“I wanted only to protect you, my son. I was shown a vision long ago – one that I could not allow to come true.”
“Yes. I was told of this. But you can’t possibly think I would ever do any of the terrible things that vision foretold. I’m not a conqueror.”
A sigh slipped from Darshan’s mouth. “The Oracle of Manisalia once told your mother thatto bring about the end of the world with love and good intent is no better than ending it with fire and fury.You have a kind heart, Jayden, but you are not without failings. No one is. I recognized in you the same weakness that I see in myself.”Sorrow and regret filled his eyes. “It has been hard for me to stay out of the way of mortal affairs. In fact, I often failed to do so. I’ve interfered in things that I should have stayed away from. I was afraid that you would not be able to resist the lure of meddling any more than I have.”
“So what are you saying? That you think I would become like the Reborn King?”
“If you know the history, then you will be aware he was not always evil.”
“Then you think I could become evil. Is that it?”
Darshan shook his head. “No. I think you would remain good and kind. Nevertheless, in the end, you would realize what I have come to understand…and it would destroy you. You would not be able to live with your deeds, or with the truth of the world.”
“So tell me, what is the truth?”
His voice dropped to barely a whisper, almost as if he was speaking to himself. “The elves are right to fear. Humankind will eventually dominate. It is in their nature. Though I used to think otherwise, I now know that in time, hatred wins. When I fought in the war, I was certain that if people could just understand one another, peace would be the natural result. But the harder I tried to make this come about, the more distant they became.”
Jayden set his shoulders. “No, not everyone is like that. Look at the people of Sharpstone. Look at Dina and Linis.”
“You have not seen what I have, son. It’s true there are a few who can set aside old notions, but most simply cannot. Tolerance is not acceptance or love. You can tolerate an unpleasant neighbor; yet should that neighbor fall on hard times, you would not shed even the smallest tear at their departure. That is what the world has become. And it gets worse by the day.”
“I don’t believe that. I know it will take time, but people will eventually learn to live together.”
His father gave him a warm smile. “That is exactly why I didn’t tell you who you are. Because I know you believe with all your heart what you are saying. Your strength and love would not allow you to simply leave the world to run its course. Like me, you would do all you could to help them see reason. And like me, you would fail. In the years since the war ended, I have created nothing but more problems and misery for mankind.”
Jayden squared his shoulders. “Believe me, I have no intention of forcing the world to do anything. Whatever mistakes you might have made, I can promise you that I won’t be repeating them.”
He’d firmly believed that upon meeting with his father once again, he would have many questions to pose that demanded answers. Or at the very least, a long and fierce rebuke for having been kept in ignorance all his life. But now that the time was here, he had nothing to say. No words would change what had to b be done. Seeing his father’s image standing in front of him and hearing of his regrets and failures totally extinguished the flames of anger he had carried ever since leaving home. In a way, he now pitied him. All the power of heaven at his disposal, and still he was helpless to change things.
“Whatever happens,” said Darshan, “I want you to know that I have always believed in you. I know you will triumph.” He moved in close to embrace his son.
Jayden returned the affection fully. There was no question in his mind that his father loved him with all his heart. Even this sliver of spirit left behind was filled with devotion. Releasing his hold, he stepped back to take a last look at his father’s face. “Goodbye,” he said.
Darshan laughed softly. “This is not really goodbye, son. In a way, I will always be a part of you. My consciousness will fade, but my spirit will dwell inside you forever.”
This was a comforting thought. He had always wanted to be close with his father; and now he would be. Far closer than any human or elf father and son could possibly be. Still thinking of this, he reached inside the box and lifted the stone. At once, it crumbled to dust in his palm. As it did so, the spirit before him blinked out of existence. A warm sensation rushed through his entire body, and for a moment he could feel the love of his father wrapping itself around him.
After taking a deep breath, he turned to face the vortex. It no longer appeared ominous and threatening. It was simply a door – one through which he would pass. All fear dissipated, replaced by resolve and even a touch of anticipation. The muscles in his legs twitched and tensed.
It was time.
Bursting into a dead run, he planted his foot on the lip of the platform and leapt. Time slowed as he flew through the air. Then his foot touched sand, and he felt the warmth of his father’s love intensify, acting as a shield against the power of the vortex.
Having launched himself to within just a few feet of its whirling center, he was quickly taken by its grip and pulled down. But rather than the anticipated darkness, a blinding light at first surrounded him. It felt as though a great weight were pressing in on his chest, and he had the sensation of being shot through the air at an unimaginable velocity. Flashes of red and yellow exploded in front of his eyes like spitting embers from a fire.
Suddenly, all went completely still. The light faded, and total darkness enveloped him. For a few seconds he had the eerie sensation of floating in mid-air. Then he was falling. Down and down he plunged for more than a minute, wind roaring in his ears. Sooner or later he was bound to reach the bottom of whatever this was. And then, surely, that would be the end of him. He was falling far too fast to survive.
When the impact finally came, though it rattled every bone in his body and forced all trace of breath from his lungs with an almighty whooshing sound, it was still far gentler than anything he could have prayed for. Yes, the initial pain was intense, but he had survived.
Was this the spirit’s doing? Surely it had to be.
He lay still for a short time with what he took to be grass pressing against his cheek, trying to recover his breath and clear his jumbled thoughts. Gradually, the raucous clatter of what sounded horribly like battle filtered in: steel clashing on steel...men shouting orders...great wails of pain.
While cautiously raising his head to investigate, as if to order, light was suddenly restored, allowing him to take in his surroundings. He was lying in a thinly wooded area, and in every direction he looked, men and elves were engaged in fierce combat. There appeared to be no organization to the melee, no battle lines or tight formations, just utter chaos and death. The elves were vastly outnumbered, and many were attempting to flee. Taking quick stock, Jayden spotted a narrow gap in the fighting just off to his right where the forest thickened. Scrambling to his feet, he ran as hard as he could.
After only a few yards, as if appearing from nowhere, he found a large human in leather armor suddenly blocking his path. Snarling furiously, the man swung the axe clutched in his right hand in a vicious strike at Jayden’s skull. He veered sharply left away from the attack, at the same time fumbling to unsheathe his sword. But before the blade was even halfway free, with amazing speed and agility, the warrior spun and smashed the small circular shield he was holding in his other hand directly into the side of Jayden’s head, sending him sprawling. With the deadly axe raised to strike at him again, Jayden made a desperate roll to the right, gasping with relief when he saw the descending blade thump harmlessly into the earth a foot or so away. But this was only a momentary reprieve. A heavy boot thudded into his ribs three times, robbing him of breath, and for a moment, any further ability to take evasive action.
Scarcely had he arrived, and it seemed his j
ourney was already coming to a bloody end. His foe stood over him, poised to deliver a life-ending blow. Jayden closed his eyes.
The whistle of an incoming arrow was the first thing to suggest that he might not be about to breathe his last. This was instantly followed by a loud bellow of pain. His eyes flicked open once again to see a red-fletched shaft protruding from the warrior’s chest. With both shield and axe now discarded, the man was staggering about and clutching tightly at the missile with both hands. A second later he sank to his knees.
The sheer urgency of the situation galvanized Jayden back into action. Although still badly winded and pained from the kick, he struggled to his feet and stumbled on.
The clear call of a horn penetrated the confusion. In response, the elves began to give more ground. Jayden could see that they were attempting to pull back into a single mass and break away. He tried to move across to join them, but soon found himself cut off. In contrast to their earlier apparent disorganization, the humans were now forming ranks with great speed and discipline.
Utterly desperate, Jayden ran as fast as his legs could manage toward a small gap that he hoped might yet get him through to the elves. It was not to be. A massive, heavily armored shoulder slammed into him, sending him sliding across the slick grass. Before he could even start to recover, there was a sharp blow to the back of his head.
For a split second he was aware only of the taste of blood and earth filling his mouth. Then he lost consciousness.
* * ***
When he came to his senses, the throbbing in his head was at first almost unbearable. He was lying on his side with both hands and feet bound. Nearby were more than a dozen similarly trussed-up elves, many of them severely wounded. About ten human soldiers stood in a group guarding them.
Further back, he could see several rows of tents pitched just at the edge of the now calm battlefield. Small teams of men were sorting through the bodies, gathering weapons and various valuables. Those corpses already picked clean were being hauled away to where another group of soldiers were digging what Jayden presumed must be a mass grave. The battle was over, and the elves had lost. And now he was a captive.
But where was he? He hadn’t heard any rumors of an elf uprising. He focused on his surroundings, though the blow to his head was making it difficult to focus on any one thing for longer than a few seconds. The banners fluttering atop the tents were like nothing he had seen before. Who or what a red bull’s head over a white five-pointed star represented was a complete mystery. This same emblem was also splayed across the breastplates of the soldiers.
“I don’t know you,” said a male elf lying a few feet away. He had a large gash across his cheek and his blond shoulder-length hair was plastered with dried blood. “What is your clan?”
Jayden was unsure how to answer. He knew the names of a few elf clans from his mother, so he said the first one that came to mind. “Hastriatis.”
His answer drew a curious look. “Hastriatis? Then how did you find yourself here? Your people fight in the west.”
“I…I’m not sure. Where are we?”
“What do you mean, where are we? Galmaria, of course. Where do you think you are?”
Galmaria? The name was unfamiliar. “I’m lost.”
The elf’s eyes narrowed. “Lost? Or fleeing? You were not among us before the battle. Explain yourself.”
“Fleeing what?”
“Are you addle-brained? Or did the blow to your head rob you of your senses?”
“Quiet over there, or I’ll cut your elf throats,” shouted one of the guards.
Jayden’s mind was reeling. Where the hell was he? Had the vortex sent him somewhere other than where his father had gone? More immediately, how was he going to get out of this mess? From the look of things, the prospect of survival was slim.
By now, the sun was sinking over the horizon, and fires were being lit throughout the camp. The elf captives remained silent and still, awaiting their fate. So far, nothing Jayden had seen or heard gave even a small clue as to where he had ended up. In fact, he began to wonder if he were even in the same world at all. Could he have been transported to some undiscovered land? It seemed unlikely, yet what other explanation could there be? He’d overheard several humans speaking of the battles in which they had recently fought and of the ‘tide of war’ turning in their favor. But there was no war. At least, not of which he was aware. If there were, he would surely have heard about it. News of such a major event would reach even a small town like Sharpstone.
Three men, one with a red plume on his helm and obviously the commander, approached just as night fell. They stood over Jayden, scrutinizing him with spiteful expressions.
“Is this the one?” asked the commander.
“Yes,” affirmed one of the others.
Jayden’s leg bindings were severed and he was unceremoniously dragged to his feet. So tightly had the bindings been that the blood flow had been cut off, causing his feet to go numb. It took the support of two guards to keep him standing.
“What is your name, elf?” the commander demanded of him.
“Jayden,” he replied.
“Bring him.”
With that curt order, the man spun on his heels and strode away. Jayden was forced to follow as best he could, which at first meant that the two guards acting as support needed to almost drag him along. His head still ached furiously, but after a few yards, the sensation in his feet began to return and he was better able to walk on his own. Within a minute or so he found himself being bundled inside a round pavilion, where a group of what looked to be senior officers were gathered around a table.
Determined to present as bold a front as possible, Jayden firmed his jaw and pulled himself up to his full height. But then the officer, who from the look of his resplendent silver armor was the most senior man present, came fully into view. All pretense of assurance instantly vanished and his eyes shot open wide.
“Father!” Jayden shouted.
There was no mistake. As impossible as it seemed, there was his father standing with his palms pressed to the table.
“You hear that?” mocked one of the other officers in the pavilion. “He’s crying for his father. Well, it’s too late. He can’t help you now, elf.”
The entire gathering laughed…including his father.
“Lord Zarin,” said the commander who had led him to the pavilion. “This is the prisoner you asked for.”
His father stepped around the table and started toward him. As he drew close, the soldier behind Jayden kicked the back of his knees, forcing him down.
“Kneel in the presence of His Lordship.”
Jayden was dumbfounded. Lord Zarin? Why would they call him that? Equally confusing was the look in his father’s eyes. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before – there was nothing but pure hatred and disgust in his expression. Jayden had seen his father angry on a few occasions, though not very often. Rare was the day when there wasn’t a warm smile given to everyone Gewey Stedding encountered. How could a man so well-loved and kind now appear so utterly terrifying?
Lord Zarin tossed a coin onto the ground in front of him. “How did you come by this?” he demanded.
Even his voice was different – hard, forceful, and cold, and filled with the same hate as was displayed in his eyes.
At first Jayden was speechless. A boot heel to his back then forced a response. He glanced at the coin and saw that it was a Baltrian copper. “Baltria,” he said. “I got it in Baltria.”
In the blink of an eye, his father drew a dagger from his belt. Just as quickly, he jerked Jayden’s head back by his hair and held the blade to his throat. “Lie to me again, elf, and the last thing you’ll see is me smiling as you bleed out.”
Jayden could not believe what was happening. “I’m not lying,” he protested.
With a threatening growl of impatience, his father thrust his face closer. “This coin bears the image of someone named Byvern, yet we all know that Baltria is ruled
by King Ferdinan. I’ll give you one more chance.”
He pressed the steel until a trickle of blood ran down Jayden’s neck. “Now tell me again – where did you get it?”
King Ferdinan? No, that could not be, Jayden told himself. Sweet spirits! This had to be a dream or an illusion. If what had just been revealed was true, that meant…
His mind hastily switched track, searching for an answer to the more immediate question. “I found the coin when I was foraging. I don’t know where it came from.”
“My Lord,” called a tall, older man standing a few feet away. “He was also in possession of some coins from Althetas and Helenia. None of these bore their true king’s image either.”
“Did you find those as well?” his father pressed.
“Yes, that’s the truth,” Jayden quickly confirmed. “They were all together in a pouch I chanced upon.” Never had he been so afraid. The strength of his father’s grip combined with the malice in his voice had shaken him to the core.
“My Lord,” continued the man. “It is possible that someone else was attempting to forge these coins. Since when did elves have any need for human money?”
His father held his gaze for several more seconds before finally removing the blade and shoving him onto his back. “That still does not explain the wrong images. Perhaps the elves were using them for bribes.”
“It is possible, My Lord. But they know as well as we who rules these kingdoms. If it is a deception, it’s a very poor one.”
Jayden spotted his pack and sword leaning against a support post. “I was fleeing the battle when I just happened upon the pouch. I swear that’s the truth.”
His father sniffed contemptuously. “A coward, then. In that case, I’m sure your people will not mourn your death.” He looked to the men standing behind Jayden. “Take him back to the others. I want to see them all hanging from the trees come morning.”
Jayden was hauled to his feet.
“Wait,” he cried. “Please wait.”
His father paused. “The coward begs. So what do you have to say, coward?”
The Godling Chronicles Page 26
