Relic of the God

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Nasta’s mouth twitched. “I presented you with the choice I felt you required. At the time I wasn't sure whether you would kill the governor’s children, but looking back I should have known there was only one path open to you. In some ways I feel I set you free, in others, I feel I pushed you away…”

  Asher snapped. The ranger spun on Nasta and gripped him by his dark tunic, pulling him in close. “You…” Asher took a breath. “You are not my father. You never were. Don't convince yourself you ever did me any favours. You should have left me on the plains all those years ago, not taken me to hell. And don't lay that mission out like it was anything other than an errand to kill innocent children in their beds. You sent me there to kill children; you weren't presenting me with anything.”

  Asher released Nasta and strode off, wondering why he hadn't already taken the man’s head off his shoulders. A low whistle from the north brought the ranger’s attention to Nathaniel, who along with Reyna had crouched low over the lip of a small cliff. He quickly joined them, watching Reyna as he advanced, hoping for any kind of eye contact. Nathaniel noted his lingering gaze and subtly shook his head; Reyna wasn't ready to talk yet, not to him at least.

  “What is it?” the ranger asked.

  “Look.” Nathaniel pointed his chin at a small camp in the distance.

  Asher’s experienced eyes took in the details of the camp and those milling about. All men, from what he could see, and well-built too. They carried themselves confidently, but not in the way of a soldier, and judging by the mismatch of swords and bows he guessed them to be bandits or mercenaries. There was a young man on the edge of the camp being beaten mercilessly. His cries were dying under the lash of a short whip, and by his appearance, Asher knew he could only be a slave. He also saw the same thing that had no doubt got Nathaniel’s attention.

  “Horses.” Asher looked either side of the tents and small fires, to the surrounding desert. “Why would they make camp here? They’re too exposed.”

  Nathaniel pointed to the north-west. “A half mile that way is the Selk Road. If I had to guess; I would say they broke away from the Karathan refugees to make their own way.”

  Asher searched the horizon, hoping that Tauren son-of-none and the rangers had indeed passed through this region already. Behind them was an army of Darkakin who had yet to see enough bloodshed to satiate their appetites.

  “Thousands must have fled Karath,” Nathaniel continued. “No one would notice or even care for a few rogues who split off.”

  Asher nodded in agreement. “And they dragged a slave with them...”

  “I imagine there are a more than a few residents of The Arid Lands who are unhappy about the uprising,” Nathaniel commented.

  “They must be resting, planning their next move.” Asher gestured to the north. “They could raid the Selk Road easily from here, but they have no cover.”

  Nathaniel responded with a fiendish smile. “Advantage to us. After dark, we can close in from all sides. I take it that suits you, Nasta -”

  The Graycoat’s alarm had Asher whipping his head around, only to discover that Nasta Nal-Aket was no longer beside them. Leaning over the side, both could see the old man had already made his way down the jagged slopes and was about to stride across the desert.

  “He’s pretty nimble for an ancient bugger,” Nathaniel added.

  “He’s a fool who hasn't stepped foot outside of Nightfall in decades.” Asher was already rising, ready to leap over the side and reluctantly join his old mentor. “Where’s Reyna?”

  It was Nathaniel’s turn to whip his head around and find another of their party was missing. The elf had found her own way down the short cliff and was already nocking an arrow in her magical bow.

  “Reyna!” Nathaniel’s tone was low, but not quiet enough to be missed by an elf.

  “That boy won't survive until dark!” the princess shouted back, taking no care of the bandits. She wanted a fight.

  Asher could see the sudden noise had their attention. The slave was abandoned and more men came scurrying out of tents with their swords raised and bows of their own. There wasn't much distance between the cliff and the camp, but the bandits remained firmly within their boundary, waiting for their enemy to approach them.

  The ranger groaned, still feeling the aches and pains of the last few days. He had hoped to avoid conflict for a little longer after fighting Alidyr and half of the Karathan army. The two men hopped down and skidded most of the way, not bothering to find any footholds. Asher had his folded bow unfurling as he broke into a sprint across the flat ground. Nathaniel naturally gravitated towards Reyna on the left side of the camp, while Nasta strode steadily towards the right.

  Asher could see his own opening in the middle of two tents, where three bandits stood ready with swords. The one at the back changed to a bow upon seeing him and released his first arrow. Asher could see the arrow’s flight from this distance and ducked his head at the last second. The ranger’s own arrow was not so easy to track. The projectile whistled across the expanse and buried itself in the archer’s head with a satisfying sound. Before he charged into them, the sound of men being cut down on his right could be heard. Nasta had gone to work. On his left, multiple arrows were obviously flying around, with Reyna’s sending the bandits across the camp.

  The first of two blades swung horizontally at the ranger, but Asher dropped to his knees and skidded between them, narrowly missing the swords’ fine edges. When he jumped back up, his right leg momentarily gave out, ending what would have been an impressive counter-attack. Instead, he fell on top of the dead archer and grunted in pain.

  “I’m gettin’ too old for this…” Asher kicked out with his good leg and snapped the closest bandit’s knee, dropping the man to the ground in a screaming mess.

  The second came in with a mighty downwards swing of his sword, but the ranger rolled out of the way, leaving the blade to cut through the dead bandit beneath him. Leaving his bow, Asher jumped up with his good leg and forced the man back, landing a solid blow into his face with every step. By the fourth punch, the bandit’s head had snapped back and he dropped his sword. Asher landed one last fist into his exposed throat and ensured his death.

  The man with the broken leg had already crawled into the heart of the camp, dragging his leg with him. Asher took a breath and tested his knee before following him in. The ranger tucked his bow away and unsheathed his double-handed broadsword as he entered the camp. A single, but heavy plunge, put the blade through the man’s back, killing him instantly.

  Nasta walked about as casually as if he were shopping in a market. His lidless visage gave many pause, but his curved scimitar, Reaver, was dripping with blood. Watching how he fought only reminded Asher of how he himself used to fight. With the Nightseye elixir in their veins, Arakesh never needed to look at their opponents in combat, always aware of their surroundings. Without eyes, Nasta was always in the dark. He barely moved, but his every action was as calculated as it was deadly.

  On Asher’s left, the camp was in disarray. Nathaniel was using every technique he had mastered in West Fellion to disarm or kill his opponents. His one-handed sword allowed for a more fluid fighting technique, though Nathaniel integrated it with a brawler style he had picked up during his time on the road. It was Reyna, however, who captured Asher’s full attention. The princess was an elf possessed. The ranger had seen her fight many times now, but always with a measured control that mirrored her morality. Now she was unleashing her full potential, much to the detriment of the bandits.

  “Run!” one of them screamed before Reyna’s aim caught up with him. The impact of the magically propelled arrow sent the man flying through the wall of a tent and rolling out the other side.

  Elven speed had Reyna almost appearing in two places at once, and her strength combined to turn her whole body into a weapon. A leaping split-kick broke the jaw of one bandit, while simultaneously breaking the neck of the other. Her feet had barely touched the ground when her nex
t arrow flew across the camp, impaling two more of the thugs. The last standing bandit ran at her, but it was obvious to Asher what the elf was going to do. Without losing any momentum, Reyna drew her fine scimitar and dropped to her knee, spinning as she did. The blade sliced through the man’s waist, almost separating him into two halves.

  Reyna stood up and sheathed her sword, the only one among them who wasn't panting for breath. The princess’ expression was of stone and Asher could tell she was yet to vent all of her rage and frustration. Without a word she stormed through the camp, heading for the battered slave on the edge.

  Nathaniel kicked one of the bodies over. “Slavers I reckon,” he said with disdain. “Efficient fighters but no understanding of tactics or discipline. Not to mention morals... Tauren’s people are better without them.”

  Asher agreed with the assessment but his attention was on Reyna. The three men followed her to the edge, where the elf cradled a limp body too young to be called a man. The slavers had beaten him to death. The princess closed his eyes and laid his body down gently, her tears dropping onto his bloody cheek.

  “Reyna…” Asher rested his hand gently on her shoulder.

  The ranger could feel the anger bubbling within her. It was easy to recognise since he had embodied such rage himself. His reflexes, however, were not up to the challenge of matching an elf. Reyna charged him and knocked him to the ground with a feral snarl. Asher rolled across the ground, kicking up sand and dirt, while his green cloak tangled itself around him. His instinct was to immediately retaliate until his foe was lying dead at his feet, but it was no foe who stood before him.

  “Reyna!” Nathaniel protested but dared not stand between them.

  Nasta remained quiet and stepped aside, happy to let things play out while he cleaned Reaver.

  “Because of you, she’s dead!” Reyna spat. “Everything can be laid at your feet!”

  Asher slowly rose to his feet but he had no response. Aside from never being in such an emotional conversation before, he also agreed with the princess.

  Reyna took confident strides towards him. “You left the gem in the pit!” She pushed him back, tears running freely from her eyes now. “You took us down there!” Another shove backwards. “You can't even use the gem! You were supposed to get us out of there!” Another push almost had the ranger tripping over a body.

  “Reyna!” Nathaniel made to intervene, but Asher held up his hand.

  The elf screamed and pounded on Asher’s chest. “It’s your fault! It’s your fault!”

  Asher reached out and pulled her in. “I know. I know…” His own eyes began to well with tears.

  “No!” Reyna shoved him one last time, separating their embrace. Her brilliant, green eyes found his for just a moment before she stormed off towards the horses.

  Nathaniel sighed, caught between the two. “She’s just upset… and exhausted. We all are.”

  “No,” Asher replied. “She’s right.” He could feel the gem through the leather pouch on his belt. “If I could wield the gem we wouldn't have been stuck in the pit, and Faylen would be alive.”

  Nathaniel held out his hands with no answer to offer. “We’ll find a way.” The Graycoat joined Reyna by the horses but their conversation was beyond Asher.

  Nasta’s soft footfalls came up behind the ranger. “That gem wasn't intended for any man.”

  Asher rubbed his eyes. “I really don't want to talk to you.”

  After scavenging supplies, chiefly water, from the remains of the camp, the unusual foursome sat astride their new mounts. Asher wished more than anything that he had Hector with him right now. After the battle at Syla’s Gate, there was no telling where his old horse was, though there was no doubt that the cowardly beast had found some way to survive, he was always the first to run away.

  Nathaniel trotted his horse in front of the others. “I say we make for the Selk Road. From there we can ride north, to Calmardra. We might even meet up with Tauren and the others; I can't imagine a group that size is moving at any great speed.”

  “They might with the Darkakin behind them,” Asher offered.

  “Whether they’re in Calmardra or not, we’re all going to Velia, agreed?” Nathaniel looked from Asher to Reyna and completely ignored Nasta Nal-Aket.

  Asher waited for Reyna but there was no response. “Velia is the best staging post,” he said. “If we all rally there we might stand a chance of beating the Darkakin.”

  No one wanted to talk about Valanis. If the dark elf arrived at Velia’s gates with the savages, there would be no chance of survival. They had all seen the elf’s display of power in bringing down Paldora’s star in The Undying Mountains, not to mention the utter destruction of Karath. Valanis brought down its high walls in a matter of minutes, reducing the city to ruins.

  Nasta cleared his throat. “I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting King Rengar of Velia. I trust he is an inviting man and won't mind the thousands of Karathan citizens arriving at his gate.”

  Asher clenched his jaw. “One problem at a time…”

  “Is he really coming with us?” Nathaniel asked, taking no care whether Nasta heard him or not.

  The ranger glanced at his old mentor. “Apparently so.”

  “You might find my presence valuable, Mr. Galfrey,” Nasta announced ominously.

  “I think we can get by,” Nathaniel replied.

  “Look!” Reyna spoke for the first time since attacking Asher.

  The three men followed her concerned gaze to the south, where a cloud of sand was rising over the land. Unlike the wide expanse of a storm however, the cloud was confined to a thick column.

  The Darkakin were on their heels.

  The four riders set off across the horizon without another word, heading north to Calmardra.

  5

  Keystone

  For all his long life, Alidyr could count on both hands the number of times his wicked tongue had saved him from certain death or defeat, but none seemed so desperate as the scene before him.

  “She will die!” he announced with some effort. It took all of his magical strength to keep the cavern from collapsing on top of him.

  Faylen hesitated in the cramped space. Her fists were on fire and ready to bring an end to both of their lives, but his first three words had had the desired effect.

  “Reyna will die... without you.” The sweat was running down his face and leaving a salty taste on his lips.

  Faylen’s chest was heaving after her crawl through the debris and her skin was coated in mud and dust. The elf appeared somewhat detached to Alidyr and he feared for a moment that she wasn't thinking clearly enough to engage with him. His skill with words only worked if the other person was actually listening.

  “She’s stronger than you think…” Faylen’s resolve returned to her expression and she clenched her fists again, ready to expel her destructive magic.

  “You can’t… imagine what’s coming. What she’s… going to face.” The shield he had erected above their heads flared with the falling rock and constant stream of rubble. “We have spies… everywhere. Our kin has set sail… from The Opal Coast. With Ayda behind them, they will find Illian’s shores soon.” His hands trembled above his head. “The Darkakin is a plague that cannot be stopped. Between them… and Valanis, Reyna will surely perish.” Fractures began to appear across the shield and small stones fell through.

  “You would say anything to stay alive, snake. Killing you would be a service to all of Verda.”

  Despite her words, Alidyr took it as a good sign that Faylen had yet to kill them both. “Would keeping the princess alive... not be a better service? Think of the… good she could accomplish.”

  “You would kill her the first chance you got,” Faylen replied sharply.

  Alidyr groaned with the constant effort. “You’re not thinking it through. Reyna is the only one... who can unite man and elf. When King Elym arrives with the elven army, he will either be faced by his enemy... or his daughter. Wh
ich do you think will give him pause? Without that unity, Illian and Ayda will fall. Reyna is the keystone and you have long been her protector…”

  Faylen didn't say anything for a moment. “You’re just trying to get inside my head. Reyna knows where she’s supposed to be. She will stop the war before it happens.”

  Alidyr calculated his every word. “Reyna would never falter in the face of battle. But would she pick the right battle? She follows the ranger and the knight blindly, slaying evil wherever they find it. Will the princess be where she needs to be?”

  He had her. Alidyr could see it in her eyes. For all of her confidence in Reyna, she could also see the princess’ flaws, those moments where only Faylen could nudge her to make the right choice or be in the right place at the right time.

  The elf continued his assault. “Velia won't just face the Darkakin; my master… would never leave it to chance. The north is marching south as we speak. King Merkaris Tion has ever been a loyal servant… of Valanis.”

  “King Merkaris?” Faylen echoed incredulously.

  Alidyr gritted his teeth before answering. “He found Kaliban years ago. He saw the light. Merkaris is going to bring the weight of Namdhor down on King Rengar and his people. Can you really see Reyna… surviving that kind of a battle? Savages from the south, soldiers from the north and… our warmongering kin from the east… it will be the war to end all wars.”

  Faylen appeared to be taking in his words, but she still wore a face of anger. “You would only tell me this if you were confident my warning never reached Velia. You would try and kill me as soon as we were free.”

  “That’s the gamble… for both of us,” he lied. “In my current condition, we are evenly matched.” Alidyr began to feign the extent of his exertion. It was time for a touch of honesty. “Don't get me wrong, when we are free of this hell I will do my best to see you fail, and I have no doubt that you will do the same.”