“He knows,” the Vrykol hissed. “He knows much. He knows of your plans and is unhappy. They will not succeed.”
Yanti cracked a smile. “Unhappy you say... I see. Well, my pungent friend, we shall see how unhappy he is when I deliver the godling to him, as well as his elf mate.” He picked up his brandy and held it under his nose for a moment. “All is in order, I assure you. Oh, and he can look to have Lee Starfinder among the converted, as well.”
“The Great Lord is not so optimistic,” said the Vrykol. “He foresees... problems.”
“What kind of problems?” Yanti tried to conceal his concerns.
The Vrykol reached inside his robes and withdrew a sealed letter. Yanti took it, doing his best not to touch the Vrykol.
“By the by,” Yanti remarked. “A bit bold of you to be out in the open, don't you think?”
The Vrykol gurgled with grotesque laughter. “The Master has perfected us. Only a few mindless beasts still roam. Humans fear us and choose what they see or don't see.”
“Then I can look forward to more visits, I take it,” said Yanti.
“No,” replied the Vrykol. “I will stay with you... until the end.”
Yanti scowled. “Then I hope your kind can bathe.” He opened the letter, reading it carefully. “Wait here.” He stuffed the letter inside his jacket and threw open the door. Yanti made his way on deck and found the captain busy navigating the river. The sun was high in the sky and there was a winter chill in the air, despite the fact that they were still far south. His master’s doing.
“Pull along the bank and retrieve my horse from the hold,” Yanti ordered as he strode up. “I'll be getting off here.”
Captain Tarn, a stout, broad-shouldered man, didn't take his eyes off the river. Unlike the first mate, he was clearly not intimidated by Yanti. “Not here,” he said gruffly. Too dangerous.”
“Here,” Yanti demanded. “Now.” Tarn ignored him.
Yanti turned and sought out the first mate. He found him in the galley, eating a bowl of fish stew.
“Can you pilot this vessel?” asked Yanti.
“Aye,” Braydon replied. “As well as the skipper, I'd say.”
“Good,” said Yanti. “Come with me.”
Confused, the first mate pushed his bowl away and chased after Yanti, who was already on his way back on deck. The moment the captain came into view, Yanti drew a small dagger. Before Braydon could utter a protest, Yanti hurled the blade. The captain's eye shot wide as the knife stuck in his throat. He grabbed at the knife, falling to his knees. He let out a gurgling groan as blood poured from his throat and mouth. Yanti slowly walked over and with one strong kick, sent the man crashing through the railing and into the river. Three sailors stepped forward, but backed away when Yanti drew his sword.
“You are promoted.” Yanti smiled as if nothing had happened. “Now land on the bank and retrieve my horse from the hold.”
Braydon gaped in stunned silence. Yanti snapped his fingers, bringing the first mate out of his stupor.
“Get to it,” Yanti ordered.
Braydon grabbed the wheel and carefully guided the boat to the western bank, while one of the deck hands retrieved Yanti's horse from below.
Yanti returned to his cabin and gathered his belongings. The Vrykol stood patiently in the corner.
“I hope you don't mind walking,” said Yanti, feigning concern. “We have far to go.”
The Vrykol made no response and followed Yanti topside. The gangplank had been lowered though it did not quite reach the shore.
“This is as close as we could get without running aground, my lord,” Braydon explained, his voice filled with trepidation.
Yanti looked at the first mate for a long moment. Then turned and stowed his belongings on his saddle. The Vrykol leaped to the shore with unworldly strength, bringing gasps and murmurs from the crew.
“If I were you, I would forget you ever saw me... or my companion.” Yanti mounted his horse. He reached in the pouch on his belt and held up a silver coin. “Do we understand each other?”
“I... I understand,” replied Braydon, trembling.
Yanti tossed the first mate the coin and urged his horse down the gangplank. He cursed as water drenched his boots. He considered killing the first mate for a moment, but dismissed the idea. Braydon had already ordered his men to pull up the plank and shove off.
“I know your kind are fast,” Yanti said to the waiting Vrykol. “You will need to be.” He spurred his horse west into a dead run, not bothering to see if the Vrykol was following. He knew the creature was not far behind.
He reached into his jacket and touched the letter. He would not allow his plans to fail... even if it meant that the godling had to die.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“It is time,” said Linis.
Gewey opened his eyes slowly, allowing the connection with Kaylia to slip away. He felt rested and strong. The echo of Kaylia’s final thought rang through his mind. I'm with you... always. He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stretched.
“I've laid out your clothes.” Linis nodded to the corner. “I've chosen soft leather for you. It will allow you to move freely, while giving you some protection.”
Gewey smiled. “Thank you.” He rose to his feet and dressed. As he attached his sword to his belt, Theopolou entered. Akakios followed just behind.
“I will be awaiting you in the Chamber,” said Theopolou. His eyes were somber, and for the first time Gewey noticed age on his face creeping in. “You should wait here for only a few minutes after I leave. I am told Eftichis is already there.”
Gewey's lips tightened. His connection with Kaylia had released the stress of the coming fight, but the mention of his opponents name brought it flooding back. “I'll be there. Is Felsafell with you? ”
“No,” Theopolou replied. “He was already gone when I went to his room.” Before Gewey could reply, Theopolou and Akakios bowed and left.
Gewey took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
“Remember why you fight,” said Linis. “And remember what you are. To face you is to face death.”
This stabbed at Gewey. He knew it was true. Since leaving his small village, death had become a part of his existence. He had killed... many times. Now he was to kill again. Once more he would be the bringer of death. He steeled his wits. So be it.
Linis looked Gewey over for a moment. “Good. You have the same look in your eyes as Lee did, just before he fought Berathis.”
Gewey checked his sword and made his way to the door. “I know what I must do.” With that, he pushed back the flap and made his way to the main hall.
After only a few minutes Gewey decided he had waited long enough and left the tent. The chill of the morning air washed over him. He filled his lungs and surveyed his surroundings. The camp was quiet. Only a few scattered elves roamed about. Gewey guessed that most were waiting in the Chamber of the Maker to witness the pudnaris. The stillness made him shiver.
As he made his way to the Chamber, the few elves he encountered stared at him, not with hatred as he would have thought, but in wonder.
“Why are they looking at me like that?” Gewey asked.
“They marvel at your courage,” Linis replied. “I imagine most thought you would flee.”
“Perhaps I should,” Gewey joked. “Maybe I should just grab Kaylia and head east.”
“I wish that were possible, my friend. If it were, I might even come with you.”
“I doubt that very much,” said Gewey, with a laugh.
The Chamber of the Maker was no less impressive by day. In fact the light of the morning sun caused it to glow even brighter. As they approached, the rumble of the crowd grew more intense. Gewey dreaded the silence his arrival would cause. His heart pounded in anticipation. Just as he reached the entrance, he spotted Felsafell, leaning lazily against the statue base. He was dressed in his customary skins and carried his gnarled walking stick.
“I
see you come,” said Felsafell. “I see you go.”
“Aren't you coming inside?” asked Gewey.
“I care not for fighting,” he replied. “No, indeed. When the young fights the younger... sadness only... sadness and pain. I wish not to see such things, oh, no.”
“Then you are leaving?” asked Linis.
“For now,” answered Felsafell. He took a few steps forward. “We'll meet soon enough. Again and again, I think.”
“You know more than you're saying,” said Gewey.
Felsafell grinned impishly. “I know much. I tell much. But do not tell all, as I do not know all. Find your road child of heaven. I'll meet you alongside.” As he walked passed Gewey and Linis, he stopped and pressed a small key into Gewey's hand. It was gold, and bore no markings.
“What's this for?” Gewey asked.
“What is a key for, you ask.” Felsafell laughed. “You know this already. Oh, yes, you do. And now I say farewell.” He continued until he was out of sight. Gewey shoved the key in his pocket and looked at Linis, who only shrugged.
“I suppose it's just another one of his mysteries,” said Gewey. “If I live through this, maybe I'll solve it.”
The moment he and Linis entered the Chamber fell silent. He peered down to the Chamber floor. There stood Theopolou, Eftichis, and another elf he assumed was Eftichis' second. Eftichis was dressed as he had been the night before, a long knife hanging loosely from his belt.
As Gewey approached, his eyes met with his opponent’s. Their gazes locked for what seemed like an eternity. Gewey knew that soon those eyes would be dull and lifeless by his hand. He pushed the thought from his mind and turned his attention to Theopolou.
Theopolou addressed Eftichis. “I ask you one last time to withdraw from this challenge.”
Eftichis drew his weapon slowly and leveled his gaze. “I will not.” His voice was even more determined and commanding than the previous night. “This... human, shall either flee, never to return, or die.”
Gewey drew his weapon, allowing it to draw in the flow. The power within him grew until the very foundation of the Chamber trembled. The world around him seemed to grow small and insignificant. The elves before him, as well as those in the gallery, were as children to his eyes. The Chamber of the Maker itself was at his command. He had never felt so much of the flow pass through him before.
Then it occurred to him. The building itself was made by channeling such power. Inside this structure, it was as if a river with the power of the earth became a raging hurricane. He took another look at Eftichis. The elf was frightened, though he tried to mask it.
“I ask you one last time,” Gewey's voice boomed, causing the others to wince. “Do not do this.”
“What are you?” screamed a voice from the crowd.
“Demon,” cried another.
“I am no demon,” Gewey said to the crowd. “You will find out soon enough what I am.” He turned back to Eftichis. “Do you still wish to fight me?” He tried to lessen his hold on the flow but an aching sadness replaced it, along with a yearning for its return. Still after a few moments, he managed to release it.
“Now more than ever.” The elf was grim, though shaken. “I would not have one of my kin bonded to such a creature, nor would I have my people follow you to their doom.” Gewey was taken aback.
“Oh, yes,” Eftichis continued. “I know why you are here. We all do. And I would spit my last breath in your face before standing by your side.” This brought cheers from several throughout the gallery.
“Give me your knife,” Gewey said to Linis, as he sheathed his sword.
Linis did as he was asked. “What are you doing?”
“Only what I have to,” Gewey whispered, then turned back to Eftichis. “Linis shall hold my blade and I shall fight with his.” He removed his sword and gave it to Linis. Linis opened his mouth to protest, but a quick glance from Gewey stopped him short.
“What is this?” Eftichis demanded. “You think to mock me?”
Gewey examined the knife, then looked up. “I am not mocking you. If I use that sword, you will die without a fight. I would not see you come to such an end. If I have to kill you, you will die with honor.”
Eftichis could only stare in amazement. “Are you certain?” asked Theopolou.
Gewey nodded and stepped forward. “Linis has trained me well, as has Kaylia, my future unorem. I will not have our union tainted by dishonor.”
Eftichis removed his long knife and took a dagger from his second. “Then we shall face one another as equals.”
Gewey felt the flow enter his opponent, and he smiled. Though it was far less than he himself could channel, it was nearly as much as Linis, or even Theopolou.
Theopolou, Linis, and Eftichis' second backed away to the edge of the platform.
“Are you ready?” Eftichis’ voice dripped with menace.
Gewey crouched low and allowed the power to rush through him. “I'm ready.” This time the flow was much less than before. And though he could feel the power held within the Chamber, he could no longer use it. He waited for Eftichis to lunge.
He didn't have to wait long. The elf rushed at Gewey with blinding speed, fast enough to rival even Lee, but instead of striking directly, the elf rolled left and slashed at Gewey's right thigh. Gewey was only just able to avoid the cut, as he spun away.
Eftichis smiled with satisfaction. “You have been well trained, I see.” The dagger shifted in his grasp. “That is good.”
Again the elf charged, but this time he did not strike. Instead he whirled around and pushed Gewey's shoulder hard with his empty hand. Gewey nearly lost his balance and took a step back. Eftichis pressed his attack, attempting to drive his knife into Gewey's stomach and barely missing.
Gewey knew what he needed to do. He stepped back, allowing his blade to hang loosely in his hand. Bring him close.
Once again Eftichis charged, but this time Gewey was ready. Eftichis feigned left, then thrust underneath Gewey's guard. Gewey caught the arm of his attacker and heaved upward, sending the elf sprawling.
Gewey did not hesitate. He sprang after his opponent and slashed the hand that wielded the knife. To Gewey's surprise, the elf regained his footing and flipped the dagger into his other hand. Blood gushed from the open wound and poured onto the pristine floor.
“Well struck.” Eftichis grimaced in pain. “But this fight is far from over.” In a flash Eftichis was on Gewey again, twisting, and thrusting... driving Gewey back. Gewey tried to counter, but the elf's skill was astounding. Even with the power flowing through him, he was only barely able to avoid being slashed to ribbons. Finally, Gewey saw an opening. The elf dodged left, attempting to get behind him, but he stepped just a hair too far. Instead of bringing down his blade, Gewey’s left hand came across, his fist smashing hard into the temple of Eftichis. The elf staggered and fell to one knee. Gewey raced in grabbing the elf's wrist and with one twist, the knife slid across the floor. He pushed hard, pinning Eftichis.
“You must yield to me,” Gewey demanded.
Eftichis' eyes were aflame with fury. “We do not yield, human! Finish it and be done.”
“You would have me end your life?” asked Gewey. He released the elf and got to his feet. “As you would end mine?” He turned his back.
Eftichis glanced at his dagger, several feet away but made no move to retrieve it. “I would. It is our way.”
Gewey spun around and tossed his dagger to Eftichis. “Then kill me.”
Eftichis reached down and picked up Gewey's weapon. He stared at it for a long moment, then rose to his feet.
Gewey walked up to Eftichis and placed his hand on the elf's shoulder. Eftichis tried to back away, but Gewey held him fast.
“What are you doing?” Eftichis cried. “This is not—”
“Not what?” said Gewey. “You want me dead. You think my bond with Kaylia is wrong. Kill me.”
Their eyes met.
“Do it,” Gewey whispered. “Or yie
ld.”
Eftichis pressed the knife to Gewey's chest. The gallery was silent. Then, the sound of metal against stone as the dagger fell to the floor. Eftichis dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “I yield.” He raised his head and looked to Theopolou. “I release my claim and yield to the mercy of my adversary.”
Theopolou stood silent for a moment, then stepped forward. “Gewey Stedding. The life and honor of this elf is yours. What shall you do with it?”
“Eftichis is master of his own life,” replied Gewey. His voice echoed throughout the Chamber. “As for his honor... in my eyes, it is without question.”
Theopolou bowed his head slowly. “Then the pudnaris is at an end.”
The twang of a bow sounded. Gewey, still awash in the flow, saw the arrow coming, and twisted his body just as it reached him. It tore through his shirt and he felt a sharp pain as it cut across his chest.
A voice cried from the entrance. “We are attacked!”
The entrance flooded with sword-wielding elves, clad in black leather armor. The gallery erupted. Elves drew their swords, trying to make their way into the fray, while the attackers cut down all who stood in their way.
“Gewey!” Linis tossed Gewey his sword, and drew his long knife. Gewey turned to Theopolou. “Get behind me.”
Another arrow whizzed through the air, striking Eftichis' second in the chest. The elf fell, desperately grasping the shaft.
Gewey drew his sword, holding the scabbard in his left hand. The flow raged inside him. The sound of clashing steel rang throughout the Chamber, as Gewey lowered his eyes, drawing in more and more power. The building shook violently, throwing many of the combatants off their feet. Gewey's eyes snapped open and the world in front of him became chaos as the very air appeared to contract, then explode. Bodies of the attackers and the members of the gallery alike, were thrown aside like paper dolls, leaving a clear path to the entrance.
“With me,” shouted Gewey, as he started up.
The Godling Chronicles 02 - Of Gods And Elves Page 26
