The Godling Chronicles 02 - Of Gods And Elves

by Brian D. Anderson

  “Holy water has no effect on me, foolish woman,” said the Vrykol. “Your Gods have no power in this world.”

  Selena smiled fiendishly as smoke began to rise from the Vrykol's hood. A second later it burst into intense, blue flames. The heat drove the two humans standing beside the Vrykol back. The creature desperately tried to put himself out, but the fire grew larger and hotter, until the light was blinding. It dropped to its knees and let out an unearthly scream. The sound caused Selena to wince and cover her ears. After a minute, it stopped and the Vrykol fell, smoldering, to the ground.

  The two human soldiers dropped the ropes and ran into the night. Jericho started after them, but Selena ordered him back.

  “We can't waste time chasing them,” said Selena. “We must move quickly.”

  They untied the elves and examined their wounds.

  “You are Theopolou's guard, are you not?” asked Selena.

  The elves nodded. “I am Stintos, and this is Haldrontis. We owe you our lives, High Lady.”

  Selena smiled. “We are happy to aid you. How did this happen?”

  Stintos explained how the Vrykol had attacked them, and how Gewey and Linis slew them. “We were to return to the temple until I was able to travel, but we were ambushed and held captive.” Anger raged in his voice. “They tried to get us to turn spy, but I would not dishonor myself, or my kin, with treachery. They are devils. And they have elf allies. Now that we are free, I must get this information to Theopolou.”

  “He will be told,” assured Selena. “But your wounds must be tended. We go to Althetas and the two of you are coming with us. I will send word. The moment we get there.” Stintos opened his mouth to protest, but Selena shot him a stern look that told him there would be no argument.

  “Can you travel?” asked Jericho.

  “Yes.” Haldrontis spoke with fierce determination. “And we will fight if need be.”

  Jericho turned to one of the knights. “Give him a dagger.” The knight obeyed and Jericho gave Stintos a dagger from his own belt. “I wish I could arm you better...”

  “This will be fine,” said Stintos. “An elf with a dagger is a thing to be feared.”

  The elves struggled to their feet.

  “What was that thing?” asked Selena. “It called itself Vrykol.”

  “I'm not certain,” Haldrontis replied. “But they fight like they are possessed. And the only way I know to kill them is to remove their head.” He looked at the smoking corpses. “And it would seem they do not like fire either.”

  The entire group erupted in uneasy laughter.

  “Let us go,” said Selena, still chuckling. “It's many miles to Althetas.”

  Despite their injuries, the elves easily kept pace. By the time dawn pierced the darkness, they had traveled many miles. To everyone’s relief, there was no sign of pursuit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Several days had passed since Millet and Jacob parted with Malstisos, Maybell, and the caravan. In Manisalia, Maybell discovered that the Oracle had fled more than a year before, and no one knew where she had gone.

  Malstisos had arranged for Maybell to have her own tent, and they purchased enough provisions to last the journey. It was a bit more difficult to procure horses and a wagon, but thanks to Maybell's remarkable bargaining skills, they managed it.

  Though it was bitter cold, the blizzard had not reached far west and the roads were clear after only a few days. The nights brought cheer and laughter as Maybell and Malstisos made friends among the merchants. Maybell instructed the men in manners, and the women in how to keep a man in his place. Soon she became viewed as a sort of caravan elder, settling disputes and advising the merchant leaders.

  Malstisos spent a great deal of his time with Grentos and Vadnaltis, exchanging stories and news from their tribes. Maybell checked in on them from time to time, but her new-found duties kept her busy.

  On the eighth night, Maybell was preparing for bed when Malstisos came to her tent, looking worried and anxious.

  “What is it?” asked Maybell.

  Malstisos' lips pressed tight and his brow furled. “I fear my kinsmen are not what they seem.”

  Maybell's back stiffened. “How do you mean?”

  Malstisos knelt near the entrance to the tent and peered out. “First of all, they are seekers.”

  Maybell looked confused. “Why is that odd?”

  “Because seekers do not hide who they are,” he explained. “And they have attempted to mask what they are from me.”

  “Is that all?” asked Maybell. “There could be any number of reasons for that.”

  “Perhaps,” he agreed. “And if it were only that, I wouldn't be as concerned. Seekers can be an odd bunch, and the ways of my kin in the steppes are different. But these two have been probing me for information, the kind that can only be for one purpose. And they have underestimated me. I am not a seeker, but I am a worthy diplomat. Much more so than either of them. I know when I am being manipulated.”

  Maybell tensed. She knew how vulnerable they were. “What do they want to know?” she whispered, suddenly afraid that they were being spied on.

  “The identity of allies that are hiding their sympathies, the location of Valshara and its strength... things of that nature.” He fingered the knife on his belt. “The thing is, if they had asked me directly, I wouldn't have become suspicious, but they hid their questions behind other, seemingly innocent questions. Their poor attempt and subterfuge has made it clear to me that they are not what they seem.”

  “Should we run?”

  Malstisos shook his head. “No. We are better off remaining with the caravan, for now. I do not think the humans are aware of their deception, and I doubt they will want to draw attention to themselves so far from home. If we run, we are vulnerable. They are seekers. They will hunt us down and kill us both.”

  Maybell's eyes brightened. “I know what to do.” She stood and began to pace the tent. “We will be near Farmington in two days. I have friends there that will give us shelter. We should say that we need to pick up extra supplies, then take refuge.”

  “Good plan,” said Malstisos, nodding in agreement. “It is unlikely they will openly attack a human village. Until then, behave normally. I will quietly gather what we can carry without being noticed.”

  “Good,” said Maybell, satisfied. “Then if you'll excuse me. An old woman needs to sleep. Especially if we're going to run for our lives in two days.”

  Malstisos bowed and left the tent. He took a deep breath and went back to the fire, where the humans were laughing singing songs. He knew he should join Grentos and Vadnaltis so not to raise their suspicions, but he needed time before he could face them. The thought of being deceived by his kin caused his blood to boil, and if they were to escape he needed them to believe he knew nothing. He just hoped the place Maybell had in mind would be enough to stop two seekers.

  After a couple of hours of socializing and singing with the merchants, Malstisos steeled his nerves and joined Grentos and Vadnaltis in their tent. The talk was light and cheerful, and for once they didn't try to gather information. Around midnight they all went to sleep, though Malstisos found it nearly unbearable to stay in the same tent. He slept light and woke several times. He decided he would find a reason to stay with Maybell the next night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Salmitaya cursed as she slapped a horsefly stinging the back of her neck. Her plain wool dress was stained with mud and grime, and her brow was beaded with sweat. She was not accustomed to humid climates or the way she was now forced to live.

  For two weeks they had been in Baltria, and for two weeks she had worked as a slave. The home they stayed in was a modest, single story dwelling, though well decorated and comfortable. Located on the northern outskirts of the city and populated mostly by merchants and store owners. It had a descent yard and a small flower garden in the back—well tended by her backbreaking efforts.

  The house had had two servants when t
hey arrived, but Yanti promptly dismissed them.

  “You are all I need, my love,” Yanti had said, in his melodic tone. “I wouldn't want you to feel useless.”

  He then made a list of her daily duties, though they changed from moment to moment, on his whim. The first day had nearly killed her. She was forced to rearrange all the furniture, tend the garden, prepare the meals, and then go to the market and pick up a weeks’ worth of food and supplies. After she completed each task, Yanti would inspect her work.

  “You must do better, my love,” he had said. “Otherwise you will never leave my service.”

  Angrääl had forced her to give up her position and wealth, and had indentured her to Yanti until he felt she had earned the right to regain her status. She had gone from a powerful High Priestess to a lowly servant overnight. At first, she had hoped it wouldn't be so bad, but it didn't take long for her to realize that despite Yanti's smooth, cultured demeanor, he was a vicious and cruel monster.

  She had attempted escape the first week, only to be caught less than an hour into her flight. She cringed at the thought of the beating he had given her. He promised her that should she try again, he would most certainly kill her... slowly.

  Today, her duties consisted mostly of scrubbing the house clean from a black mold that seemed to cover everything in Baltria. Yanti had commanded that she be finished by midday. He said he had other errands for her to run. She looked up. The sun was high in the sky, and she was still only halfway done. Her back ached and her hands were blistered from constant scrubbing.

  “Taya, my love,” called Yanti from behind her.

  She jumped. Yanti moved silently and was constantly sneaking up on her. “Yes?” She tried to hide her hatred by averting her eyes.

  “I need you to check the inns again. See if your friends have arrived.” He turned and strode away. Just as he reached the corner of the house, he paused. “Later this evening, we'll discuss the fact that you weren't able to finish your work on time. Perhaps we can find new ways to motivate you.”

  Salmitaya shuddered as she watched him disappear around the corner. She dusted herself off, put away the bucket and brush, and headed to the tavern district. The streets of Baltria were filthy by Kaltinor standards. Though well-paved and maintained, you could hear the mud and grime crunch beneath your feet. The city was situated in the very center of the largest delta in the world. The soil was rich and black, and the humid climate made the ground wet most of the time. It was nearly impossible not to track mud wherever you walked. Frequent rain washed away the buildup before it could get out of hand, but it left a strong musty odor, to which Salmitaya swore she could never grow accustomed.

  The houses where mostly single story, brick and mortar structures, even those owned by the nobles. However, closer to the docks you began to notice houses and shops built on tall pylons to avoid the occasional extreme high tides.

  One of the largest cities in the world, Baltria was known mostly for its massive ports and market places that were as big as some towns. Goods from everywhere were shipped from the Goodbranch River. From there they spread to all points near and far.

  Salmitaya despised the tavern district. Yanti had her going every two or three days to check local gossip and pay his informants. At first, she feared she might be spotted. Word of her betrayal had certainly traveled this far by now, and if she were caught she would be spending the rest of her life in a dark temple prison cell. However, it soon became clear that, in her present state of filth and dishevelment, no one recognized her. Twice she had seen sisters and brothers that she had known, but they walked right passed without so much as a second glance. After that she removed the mirrors from her room.

  This time of year in Kaltinor, snow would be falling, but here it was unbearably hot. Her heavy clothing made the heat seem like a torture, and the humidity made the filth cling like leeches.

  “Taya,” called the raspy, uncouth voice of Saul Milspend.

  Salmitaya clinched her jaw and stepped up her pace. Saul was a fish merchant and one of Yanti's local informants. His bald head, short round frame, and smile that was missing several teeth, caused her to recoil every time she saw the man. Worse, he was constantly trying to touch her on the hand or shoulder, in a clumsy attempt at flirting.

  “Taya!” he called louder.

  Salmitaya dropped her head and stopped. She could hear Saul's lumbering footsteps running up behind her.

  Saul caught her by the shoulder. “I am glad I caught you.”

  Salmitaya recoiled. “What is it Saul?” The stench of rotten fish caught in her nostrils. “The innkeeper at the Malt and Mane said you should come by. He said make sure you come through the back.” He held out his hand and gave her a toothless smile.

  Salmitaya reached into the small pouch that hung from her belt and gave him a copper. Saul tried to thank her, but she quickly walked away in the direction of the inn.

  The streets were crowded with the many local and foreign merchants and city dwellers. Fashions from the farthest reach of the world could be seen everywhere. Salmitaya was particularly fond of the silk wraps and colorful dresses of the eastern desert. Though every time she saw one, it reminded her of her own poor appearance. It took her the better part of an hour to wind her way through the city to the tavern district.

  The Malt and Mane was typical of the many inns in Baltria. Not particularly nice, but not a flophouse either. Still, as a lady of culture and dignity, it was not a place she wanted to be. That she was instructed to enter from the rear was as much of an insult as she could bear, but she dare not ignore it. Yanti had intrigues everywhere and was constantly gathering information. Salmitaya reckoned he had dirt on every influential person in the city and he made sure they knew it.

  As she rounded the corner where the inn was located, she froze. Not twenty feet away stood Celandine, talking to a fruit merchant. Immediately she spun around and hurried back around the corner and put her back flat against the building.

  Salmistaya peered around slowly, careful not to be seen. Celandine wore a tan linen dress, rather than her novice robes, and her hair flowed loosely about her shoulders, but there was no mistake... it was Celandine. Salmitaya watched until she entered the Malt and Mane, then sped off back to the house, unsure what she was going tell Yanti.

  By the time she reached the house she was drenched in sweat and her legs burned. She paused, composed herself, and entered. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. A small lamp in the living room to her right was the only source. Yanti sat cross legged in a plush chair, dressed in a white, cotton shirt and trousers, reading a small, leather-bound book. How he could see to read, Salmitaya couldn't imagine.

  Yanti looked up and smiled, closing the book. “Well, my love.” His voice was honey. “I see you're back quickly. A bit too quickly.”

  Salmitaya tried to meet his eyes but couldn't. “I saw Celandine in front of the Malt and Mane.”

  “Celandine?” he remarked, raising and eyebrow.

  “She was a novice...”

  Yanti raised his hand, silencing her. “I know who she is.” He rose from his chair. “Interesting choice.”

  “I don't understand,” said Salmitaya. “You…”

  Yanti shot her a glance and drew close. “My love, there is much I know that you don't. The sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be.” He reached out and held her chin, lifting her head to meet his gaze. “You should stay out of sight for the time being. I wouldn't want you to come to harm. At least not yet.”

  She began to tremble. Whatever his plans were, she knew she was disposable to him. She needed to prove her value in order to stay alive. “Let me help you,” she begged. “I can watch her without being seen.”

  “I am pleased with your enthusiasm,” he replied, sounding almost sincere. “And I'm certain you could do a wonderful job. But I have enough eyes. No. I will restrict your movements to inside the house for the time being.” He released her. “You should be ha
ppy. It will be a respite from your normal duties.”

  “Thank you,” she said in her most submissive voice. Yanti laughed softly. “Get cleaned and get rested.” Salmitaya bowed her head and turned to leave.

  “I don't want you to worry,” Yanti called after her. “I will have much for you to do, soon enough.”

  A chill ran down her spine, and tears welled in her eyes. Whatever he had in mind, she knew it wouldn't be good.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dina entered the Malt and Mane, carrying a basket of fresh strawberries. She let the scent fill her nostrils. As a child, her father would take her into the forest to go strawberry picking. Most often they would eat half of them before they got home. Dina hadn't thought of that in many years, and a small smile crept across her face.

  “You look far away.” Lee sat at the table next to the kitchen door.

  The inn was typical for the area. Two large common rooms were on either side of the entrance. The one on the left had a dozen tables, each large enough to accommodate six people, while the other had a bar on the far side with tables lining the walls and a raised platform in the middle for entertainment. Just next to the bar were two doors, one leading to the kitchen and the other to the guest rooms. Brass lamps hung from the ceiling, and two small fireplaces were in opposite corners.

  Dina joined Lee at the table and handed him a strawberry, which he took gratefully. “I was just thinking about when I was a child,” said Dina, still with a faraway look on her face.

  “Is your father still alive?” asked Lee.

  “No,” she replied. “As you know I'm older than I look, and I was very young when I found the Order.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “It's fine,” she said, shaking off her melancholy. “It just I haven't been home in a very long time. And I'm still tired.”