Jayden furrowed his brow. “What has happened to him? Why didn’t he come himself? My mother is sick, and he needs to come home.”
“I do not have the answer to your questions. Though it pains me to hear of your mother; she is a kind and generous woman.”
“You know her?”
Morda nodded. “We have met many times. If she were ill, your father would rush to cure her if he could. That he does not is troubling.”
Jayden bowed his head for a moment. He had hoped to learn something about his father’s fate, but now he was only more confused than ever. Suddenly, being carried did not seem like an embarrassment at all. He needed to know what had happened, and the sooner he could get to wherever they were going, the better. Pride be damned.
He looked up again. “You said I will get there ahead of you. How?”
“I told you. The blood will carry you.”
“You mean the Blood of the Sands? I thought they was destroyed during the battle between my father and the Reborn King.”
“Darshan remade them.”
Jayden shook his head in wonder. It was still so hard to fathom that his father was powerful enough to achieve such an incredible thing. Each tale of Darshan he heard showed him more and more just how little he knew about the man…the god...who had raised him.
“Sleep,” said Morda. “We will leave with the sun.”
Jayden hadn’t realized how tired he was until that moment. He wanted to keep talking, but Morda stood and joined the others who were gathered in a circle a few yards away. There would be no further discussion. With resignation, he took out a blanket and lay down, using his pack as a pillow. He wondered if his father knew his mother was ill. Surely he did. Their bond would tell him, wouldn’t it? If his sisters knew, he had to know of it as well. Something must be keeping him there…wherever there was.
The morning came, and this time he did not protest when Morda picked him up over her shoulder. The ride was quite smooth, actually. The yetulu strides, though broad and swift, were remarkably even, reducing any jostling to a minimum.
By the third day, his anxiety was increasing. The dunes stretched on for what looked like an eternity, with only the occasional tiny oasis to offer any respite. As evening drew close, he had already asked Morda numerous times that day how much longer their journey would be. When he asked her yet again, she placed him on the ground with a tad more force than before.
“Our path together ends here,” she told him.
For a moment, he thought she was angry. But then she pointed to a distant row of dunes, in front of which stood a twisted rock pillar roughly twelve feet in height.
“She awaits you within,” Morda told him.
“Who?”
“The elf,” she replied. “She will accompany you for the rest of your journey. Forgive us for not taking you closer, but our hearts cannot forget what her kin did to us. We spoke once, and that is all we are willing to suffer.”
From out of a narrow crack in the rock, Jayden saw a figure emerge.
He turned back to Morda. “Thank you for your help,” he said. “I will always be grateful to you.”
She said nothing in response, making just a small lowering of the head before moving away to join the other yetulu waiting for her a few yards away. Jayden watched with a strange sense of affection as the tightly bunched group set off in a northerly direction toward their mountain homeland, their pace markedly slower than before.
He watched after them until they were several minutes away before heading over to the waiting elf. She was older, though it was difficult to say exactly how old. Her skin was surprisingly fair, given the desert climate, and her piercing eyes were fixed firmly on his. She wore a light tan shirt and loose-fitting pants along with a headscarf, presumably to protect her from the blazing sun.
“You are the son of Darshan?” she asked.
“I am Jayden,” he replied, giving a curt bow.
“I am Weila, sand master and friend to your father.” She scrutinized him for a lengthy moment. “You have his bearing. But I see your mother in you as well.”
“How did you know him?”
“It is a long tale. One that I can recount as we travel.”
She then led him down a long, stone-hewn stairwell that ended in a narrow corridor.
“Who built this?” asked Jayden.
“No one knows,” she replied. “The gods, perhaps. Darshan restored it to its former state to help the people of the desert. But I doubt even he could have built such a thing without aid. The Blood of the Sands is truly vast.”
The air at this level was warm, though comfortable when compared to the surface, and not nearly so dry. After about half a mile, they entered a circular chamber with a low domed ceiling. Here a pair of tunnels directly opposite each other were connected by a four-foot-wide strip of sand. Leaning against the wall just off to their right were several flat disks. Weila picked up two of these and lashed them together with a strip of leather from her pocket.
She waved Jayden over to help her carry them to the edge of the sand. “Jump onto the rear and sit down as quickly as possible,” she said.
Though confused, he nevertheless did as told. They jumped virtually together, each of them landing atop their own disk just as it made contact with the sand. Instantly, the entire strip burst into life much like a rapidly flowing river. Such was the force, Jayden was almost thrown off. Only Weila twisting around to catch his shirt collar saved him. The next thing he knew, they were passing into the tunnel ahead at an alarming speed.
“By the gods,” he cried out. Having heard stories about the blood of the sands had not prepared him in the least for such an experience. This was exhilarating almost beyond belief.
Weila smiled. “Yes. I have ridden the blood many times, and I still marvel that it can exist.”
Much as he was thrilled by the ride, Jayden was eager for information. “Tell me how you knew my father,” he said after a few moments.
“I met him here in the desert,” she responded. “He was with my son, Pali, when the creatures of the Reborn King took his life. Later, we followed him to aid in the fight against Angrääl.”
Many desert elves now lived in the west. Jayden had met a few of them when he was a boy. He’d always found them to be far more pleasant than most other elves, totally lacking in what he felt was their western cousins’ haughty and overly formal manner.
“Why did you agree to leave your home?” he asked. “The war was far away.”
“Your father’s coming was foretold long ago. Even so, we did not believe him in the beginning. But he soon proved himself to be true. Then, after the war, I tried to live in the wetlands. It did not work out; my heart was always calling me back to the sands. I wasn’t alone. Many others returned with me.” She smiled over her shoulder. “Change is difficult when you grow old.”
“It’s not so easy when you’re young, either.”
“No. I don’t suppose it is.” She twisted to face him more fully. “I had very little recollection of Darshan for a time. Only that I had fought with him. It was when the elves of the west began coming to the desert that he appeared to me and lifted the veil he had placed on the world. He did not want people knowing who he was…or at least, who he was still pretending to be.”
“Yes. Linis explained it to me.”
“A fine elf. I have not heard his name for some time. How does he fare?”
Jayden proceeded to tell her about Linis’s life in Sharpstone. Weila seemed surprised that he had become a farmer.
“However does he quench his thirst for adventure?” she remarked, chuckling softly. “Though I suppose love can accomplish the impossible.”
She went on to tell him the details of her time with his father: their first meeting, the death of her son, and the siege of Baltria. As it turned out, he had restored her memory so that she could better aid those coming to live in the desert.
“I understand why they come,” she continued. “But it is no
easy task to teach people a new way of life. They hope to escape the relentless tide of change by coming to a land that does not feel the touch of time. I pity them. They do not understand that change comes to the dunes as well. Even now human tribes are venturing forth to live among the sands. True, they are not yet arriving in great numbers, but I feel that will change before long.”
Jayden did not feel qualified to remark on this, so he remained silent.
Weila continued. “Darshan explained to me that he restored my memory to help the elves understand the real story behind the war. That humans and elves are really two people with one heart, and that their new world is not something that should be seen as their demise.” She gave a sad smile. “Even the gods can be naïve. They come. And I can see all too clearly that for most, their hearts will remain unchanged until the day they die.” She took a long breath. “In truth, I think he restored my memory because he feared I would not bear the burden unless I knew we had once been friends.”
Jayden frowned. “Why would he think that?”
“Because it was Darshan who gave them the idea of coming here in the first place.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying that he actually told the elves to leave their home?” Up until now he had assumed that his father had been trying to find a way to get people to live together, not split them apart.
“He planted the seed,” she said. “But only in those he feared would cause problems and might become violent. And he never forced anyone to go against their will. Though how he accomplished all this is unknown to me. Only he can tell you that.”
“So you are really bringing me to him?”
“In a way. I was with him when he…departed. He gave me instructions should something go wrong.”
Jayden sat up straight. “You know what happened to him?”
“No. Not exactly. I only know that he is gone. Where he went and who is behind his disappearance, I cannot say.”
“It was Saraf.”
Weila cocked her head. “Truly? That would explain his apprehension. He came and told me that you might come. I have never before seen Darshan fearful, but this time I could see it in his eyes. He was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“As I said, I am unsure. Hopefully, he will be able to tell you himself.”
“You’re not making sense. If he’s gone, how can he tell me?”
“You will see. Quite soon, in fact. We’re nearly there.” She rose to a crouched position. “When I say jump, do not hesitate. If you do, you will be lost.”
Seeing a bright light rapidly approaching, Jayden mirrored her stance. Then, with a rush, they exited the tunnel and raced through an immense chamber whose walls and ceiling glowed with a strange, pale light. Fear clutched at his chest as he looked ahead and saw exactly what Weila meant by being lost. At the far end of the chamber, the stream of sand they were riding on abruptly spread out, twisting and swirling into a great vortex that seemed to plunge down into the very bowels of the earth. To be sucked in could only mean certain death.
The disks they were on were about to pass alongside a narrow platform.
“Jump now!” shouted Weila, once they were within range.
The sand master leapt. But Jayden was a split second late reacting, causing the unbalanced disk to slip sharply to one side. He reached out frantically, his fingertips only just catching the lip of the platform. Weila had made it easily enough, and at first did not notice his peril.
“Help!” he cried out, already feeling himself losing his tenuous hold.
Weila spun around and dove low to stretch out and grab his wrists, one in each hand. With a heavy grunt, she pulled. Jayden could feel the racing sands gripping at his boots, threatening to suck him onwards into the vortex. But the elf was amazingly strong. For a few seconds she merely resisted the pull of the stream. Then, bit by bit, she overcame it and dragged him far enough forward that he could scramble to safety. He rolled onto his back, his heart pounding and his breath coming in quick gasps.
“Are you injured?” she asked.
Jayden waved his hand. “No. I’m fine, thank you.”
Weila sat back, hands draped over her knees, a deep frown on her face. Her tone was curt. “Did your father teach you nothing?”
“No. He didn’t.” He found her irritation fueling his own. “If you want the truth, you’ve known who my father really is for much longer than I have.”
“I see.”
He noticed her frown had now become a look of doubt. “What is it?” he demanded.
“If you have come to help Darshan, I thought you would be better prepared.”
“He is prepared,” said a familiar voice.
Chapter Fifteen
A wave of elation and utter relief washed over Jayden. Leaping to his feet, he ran headlong toward his father. But then, when he wrapped his arms around him, he knew immediately that something was not right. His father felt...different. He backed away a few steps. His father’s raven hair, strong jaw, and broad shoulders, were just as they had always been. Even his kind eyes and warm smile were the same. But there was something about his clothes that was odd. The white shirt and tan trousers shimmered with an unnatural light, and his skin had a sheen to it as if it were covered in oil.
Darshan turned to Weila. “Thank you for bringing him.”
She bowed. “I will leave you alone. When should I return?”
“There’s no need. You can go home now.”
Weila started toward the far end of the chamber, where Jayden could see a narrow archway leading to an ascending stone staircase. She paused to smile back at him. “I do hope we meet again,” she said. Without awaiting a reply, she bounded up the stairs three at a time.
There was silence for a moment. “Are you really my father?” Jayden asked.
“Of course I am,” he replied. “Who else would I be?”
“Then why do you look so…strange?”
“This will be hard for you to understand. I am your father, but I am only a small part of him. I am the part of his essence that he left behind.”
Jayden’s eyes narrowed. “His essence? You mean you’re some sort of ghost or spirit?”
He smiled. “You could put it that way, I suppose. I have all his memories and emotions. Yet I only have knowledge of what has happened up until the moment I was created.”
“If that is true and you really are my father, then tell me this. What is my favorite food?”
Darshan chuckled. “You tell your mother it is her spiced beef. But you only say that because you’re afraid to hurt her feelings. What you really like the most is fish porridge with vanta root and onions…the way Dina makes it.”
His mother had first made spiced beef for him when he was a child. And it was true that he had told her it was his favorite. She had been so happy that he liked it, he couldn’t bear to tell her that he didn’t. Of course, to his chagrin, this meant that she had continued to make it for him at every opportunity. Only his father would know about this.
“It really is you,” he said.
Darshan spread his hands. “It really is.”
“You have to come home. Mother is ill.”
“I know. But I cannot leave this place. And even if I were able to, there isn’t anything I could do to help her. Only if my true self returns will she be saved.”
“Then where did you…he go?”
He pointed at the mass of churning sands. “Into the vortex.”
Jayden turned to look, a deep frown forming. Why would he go in there? A chill ran through him. “Where does it lead?”
“I wish I knew. When I remade it, I used it to bring the yetulu home from across the Abyss. But Saraf has altered it somehow. I have no way of knowing what he did.”
“So my father…you…went in there to find out what he had done?”
Darshan stepped forward and placed his hand on Jayden’s shoulder. “I know it’s difficult to comprehend. When I first met my own father, I had a hard tim
e too.”
“You mean Gerath?”
“That’s right. He left a part of himself in the Black Oasis. And now I must do for you what he did for me.”
The touch of his father’s hand felt no different than it always had. It was him. And yet in a way that was hard to describe, it wasn’t. “What must I do?” he asked.
“If you are to save your mother, you must follow.”
Jayden stepped back. Somehow, he had known in the back of his mind that this was what his father was going to say. Nonetheless, hearing it confirmed caused apprehension to rise sharply within him. “What will happen when I do?”
“I’m not sure. But you shouldn’t be afraid. I will protect you. Come with me. I’ll show you.”
He walked over to the far left wall, near which a small silver box had been placed on the floor. He handed it to Jayden, who raised the lid and saw an egg-sized blood-red jewel inside.
His eyes widened. “What is this?”
Darshan smiled. “What you see of me is merely an image. The power that sustains my existence is within that stone. The moment you touch it, I will become a part of you. I will protect your mortal self through the vortex.”
“So what will happen to you?”
“I will cease to be.”
Jayden found this to be acutely upsetting. He could accept that the man before him was not really Gewey Stedding – merely a ghost left behind. But ghost or not, it had all of his father’s feelings and memories. It somehow felt wrong to allow that being to sacrifice himself, who was in essence still his father.
“It’s all right,” said Darshan, sensing his apprehension. “This is what I was created to do. I may be only a reflection of your father, but I still love Kaylia in the same way he does. Only you and your sisters do I love more. In fact, so deep is my love that I would stop you from going if I could. But to do that would only leave you vulnerable to my enemies. With me gone, Saraf will not suffer you to live, regardless of what he might have told you.”
Jayden could see the pain in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me who I am a long time ago? And who you are?”
The Godling Chronicles Page 25
