

  “I know. But there are plenty of hands. To be honest, I don’t see why I have to do any work at all.”

  “Well you should, Jayden. You should be able to understand it better than anyone. Just because your family has gold, that doesn’t mean you don’t have to pitch in. You know, your father ran this—”

  “Please,” he said, cutting him short. “I’ve heard it a thousand times. Gewey Stedding, the strongest man in the village, who ran the farm all by himself at fifteen years old. You have no idea how sick I am of hearing how great my father is.” He looked from side to side in an exaggerated manner. “Where is he now? Tell me that. I don’t see him out here sweating away in the hot sun.”

  Linis cocked his head. “You know good and well what your father does.”

  “I know he stays away from home while I work the farm. That’s what I do know.”

  Linis’s tone hardened. “Young man, you had
better speak with some respect. Your father has done more for you and for this town than you will ever know.”

  “Just because he expanded trade, that doesn’t make him some kind of hero.”

  “You have no idea what you are saying. You really don’t,” Linis shot back.

  There was tension in the air for a moment. Then the elf let out a sigh. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. Why don’t you come along with me to your house? I’ll tell your mother I insisted.”

  “No. I have to finish this field or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Linis chuckled. “Don’t take too long. Your mother is making mint lamb, and that is definitely best when eaten hot.”

  “I won’t.”

  After giving his arm a squeeze, Linus set off at a quick pace in the direction of the house. Jayden watched him go with a thoughtful expression. He could tell that the elf had been holding something back when he spoke about his father. But that was not unusual; he often had the impression there was more to Linis than met the eye. He claimed to have fled to the desert during the war with Angrääl, but Jayden didn’t believe him; nor Dina when she claimed to have been a simple acolyte in the Temple of Gerath. It was the little things they both said, and how they looked at each other whenever the war was mentioned.

  As far as Jayden knew, his father had been trapped in the north and was forced into hiding when the Reborn King’s armies marched south. It was there that he’d met his mother. At least, this was the story they’d told him. He had always thought there was a lot more to it, yet no matter how many times he got them to relate it, the details remained exactly the same.

  He looked at the waiting plow horse and muttered a curse. A small field it might be, yet at that moment it appeared to be almost twice as large as it had been only a minute ago. As he donned his harness and urged the animal forward, he considered that even one more year might turn out to be longer than he was willing to wait.

  The sun was low in the sky before he finally finished his work. With arms aching and clothes covered in dirt, he unhooked the horse and led it the roughly one mile to the barn. Most of the farm hands were already there, busy putting away their tools or stabling the horses.

  “There he is,” shouted an older man named Varis. He had been with the family since Jayden was a small child. Though a good-natured fellow, he had a tendency to tease Jayden at every opportunity. “Did you enjoy working the smaller field today?” he asked.

  This drew laughter from the others. Jayden, though, was in no mood for his jibes, and shot him an irritated look.

  “Careful, Varis,” said a younger hand who was stretched out on a pile of hay. “One day he’ll be in charge of us all.”

  Varis chuckled. “He knows I’m only playing.”

  “From the look on his face, I’m not so sure of that.”

  Jayden forced a smile. He was not about to let them get the better of him. “You never know,” he remarked. “I may just sell it all and move out west somewhere.”

  “Sell your father’s farm?” Varis laughed. “I doubt that. Your mother would have your hide.”

  Jayden handed his horse off to one of the grooms. “My mother is an elf, in case you hadn’t noticed. And my father is human. I doubt she’ll want to stay around here after he’s gone.”

  Varis’s humorous expression quickly turned sour. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

  Jayden regretted his words, but refused to show it. “It’s the truth. My mother will live for hundreds of years yet. What’s the most my father can expect? Eighty, perhaps? Ninety, if he’s lucky.”

  “I thought humans who bonded with elves live longer,” remarked another hand.

  “No one knows for sure,” said Varis. “Not enough time has passed. But if anyone can live as long as an elf, it’s Gewey Stedding.” He met Jayden’s eyes. “And you, lad, should hope to become half the man that he is.”

  Jayden sniffed. “The only thing I hope to do is leave Sharpstone and this bloody farm far behind me.”

  Varis sighed. “Well, before you go…” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small box. “Here, take this.”

  Jayden took the offering and lifted the lid. Inside was a thin gold chain with a small gold medallion attached. His initials were engraved on one side and the words For your coming of age on the other. He immediately felt a stab of guilt.

  “Some of us won’t see you tomorrow,” added Varis. “Your mother has given us the day off.”

  “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

  “It’s fine, lad,” Varis said, with a warm smile. “I know what it’s like to be young and filled with dreams of adventure. Even your father ran off with old Lee Starfinder for a time. Of course, he ended up spending the whole time hiding in the mountains. All the same, he did go on an adventure of sorts. And don’t worry, you’ll get your chance to do so as well one day.”

  Jayden put the medallion around his neck. “Thank you. But you shouldn’t have. I mean…this must have cost you at least a week’s pay.”

  “It wasn’t just me, we all pitched in,” Varis told him. “It’s not every day you turn eighteen years old. Besides, your father pays us well enough.”

  All of the farm hands had stopped what they were doing. Their smiles were bright and friendly.

  “Thank you all,” Jayden said. “I promise I’ll try to be a bit less moody.” He followed this up with a good-natured smirk. “At least, I will until I sell the farm and put you all out of a job.”

  The men laughed, each taking their turn to shake his hand and wish him a happy birthday.

  After thanking everyone again, he set off to his house just a half mile to the north. Along the way, his mind wandered to the last time he had asked his father for permission to move to Baltria.

  “One more year, son,” his father had replied. “By then you will have come of age, and I’ll have things around here working well enough that you’re not needed.”

  “You don’t need me now,” he’d protested. “You already have twice the men you need.”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “But you are my son. I can trust you to watch over things while I’m away. Please be patient. Just one more year and then I won’t have to travel nearly as much. You have my word.”

  His father employed far more people than anyone else in the village, and over the years his farm had expanded to become the largest of its kind for a hundred miles. He had spent years securing trade deals and opening new markets that had not only made them wealthy but also earned their family a respect that extended as far as Helenia. In truth, should his father ever choose to sell all his holdings, they could live in lavish comfort for the rest of their lives. But that was not Gewey Stedding’s way. For reasons Jayden could never fathom, toil and sweat were as precious to him as gold and gems.

  “I have a responsibility to the people,” his father said when Jayden had suggested he retire, or at least reduce his workload. “You’ll understand one day.”

  Jayden suspected that his mother agreed with him. She always looked concerned when his father prepared to leave home. And if he was even a single day late in returning, she very soon refused to eat or sleep until he did.

  Rounding the bend leading to the main house, he could smell the smoke from the hearth. The massive two-story dwelling was a far cry from the old house they had lived in when he was a young boy. These days, Varis lived there with his wife, Molly, and older brother, Daris, who had retired two years ago.

  The broad porch and elegant front garden looked out of place in its rustic surroundings. It was as if stylish western culture had been plucked up and dropped into the middle of nowhere: a gleaming white jewel in the midst of a savage wilderness. With its arched windows and tall columns supporting an upper balcony, the house design was more akin to elfish homes found near Althetas.

  His mother absolutely loved the place of course, and spent much of her time on the front porch reading or wandering around the garden. On the other hand, his father would often
lament about leaving the old home. His tastes were simple, though he was pleased at least that someone who appreciated its charm was living there. Varis had known the Stedding family long before Jayden was born, even having worked for his grandfather, Harman, on a casual basis as a young man.

  He made his way toward a small shed just off to the side of the house. Inside, fresh clothes and a pair of soft shoes had already been laid out for him on a wooden table. Stripping off his work clothes, he grabbed a bucket of water sitting on the floor just by the entrance. The cold water felt good, though he was still looking forward to a proper shower later on. It was one luxury his father was pleased to have, and he’d had three of them installed when the house was being built.

  After washing and dressing, Jayden made his way around to the back entrance. Unlike the elaborate front garden, here there were only a few oaks and a spacious lawn of neatly trimmed grass. A dozen or so people were busy setting up pavilions and tables for the next day’s festivities. At least half of the village was coming to celebrate his birthday, though tonight the gathering would be restricted to just close friends and family. His sisters had wanted to be there as well, but their studies would not allow it. Instead, they had sent him a pair of masterfully crafted Baltrian boots and some fine leather gloves. Not that he currently had any use for such elegant attire; it had been so long since the last time he wore finery, he had all but forgotten how it felt.

  Everyone waved as he passed, but were far too busy to do anything more than that. Inside, the kitchen was sweltering. However, this was quickly overlooked as the scent of mint lamb wafted through the air and made his mouth water.

  Polly, their cook, was kneading dough at the table opposite the stove. She smiled at him over her shoulder.

  “Ah, there you are,” she said. “Your mother was about to send someone to fetch you.”

  “That smells good,” he responded. “I hope you’ve made enough for everybody.”

  Polly laughed. “I should think so. Though as much as you and your father eat, I could be wrong.”