Brian D. Anderson

Shadow of the Gods

Prologue

Theopolou and Eftichis sat quietly by the small fire. Over the past three days the makeshift camp had become a divided scene. Theopolou had convinced more than half of the remaining elders to join together against the armies of Angraal, but Bellisia had held fast to her convictions. Her influence was the only thing that prevented Theopolou from turning the tide altogether.

“She is a stubborn one,” mused Eftichis.

“She believes in what she says,” said Theopolou. He looked out over the camp. Noble elves were wandering about in tattered and ripped clothing. The stench of burned out tents and the decay of the wounded, made him want to wretch. “And I must admit, her arguments are compelling. There have been times I have doubted my own resolve, because of her words.”

Eftichis nodded in agreement. “She has passion, to be sure. But we have pledged our houses to Gewey, and I, for one, will honor that pledge.”

“As will I,” said Theopolou. “But I cannot deny that my heart has been swayed to the brink. I only hope that my words have had a similar impact on her.”

Eftichis nodded. “As do I. The others will join our cause if she relents.”

Theopolou stood up and rubbed the back of his neck. “True. And we need them if we hope to succeed.”

“Perhaps you should simply try and focus their attention on the elves of the Steppes,” Eftichis offered. “It would end the debate. At least for now. We all know that they must be dealt with.”

Theopolou shook his head.

“No. We must deal with all of the forces arrayed against us, at once. I believe that one cannot be conquered without the other. They are intertwined.” He felt old and weary. “This may break our people. But we have no other choice.”

“But Gewey…” said Eftichis, desperation in his voice. “He can help us remain whole, can he not?”

Theopolou sighed. “Gewey may be a God, but he is not the Creator. As powerful as he is-and will become still-he struggles as well. Gewey does not, and never will, have the power to restore our people. Save us from annihilation, perhaps; but we cannot look to him for salvation.”

“But he opened the Book of Souls,” Eftichis contended. “Certainly-”

“And what of it?” asked Theopolou, cutting him off. “Did you hear what he said when he read the title?” His eyes gazed into the fire. “It is a true history. A true history.”

“Yes, and-” Eftichis started, but the sight of Theopolou's sadness halted him.

“I am the eldest of the elders,” said Theopolou, in a half-whisper. “I lived through the Great War. But unlike the others, I am old enough to have seen what we were before. We were a broken people, even then. Arrogant and selfish. We were so convinced that humans were inferior.”

“But they are,” said Eftichis. “They are fragile and weak. They grovel in the mud and live in squalor. How could we not see them as a lesser people?”

“Yes,” Theopolou laughed, sardonically. “But are we so much better? We have lost, while the humans continue to gain. They build while we gaze at our former glories.” His hand shot out, pointing to the Chamber of the Maker silhouetted against the fading light. “Can we claim to be the same people that built this? Look at us. Are we so different from the humans?”

“Do you see hope for us?” Eftichis asked, sorrow in his eyes.

“I don't know,” Theopolou replied. “I hope so. But whatever hope we have will arise from us, and not Gewey. He is the instrument of our survival, but, in the end, we must determine our own fate. If we live through the coming storm, it will be up to us.” He forced a smile. “But, I do have faith in our people. I believe there is still a spark of grace within us.”

Just then, Bellisia approached, dressed in a soft, cream linen robe. Her eyes showed fatigue, yet she managed to walk straight and tall, with graceful strides. Eftichis and the others rose to their feet and bowed.

“You have been tending the wounded,” said Theopolou. “You should rest. Our debate can continue tomorrow.”

“I am in no mood for debate,” said Bellisia. “I am weary, as you have noticed. I only wish to join you by the fire.”

Theopolou offered her a place beside him, which she gratefully accepted.

“Have you eaten?” asked Eftichis.

“I am not hungry,” she replied. “Just tired. My heart breaks when I look at what our own kind has done.”

“I understand,” said Theopolou. “I hoped I would never see such a thing happen again. I have seen far too much elf blood spill in my life.”

“Do you really believe Angraalis responsible?” she asked, closing her eyes, internally contemplating the truth. “Do you think his power is that great?”

“I cannot say for sure,” Theopolou admitted. “But I see no other way for this to have happened. Long have our brothers and sisters on the Steppes lived alongside Angraal. If the Reborn King has the key to heaven, and I believe he does, then it is very possible he could have bent our kin to his will.”

“The elves of the Steppes are a strong people,” said Eftichis. “If they have indeed been corrupted, then what resistance can we hope to offer? Already we have been betrayed from within our own ranks.”

“I do not know what hope there is,” said Theopolou. “Only that there is hope. And the elves of the Steppes have been close to the influence of Angraalfrom the moment the Reborn King seized power. We have been far removed by comparison. If things were different, who knows what would have become of us.”

“I agree,” said Bellisia. “And they are still our kin, regardless of what they have done. I, for one, will not abandon the idea that they can be redeemed. And, if we are to follow the example Theopolou set before us, forgiveness must be in our hearts.” Her eyes drifted over the camp. “But I must admit, it will be difficult. I have not seen so many elves slain since the Great War. I was only twenty-five during the first split, but the memories are still fresh in my mind.”

“It is so for all of us who lived through it,” said Theopolou. “And we have passed that memory to our children…along with our hatred and fear. It is a cycle that must end.”

There was a sudden disturbance near the healing pavilion, drawing immediate notice from the assembled group. Theopolou and the others reached for their weapons. From the direction of the commotion, Marinos appeared, half running toward them.

“What is it?” asked Theopolou, once Marinos was in earshot.

“Red sails,” he replied. His voice cracked. “Red sails on the horizon.”

Theopolou stiffened. “Are you certain?”

“There is no question,” he replied.

The others looked confused.

“Red sails? What does that mean?” asked Eftichis.

Theopolou lowered his head and took a deep breath. “It means the elves are coming.”

Chapter 1

Kaylia drifted in and out of consciousness. She knew she was bound and slung, face down, across the back of a horse, but each time her thoughts came into focus, an unseen force would press against her, and the world would go black again. Finally, she was able to resist long enough to hear voices. Elven voices.

“This does not sit well with me,” said a deep male voice. “It is one thing to bring traitors to justice. But I was not told these creatures would be among us.”

“Nor was I,” replied another. “But it is far too late to turn back. Once we are home, we can consult the elders. Until then, we must endure their company.”

Kaylia felt a hand grab her hair and lifted her head. Though she was not blindfolded she dared not open her eyes.

“Is she awake?” asked the first voice.

“I cannot tell,” replied the second. “The beast has blocked all connection to the flow. I cannot sense anything.”

The first voice grumbled and cursed, but made no other response.

Hours passed before they came to a halt. Kaylia was still feigning unconsciousness when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Suddenly, the air carried the foul stench of death, and she sensed the approach of…something.

“She is not asleep,” came a rasping voice. “Are you elf?”

Kaylia felt her bonds being cut, and she slid down from the horse. Her legs nearly gave out, but strong arms in rough leathers steadied her. She jerked herself free as her eyes focused. It was well after nightfall, and a small campfire was being built in a clearing a few yards away. She could make out about twenty elves, but that was not what caught her attention. It was the being standing in front of her. A Vrykol, tall and slender; adorned in a sleek, hooded black robe, and carrying a lengthy, vicious, curved blade. It reeked of decay, and its foul breath wheezed and gurgled.

Kaylia glared at the creature. “So this is what our people have become? Murderers of their own kind, and slaves of the darkness of the world?” Her tone has proud and defiant.

“Mind your tongue,” warned the elf that held her. “We are the bringers of justice. It is you who have betrayed our people.”

Kaylia threw her head back in mocking laughter. “You travel with the Vrykol. You attack elves on sacred ground. How dare you name me traitor.”

“Enough of this,” screeched the Vrykol. The sound pierced the air, causing Kaylia to wince. “You are to remain silent unless spoken to.” He turned to the elf at her back. “As for you…your comrades grow restless. Calm them.” His black hands reached out and grasped Kaylia's arm in an iron grip. “I can manage this one.”

The elf grunted and strode off in the direction of the others.

“I will make you pay for what you have done to my people,” seethed Kaylia. “And I will make your master pay as well.”

Before she could measure the moment, the Vrykol's fist crashed into Kaylia’s jaw, sending her sprawling to the ground.

“I told you to be silent.” The Vrykol lowered his blade, pressing the tip against Kaylia's throat. “My master has insisted you are to be kept alive. He said nothing about your…condition.”

Kaylia’s jaw throbbed from the impact, but she glared unflinchingly.

“That's better,” growled the Vrykol. “Remain still and silent.”

A few minutes passed and the tall elf returned. He looked down at Kaylia, then back at the Vrykol.

“She was to be left unharmed,” he grumbled, angrily. “That was the agreement. No elf is to be injured by your hands.” He looked back at the group of elves gathering around the crackling fire. “If you do not uphold your end of the bargain, you will find yourself quickly surrounded by enemies.”

The Vrykol let out a vile laugh. “As you wish.” He removed the blade from Kaylia's throat. “But see to it that she is well-tended. Should she escape, it will be you that pays the price.” With that he spun around, and disappeared into the darkness.

The tall elf held out his hand. “I am Freistal. Do not try to escape. The elves you see here are not the only ones I have with me. The forest is filled with my kin. I would hate to see you harmed before you can be brought to justice.”

Kaylia sneered and struggled to her feet. “We will see who is brought to justice.”

Freistal pulled her roughly to his side. “Perhaps you think your human mate will save you? Or perhaps Linis and his seekers? Let me assure you that they have been dealt with. And even if they have somehow survived, they will not be able to save you.”

Kaylia forced a malicious laugh. “Let me assure you that Gewey and Linis would not fall to the likes of you or your rabble. And when they find you, you will wish you had never left your lands. If you think to look to the Vrykol for safety, you will find that they can be slain as easily as you.”

Freistal shrugged. “Perhaps. But for now you will remain with us, and you will not escape. I will allow you to stay unbound. Do not make me regret it, or you certainly will.” He motioned for her to go to the fire. “We rest for only a short time. Unless you wish me to strap you back onto the horse, you should eat so that you will have the strength to travel.”

Kaylia rubbed her jaw, then made her way to the fire. Freistal followed close behind and though he held no weapon, she was certain that if she made a wrong move, her body would be filled with arrows before she could take more than a few steps. As she approached the fire, she could feel the eyes upon her. She stiffened her back and took an empty space a moderate distance from the others. Freistal knelt beside her and handed her a flask of water and handful of jerky.

“I suggest you hold your tongue,” whispered Freistal. “Things are a bit…tense. And your comments will not be welcome.”

“I take it they are not pleased with your traveling companion,” she taunted. “I cannot say that I blame them.”

“That is putting it mildly,” Freistal replied. “And your presence is no more welcome than theirs. So mind that you give them no excuse to take their frustrations out on you.”

“So I am to be beaten if I speak?” Kaylia sneered, with contempt. “You will behave as the Vrykol?”

“I would not have you harmed,” Freistal retorted. “We are not animals. Speak as you will, but be warned. There are those among us that have a deep hatred for your kin, and you in particular.”

“Why?” asked Kaylia. “Where does this hatred come from?”

Freistal looked at her sideways. “We know who your kin have allied themselves with. They would make us allies of the very people that destroyed us in the first place. And you…” he paused. “You bond yourself to a human, seeking to doom us all. Your crimes are beyond forgiveness.” He rose to his feet and glared down at her. “I, for one, will not stand idly by while you and your people annihilate what is left of our kind.”

“How can you accuse me or my kin of betrayal?” shot Kaylia angrily. “You have been deceived by the evil that dwells in Angraal.”

“Then you deny that elves and humans are allowed to befriend each other?” he said, furiously. “You deny that your elders do nothing to stop it? You deny that you have bonded yourself to a human?”

She glared at him defiantly. “Who I choose to love is my own affair, not yours. And if you are so foolish as to think it shall be the end of our people, then your stupidity knows no bounds.”

He met her gaze. “Because of you and others like you, our people will disappear and become nothing more than a distant memory. A mere shadow of what we once were.”

“So this is why you have done this?” said Kaylia, loud enough for all to hear. “Because of half-truths and fear?”

“You deny it then?” Freistal asked. “You deny that your kin intend to join with the humans?”

“I do not deny that I have bonded myself to a human,” she replied boldly. “And I do not deny that many of my kin have formed friendships with humans. But we are not destroying our people. We are saving them.” She stood to address the entire group, but Freistal caught her arm.

“Do not do this,” he warned. “You will not sway us. You will only anger them, and put yourself in further danger.”

“It seems to me that I can be in no more danger than I already am,” said Kaylia, jerking her arm free. “And if you intend to bring me back to your people on the Steppes, then you will not harm me until then.” She stood straight and proud. And though disheveled from being captured, her fierce gaze gave her a regal appearance.

“Let her speak,” came a voice from the crowd. “Her lies will do nothing but strengthen our resolve.”

“Very well,” sighed Freistal.

Kaylia squared her shoulders and took a step forward. “I know you think me a traitor. I know you believe that your actions are justified.” Her tone was imposing. “But ask yourself this…who is it that you serve? Is this the will of the elders? Or is this the will of the King in Angraal? You are pawns in his game of conquest. Surely, at least some of you sense this.” A few elves stirred.

“If this is not so, then why are you traveling with a Vrykol? Do you really believe that creature will allow you to take me to your elders? It will never let that happen. I am to be used as leverage against the one being that can challenge the power of Angraal.” Tears began to well in her eyes, but her voice remained steady. “You have killed your own kin based on a lie. You have led your brothers and sisters to their death in the process. How many of you have died in your attack? Twenty? Thirty?”

Angry murmurs and tearful stares told her that it was far more.

“Fifty-seven,” whispered Freistal. “And your deceptions will not make us believe they died for nothing. You accuse us of being weak. We are the pawns of no one. Not the Reborn King…and not you. While you and your kin have made alliances with the humans and the Gods, we have remained true to our traditions and ways. We have not diluted our blood with that of lesser beings, and we will never do so. The armies you gather against us will fall.”

“Armies?” Kaylia cried. “We have raised no armies. It is Angraalwho raises armies. It is this ‘Reborn King’ that threatens to march. Not us.”

“You lie!” shouted Freistal. “I have seen them. Your ships have been spotted many times by my own eyes. And your war council we attacked will no doubt hasten your plans, now that they know that we are aware of their treachery.”

“You speak nonsense,” said Kaylia. “Your mind has been twisted by the power of the Dark One. Can you not see this? I did not accuse you of weakness before, but I do so now. You have been touched by the power he wields. The Sword of Truth has bent you to his will. Certainly some of your own will remains.”

“I told you to keep her silent,” hissed the voice of the Vrykol, as it came from behind the outlying brush. “Her words are poison. She seeks to deceive you.”

The Vrykol moved to grab Kaylia, but Freistal stepped between them.

“She is our responsibility now,” said Freistal. “You need not concern yourself with her any longer.”

“Fool,” said the Vrykol. “If I were not here, her mate would have already found you, and slaughtered you like sheep.” It took a step forward. “She will remain with me until I am certain we are no longer pursued.”

“You are not master here,” said Freistal. “And she remains with me. I have no fear of any human.”

Freistal and the Vrykol stood mere inches from each other, but neither made a move to draw a weapon. Though his features were hidden, Kaylia knew the Vrykol was scowling with fury.

“Very well,” relented the Vrykol after a very long moment. “She will remain with you…for now.” It spun around and vanished into the forest.

Freistal called two elves to him and commanded them to watch over Kaylia.

“Do not mistake my defense of you as a sign that your words have swayed me,” said Freistal. “I will not see you brought to Angraal, and I believe you are right about one thing. That creature out there has no intention of allowing you to be delivered to our elders.”

Once the party had finished their meal, they packed and started out again, at an even more desperate pace than before. Kaylia repeatedly tried to reach out to Gewey, but found that her bond was being somehow blocked…by the Vrykol, she assumed. She could only hope for a chance to escape.

By midday, Kaylia began to sense further unrest among her captors. The Vrykol made occasional appearances, each time its foul gaze fell on Kaylia, then it disappeared again into the forest. Kaylia could feel the tension rise with each encounter. Clearly the elves found the presence of such an evil creature difficult to bear and were becoming more vocal in their displeasure.

“Why tolerate this?” Kaylia asked Freistal, who was running just behind her. “Nothing good can come from such a being.”

“We are commanded to allow it to be with us,” grumbled Freistal. “And so long as they make no move against us, we shall obey that command.” He shoved her roughly. “So keep moving and mind your tongue.”

Just then the Vrykol appeared ahead of the band and motioned for them to halt.

“What is it?” asked Freistal, clearly annoyed. “Why are we stopping?”

“The elf woman's mate is drawing near. She must come with me,” the Vrykol hissed. His black hand reached out to grab Kaylia.

Freistal jerk Kaylia behind him, drawing his long knife. The ringing of elven steel sliding free could be heard from all directions.

The Vrykol let loose a harsh rasping laugh. “You think to stop me?” It took a step forward, then let out a high, piercing cry. The elves couldn't help but to cover their ears. “Alone I could take her.” he said. “But did you really think my master would send only one servant to guard his prize? You are a pitiful fool.”

Just then, six more Vrykol stepped into view, each holding a long blade.

“You will not be taking her anywhere, demon!” Freistal roared.

Kaylia heard the snap of a bowstring, and the whiz of an arrow. The Vrykol hardly had time to react as the arrow buried itself deep in its chest. The creature stepped back, then pulled the arrow free and tossed it carelessly to the ground. The air grew cold and still as the Vrykol turned to its comrades and slowly nodded. With astounding swiftness, it then spun back around and charged at Kaylia. The elves erupted in response, some rushing at the other six Vrykol, and others to aid Freistal.

Freistal slashed at the Vrykol's neck, but the beast easily blocked the blow with his own blade and brought the hilt up, crashing into the elf's jaw. Freistal staggered back, barely able to keep his feet. Several more arrows pierced the Vrykol's flesh as it brought its blade down attempting to hew the elf in twain. Freistal raised his knife just in time. Sparks flew as the sound of metal on metal reverberated.

Kaylia knew this was her chance to flee. Quickly, she looked at her surroundings. Six Vrykol had engaged the bulk of the company, and though they fought with ferocity, were falling one by one to the wicked swords of their foes. Five elves had joined Freistal in the fight and were driving the Vrykol back, but their blades were useless. Clearly they did not know how to kill the creature. The arrows had ceased, and the elf archers filed in from the forest, blades drawn.

Kaylia turned and ran, bereft of hesitation. The last thing she saw of the battle was Freistal clenching at the Vrykol's blade that had run through his gullet, only a moment before.

She felt anger and regret, but there was no time to dwell on it. She needed to get as far away as possible. The Vrykol had said Gewey was near, but she still couldn't feel where he was through their bond. She hoped that if she got far enough away, the Vrykol’s influence would wane and she would once again feel the reassuring presence of the bond she shared with Gewey. The trees were a blur as she ran faster and faster.

As she focused on her flight, a dark figure appeared a few yards ahead and Kaylia slid to a halt. A Vrykol loomed, sword drawn. Its cloak was shredded from the battle with the elves, but still she could not make out its form beneath the tattered rags. Instinctively, she reached for her knife, only to realize she was unarmed. She looked around for signs of other Vrykol, but there were none. Her legs tensed for a moment, then burst to action with the rush of battle as she ran straight at the creature. This apparently surprised it, and it side-stepped, slightly lowering its blade. Just as Kaylia was in reach, she ducked and slammed her fist into the Vrykol's knee.

It was like hitting iron. She felt pain shoot through her hand and up her arm, but her blow was enough to part the Vrykol's legs wide. Kaylia thrust her body upward burying her shoulder into the beast’s chest, sending it stumbling back.

Kaylia knew she had no hope of defeating the Vrykol without a blade, and trying to disarm it would mean certain death. It was far too strong. Her only hope was to outrun it. But could she? She had seen how fast they could move. This one had caught up with her, even with several minutes head start. Fear gripped her chest, but she fought it back and ran as fast as she could, not bothering to look back. She had unbalanced it, but she knew only for a few seconds at best. “I must move faster,” she thought.

She had only run a few yards when she felt something hard strike the back of her head. She tried to keep her feet, but felt herself losing consciousness and tumbling hard to the ground. The world began to turn dark as she heard the footfalls of the Vrykol approaching and the hiss of its foul breath. She wanted to cry out, but the light faded from her vision, as the blow to her head overcame her.

Chapter 2

Linis halted, a confused look on his face.

“What is it?” asked Gewey.

Linis bent down and placed his palm just above the ground and closed his eyes. “Something follows our quarry,” he muttered. “Something…unclean.”

“Vrykol,” growled Gewey.

“Yes,” agreed Linis. “It must be. Nothing else I can imagine would leave such a scent. It's like…death.”

“Then we have to catch up with Kaylia before they do,” said Gewey with no hesitation.

Linis opened his eyes and looked at Gewey with determination. “Don't worry, my friend. We will.”

They continued to race through the forest. Gewey kept a few paces behind Linis, all the while reaching out to Kaylia. He told himself that since he didn't lose her entirely, it meant they were going in the right direction. It wasn't until it was fully night when Linis halted again.

“We must slow our pace,” decided Linis.

Gewey's jaw tightened. “If you can't keep going…”

“It is not that I am weary, my friend,” said Linis, cutting him off. “But if either the elves or the Vrykol are aware of our pursuit, they may decide to lay in wait. And though I am uncertain of the Vrykol's skill in stealth, I do know that it is unwise to believe the elves are without such skill.” He peered into the night. “I can spot a trap in the blackest darkness. But not if I move too quickly.”

“I can sense every living being for hundreds of yards,” argued Gewey. “There is no way they can hide from me.”

Linis thought for a moment. Gewey had been channeling the flow from the moment they left, and he had no doubt that he could do as he claimed. “No,” he said finally. “Whatever is blocking your connection to Kaylia may be able to hide itself from you as well. I would not risk it.”

Gewey was silent for several seconds, then nodded sharply.

Linis withdrew a flask from his pocket and drank deeply. “Jawas tea,” he handed it to Gewey.

Gewey took the flask and drained it. The tea filled his belly and relaxed his limbs. Even the flow felt as if it came with more ease. He drew his sword, drawing in more power. Then from a few hundred yards away he sensed something. His muscles tensed as he reached out to find the source. He had done this before several times during the pursuit. Usually it had been a deer or a bear, and once, a fox. In fact, if circumstances were different he would have marveled when he’d touched the mind of a wild animal.

It possessed passion and life in a way no human or elf could understand. It lived for the moment, with no care for anything other than survival. But this time, the mind he found touched him back. Dark and tortured, it was filled with hate and anger, yet also sorrow and desperation. He recoiled and drew back within himself. He knew he had just touched the mind of a Vrykol. And he knew it had sensed him as well.

“They're here,” whispered Gewey. “The Vrykol are here.”

It took Linis a moment, but he felt it as well. “There are eight of them.” He drew his knife. “This will not be easy.”

Gewey filled his lungs and allowed the flow to saturate him. “Let me handle them. You stay back.”

“I will not,” Linis said, with fierce determination. “You may be powerful, but we still do not know the extent of these creatures’ powers. It may very well be that they are the reason you cannot feel your bond with Kaylia. If that is the case, they may be able to do more than we know.”

“Then what do you think we should do?” asked Gewey.

“They know we are here,” said Linis. “But they do not move against us just yet. Perhaps they want us to move against them.” He surveyed the area. “We should move past them and put ourselves between them and Kaylia. If I am correct that will force them to move against us. I would rather them act according to our plan, than us to theirs.”

Gewey nodded, then followed closely behind, as Linis led them in a wide arc around the Vrykol’s location. Gewey knew that their movements were detected. In fact, Linis made certain of it, making just enough noise as to draw the Vrykol’s attention.

“Now what?” asked Gewey.

But before Linis could answer he sensed the Vrykol moving. But to his dismay, only two moved in their direction. The other six headed west, in an apparent attempt to flank them. Gewey faced the direction of the two oncoming creatures while Linis peered into the forest, listening for the others. Just when the two Vrykol were in sight, they stopped and separated, left and right, forcing Linis to turn his attention away from the flanking maneuver.

“We must kill the first two before the others reach us,” shouted Linis. “If not, we will be overwhelmed.”

Gewey's heart raced and he could feel his sword, hot in his hand. The flow was like a flood raging through him. He turned to Linis with a malicious grin. “They will never have that chance.” He took a step forward and focused on the single Vrykol moving to his left. With a tremendous boom, the earth exploded beneath the creature, sending it flying, and its limbs flailing. Its screams pierced the air as it slammed into a tall pine, then slid to the forest floor. “Finish the beast, Linis,” he said, in a near whisper. “I'll deal with the other one.” He focused his mind on the second Vrykol. It had stopped in its tracks just after he had unleashed the flow on the first. Gewey stretched out again, but this time something stopped him. It felt like the same thing he experienced when he tried to reach out to Kaylia. A cold chill seized his chest.

Linis had sped off toward the fallen Vrykol. In moments he saw it leaning against the tree, struggling to rise, its cruel sword still in hand. Linis knew he only had seconds before the beast recovered, and rushed headlong, swinging his long knife at the creature’s neck. The Vrykol tried to move away, but Linis was too fast, and the blade severed its head clean. He glanced over to Gewey for a moment and saw him stalking steadily towards the second Vrykol, then listened for the others. He couldn't hear them…anywhere.

Gewey knew then why he was unable to contact Kaylia. Somehow the beasts were able to block him. He tried again to explode the earth beneath the Vrykol, but with the same result.

The soft hiss of evil laughter seeped from within the hood of the Vrykol's cloak. “That only works once, boy.”

“It won't save you,” growled Gewey. He could still feel the flow. He may not be able to use it to destroy the monster directly, but he knew it had no chance so long as the flow still raged within him.

“Perhaps not,” said the Vrykol, its voice was thin and raspy, though clearer than others Gewey had encountered. “But then again, I am not the one that needs to be saved.”

In a flash, the Vrykol charged, its sword held low, almost touching the ground. Gewey stood in a wide stance, and steadied himself for the onslaught. His sword was fire in his hand as the Vrykol reached him and swung its blade upward. Gewey easily dodged the blow and stepped to the side, ready to take the beast’s head. Then, in the corner of his eye he saw a flash; as the creature stabbed at his neck with the other hand, its fingers wrapped loosely around a small dagger. Gewey turned again, but the tip of the blade found flesh, cutting deeply.

Pain shot through Gewey's body, as if burned. He stumbled back slashing wildly, but the Vrykol moved away, just out of reach.

“Arrogant fool,” the Vrykol taunted, twirling the dagger in its hand. “And you hope to challenge my master?”

Gewey felt dizzy and his vision blurred. He struggled to keep his focus on the Vrykol, waiting for it to charge again, but it remained still. He reached up and touched the wound on his neck. Blood poured down, soaking his shoulder. Though the cut was deep, it shouldn't have been bleeding so badly. 'Poison,' he thought, with disgust.

“So frail,” laughed the Vrykol. “So foolish.”

The Vrykol feinted left, then right, throwing Gewey off balance, then swung its sword in a wide arc. Gewey just managed to bring his sword up in time to deflect the blow. He could feel the flow draining from him as the beast pushed forward. Soon he knew he would be defenseless. He tried to counter, but his blurred vision caused him to strike off target each time. A wave of sudden nausea wracked his body, and he fell to one knee. Gewey glared up defiantly, jaw clenched tight.

“You see,” the Vrykol jeered. “You are not even a match for the servants of the Great Lord.” He kicked Gewey's sword from his hand.

Gewey leaned back on his knees and held his head high, readying himself for the final blow. He heard the whip of a blade approach. But instead of feeling the slash of steel, the Vrykol roared with anger, a small dagger protruding from his left shoulder. The beast spun to meet his attacker, but Linis was upon him before it could react. Linis' long knife cleaved off the Vrykol's leg, just below the hip. It toppled back and fell to the ground. Without missing a step, Linis swung again, this time decapitating his enemy. Thick black blood oozed from the wounds, hissing as it touched the soft forest turf.

Gewey smiled with satisfaction and slumped over. The cut on his neck burned with an evil fury. He looked at the head of the slain Vrykol. It was twisted and scorched, but clearly human. Its skin blackened, as the others he had encountered, but not nearly as badly. He thought about how the first one looked and sounded. This one was most certainly…better. Definitely stronger. But why? These thoughts vanished from his mind as another wave of nausea took him. He emptied his stomach with a groan. Linis was at his side in an instant.

“Poison,” Linis spat, examining the cut. “Red Spider Blossom, from the look of it.” He smiled. “Nothing to worry about. It is meant to incapacitate, not kill.” He reached to his belt and removed his flask.

Gewey drank greedily, nearly draining it dry. The jawas tea was cool, and instantly settled his stomach. His wound still throbbed, but the burning slowly subsided. He sighed with relief. “And the other Vrykol?”

“I don't know,” Linis admitted. “They seemed to have retreated. Why I could not say, but I take it as good fortune. We will need to rest for at least a few hours. You cannot continue until the poison wears off.”

Gewey shook his head. “We rest until I can regain my feet, and not a second more.” He tried to let the flow pass through him, but it was sluggish and weak.

Linis looked at Gewey, disapprovingly. He thought to object, but could see that Gewey would not be dissuaded. He closed his eyes and placed his hands on the wound.

Gewey felt as if a blade of ice had shot through his neck. The shock made him gasp. “What-” Then the intense cold became a pleasant cool sensation. The cut on his neck ceased to throb and his head began to clear. Linis kept his hands on Gewey for several minutes before finally removing them. He breathed heavily, and opened his eyes.

“You should be ready to travel soon,” said Linis, wearily.

“What did you do?” asked Gewey, touching his neck gingerly. The wound was nearly closed. It itched a bit, but the pain was gone.

Linis rubbed the bridge of his nose and lowered his head. “I have channeled my flow into you. You are healed, but I am drained.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

Gewey placed his hand on Linis' shoulder. “Will you be all right?”

Linis looked up and smiled weakly. He took the flask from Gewey and frowned as he found it empty. He reached in his belt and pulled out another. “I will be. Though I will not be able to travel as fast or fight as well for at least a day. But do not fear. I can move fast enough for our purpose, and I'm still more than a match for our prey. Just give me a little time to regain some strength.” He crossed his legs and bowed his head. “Go back to the path. I must focus. I will be along shortly.”

Gewey sat there for a moment, then struggled to his feet and retrieved his sword. Though still unsteady, his strength was returning and he slowly made his way back to the path. Nearly an hour had passed by the time Linis rejoined him. Gewey scrutinized the elf for a moment. If he was unable to continue, it didn't show. As for Gewey much of his strength had already returned. He had been listening for signs of the other Vrykol, but just as Linis had said, they were gone.

“I think we should follow them,” said Linis. “I do not believe that this encounter was a coincidence. They will lead us to Kaylia.”

Gewey nodded sharply and focused. The trail the Vrykol left was clear and easy to follow. “I'll lead.”

Without another word, the two raced off after the Vrykol. Gewey could tell that Linis was struggling to keep pace, but he knew that they could ill afford to slow down. They had already lost too much time. For more than three hours they continued without pause. For a while, Gewey could still feel the fatigue left from the poison, but as the flow continued to course through his body, it vanished. From time to time he reached out for Kaylia, but he found that her mind was still shrouded.

As the sun waned, they had come no closer to catching the Vrykol or Kaylia. Just as desperation returned, Gewey was flooded with Kaylia's presence. It nearly caused him to lose his footing. He ground to a sudden halt.

Linis nearly ran into him. “What is it?” he panted, the evidence of his diminished condition obvious in his voice.

Gewey held out his hand to silence the elf. He closed his eyes and concentrated with all his power. “She is near,” he whispered almost inaudibly. His eyes shot wide. “And she's in danger.” The sinews of his legs burst to life, propelling him forward with such speed that Linis had no chance of catching him.

The forest was a blur as Gewey ran headlong in Kaylia's direction. She was near but heading away from him. But there was something else; a Vrykol pursued her. Its velocity was great and he knew Kaylia would not be able to escape it.

He unsheathed his sword and power exploded within him. This caught the Vrykol's attention. It was only a few hundred yards away and standing between himself and Kaylia. The beast turned to Gewey for an instant, then back around. Gewey could feel the hatred spewing out of the creature. Hatred for everything. The creature raised its sword arm.

It was then that Gewey spotted Kaylia. He knew the Vrykol intended to heave its blade at her, and he knew that he was still too far away. He let out a scream and with all his might thrust a burst of power directly at it. He feared the Vrykol would block him, as before, but it didn't. The strength of the flow flattened the Vrykol to the ground. But Gewey had not been fast enough and the blade flew from its hand. With one last burst, Gewey tried to change the sword’s direction, but instead pushed it straight forward.

“No!” His cry shook the ground as the sword struck its target: Kaylia.

Kaylia flew forward and fell to the ground, the hilt of the blade nearly crushing her skull. Gewey leaped over the flattened body of the Vrykol and was at Kaylia's side without pause. She was face down, blood pouring from the wound on the back of her head. Immediately, he tore the sleeve from his shirt and pressed it tightly over the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

“I will not lose you,” he cried. “Not now.”

Gewey closed his eyes and let the flow rage through him. Slowly, he allowed it to pass into Kaylia, focusing his mind on her injury. At first he wasn't sure anything was happening, then he felt it. The wound was closing and the flow of blood lessened to a trickle. He could feel that it was draining him, making him weaker, but he didn't care. When the wound had closed completely he stopped and gently turned her over. It was then he heard Linis approach. The elf paused beside the Vrykol, and beheaded the mangled body.

“She lives?” asked Linis, out of breath.

Gewey nodded, cradling Kaylia in his arms. “She lives.” Tears were streaming down his face as he stroked her hair tenderly. “Thank the Gods, she lives.”

Linis knelt beside them. He placed his hand on Gewey's shoulder and squeezed. “You did well, my friend.”

Nearly ten minutes passed before Kaylia stirred. Her eyes fluttered open as her hands slid up Gewey's chest and wrapped around his neck. “I knew you would come,” she whispered. She pulled him close and embraced him, intensely.

Gewey could feel the bond between them grow stronger and he allowed himself to be engulfed by their connection. He hadn't realized how much a part of himself the bond had become until it was weakened, and now that it had returned he bathed in the sensation.

Linis stood, his legs still a bit unsteady. “We cannot stay here.” He looked down at Kaylia. “Can you travel?”

Kaylia reluctantly released her hold on Gewey and sat up straight. “I am fine.” She noticed the seeker’s condition and frowned. “But you are clearly not well.”

Linis smiled. “I will be better once I have had a chance to rest.” He peered into the forest for a moment. “For now I can sense no pursuit. But I would have us far from this place come sundown.”

Gewey listened for signs of anyone nearby. “I can't sense anything, either. But I think you're right. We should get as far from here as we can.” He looked over at the body of the beheaded Vrykol and his face darkened. He stood, helping Kaylia to her feet.

“No need to coddle me,” she scolded, playfully. “From the look of you two, I am by far in the best condition.” Without another word she strode away north.

“I take it you will lead,” remarked Linis.

Kaylia glanced over her shoulder. “I know these lands very well. Maybe even as well as you, seeker. My captors wasted their time if they thought to confuse me.”

A wave of anger shot through her bond with Gewey when she mentioned her captivity. Gewey felt a sudden urge to hunt them all down and make them pay, but quickly pushed it from his thoughts. This was not the time.

Kaylia led them skillfully through the forest until the light of the day waned. By then they had traveled many miles. Linis had managed to keep pace despite his growing fatigue.

“I will scout the area,” said Linis, when they finally stopped to make camp.

“No,” said Kaylia, firmly. “You are too weak. I will see that the area is unwatched.” She turned to Gewey and took his empty flask from his belt. “There is a stream nearby, and possibly some herbs. In the meantime we will risk a small fire. Attend to it, if you please, Gewey.”

Linis tossed her his flask as well. “You may find jawas roots in these parts, or perhaps yellow silisia bulbs.”

Kaylia nodded and disappeared into the brush.

Linis offered to help with the fire, but Gewey wouldn't allow it.

“We need you strong again,” said Gewey. “You must rest. I can build a fire without help.”

Linis smiled and sat down against a nearby tree. He allowed his eyes to fall shut and his mind to drift.

By the time Kaylia returned, Gewey had a small fire crackling cheerfully. Linis was still leaning against the tree, arms folded and eyes closed.

Kaylia handed Gewey his now filled flask and sat next to him by the fire. “I could not find jawas, but silisia was plentiful.”

She withdrew a handful of small yellow flowers from her belt and began tearing them in tiny pieces. The air filled with a sickly sweet odor that reminded Gewey of plum brandy, only stronger. Once she was finished she opened Linis' flask and placed the shredded bulbs inside. Tearing a strip of cloth from her sleeve she tied the flask to a long twig and held it over the fire. “It’s not as good as jawas, but it will help.” She glanced over at Linis. Her expression was grave.

“What's wrong?” asked Gewey.

“Nothing,” she replied. “It is just odd to see someone such as Linis in this state.”

“He got that way healing me,” explained Gewey. He recounted the fight with the Vrykol.

“It is a wonder he was able to make it this far,” said Kaylia. “Healing of that sort is not easy, and the cost is great. She touched the back of her head where the sword had struck, then looked deep into Gewey's eyes. She leaned in and kissed him gently. “You are powerful to have healed me the way you did. Such a feat would have incapacitated even the strongest elf.”

Gewey was flushed and his heart pounded. He could feel the warmth of her lips even when they were no longer on his. It took him a minute to speak. “I honestly don't know how I did it. Since we left the spirit world, it's like I understand the flow in my heart…but I still can't understand it in my mind.” His thoughts turned to how the Vrykol was able to block his abilities. “There's too much I don't understand.” He waved it off and smiled. “I wasn't able to reach out to you when the elves held you. I think somehow the Vrykol was responsible, but….” he shook his head and took Kaylia's hands. “Tell me what happened.”

Kaylia told him about her time in captivity. When she was done, she dropped the flask next to the fire and kissed Gewey again, this time long and deep.

“What was that for?” he stammered.

Kaylia smiled. “Because I feared I would never again have the chance. And…” She grabbed Gewey's collar roughly, and met his eyes. Her smile had vanished. “As we are bonded, it is my right.”

There was a long pause, then they both burst out in laughter. Gewey felt as if a weight had been lifted from his heart. They spent the next hour huddled together in silence, staring into the fire. Their bond made words unnecessary. Kaylia finished the tea and left it to cool.

“It will be ready by daybreak.” said Kaylia. “Linis should drink most of it, but be certain you have at least a mouthful.” She lay down on the forest floor. “Strong as you are, I can tell that healing me took its toll on you.”

Gewey hadn't noticed until that moment how much his body ached. He lay next to Kaylia and allowed his mind to drift into hers. He felt closer to her than ever before. A satisfied smile washed over his face as sleep finally took him.

Chapter 3

As Millet and Dina neared Sharpstone, Millet's spirits had noticeably lifted. When they were only a mile from town they spurred their horses to a quick trot. Millet looked to and fro, taking in familiar sights, grinning happily. Martha Tredall, one of the village mothers and the wife of Hallis Tredall, the cooper, was the first person they encountered. Martha was a short, sturdy woman, with shoulder-length, mouse-brown hair and a cheerful demeanor. Millet had many past dealings with her and had built a good rapport with both Martha and her husband, but as soon as she saw the two riding up, her typical good-natured smile turned to a sour stare. He took a quick glance at his dusty, stained shirt and trousers. Once tan, they were blotched with mud, making him look more like a farmer than a lord. Dina fared a bit better. She had chosen a dark brown blouse and matching pants, which hid the dirt from the long road far better.

“And just where have you been, Master Millet?” she asked when they were by her side. “Off making trouble with that Starfinder fellow, I imagine.” She looked back down the road where they had come. “I see he's not with you. So much the better. We have enough troubles without the likes of him around.”

“Mind what you say, Martha Tredall,” said Millet. “Lee Starfinder has never given you reason to speak ill of him. He's given your husband more than his share of business.”

Martha lowered her eyes. “That he has, true enough. But that doesn't excuse him for bringing trouble to our town, now does it?”

“What trouble?” asked Millet, steadying his horse.

Martha looked up at Millet. Her eyes were filled with anger. “Those bloody faithful. They arrived just after you and Lee made off with young Gewey Stedding.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Gewey's not coming back, is he?”

“Why do you ask?”

She stepped close. “Because they keep askin' about him…those faithful, I mean. They've asked everyone in town if they know where he is.”

“And what do you tell them?” asked Millet, suddenly feeling very exposed on the road.

Martha stood up straight and held her head high. “I don't tell them nothin'. I don't care how much gold they throw around. Besides, I don't know nothin' anyway. Last I heard he went north with Lee. Not that I believed a word of it, but that's what we heard from Lee's servants. From what I heard about those faithful, they're from up north. I figure if he went that way for real, they wouldn't be lookin’ for him here.”

Millet thought for a moment. “How many of these faithful are there?”

Martha shrugged. “Not many. Ten or so. But they got lots of gold. They make your master look like a beggar. And they use it, too.

They've practically bought the town. There's not a shop or farm in Sharpstone that isn't caught up with them somehow or other.”

“Where do they stay?” asked Millet.

“They built themselves a big house just north of town. Not far from your master’s place.” She took a step back and glanced at Dina. “You and your friend might want to stay away. They ain't hurt no one yet, but they look like they could.”

Millet's eyes narrowed. “No, my dear. I will not be staying away.” He looked down the road toward town. “And Lee Starfinder is no longer master. I am.” He spurred his horse. Dina followed closely behind.

The way to the manor took them just to the outskirts of town. The few people they passed on the way stopped and stared. Some dashed away. When they arrived at the entrance to one of the many roads that led to the house, Millet slowed his horse to a walk.

“I take it this is not the homecoming you were expecting,” said Dina.

Millet dropped his head and took a deep breath. “I wasn't certain what to expect. I thought Angraalmight be watching Sharpstone being that it was Gewey's hometown, but I didn't expect them to set up a base here.”

“What are you going to do?”

Millet looked up. Anger burned in his eyes. “I'm going to kick them out of my town.”

As they approached the house, Millet caught sight of two servants busy tending the garden. He recognized them as Barty Inglewood and his son, Randson. Lee had hired them on, five years ago. Originally from Gath, they were as stout and dedicated workers as a person could hope to find. Their faces lit up when they saw Millet.

“I thought you'd left us for good,” called Barty. He set down his rake and removed his work gloves, shoving them in his pocket. His son only glanced up and nodded from where he was trimming the hedges, then went back to his work.

“As did I,” said Millet.

“Randson,” called Barty. “Help Millet and…”

“This is Dina,” said Millet. “A friend. This is Barty Inglewood and his son, Randson. They are by far the best gardeners for a hundred miles.”

“A friend of Millet's is mine, as well,” Barty bowed awkwardly. “And where is Lord Starfinder?”

Millet and Dina dismounted and began unpacking their gear. “Lee will not be coming.”

Barty rubbed his chin. “I see. I've never heard you call him Lee before, so I reckon you have news to tell.” He began gathering their things. “You'll be wanting to wash up. I'll get Lydia started on your rooms and a bath. Meal time may have to wait for a couple of hours though. Most everyone is staying down at the Stedding farm now days.”

“Lee instructed for the farm to be cared for,” said Millet. “But I don't think he intended for his entire staff to move there.” He took a quick look around. “Who's left?”

“Me and my boy, of course. Lydia does most of the housework, and Trevor, the old cook Lee hired a couple of years ago, is still here. But he doesn't move around so good anymore, so Lydia helps in the kitchen, too.” He slung a pack over his shoulder. “No one wants to be around now that all those newcomers are about. The rest of the staff comes about once a week to see to repairs and the like, but then they're off again. If Lord Starfinder didn't pay so good they’d all be moved away by now.”

Mention of the newcomers brought tension to Millet's face.

“I see you've already heard about them,” said Barty. He started toward the house. “Well, don't you worry. They don't come calling here anymore. Me and my boy ran them off.”

Millet kept silent and he and Dina followed Barty through the front door. The house was just as Millet remembered. The main hall was just beyond the door and furnished with heavy oak couches and chairs covered with soft, suede upholstery. The walls were decorated with exotic tapestries Lee had acquired during his many travels. A fire crackled in the hearth at the far right end and two silver lamps glowed dimly against the wall behind the couch. Just next to the fireplace was a door that led to the dining hall and sitting room. In the near corner was another that led to Lee's study and bedrooms. The hardwood floors were covered with a large blood red rug, woven with delicate silver patterns. Lee had purchased it in Dantory when he was not much more than a boy.

Millet moved to the wall to avoid stepping on it as he made his way to the rear door. It would be a shame to muddy such a beautiful thing.

“I will take the master suite,” said Millet.

Barty cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.

When he reached the master bedroom, he asked Barty to show Dina to a guest room and went inside. Barty could see that Millet was now in charge, and obeyed at once. Millet took a long look around. The large bed was built from flame maple, polished and stained to a dark brown. The green bed coverings were soft and thick. Millet had often envied Lee such a comfortable sleep. In the corner was a small round table and two chairs where Lee used to take his breakfast. A book of Baltrian poems still sat on the table where it had been left. A large wardrobe in the corner was still ajar from Lee's quick departure and a bookcase against the wall still bore signs of his rummaging through it. Millet took a deep breath and began to unpack. It was his now. All of it. For good or ill, he was lord of the manor.

Randson brought a wash basin and hot water a few minutes later. After he had cleaned and changed, he strode back to the main hall. Dina was already awaiting him, clothed in a blue cotton dress and seated in a chair, thumbing through a small leather-bound book.

“Lee certainly liked books,” said Dina. “There must be fifty in my room alone.”

Millet smiled and took a seat across from her. “He did indeed.” He leaned back and rubbed his neck. “There is much about Lee Starfinder that lives in this house.” He pointed out the tapestries and other various decorations and began telling Dina where they came from and how Lee had acquired them. Dina smiled and listened patiently.

After a time, Lydia entered the room. Dressed in a dark brown skirt that reached all the way to the floor and a white cotton shirt, she was tall, lean, and despite her advancing years, looked as if she could labor alongside any man. Her once-black hair was now streaked with gray and wrapped in a tight bun.

Lydia looked disapprovingly at Millet. “What business do you have in Lord Starfinder's chambers?”

“Fetch Barty, Randson, and Trevor,” ordered Millet. “I have something to tell you.”

“Trevor's cooking supper,” said Lydia.

Millet's faced hardened. “Then tell him to stop.”

Lydia glared at Millet for a moment, then stormed off toward the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned. A thinly built old man wearing a tan shirt and trousers trailed behind, covered from head to toe in flour. The old man beamed when he saw Millet.

“Good to see you, old friend,” said Trevor. He looked at Dina. “I see your taste in company has improved.”

Dina stood and introduced herself. Trevor bowed and started to take a seat on the couch.

“I'll not have you getting flour all over the furniture,” shouted Lydia.

“Calm down woman,” said Trevor. “I'll clean it.”

“You sit, too,” Millet said to Lydia.

The front door opened and Barty and his son entered. Millet motioned for them to sit as well.

Millet retrieved the parchment Lee had given him when they were all seated, and handed it to Lydia. She and the others read it for several minutes then handed it back to Millet.

“I don't know who Lee Nal' Thain is,” said Lydia. “But if you think for one minute that-”

“You know full well who Lee Nal' Thain is,” Millet countered. “As do the rest of you.” He stood. “Lee has given me rights to his lands and titles. That includes this estate.”

Lydia huffed. “And what do you intend to do with these ‘rights,’ might I ask?”

Millet thought he heard a slight quiver in the woman's voice.

“Before I reveal my intentions, tell me about the faithful.”

Lydia took a deep breath. “About a week after you and Lord Starfinder left Sharpstone, three oddly dressed men came to the door inquiring as to your whereabouts, and the whereabouts of master Stedding. They sounded like those folks from Baltria to me, but they wore black cloaks and kept their faces hidden with their hoods. I've never trusted people who won't show their faces. Anyway, I told them you had all left and didn't know where you had gone, or when you'd return. At the time I didn't think much on it. Lord Starfinder has had odd people call on him before, and he's always taken an interest in young Gewey, but when I went to market a few days later, I noticed they were still around, asking questions.

“Still, what could I do? They weren't causing trouble and no one seemed to mind them. All the same I told the staff to keep an eye on them.” She looked at Barty.

“Ah, yes,” said Barty. “When Lydia told me about these characters I made sure I knew what they were up to. I even had my boy follow them a few times. Like Lydia said, at first they didn't do anything other than ask questions. And other than causing rumors to fly, they didn't make trouble. In fact, the way they let their coins pass freely, people actually started to take a liking to them. Especially Mayor Freidly. He had them over at his house almost every night.

“It wasn't long before they started comin' 'round here again.” Barty's lip curled in anger. “This time they were more forceful. They insisted that someone here knew where Lord Starfinder was, and demanded to know.” He puffed out his chest. “Well, my friend, no one bullies me. I snatched up my shovel and ran them off.”

“And you were a fool for it,” snapped Lydia. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

Barty ignored her comment. “After that, they didn't come back. I'd see them watching people coming in and out, but that was as close as they came. I guess I scared 'em good enough.”

“And it's the reason we don't know anything,” scolded Lydia. She turned to Millet. “If you work for Lord Starfinder, you had just as well be an elf. No one says a word to us anymore.”

“They still talk to me,” said Trevor. “One of the advantages to being an old man.”

Millet smiled. “What do they say?”

“First, you should know what went on after Barty ran those fellows off.” Trevor leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. “From what I heard, they didn't like it too much and went to the mayor. Not much the fat lout could do about it though. Barty didn't hit them, and they were on Lord Starfinder's property at the time. I guess they decided to find a better way to watch us. It was only a few days later and they bought the land just next to here. They must have spent a fortune, 'cause they had a house built in just over a week. That was about the time their friends started showing up.”

“We ran into Martha Tredall on our way here,” said Millet. “She told us a little about what's going on, and said that there's about ten of them.”

“Sounds about right,” said Trevor. “They said they were here to set up a trading business, but no one really believed it. Especially with all their talk about the Reborn King.”

This caused Millet and Dina to shift in their seats.

Trevor cocked his head. “I see you've heard about him. Well, that's no surprise, if half of what they say is true.”

“And what is that?” asked Millet.

“Mostly that he's coming to free us from the Gods,” said Trevor. “Bring back the old days like before the Great War. Things like that. I thought they were just some new cult. But whatever they are, and whoever this Reborn King is, they sure do have a lot of gold. Not long after the rest of these faithful got here, they paid to have the market rebuilt, and started buying out anyone who'd sell. Even the folks who didn't sell took their gold on loan. Almost everyone in Sharpstone owes them something.”

“We can barely keep our cupboards stocked,” said Lydia. “No one wants to do business with us. They're either working for the faithful, or just too scared to cross them.”

“That's why most of the staff stays out at the Stedding farm,” said Barty. “They leave them alone out there, and they can get supplies. Master Stedding still produces more hay than anyone else in these parts, even if he's not around. People don't have much choice but to sell them what they need.” He leaned forward. “But you can bet they're watching everything at that farm, too. They ask as much about Master Stedding as they do Lord Starfinder.”

Millet bowed his head in thought. “Trevor, I want you to go into town after our meal. Say that I have returned to settle some business for Lord Starfinder.” He looked up and met Trevor's eyes. “Do not say anything else. Only that.” He turned to Barty. “I want you to secure the front door and windows, but leave the back open. Then take Trevor, Lydia, and your son to the Stedding farm. Stay there until I send for you.”

“I'll not be spirited away,” said Lydia, sternly. “If you're fool enough to do what I think you're going to do, then I'll¬”

“You will do as I say,” snapped Millet. “I cannot do what must be done, if I have to worry about your safety.”

“And what is it that must be done?” asked Dina.

“I intend to send the faithful a message,” Millet replied, darkly.

“If that's the case,” said Barty, “then you'll need me and my boy.” He stood up straight and squared his broad shoulders. “Lydia and Trevor may not be much good in a fight, but I can still swing a sword if need be. I've shown my boy how to take care of himself, too. You may be Lord of the Manor, but you ain't no Lee Starfinder. You're gonna need more than just you and a young woman if the faithful come callin'.”

Millet looked at the gardener and his son. Their jaws were tight and their eyes blazed with determination. He sighed. “Very well. But you must do exactly as I say.”

“The faithful may not even come here,” offered Dina.

“They'll come,” said Millet.

“But how can you be sure?” asked Dina.

“If these are the same lot we ran into in Baltria, then they're likely nobles or maybe merchants,” said Millet. “I know how they think. They'll want to dispose of us quickly and quietly, before we can get ready for them or flee. By now they will know who I am, and without Lee here as protection, they will not fear me. They'll either try and take me prisoner, and torture me for information, or just simply kill me.” He shrugged. “Whatever they do, it will not be in the open. They'll come at night.”

After the meal Trevor and Lydia cleaned the dishes, then made their way into town. Millet went over his plan with Dina, then helped Barty and Randson secure the front door and windows, as well as the stables. Dina busied herself with other preparations. Before long, the sun was sinking low in the sky and the chill air made the crackling fire a welcome sight.

“All is ready,” said Barty, as he, Dina and Randson entered.

Millet was sitting in a leather chair by the fire, staring intently at the dancing flames. He glanced up and smiled. “Good.” He stood up from his chair and looked at each of them for a moment. “If you want to go to the Stedding farm, now is the time.” No one replied. “Then I suppose it's time for bed.”

Chapter 4

The lanterns burned brightly in the front of Starfinder manor that night, as they did every night. The sound of restless horses in the nearby stables carried on the chill night air, masking the rustle of the approaching footfalls of two cloaked figures. One was tall and thin, the other shorter and portly. They made their way around the edge of the yard, then to the back of the house.

“Are you certain he's inside?” whispered the short man.

The other brought his finger to the side of his nose and scanned the area. He pointed to the second window from the corner of the house. The short man nodded, then slowly pushed it open. The soft sound of the well-crafted window sliding upward caused both men to wince. They paused and waited to see if they had been heard, but to their relief, no one inside stirred.

The tall man peered inside. Blackness stared back at him. After a minute his eyes began to adjust and he could see that the window led to a small pantry. Shelves filled with cans and jars lined the walls; herbs and dried meats hung from small hooks on the ceiling. He looked back to his companion and nodded sharply. Carefully, he pulled himself inside and gently placed his moccasin-covered feet on the floor. The slight squeak of wood against wood was like a thunderclap, but he ignored it and went on.

He crept to the door at the far end and cracked it open. He could see no one. He glanced behind him to make sure his companion was following, but to his dismay, he was still alone. The tall man hissed, but there was no response.

“Devon,” he whispered, angrily. “Get in here.” But Devon was silent. His lip curled with anger. He drew his knife and crept to the window. Devon was nowhere to be seen. Coward, he thought. I'll have his hide for this. Devon had been far from his first choice to go with him on this mission. He was fat, clumsy, and not very bright. But his father was rich, and had largely funded the efforts of the faithful in Sharpstone. However, rich or not, the faithful would not tolerate a coward.

He tip-toed back to the door. Going on alone was a risk, even if Starfinder wasn't in the house, but there was no backing out now. He knew what would happen to him if he failed. He pushed the door open wider and ever so slowly stepped silently into the kitchen. The room was still warm from an earlier meal, and the air bore the scent of roast meat and bread. Beads of sweat quickly formed on his brow.

At the far end of the room was a door that he assumed led to the dining hall. From there he needed to make his way to the other end of the house to the sleeping chambers. One of Starfinder's less-than-loyal servants had given them a good description of the layout, and he had been over it several times. Still, there was always the chance that it was inaccurate. He shifted his knife into his left hand, dried his palm on his trousers, and took a slow, deep breath.

He heard movement behind him coming from the pantry. The coward regained his nerve. He was almost at the kitchen door when it burst open. A dark figure stood in the doorway, the glint of steel shining through the darkness. He instinctively raised his knife. Then there was a thud and sharp pain to the back of his head. He fell to his knees, his knife falling from his grasp.

“I surrender!” he cried.

The figure in the doorway stepped forward, his face still obscure by darkness. “Again.”

Another blow came from behind; this one sent him into unconsciousness.

Chapter 5

Millet paced the floor in the main hall while Dina was seated in a chair by the fire reading calmly. Her honey-blond hair was pushed back, revealing her delicate features. Her lips were twisted into a tiny smile, as she fingered through the pages of a Baltrian comedy. He stopped to look at the two bound, unconscious men in the corner. Their hoods had been thrown back from their black cloaks. The tall one was dark-haired and tan, with long features and narrow-set eyes. The short plump one, had the look of a true aristocrat. Soft pale skin and well-oiled black hair. Millet wondered why they would send someone like this to kill him. Clearly they didn't think the task would be difficult. Barty was kneeling next to them, a short sword in hand; his son on the other side holding a thick herding club.

“Do you know them?” asked Millet.

Barty nodded. “The fat one is called Devon. The other fellow goes by Sherone. Both are from Baltria, I think. At least that’s what they sound like when they talk, and Devon does most of that. He's a bit of a braggart.” He cupped Devon's chin in his hand. “Goes 'round telling tales of his adventures. Not that anyone believes a word of it, but he's free with his gold, so no one seems to mind.”

“Do you recognize them?” Dina asked Millet, without looking up from her book.

“No,” he replied. “But it has been many years since I associated with the nobles of Baltria. These two don't look to be old enough for me to have known them, when Lee and I lived there.”

“What do you intend to do with them?” asked Barty.

Millet's eyes shot to Dina, who gave him a knowing look.

“I cannot ask you or your son to participate in what is about to happen,” said Millet.

Barty rose to his feet. His face flushed. “I see.” He turned to his son. “Go to the Stedding farm.”

Randson glared at his father defiantly, and squared his shoulders.

Barty heaved a sigh. “Not this time, boy.” He placed his hand on Randson's arm.

“I will not leave you,” said Randson. His voice was deep and powerful.

Dina looked up with raised eyebrows, realizing this was the first time she had heard Randson speak.

Barty looked at Millet then back to his son. “If Lord Millet is going to do what I think he's going to do, then I will not have you a part of this.”

“And if you think I am blind to what these people are up to, then you think me stupid,” said Randson. “They have practically enslaved Sharpstone. People are afraid to speak against the faithful out of fear they'll lose all they own. They curse the Gods openly, and mock those who refuse to do the same.” His knuckles turned white wrapped around the club. “And now they come here to do murder. If Lord Millet decides they should die, then it's no less than they deserve. You taught me right from wrong, father. And we are in the right.”

Barty nodded slowly, pride glimmering in his eyes.

“Actually, I need him to do something for me,” said Millet. “And he would need to leave soon.”

“If you think to send me away?” began Randson.

“I do indeed,” said Millet, cutting him off. “I need you to protect Dina.”

“Protect me from what?” asked Dina.

“I intend to start fighting Angraalhere,” explained Millet. “If am to do that, I'll need more than just the four of us.” He turned to Barty. “I assume that there are still people in town that want to stand up to the faithful?”

“A few,” said Barty. “But they're afraid of losing what they have. Practically the whole town is in debt to them. It's all legal, too. Signed by the mayor, then sent to Helenia. If anyone gets out of line, they threaten to go to the king.”

“Smart,” Millet muttered, rubbing his chin. “In the morning, go to those who you think you can still trust. Tell them that all their debts will be paid tomorrow. Then have them join me here.” He looked decisively at Dina. “I need you to go to Helenia, to hire men at arms. By the morning the faithful will likely send for more people. And unless I miss my guess, the next group that arrives in Sharpstone won't be nobles and merchants. We'll need muscle and steel to rid us of this lot.”

“I can do better than sell-swords and thugs,” said Dina. “If I am to go to Helenia, then I can bring back Knights of Amon Dahl.”

Millet's eyes widened. “Really? How many?”

“I can send word for them to come from the temples,” said Dina. “How many I don't know, but if only but a few are able, Angraalwould have to send an army to match them. And I wager they can be here faster than the faithful will be able to reinforce.”

“Then it will be up to us to keep them busy until these fellows get here,” said Barty. “You can count on me, and a few others at the Stedding farm, too.”

Just then, Devon stirred, groaning.

Millet looked at Barty grimly “For now I need you and Randson to go out back and get a wagon ready. Don't come back inside until I call for you.”

Barty hesitated, then nodded sharply. “Of course.”

After Barty and Randson had left, Millet knelt down in front of Devon, who had only just opened his eyes. In his right hand he held a small dagger. Dina stood just behind him, expressionless.

Devon turned his head and saw that Sherone was still unconscious. “What do you want with me?”

“First, I want you to see something,” said Millet. “Then I'll let you decide what I want with you.”

Before Devon could respond, Millet reach out and slit Sherone's throat. Blood spewed forth then poured down the man's cloak. Sherone's eyes opened for a moment as he gasped for breath, then slowly closed.

“Gods protect me!” cried Devon. Tears streamed down his plump cheeks as he struggled against his bonds.

Millet laughed mockingly. “Gods? The faithful invoking the Gods?” He wiped the bloody dagger on Sherone's cloak. “What would your master say if he heard that, I wonder?”

“I renounce the faithful,” said Devon, through his sobs. “Please, spare me.”

Millet stood and turned his back to Devon. “Did you come here to spare me?”

“My father is rich,” cried Devon. “If you let me live, he’ll pay you whatever you want.”

“And who is your father?” asked Millet.

“Lord Devon Drevaldon II, of Baltria.”

“I know your father,” said Millet. “At least I know of him through Lee Starfinder. It doesn't surprise me that he has fallen in with Angraal. But you should know that I am lord of this manor now. And as a Baltrian noble, you know well what it means to attack a lord in his own home.”

Devon began to shake uncontrollably. ”I swear I didn't know. I only came to…to…”

Millet spun around and held up his hand, silencing him. “You came to prove to the rest that you're good for more than just your father’s gold.” He knelt down. “Now you can prove your worth to me. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” Devon blurted out. “I swear to it!”

“I've asked no oath from you,” said Millet. “Nor would I believe any that you could give. So I will swear an oath to you.” He leaned in. “You tell me everything you know, and flee Sharpstone this very night, without a word to the rest of the faithful, and I swear that you will not die this night. Should I find out that you have lied, that you have spoken to your friends, or should the sun find you still in this town in the morning, regardless of what happens to me you will die. Do not think you can find safety in Baltria. Or that your father can protect you. And should I die, your death will come more swiftly than you can imagine.” He stood and turned to Dina. “Please explain to Lord Devon Drevaldon II, who you are, so that he knows what I say is true.”

Dina flashed a shocked glance at Millet, then nodded. “I am a member of the Order of Amon Dahl. Does that name hold any meaning for you?”

“I have heard of it,” said Devon. “The faithful speak of it often.”

“Then you should know that we have people in cities in every kingdom,” Her face was stone. “If you do not do as Lord Millet says, then I will send word to every member of my order, that your death is of the greatest importance. There will be nowhere to hide. Do you understand?”

Devon nodded slowly.

“Then tell me everything you know about the plans of the faithful,” said Millet. “And if anyone in town has joined your cause. And I don't mean people who owe you money. I mean those who are really with you.”

For the next hour Devon told them what he knew. But as it turned out, it wasn't much they didn't already know. Angraaldidn't seem to hold the faithful in high regard; relegating them to petty espionage and assassinations. They received most of their orders from agents traveling up and down the Goodbranch River, and sent reports of their progress the same way. Their orders were to take control of Sharpstone, and find any information on Lee Starfinder and Gewey Stedding. The king had been resisting their effort to place an ambassador in his court, but had been more than willing to accept their gold. Devon said that if the king didn't relent soon, it was likely he would be killed. When exactly this would happen, he didn't know. But he knew they had people in place in Helenia.

Once Millet was satisfied, he called for Barty and Randson. They paused at the sight of the bloody corpse of Sherone. Randson smiled and nodded, approvingly.

“I see you let the fat one live,” said Barty.

Millet looked down at Devon. “Load his friend's body in the wagon.” He reach in his pocket, and handed Barty a small bag of gold. “Take this, and Lord Devon, away from Sharpstone. Make certain he has a shovel to dig a grave, and give him the gold when he's done. It should be enough to take him wherever he wants to go.”

“And where is that?” asked Barty.

Millet leaned down and cut Devon's bonds. “That's up to him. But I daresay, he should reconsider a return to Baltria.” A sinister grin crept on his face. “Though his father may welcome him, I doubt the rest of the faithful will be as…understanding of his failure.” He shrugged. “The choice is his. I care not.”

Barty and Randson lifted the body and carried it away. Devon followed close behind. When they had gone, Millet sat in a chair near the fireplace and bowed his head in thought.

Dina sat across from him and leaned forward. “Are you all right?” she asked.

Millet looked up and smiled weakly. “I will be.” He looked over at where Sherone's blood still stained the floor. “During my travels with Lee, I've been forced to kill. But never like this. I've never murdered a helpless man.”

Dina reached out and placed her hand on Millet's knee. “You did what had to be done.”

Millet nodded. “I know. But I didn't want this.” He looked around the room; the walls were decorated with a lifetime of adventures. “Any of it. I was never meant to be a lord.”

“I don't know,” said Dina. “It seems to me that you are a very good lord. To do things against your own character in order to protect those you love is a very noble thing. It's what a lord should be.”

Millet rose to his feet and looked at Dina. His face was filled with contempt. Not for her, but for himself. “And I may never forgive myself for it.” Then he whispered, “Or Lee, either.” He took out the blade that had ended the life of Sherone and stared at it. “Once I poisoned a man who was conspiring to kill a sword-master Lee was studying under in Dantory. I watched him writhe and twist on the floor, until the life left his body. This was a thousand times worse.”

“Do you regret your actions?” asked Dina.

“My heart does. But my mind tells me that it was foolish to even let Devon live.” He put the knife away. “I'm an old man, Dina. I've traveled far, and seen many things. But until now, I've always had the luxury of viewing from the outside.” He knelt in front of the blood stain on the floor. “Now, I'm in the midst of it. Now, it is me who needs to hear the voice of reason. I was that voice for Lee Starfinder. Who will be that voice for me?”

Dina stood beside him. “Let me be that voice.” She gently lifted him to his feet. “Though I doubt I am as wise as you.”

“Before I was made Lord of the Nal'Thain family, that was possibly true.” He turned to her and shook his head. “Now I am as Lee once was. The responsibility rests with me, and that responsibility can drive away the person you are, in favor of the person you need to be.” He took a long, deep breath. “And I know this is only the beginning. More blood is to come.”

“True,” said Dina. “But for now we need to wash this blood away.” She headed toward the kitchen. “Get some rest,” she called back. “I will attend to this and leave for Helenia in the morning.”

Millet didn't protest. He went to his chambers and dressed for bed. As he lay in the dark, he could still see the knife sliding across Sherone's throat. He could see his victim's eyes open in terror, then close forever. The vision filled him with anger and sorrow. Millet Gristall was no more. That man died the moment Sherone gasped his final breath. Lord Millet Nal'Thain had been left in his stead. And that man was at war. And with a troubled mind, he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning there was a loud banging at the manor’s front door. Millet donned a robe and went to answer it, but could hear that Dina had gotten there first. Angry voices echoed through the house from outside. When he finally arrived at the door, Dina was in the center of the doorway, her hands firmly planted on her hips.

“Who is it?” asked Millet.

“Mayor Freidly,” came a voice from just outside. “I'm here with members of the faithful. We need to speak with you.”

“Show them in, Dina,” said Millet. “I need to dress, then I will join you.” He turned and headed back to the bedroom. His heart pounded in his chest. He wondered if Barty and Randson had returned. He dressed in a casual pair of white cotton trousers and shirt and slipped on a fine pair of soft leather shoes. He knew he didn't exactly look like the richest man in Sharpstone, but it would have to do.

When he arrived in the main hall, Mayor Freidly was standing at the far end of the room. His bald head, short, round features and wide-set blue eyes, were just as Millet remembered. However, he was wearing a red silk waistcoat, and fine linen pants and shirt, which was unusual for the mayor, being a man of modest means. Three black-cloaked men stood beside him. Their hoods were pushed back, revealing their dark hair, pale skin, and angry expressions. Millet thought they had the look of Baltrian nobles.

“Mayor Freidly,” said Millet, bowing his head ever so slightly. “It's good to see you again. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

The mayor looked flushed and nervous. “It's good to see you too, Millet. Though I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“I don't understand,” said Millet, feigning ignorance. “What is the trouble?”

“You know what the trouble is!” roared the faithful farthest from the mayor.

The mayor held up his hand. “Please, Master Troungo. Let me handle this.” He turned back to Millet. “These men claim that two of their brethren disappeared last night.”

“I'm sorry to hear it,” said Millet. “Still, I fail to see why you have come to me. I only just arrived back in Sharpstone, and have had little time to get to know the newcomers.” He looked at each of the faithful in turn. “Though, I must admit, their reputation has preceded them. Why would you think to find them here?”

“They claim that two of their order came here last night to welcome you home, and never returned.”

“I'm afraid I can't help you,” said Millet. “I swear by the Gods, no one other than myself, Dina and those that live here passed through the door last night.”

“Enough of this,” said the faithful nearest the mayor. “You know they came here. And you know where they are.”

Millet smiled. “And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

The man glared daggers, but didn't answer.

The mayor cleared his throat. “This is Toliver Hall, and the men with him are Henris Longshadow, and Alex Troungo.”

“Baltrian nobles, from the sound of them,” remarked Millet. “You are very far from home, and dressed…oddly…for a noble.”

“We are the faithful of the Reborn King,” said Toliver. “And I'll ask you again. Where are our people?”

“Yes, I know all about the faithful,” said Millet. His tone hardened. “And I already know what you've been up to here in Sharpstone. And as I said, no one called on me last night.” He shrugged. “Perhaps they longed for home, and returned to Baltria rather than come here. It would seem a sensible course. I hear that there are plenty of the faithful in Baltria. At least for now.”

Toliver's hand began to slip beneath his robe.

“Gentlemen,” said the mayor, stepping in front of Toliver. “Clearly, your companions are not here. We should leave.”

The front door opened. Barty and Randson entered. The moment they saw the three faithful, they moved to Millet's side.

“Mayor Freidly, I'm sure you know Barty and his son Randson,” said Millet. “They were here last night, and can certainly attest to the fact that no one came to welcome me home.”

“Nope,” said Barty. His eyes drilling holes through the black-cloaked men. “We saw no one.”

Millet grinned at Barty. “Is all in order?”

“Indeed it is,” Barty replied.

“Then if there is nothing further,” said Millet, stepping aside to let the men pass. “I have much to attend to.”

The mayor herded the faithful to the door, bowing as he passed.

“This isn't over,” said Toliver. He then turned on his heels and stormed out.

The door slammed shut.

“No, it isn't,” muttered Millet.

Chapter 6

About half an hour before Gewey, Kaylia, and Linis had reached the Chamber of the Maker, the sun broke through the clouds and brilliant rays of light pierced the pine needles and danced on the forest floor. The sweet song of birds hidden in the high treetops echoed and the earthy scent of pine and moss carried on a gentle breeze. Kaylia insisted they slow their pace to a leisurely stroll. Holding Gewey's hand, she merrily hummed a tune that Linis recognized and soon joined in, harmonizing in a deep baritone.

“Why the sudden cheer?” asked Gewey. He was loath to interrupt, but could no longer contain his curiosity.

Kaylia gave his hand a squeeze. “We may be at war, and darkness may swallow the world, but never forget to look around and enjoy the wonder of it.” She breathed in deeply. “And I suspect that once we reach the Chamber, these things will go unnoticed for quite some time.”

Gewey saw a squirrel darting in and out of view of a nearby pine. It made him think of Sharpstone, and the woods near his farm. As a young child just before the Long Freeze, he had built a tree house. He would spend the afternoon reading in it until the sun went down. A family of squirrels had built a nest in a nearby tree. He’d watched as the nest filled with babies and laugh when the mother would bristle every time he climbed up. Come autumn, the babies had grown enough to leave the nest. He remembered feeling sorry for the mother squirrel. Gewey smiled and shook his head at the silly things children do.

“That was a lovely vision,” said Kaylia.

Kaylia's words brought him back to the here and now. It still amazed him how much she could see through their bond. For Gewey it was different. He felt emotions and impressions, but never visions. He wondered if that would change when their bond was completed.

“I was a boy,” said Gewey. “After the Long Freeze I went back. The tree house was crumbled and rotten, and the nest was empty.”

“All things change, my friend,” said Linis. “And sometimes, not for the better.”

Soon the trail widened and met with the main road leading to their Chamber. At the crossroads, they saw three elves barring their way. Two were elf men and wore shimmering red tunics and breeches, long black coats that reached their thighs, and soft, black leather boots. On their sides hung thin long swords, the jewels on each hilt sparkling brightly in the sun. Their silver hair fell loosely over their shoulders and down their backs, and even from a distance Gewey could see their bright green elf eyes staring keenly at him.

The third was an elf woman. Half a head taller than the men, she was adorned in a blood red gown that fit nicely to her curves. A white sash was tied about her waist, and along with a thin silver belt, a small dagger hung on each hip. Unlike the others, her hair was jet black, decorated with wisps of silver which peeked out just enough to catch the sun and give her the illusion of an aura.

“Do you know them?” asked Kaylia. Her hand released Gewey's and slid to her knife.

“No,” Linis replied. “But stay your hand. We would not want to make friends into foes from our own fears.”

Kaylia tightened her jaw and moved her hand to her side.

“Greetings,” called Linis, holding his hand high. The elves didn't move. “Who are you, and what is your business?”

The elf woman whispered into the ear of the elf on her left. He nodded slowly. She took a step forward and held up a delicate hand. “Greetings,” she said. Her voice was gentle and calm, and though still several yards away she sounded as if she were just in front of them. “Come and walk with us. It would seem fortune has made our paths as one.”

Gewey, Kaylia, and Linis paused for a second, then approached.

Linis bowed. “I am Linis. This is Kaylia and Gewey. Your speech and dress are unfamiliar. From where do you hail?”

The elf woman smiled brightly, and though she bowed in turn to the group, her eyes never left Gewey. “I am Aaliyah,” she said. “My companions are Mohanisi and Nehrutu.” The elf men bowed in turn. Both elves were similar in appearance, apart from Mohanisi being a bit slighter in build, and an inch taller. “As for our home…that is a question best answered later.”

Kaylia stepped forward. That Aaliyah’s eyes still rested on Gewey, had not escaped her notice. “I think it is a question to be answered now.”

“Fierce,” said Mohanisi. “Much as we expected.”

“Decorum my friend,” scolded Aaliyah, though not too harshly. “They know us not, and have been through much hardship and pain.”

“And what do you know of it?” asked Kaylia.

“More than I care to, I'm afraid,” Aaliyah replied. Her voice was filled with pity and sorrow. Gewey found himself wanting to weep at the sound, as if her words stirred something inside him. “My dear Kaylia,” she said taking a small step forward. “We are here to bring glad tidings. We have come to help you, after many lifetimes of waiting.”

“I don't understand,” said Linis. “Where have you come from?”

Aaliyah glanced at her companions, who nodded in turn. “We are from across the sea. We are of the first race of elves to traverse the Great Sureshi, and settle these lands. And now we have returned. Though I fear we have returned too late.”

Linis' eyes widened in immediate disbelief. “Sureshi? I have not heard that word used since I was a boy. No one who has journeyed across the Great Abyss has ever returned, and you claim to be from there?”

“None of your folk who tried to reach our land would have survived,” said Nehrutu. “The Great Barrier has barred the way for thousands of years. It has only been nineteen summers since we have been able to get through ourselves. And yes, that is our home. Once, long ago, it was the home of all elves. But now…” He paused, placed his hand on Aaliyah’s shoulder, and nodded.

“Yes, quite right,” she said. “We should go. Your brothers and sisters await your return. I would think they would want our tale told to all.” She met Gewey's eyes once again. “And I suspect they are especially anxious to see you.”

“You seem to know something about me,” said Gewey. He was no longer afraid to reveal himself.

“Oh, indeed I do,” Aaliyah replied, with a hint of laughter. “There is not an elf among us that does not know of the coming of Shivis Mol. News of your arrival has caused great rejoicing. You are the herald of a new age and a new way.” She stepped forward and placed her ivory hand on Gewey's cheek. “I have dreamed of this day my entire life. As have all of my people.”

Gewey’s face felt hot at the touch of Aaliyah’s hand. He blushed and tried to look away, but couldn't. Her touch held him fast. A flash of rage flowed through his bond with Kaylia, breaking the spell before he stepped back.

“I see you have bonded to Shivis Mol,” said Aaliyah. Her eyes scrutinized Kaylia for a moment. “And yet you have no connection to…what is it you call it? The flow. How unusual.” She smiled. “And how fortunate for you. To be coupled with such as he, is a great honor, but requires great strength.”

“It is I who am honored,” said Gewey. He moved close to Kaylia and took her hand.

Aaliyah laughed. It was like bells on the wind. “I am sure that is so. She is clearly a noble elf…if that is the word I should use. I apologize, but certain concepts are difficult for us.”

“Being noble is a difficult concept?” remarked Kaylia, trying not to allow her anger to seep into her voice.

Nehrutu interjected. “Perhaps it is better to say we have no concept of…” He searched for the words. “We have no conflict among our people. At least not in the way you would understand. The idea of not acting noble, in the way you see it, is unknown to us.”

“But enough,” said Aaliyah. “There will be time for this when we arrive.” Nimble and swift as the wind, she spun around and walked down the road toward the Chamber of the Maker. Nehrutu and Mohanisi followed close behind.

Gewey, Kaylia, and Linis, looked at each other, then did the same.

As they approached the field where the pavilion had been erected, Aaliyah and her companions dropped back next to Linis. The field was still abuzz with activity, as hundreds of elves darted about.

“I believe you should make introductions,” said Aaliyah. “Considering what has happened here, it may be better if your people are greeted by someone more…familiar.”

Linis nodded in agreement.

Two guards barred their way when they reached the edge of the field. They eyed the strangers for a moment.

“They are not foes,” said Linis.

The guards grunted then stepped aside.

“A bit brutish,” remarked Mohanisi.

Linis pretended not to hear, but couldn't help but bristle at the insult. “They must be hard to survive these times. They fought bravely to protect their kin.”

“I meant no insult,” Mohanisi explained. “It is only that you are so different from what we know.”

Theopolou, Eftichis, and Bellisia approached from the pavilion. Kaylia ran ahead and embraced her uncle with joy. She held him tight for nearly a full minute.

“I am happy to see you are safe,” said Theopolou, smiling broadly. “Though I had no doubt Gewey would succeed in your rescue.” As Gewey approached with the others, Theopolou bowed. “Thank you,” he said to Gewey and Linis. “I am in your debt.”

Gewey bowed. “I wish I could say I freed her. But as it turns out she managed that on her own.”

Theopolou smiled lovingly at Kaylia. “A tale I would love to hear.”

“As would I,” said Bellisia. “But first I would like to know who you have brought among us.”

Linis introduced the elves and explained how they met, not failing to mention their claim.

“So you say you are from beyond the Great Western Abyss,” said Theopolou. His tone bore no hint of surprise or trepidation. “That would explain the news we received. Reports of red sails on the horizon have caused quite a stir.”

Aaliyah stepped forward and took Theopolou's hand. The old elf stiffened and staggered back. In a flash, Linis and Eftichis had drawn their knives and pulled Theopolou away. Mohanisi and Nehrutu made no move to stop them.

“No,” Theopolou cried. “Stay your weapons. I am not harmed…only dazed.”

“What happened?” asked Linis, holding Theopolou's arm.

“I beg your forgiveness,” said Aaliyah. “I thought it would be easier this way. As you are one of the more…how should I say this… talented among you. That is to say, you can use the flow.”

“Yes,” said Theopolou. He steadied himself and straightened his shoulders. “But I suggest you refrain from doing that again. At least until you have addressed the others.”

“Theopolou-” began Bellisia.

“She is who she says she is,” said Theopolou. “She merely communicated it to me in a manner which I am not accustomed. It was just too much at once.”

“I would speak to your people,” said Aaliyah. “But first, your wounded should be attended.” Her companions nodded in agreement. “You could help as well,” she said to Gewey.

“Of course,” said Gewey.

Linis stepped forward. “I will join you.” He could tell that Theopolou and the others had recently been using their powers to heal, and were exhausted, though they hid it well. “The elders should rest until we have done what can be done.”

“Of course,” said Aaliyah. “They have accomplished all they can.” She looked at Kaylia and smiled. “If you would tend to your elders while we do our work-”

“I will go with you,” said Kaylia.

“Theopolou and the others have greater need of you.” Aaliyah’s tone was not contentious, yet it held an air of authority that caused Kaylia to stop short.

“Stay,” said Theopolou. “You can tell me what happened after you were taken.”

Aaliyah didn't wait for a response. She turned gracefully and walked in the direction of the pavilion. Kaylia’s eyes followed her closely.

When Gewey and the elves entered the healing pavilion, they saw scores of elves lying injured in row upon row of beds that had been taken from the tents. As there weren't enough beds, the least injured were place on bedrolls. The rest were busy distributing food and medicine, and at first, hardly noticed the group’s presence. Gewey peered just beyond the pavilion, and could see others tending to the dead. His heart ached.

“How could this happen?” muttered Mohanisi. His face flushed with anger. He spun and faced Linis. “How could this happen?” This time his voice boomed with rage. Everyone in the pavilion stopped and stared.

Aaliyah gently placed her hand on Mohanisi's shoulder. “Calm yourself, my friend. This is not his doing.”

Mohanisi's muscles tensed until he trembled, then he closed his eyes. Gasps filled the pavilion as the elf filled himself with the flow. More and more entered him, until the air around him glowed with power. Only Gewey could hold so much…or so they thought. After a few seconds he released it and opened his eyes.

Mohanisi breathed deeply, then smiled apologetically at Linis. “Forgive my anger. Aaliyah is correct. This is not your doing. But I have not seen a sight such as this before. It took me aback for a moment.”

Linis bowed. “There is nothing to forgive. You are not wrong to feel anger. We have all allowed this to come to pass. I am as much at fault as any.” He could still feel the lingering power of the flow all around him, and all eyes still stared in amazement. “But, I must ask. How is it you can channel so much of the flow? Gewey is the only one I have seen use so much.”

“I doubt I have the power of Shivis Mol,” said Mohanisi.

“Your people have forgotten much,” Aaliyah interjected. “Once all elves could do as Mohanisi has done. Why you cannot, I do not know.” She squared her shoulders. “But now is a time to heal, not talk. Talk can wait, but the dying cannot.”

They all nodded in agreement. Without another word Aaliyah, Mohanisi, and Nehrutu started off in different directions and immediately began tending the wounded, with the power of the flow. Linis left the more severely injured to Gewey and the other elves, and began healing those who he could more readily help. Gewey went from bed to bed for what seemed like an eternity, using all his strength. By the time it was fully dark, he was barely able to stand. Linis was fairing no better, nearly losing his feet several times. Aaliyah and her companions seemed far less affected.

“Are you well, Shivis Mol?” Aaliyah asked Gewey, as he knelt at the bedside of an elf who had been run through. He only looked up when she touched his shoulder.

“Just tired,” said Gewey. “This takes a lot out of me.”

“I see.” Her tone sounded confused. “We have nearly done all that can be done. Mohanisi, Nehrutu, and I can finish this. You should rest. I am certain Kaylia will tend you well.” Her last remark sounded almost sarcastic.

Gewey shook his head, and steadied himself. “I'm fine.” He placed his hands on the wounded elf and channeled the flow. The wounded elf gasped and his eyes shot wide. After a few minutes the wounds began to close and the elf relaxed.

Gewey struggled to his feet and stumbled to the next bed.

“That is enough,” said Aaliyah. “You cannot go on. There are only a few others who we can help. I insist you rest.” Her words were commanding and Gewey could feel himself wanting to obey. “If you become ill, then I will need to heal you. This will take from those who need more urgent care.” She smiled. “Do not be concerned. Soon I will teach you to heal without so much effort.”

Gewey's resolve gave way. “I'll go.”

Aaliyah took his arm and guided him from the pavilion to where Kaylia, Theopolou and the others were gathered.

“He needs rest,” stated Aaliyah flatly. “Tend to him.”

Before Kaylia could speak, Aaliyah released Gewey and turned back to the pavilion. He nearly collapsed the moment her hand let go. Kaylia was quickly at his side and guided him to a waiting bedroll. Eftichis brought him some bread and wine, which he gratefully accepted. Linis arrived a few minutes later and lay down next to him. He didn't speak a word, and was asleep in seconds.

“You should sleep as well,” suggested Eftichis, who had seated himself a few feet away.

Gewey rubbed his neck and stretched his back until it made a sharp crack. “The others will be finished shortly. I want to be awake when they get here.” He yawned, in spite of himself. “If I sleep now, I won't be able to wake up.”

Small fires were being lit throughout the camp. The scent of spiced meat and wine wafted on the breeze.

At that moment, Aaliyah and the others appeared from the fading light. “We have healed as many as we could.”

“You have our gratitude,” said Bellisia, who had been seated beside Lord Chiron for several hours, talking quietly.

“Indeed,” agreed Chiron. “Many more would have died if not for you.”

“I only wish we could have done more,” remarked Aaliyah, sadly. “Many were beyond our power.”

“You should rest,” said Gewey. “You must be exhausted.”

“We are,” admitted Aaliyah. “More so than we have ever been. And I would have strength before I tell our tale.” She reached down and placed the back of her hand on Gewey's cheek. Kaylia flashed anger across their bond, startling Gewey.

“For one so ignorant of his own abilities, you did well,” said Aaliyah. Her voice was tender and musical, like the cradle-song for an infant prince. “Though I admit I was confused to see how little you know of yourself.” She glanced over to Kaylia, then fixed her eyes on Gewey's. “That will change. I will see to it.”

Kaylia moved close to Gewey, her face hot with jealousy.

Aaliyah smiled. “Fierce and protective. Though I must admit, I can understand why.” Her hair shimmered in the fire light. She stepped back and took a seat on a blanket a few feet away. Mohanisi and Nehrutu rested next to her. “In the morning I shall address the elves.”

“I am afraid it will have to wait until after the funeral rites,” said Theopolou. “They begin with the sunrise.”

“Of course,” said Aaliyah. She lay down and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. It was mere moments before sleep took her.

Gewey looked around. Small groups of elves were gathered around the fires, speaking in hushed whispers. No one had disturbed the newcomers while they were tending the wounded, but news of them spread like wildfire. Gewey smiled. Only the arrival of these elves could overshadow the presence of a God in their midst. And for that, he was grateful. He finished his meal and lay on his back. The stars were peeking out from behind wisps of thin clouds high in the sky. He wished the night was clear. The nights of a new moon were the best time for star gazing. Kaylia lay next to him, her head turned toward Aaliyah.

“She is beautiful,” said Kaylia.

Gewey reached over and took her hand. “I didn't notice.”

“You do not need to spare my feelings,” she said in a half-whisper. “I am not doubting your love for me.”

Gewey turned his head and met Kaylia's eyes “Good. And I'm not sparing your feelings. I was too busy in the pavilion to notice such things.”

“And now that you are not in the pavilion?”

Gewey pushed himself up and leaned over her. “And now that I'm not in the pavilion, you're still more beautiful.” He kissed her softly.

She smiled. “She wants you.” Pulling him to her she kissed him once more. “But she cannot have you. She called me fierce, but she has no idea how fierce I can be.” She stroked his cheek. “Now sleep.”

Gewey lay back down and closed his eyes. The tingle of Kaylia's touch still caressed his lips. As sleep took him he could feel his spirit drift. He had come to enjoy the sensation. Then he heard a call. Not in words, but a sweet summons, like soft music. Kaylia, he thought. A thin mist surrounded him. It was warm and soothing. He allowed it to penetrate him.

“I am here,” called a gentle, feminine voice.

A figure approached through the mist. Gewey expected to see Kaylia, but as the figure neared, he realized it was not her…It was Aaliyah.

Chapter 7

A bitter chill woke Gewey the next morning. Kaylia and Linis had already risen and were nearby helping the others prepare the morning meal. Bellisia, Chiron and Theopolou, had gathered a few yards away, and had donned white robes, Gewey presumed for the funeral rites.

Aaliyah's face still burned in his memory, but he could not recall anything beyond the point when she first appeared. He scanned the area for her and her friends, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Just next to him, lying atop his sword and scabbard, he noticed his pack. Someone must have retrieved his belongings from Theopolou's tent. He rummaged through his things until he found the clothes Theopolou had given him, then went to look for some place private to change. He thought perhaps to seek out some water for washing, but didn't want to miss the ceremony. Gewey walked toward the burned remains of the camp. Beyond the pavilion, he could see dozens of funeral pyres that had been erected in the night. He dreaded the sad ceremony that was to come. Finding a hidden spot just beyond the pavilion, between two tents, Gewey changed into his elf clothing.

“You have an interesting mind.” It was Aaliyah.

Gewey flushed. “How long were you watching me?”

Aaliyah smiled. “Long enough.” She took a step forward.

Though Gewey may have not noticed her beauty before, he certainly did now. She had changed into a white, silk dress, though much the same fashion as the one she wore before. It flowed with her movements, wrapping itself playfully around her obvious curves as she moved. Her hair was tied in a loose braid, intertwined with thin white strands of shimmering cloth.

“I thought this may be a bit more appropriate,” she said. She held her shapely arms wide and spun around. “What would you say?”

He felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. “I…”

“Perhaps not.” With a wry smile, she took another step forward. “I brought nothing else, other than a set of cotton trousers and tunic. The rest of my attire is on my ship.”

“How did you…” he stammered. “I mean…last night.”

“Oh, that was nothing,” she replied, stepping closer. “I only wanted to see your mind for myself. A selfish thing, I admit. But I could not resist the chance to connect with Shivis Mol.”

“Kaylia. She-,”

“Kaylia knows nothing of it,” said Aaliyah. “It was simple to occupy her thoughts. I…encouraged her to dream of you. It was easy. She loves you deeply.”

The mention of Kaylia's love for him, steadied his nerve. “And I love her.”

“Well, of course, you do.” She sounded understanding in the way of a mother to a child. “But then you are quite young. And your bond with her makes your feelings infinitely stronger.” Slowly her face saddened. Gewey suddenly wanted to approach her. To comfort her. But he resisted. “I was bonded once. Long ago.”

Gewey's heart ached to see her pain. “What happened?”

She sighed deeply. “He died.”

“Then how do you still live?” he asked. “I thought that once bonded, your lives are as one.”

This shook her out of her melancholy and she laughed softly. “Perhaps for the elves in this world that is true. They have forgotten how to use their power. The bond between mates is strong, but not unbreakable. One need not lose themselves should the other die.” She glanced behind her. She could see the pavilion. “A pity. The bond makes you stronger. We could have saved more if they all had a mate's strength to share. But I suppose it is to be expected that they do not bond, if the risk is death.” She tilted her head and smiled. “Perhaps that is yet another thing we can teach them.”

Gewey saw Kaylia approaching in the distance. “I should go.” He didn't wait for a response. He edged his way pass her. She did not move to ease his passing, forcing their shoulders to touch.

As he neared Kaylia, he could clearly see that she was not pleased.

“What did she want?” asked Kaylia.

“Nothing,” Gewey replied. “She asked if what she was wearing was appropriate for the funeral rites.”

Kaylia shot a stare at Aaliyah, who was still standing between the tents. “Is that so?” She took Gewey's hand. “Come. We need to eat.”

Gewey allowed Kaylia to lead him back to their bedrolls. A bowl of steaming porridge and a cup of new wine had been place on the ground for him. After he finished, Kaylia, Linis and Theopolou walked with him to the funeral pyres. The gathering was already well underway. The pyres had been encircled by the elves, just as Gewey had seen Linis and his seekers do during the funeral of Berathis. Aaliyah, Nehrutu, and Mohanisi stood beside Kaylia on his right. Linis, Theopolou, and the remaining elders were to his left. Those wounded who could do so, had made their way from the pavilion, unwilling to remain in bed during the rites of their dead brethren. The ceremony was long, lasting well into the afternoon. Elf after elf stood forward to say words about their fallen comrades. After all had spoken the fires were lit. So many that the heat caused Gewey to break into a sweat. Finally, it was over and the crowd solemnly dispersed. Most eyes were still swollen with tears.

Gewey, Linis, and Kaylia returned to their bedrolls, while Theopolou instructed everyone to gather an hour before sundown to hear Aaliyah and her companions speak.

Gewey spent the next few hours in light conversation with Kaylia. He wondered what had become of Lee, Dina, Millet, and Maybell. He missed his friends, especially Lee. Linis searched the area for signs of what had become of his seekers, but returned disappointed.

When the time came, they made their way across the field in front of the pavilion. Most of the elves had already assembled. Aaliyah, Nehrutu, and Mohanisi, were standing on a small platform and facing away from the pavilion. The beds of those who could be moved had been pulled close to the edge so they could hear.

Aaliyah had changed back into her red dress. She spotted Gewey as he approached and smiled. Gewey smiled back in spite of himself. Theopolou, Chiron, Bellisia, and the other elders stood just in front of the platform.

“I'd rather stay to the back,” said Gewey.

“You can't,” said Kaylia. “I have a feeling that whatever they say will concern you.”

Gewey opened his mouth to speak, but Kaylia took his hand and half dragged him through the crowd, urging him to stand next to Theopolou. Linis stood just behind him.

The moment he arrived, Aaliyah nodded to her companions and stepped forward. “Brothers and sisters.” Her voice echoed over the field with such tremendous volume that the gathering jumped. “By now you have heard of our arrival and from where we have come. Some may have doubt. Those who do not may question our motives. To this I can only say that I speak truth, and that there is no deception in my words.” She paused and looked over the crowd. Her eyes bore the look of intense sadness.

“Many lifetimes ago, our people journeyed across the Great Sureshi, or what you know as the Western Abyss, and settled this land. We lived and prospered for generations, and for generations we came to see this land as our own. But this was not so. For this land belonged to another people. This land first belonged to the humans.”

This caused the elves to stir.

Aaliyah held out her hand to still the crowd. “I know how many of you feel about the humans. And I know that many believe you have reason to hate them. But what you do not know is that it was we who first sinned against them. The humans were already here when we arrived. But they were not as you know them today. Mere children they were. Savage children, nomadic hunters and gatherers. We brought to them our ways, and our learning. We taught them to build, to farm, to live as a community. But in the end we did these things for our own purposes.

“In the end we subjugated the humans. We turned them into little more than a slave race, born to serve our needs.” She stepped down from the platform and stood in front of Gewey, staring deeply into his eyes. “It was not until the Gods showed us the error of our ways, did we realize what we had done. But by then, it was too late.”

She broke her gaze and looked back at her friends then back to the gathering. “The Gods created the Great Barrier, and destroyed any hope to contact our people beyond. Any who tried to cross perished. For thousands of years we have kept watch, praying for the day we could return to you. Nineteen years ago the Great Barrier disappeared, and now we have come.” She stepped back onto the platform. “My brothers and I have lived our lives with the knowledge of the sins of the elves, and the price we have paid…the price you have paid. But now, we are here to help you regain what you have lost…and to undo the wrongs of our forefathers.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head. The only sound was a soft breeze stirring the tents and pavilion.

Theopolou was the first to speak. “You say that you have been able to come here for nearly twenty years. Why have you waited so long? Why have you not revealed yourselves before now?”

Aaliyah opened her eyes and sighed. “We could not know what had become of you. The humans had clearly taken control of this land. We sent scouts to gain information. What we found was that you had become…different. You have changed from the people you once were. To us, you had become more like the humans. We were uncertain what to do.”

This caused angry shouts and curses.

“Then why now?” asked Bellisia.

“Because of him.” She pointed dramatically at Gewey. “When we discovered the coming of Shivis Mol, we knew we must act.” She said this as though it was an obvious truth. Her eyes fell on the wounded in the pavilion. “But it is clear we should have acted sooner.”

“How did you know about Gewey?” asked Theopolou. “We have only just discovered it ourselves.”

“We were given a prophecy when the Great Barrier appeared,” Aaliyah replied. “It says that a God bound to earth will come to show us the way to the Creator. He will wash away our sins and reunite us with our people. We knew when the Barrier disappeared, it heralded his coming.”

“But how did you know it was me?” asked Gewey.

“Our people have connection with what you call the flow,” she replied. “Though the elves of this land have lost much of their power, we have not. You could never hide what you are from us.” She held out her hand. Before Gewey realized what he was doing he had taken it and allowed her to pull him onto the platform. “We have learned much about our brethren since we first arrived.” She spoke to the elves, but her eyes were on Gewey. “You despise the Gods. You would turn away your one hope for salvation. But you do not understand what that would mean. You have an enemy rising against you. An enemy that will wipe you from the face of this land. An enemy that has corrupted the hearts of your brothers and sisters.” The persuasive elf released Gewey and pointed to the wounded in the pavilion. “This is the result.” Her voice was hard and cold as steel. “You have made war with your own kind once before. This we know. And though it caused us great sorrow to think of such a thing, we hoped that you had learned from your mistakes. We hoped you had not fallen so far that your spirit was lost.” The air around Aaliyah stirred as the flow rushed through her. “You asked why we reveal ourselves now. You wonder why we waited.” A flame burst to life above her head and shot skyward. The crowd backed away in shock. Gewey stood transfixed. “We waited because you are as different from us as the humans are from you. We feared your own sins would return. We feared you could not regain what you have lost.” She released the flow and the air stilled. Her features softened and a delicate smile returned. “But the time for fear is past, and we waited too long.”

“What do you intend to do?” asked Theopolou.

“We intend to teach you,” she replied. “All of you. Even those who have lost their way. Those who have attacked this place have been warped and controlled by a force they could not resist. The one you know as the Reborn King has unleashed a power beyond your understanding. It is a power you cannot hope to overcome. Even with Shivis Mol at your side, you will need more.”

“We have the Book of Souls,” said Theopolou.

“I know,” she said. “But have you tried to use it?”

“Gewey has opened it,” said Chiron.

“We know of the Book of Souls,” said Aaliyah. “And such a thing will be needed in the days ahead. But you need weapons. Weapons that can match those brought to bear against you.”

“And where shall we acquire such weapons?” asked Theopolou.

Aaliyah looked at Gewey's sword, hanging from his belt. “There is a place. It is where the sword Shivis Mol now wields was forged.”

Theopolou raised an eyebrow. “And you know where it is?”

“We know where to look,” she answered. “In the desert of the east; we have sensed its power.”

“It would take months to make the journey,” said Bellisia. “We are already attacked. I fear we have no time.”

“My ship can take us there in less than two weeks.” She stated this firmly.

Murmurs of doubt spread through the crowd.

“Our fastest ships couldn't cross the distance in twice that,” said Bellisia.

Aaliyah laughed softly. “Our shipbuilders are quite skilled. And, as you will learn, the winds can be controlled.” She surveyed the crowd for a moment. “Nehrutu and Mohanisi shall remain here. I will find the location where the weapons are held.” Nehrutu and Mohanisi stepped forward. “They will help you as best they can to prepare.”

“How many are you?” asked Theopolou.

Nehrutu stepped forward. “We set sail with three ships, and are few in number. But we can help you prepare, and teach you things your people have forgotten. We will show you how the flow can be used in ways you have never imagined.”

“Can you send for more of your people?” asked Bellisia. “Will more not come?”

“It would take many months to make the crossing,” he replied. “More to gather and return. You will be destroyed long before then. I will send one ship back to our land, but do not expect help from my people. You are on your own…for now.”

“Now I would speak to your elders,” said Aaliyah. “And Shivis Mol. We have much to discuss and little time.” She addressed the gathering. “You still have many questions, I know. Tonight, Nehrutu and Mohanisi will tell tales of our home, and answer your questions.”

She stepped down from the platform. Nehrutu and Mohanisi followed. The gathering of elves gave way as they walked toward their bedrolls. She paused and looked back. “Shivis Mol. I would have you and the elders join me. I intend to leave with the dawn.” Linis and Kaylia stepped beside Gewey. Aaliyah held out her hand. “Linis should stay with Nehrutu…but Kaylia should join us.”

Gewey could see Linis tense and placed his hand on the elf's shoulder. “It's fine. I'll tell you what they say.”

Linis' eyes never left Aaliyah. “These elves have plans for you, Gewey. Be careful.”

“I am with him, Linis,” said Kaylia. “They can plan all they wish. But they still must account for me.”

This brought a smile to the elf. “I believe they think us savage and ignorant. But I would wager they have not given you full account.”

Kaylia flashed a fiendish grin and took Gewey's hand. “And that would be a mistake they would not soon forget.”

This brought a round of laughter. Then Kaylia and Gewey headed off to speak with the elves. As they neared they could see Theopolou, Chiron, Bellisia and the other elders standing in a circle with Aaliyah. Nehrutu and Mohanisi were nearby gathering together the other elves in two groups. Gewey noticed Theopolou held the Book of Souls.

Aaliyah beamed as they joined the circle. She bowed. “Shivis Mol.” She turned to Theopolou. “I see you have brought the Book of Souls. Good.”

“Gewey has already opened it once,” Theopolou reminded her again.

“Could you read it?” she asked Gewey.

“I read the cover,” he replied. “But I didn't try to read the rest. There was no time.”

Aaliyah looked at Gewey thoughtfully. “Try it now.”

Gewey took the box and opened it. The book glowed and shimmered in the fading light. Handing the empty box back to Theopolou, he slowly opened the Book. The pages glittered with intricate gold writing. As when he read the cover, at first the words meant nothing. Then slowly they changed in his mind. But this time, only a few. He stared intensely at the first page for several minutes. “I only understand some of it,” he said finally. “The rest means nothing to me.”

“I am not surprised,” said Aaliyah. “These pages were meant for a God. Although a God you are, you have not realized your full power. You only use power from the earth. There is so much more. And once you learn what I will teach you, then you will be able to read from these pages.”

“I don't understand,” said Gewey. “I use what I can feel.”

“You only feel what is easy to feel,” said Aaliyah. “The powers of water, air and spirit are more elusive.”

Gewey recalled Lee saying that because his father was Saraf, God of the Seas, he could draw power from the water. “How do I learn?”

“Through me,” she replied. “I can teach you what you need to know. But there is a price.”

Kaylia stepped forward. “What price?”

She leveled her gaze on Kaylia. “He is to come with me to seek out the weapons in the desert.”

“Is that all?” asked Gewey.

“No,” she replied flatly. “You must allow me to show you why I am the best choice for a mate.”

Kaylia's hand flew to her knife. But before she could pull it free, Aaliyah waved her arm. Heat flashed through the air and Kaylia was thrown back, nearly losing her footing. Theopolou and Gewey jump in front of her.

“Are you hurt?” asked Gewey.

Kaylia steadied herself, glaring at Aaliyah. “No. She did not hurt me.”

“Still your fury,” said Aaliyah. “Fierce though you may be, you cannot do me harm.”

Gewey looked over his shoulder at Aaliyah. “I am bonded to Kaylia…I love her. And if you do that again, you'll find out just how powerful I really am.” He let the flow swell inside him until the ground trembled.

Aaliyah lowered her eyes and stepped back. “Please, Shivis Mol. I meant no offense.”

Gewey allow the power to ebb.

“I do not doubt your love for Kaylia,” said Aaliyah. “Nor hers for you. But I was chosen for a reason, and I will not be deterred. You are a living God, bound to this world. Destined to save it. Destined to save us. Should you not choose a mate that can meet such a challenge?” Her eyes met Kaylia's. “Have you not doubted that you are worthy? You are fierce and strong. Perhaps, in time you could be even stronger. But should Shivis Mol not have the deepest well to draw from? Are you that well? Or am I?”

Kaylia moved Gewey and Theopolou aside. “You speak of Gewey as if he were a tool…a mere object. You do not love him.”

“I speak of him as he is,” she replied. This time her tone matched Kaylia's ferocity. “A God. You say that I do not love him. And I do not. Not as you love him. But he is Shivis Mol. And we are not children. For him to bond with me would give him even greater strength. Strength he will need if we are to survive. You must look beyond your own selfish desires.”

“This is all irrelevant,” Theopolou interjected. “Kaylia and Gewey are already bonded. This cannot be undone.”

Aaliyah shook her head. “How little you know. Of course it can be undone. You may have lost the ability, but we have not.”

“I don't want it undone,” Gewey objected. His voice was cold and menacing. “And if you try-”

“I will do nothing without your consent,” said Aaliyah. She looked on Gewey and Kaylia for a long moment. “I offer you this bargain. Allow Shivis Mol to go with me…alone. I will present my case during our journey. If I am rejected, so be it. In return, I will instruct him, and help him reach his true potential. I am the most powerful among my people. You will find no better teacher.”

“I will not be parted from Kaylia,” said Gewey. He pulled Kaylia close.

Aaliyah looked into Kaylia’s eyes. “If you are meant to be with him then you have nothing to fear. Your bond shall remain intact unless Shivis Mol decides otherwise.”

“I refuse to-” started Gewey, but Kaylia pulled away.

“If it means saving our people, then you must,” said Kaylia. Her voice was tender and sad. “I fear losing you.” She gave Aaliyah a contemptuous glance. “But not to her. Go, and learn what you must to save us from the darkness that comes. I will be waiting.”

“You have made a wise decision,” said Aaliyah.

Theopolou placed his hands on Gewey and Kaylia. “If this is to be, then you shall complete the bond. You cannot know what perils lay ahead. I would see you as one before you are parted.”

Kaylia smiled and took Theopolou's hands. “Thank you.” She released him, and looked at Gewey. “Assuming you are agreeable?”

Gewey nodded, smiling. “Of course, I am.” He scanned the area for Linis. “Would someone tell Linis to come here?”

Bellisia stepped forward. “I will find him.” She left and returned with Linis a short time later.

Linis grinned, and squeezed Gewey's shoulder. “I am happy for you.” He glanced at Kaylia. “Both of you.”

“Kneel,” said Theopolou.

Without another word Kaylia and Gewey fell to their knees. Theopolou placed his hands on their heads and began to recite the ritual. Though Gewey couldn't understand the language, the sound of Theopolou's voice caused images to erupt in his head. Colors swirled and danced until he was dizzy, and he had to reach out to Kaylia to steady himself. The moment he touched her he could feel their bond grow stronger, taking root within his soul. Minutes passed until he realized Theopolou was no longer speaking. He looked across at Kaylia. Her face was aglow with joy. He could feel every fiber of her being. In that moment, he knew how deeply she cared. It was as if the bond they shared before was a shadow of what it had become.

“Normally, the ceremony is a bit more involved,” said Theopolou. “But every minute you have left together is precious.”

Gewey and Kaylia rose. Aaliyah was expressionless. The rest of the elders bowed and took a step back.

“When shall you depart?” Theopolou asked Aaliyah.

“At dawn,” she replied. “My ship is less than two days journey.”

Theopolou turned to Gewey. “Prepare whatever you intend to take with you, then return here.” He took Kaylia's hand. “In the meantime, come with me.”

Linis smiled. “I envy you, my friend.”

“One day, such joy will be yours, Linis,” said Gewey. “I just know it.”

Linis let out a hearty laugh and slapped Gewey on the back. “I hope so, but now…this is your time.”

Gewey and Linis went to his pack. He wanted to travel as light as possible. As he sifted through his belongings, he told Linis what Aaliyah had said, and the bargain he had made with her.

“I will go with you,” offered Linis.

“No,” said Gewey. “You're needed here. If the elves are going to gather for war, you must help.” He looked across the field to where Nehrutu was speaking to the other elves. “You must learn whatever they can teach you. It's why I'm going. To learn what I must.”

“Be careful, Gewey,” warned Linis. “She is unlike any elf I have known. She may tempt you in ways you cannot imagine.”

Gewey smiled. “She can try. But as long as my heart belongs to Kaylia, she will fail.”

When Gewey finished packing he returned to where the others were still gathered. Theopolou waited. His smile made him seem youthful. Kaylia stood just behind him. She had changed into a white silk dress, tied at the waist by a thin gold sash. Her hair fell loosely about her bare shoulders. Gewey’s heart raced at the sight of her familiar but breathtaking beauty.

Theopolou took them both by the hand and led them across the field and past the pavilion. An area had been hastily cleared just out of sight of the camp, and a small tent had been erected. It was large enough for two, and no more.

Kaylia turned to her uncle and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He smiled the loving smile of a father. Theopolou took her hand and placed it in Gewey's, then turned and walked away. Kaylia looked deeply into Gewey's eyes then led him inside.

Chapter 8

Lee and Jacob had ridden at an easy pace for the two weeks after taking a riverboat up the Goodbranch River. They waited until they were three days north of Sharpstone before returning to the road. They could not risk being seen. From the sailors, Lee had heard news of the faithful occupying his beloved town, and he had to fight the urge to do something. But Millet would have to deal with them. It was now the duty of Lord Nal'Thain, not Lee Starfinder, to save Sharpstone. His tasks lay elsewhere.

Jacob had been relatively quiet during the journey. Lee had tried many times to engage his son in conversation, but the boy had little to say. A few times Lee tried to teach Jacob sword techniques, and though Jacob learned quickly, he could tell that his heart wasn't in it.

“We'll arrive in Klinton by sundown,” said Lee. The air was bitter cold. Jacob was bundled in a small wool blanket. “We should change clothes before we get there.”

“Why?” asked Jacob.

“We must blend in with a less than savory crowd,” Lee explained. “If we're to get information, and not be discovered, we can't march in as lords of Hazrah. There are towns near the foothills of the Razor Edge Mountains where news of Angraalcan likely be heard. The bandits and mercenaries make it their business to know the comings and goings of the land.”

Jacob sniffed. “So? We're a week from the foothills.”

“Yes,” said Lee. “But our deception should be believable. I'm hoping to find someone heading north. We can pose as sell-swords. Possibly hire on with a merchant. It will go a lot more smoothly if we arrive up north in character.”

“And what makes you think that these people will know anything about my mother?”

Lee shrugged. “They may not. But at least they'll know the best way to get into Angraalunnoticed.”

About an hour before they reached Klinton, they stopped and donned clothing Lee had acquired from the deckhands on the riverboat. Simple brown wool shirt and pants, and travel-worn boots would fit in nicely.

“These clothes smell,” remarked Jacob, with disgust.

Lee smiled. “All the better.”

Klinton was little more than a trading post. Miners and trappers used it to peddle their wares, so as not to make the long journey south. Though not as dangerous as the towns near the Razor Edge Mountains, it did attract highwaymen and bandits of all sorts, hoping to find merchants foolish enough to travel without an escort.

The street lamps were just being lit, and the main avenue was still busy. The taverns still would be empty. Lee hoped to get lodging before the local riff-raff took to drink. He was familiar with this town, though he hadn't been there for many years. The last time he was there, he had gotten himself into a tavern brawl in which Millet was nearly knifed. He chuckled under his breath at the thought of Millet scolding him after the fight. He missed his company, now more than ever.

Lee led the horses down the main avenue, then down a side street to one of two lodging houses. It was by far the most run down.

“We're staying here?” asked Jacob. His lip was curled in disgust.

“We'll be staying in far worse before it's over,” Lee replied. “Compared to where we're going, this is a palace.” He dismounted. “Stay with the horses until I get a room and arrange a stable.”

Lee entered the lodging house and stood just beyond the doorway. The main hall was sparsely furnished with a few chairs and a wooden bench. An old blackened, brick fireplace in the far left wall burned brightly. Still, the room was chilly and unpleasant. A fat, balding man wearing a stained tunic was asleep in the corner, a mug of ale precariously balanced on his round belly. The lodge was otherwise empty.

Lee slammed the door shut, startling the innkeeper awake. The mug fell to the floor, shattering and splashing ale on the man's dingy trousers.

“Bloody hell!” cursed the innkeeper. He looked down at his spilled ale and grumbled. When he saw Lee standing there he frowned. “What do you want?”

“A room, fat man,” said Lee. “And be quick. And send someone to stable my horses.” He reached in his belt and pulled out two coppers.

This did nothing to change the innkeeper's demeanor. “Do I look like a groom to you?”

“No,” Lee replied. “Grooms are cleaner. Now get off your backside, and have my horses tended.”

The innkeeper snorted, then threw himself to his feet with a grunt. He walked over to Lee and snatched the coppers from his hand. “Grant!” he bellowed harshly, spittle flying from his mouth. A rustle came from behind the door just on the other side of the counter. A moment later, a bent old man emerged. Smiling a stupid, toothless grin, he moved with surprising speed.

“Yes, sir?” said Grant.

“Go stable the horses outside,” growled the innkeeper. “And don't take all night.”

Grant spun around and dashed out the door. Lee followed. After unpacking their belongings Lee tossed Grant a copper.

“Thank you, kind sir,” said Grant, almost groveling.

“Just see that they're well-tended,” said Lee.

“Of course, of course,” Grant replied. “You can count on me, sir.” He bowed low then led the horses away.

“What a wretched creature,” said Jacob.

Lee looked at his son. “I would say pitiful, rather than wretched.”

The innkeeper showed them to their room and without a word, shuffled off, cursing under his breath. The room had four walls, three cots, and nothing more. A cold draft seeped in from the cracks in the rotten floor timbers and the window had been boarded up.

Lee grinned at his son. “I've stayed in worse.” He placed his pack in the far corner. “We'll find a meal elsewhere. I doubt the good innkeeper will provide one.”

Jacob tossed his pack next to Lee's. “I hope the food in this town is better than the lodging.”

“Don't count on it.” Lee led Jacob from the room and back to the main hall. The innkeeper had retaken his place in the chair, holding a new mug of ale. “If anyone touches our belongings, I'll hold you accountable.” He tapped the hilt of his sword.

The innkeeper scowled. “Your things will be fine.”

The nearest tavern didn't even have a name, only a sign that read ‘Tavern.’

Lee surveyed the streets. The traffic had thinned a bit, and Lee suspected that in an hour or two the lodges and taverns would be full; he hoped with people that could be of use. Inside was unremarkable, and typical for a trading post tavern. Two long tables spanned the breadth of the room to the left side, and several small tables surrounded them. A fire burned in the hearth to the right beside a small bar. The bartender, a thin waif of a man, was busy arranging rows of clay mugs. The scent of cooked meat filled the air. Lee knew this would be replaced by the stench of ale and unwashed bodies soon enough.

“I suppose you'll be wantin' to eat,” called the bartender, not bothering to look up.

Lee approached the bar and slid four coppers to the bartender. “I'll be wanting information as well.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow, and quickly shoved the coppers in his pocket. “That'll be fine.” He looked up, his gaunt, unshaven face bore the lines and pits of too many winters. “And what information will you be wantin'?”

“I'll let you know,” Lee replied. “For now, just bring me and my friend some food.”

Without another word the bartender spun around and headed to the kitchen. Lee and Jacob took a seat at a table, farthest from the door.

“Do you gamble?” asked Lee.

Jacob shrugged. “When the urge strikes.”

Lee nodded approvingly. “Good. There will be games, and I want you to join in.” He took two silver coins from his purse and gave them to Jacob.

“And what will you be doing?” asked Jacob.

“Watching,” Lee replied.

About halfway through their meal, people began arriving. Within two hours the tavern was full to bursting, and with just the sort Lee had counted on. Mostly locals lined the long bench tables, but the outer tables were taken by a myriad of tough looking characters. As Lee had instructed, Jacob joined in a game of dice in the corner by the bar. By midnight, the place was getting rough. Several fights had already broken out. In one, a knife had been pulled and a local man was nearly gutted by what looked to be a sell-sword. Luckily, it had been stopped before it got too far out of hand.

Jacob was doing well at dice, and had nearly doubled his money. This naturally did not sit well with the regulars, who were accustomed to fleecing newcomers. Lee knew he would need to keep a close eye on him. He made certain that a pitcher of ale stay full, and constantly on the table, though he only pretended to drink. Better to have all your wits. Jacob, however, did not take such precautions, and let the ale flow freely.

Lee took notice of several merchants, accompanied by stout swordsmen. One particularly fat merchant was letting his coin pass a bit too easily, and his tongue wag too loosely. Before long he was boasting about his adventures and wealth between long draughts of wine. The guard he had with him looked irritated, and more than a bit on edge. The bartender had told Lee that the merchant had dealings in the north, and always stopped there on his way to Angraal.

“You accuse me?” Jacob's raised voice snapped Lee to attention.

Jacob and three locals had squared off in the corner, and Jacob's hand was on the hilt of his dagger. The locals had already grabbed up bottles; one had brandished a small knife. Lee leaped to his feet, and pushed his way through, to the commotion. Lee made it just as Jacob was about to pull his dagger.

“What the hell is going on here?” roared Lee. His eyes looked accusingly at Jacob. “What did I tell you, boy? You'll send us both to the hangman's noose.” He stepped in front of Jacob and roughly snatched him by the collar. “Get to the table, whelp!” He pushed Jacob aside, nearly lifting him off his feet.

Jacob glared. “They-”

“I don't care!” Lee pointed to the table. Reluctantly, Jacob walked away.

“Your friend owes us money,” growled a short stocky man, a wine bottle in his hand.

Lee faced the man, his eyes dark and dangerous. “So you say.”

“W-well…” he stammered. He looked to his friends for support, but they recognized Lee as someone not to be trifled with. “Just keep him away from us.”

Lee looked the men over, then pushed his way past them. When he arrived back at the table, Jacob was cursing under his breath, and draining a mug of ale.

“Did you learn anything?” asked Lee. His tone was not angry.

Jacob refused to look up. “Never touch me again.”

“Calm yourself,” said Lee. “I only did that so we wouldn't have to fight those idiots. I have another fight in mind.” He nodded towards the fat merchant. “He's been drinking and boasting all night. It's only a matter of time until someone tries to shut his mouth.” He reached over and took Jacob's mug. “And if you're going to be of use, you need to stop this. Now, what did you learn from the locals?”

Jacob clenched his jaw then gradually relaxed. “All I heard was that there's been a lot of people coming through from the north. Whether they're from Angraal, they didn't say. They also mentioned that winter came early, but that’s nothing new. Other than that, they spent their time trying to switch dice on me.” He pulled his winnings from his pocket and jingled the coins in his hand. “They failed.”

Lee slapped him on the back. “Those dice skills may come in handy. If we can't find employment as sell-swords or bodyguards, we're going to run out of coins soon, and I'm rubbish at games.”

Jacob smiled in spite of himself.

“Shut your stupid mouth, braggart!” a voice bellowed over the noise of the crowd.

Lee got to his feet. “Watch my back. And try not to spill any blood…unless you have to.”

Across the room the fat merchant was being confronted by two large men. Both wore swords, and were looming over the merchant. His guard was unsure what to do and stood a few feet behind, fingering his sword and shifting nervously.

Lee made his way across the room and positioned himself behind the men. Jacob was on his heels. One of the men had moved to the side and was eying the guard, who clearly had decided to do nothing.

“You say you fought off ten bandits?” growled the largest lout. He pressed his face into the merchant's. “Let's see how you handle me.”

The merchant, fueled by too much wine, didn't back down. “You sir, would be a waste of time and effort.” He glanced over his shoulder at his guard. “I'd rather just have my friend deal with you.”

The man roared with laughter. “I think your…friend, would rather not.” He looked at the guard. “I'll give you this one chance to leave.” The guard paused, then turned on his heels and left the tavern.

The merchant turned pale. “Well, ummm.” He looked around the room. The tavern patrons were clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“What do you have to say now?” said the man.

Lee stepped around, putting himself between the man and the merchant. “That's enough.” Jacob moved to Lee's left facing the other man. “Leave him be.”

The man sneered. “Who the hell are you?”

“I'm with-” he turned to the merchant.

“D-Darius,” the merchant stuttered.

“I'm with Darius,” Lee continued. He glanced sideways at Darius. “I think it's time to call it a night. Don't you?”

“Indeed,” Darius eagerly agreed.

“Jasper,” Lee said to Jacob. “Escort Darius outside.”

Jacob nodded sharply, and helped Darius to his feet. The merchant stumbled to the door and into the street, nearly falling on his face.

Lee backed away towards the door, his hand on the hilt of his sword. The two men followed. Once in the street, Lee called to Jacob. “Take him to our room. I'll be along shortly.” He smiled fiendishly, as the two men exited the tavern and drew their swords.

“You need-” said Jacob.

“I need you to take care of our new employer,” said Lee. “Isn't that right, Darius?” The merchant nodded his head vigorously. “These two brutes are mine.”

Jacob decided it best not to argue, and led Darius away.

“I hope the fat man was worth your life,” said the first man.

Lee widened his stance, but did not draw his blade. “I'll not dirty my steel with the likes of you.” He waved them in. “Come and get me.”

The first man charged in like a mad bull, swinging his sword in a wild arc. The second tried to skewer him through the gut. Lee stepped aside, easily dodging both blades, and brought his fist down across the first thug’s jaw. Blood and teeth went flying as the man spun and tumbled to the ground, unmoving. Stunned the second man paused, staring at his comrade.

“You should run,” said Lee.

This enraged the second thug. Reaching in his belt, he drew a small dagger and hurled it at Lee's throat. Lee moved aside and the blade disappeared into the darkness. The thug brought up his sword and charged. Lee almost laughed at the clumsy effort. He side stepped and brought the back of his fist across the man's temple. He stumbled and fell to one knee, his sword falling to the ground and sliding a few feet away. Lee kicked him to the ground and brought his boot down on the man's neck.

“If you or your friend trouble Darius again, you won't walk away,” said Lee.

The thug's eyes were wide with fear, and he was only able to nod his head.

Lee released him, and after taking a moment to view the crowd that had gathered from inside the tavern, made his way to the lodge. There he found Darius and Jacob sitting quietly at a table.

Lee took a seat next to Jacob. “They won't be troubling you anymore.”

“That coward of a guard abandoned me,” muttered Darius. “I'll see him skinned alive.” He reached in his belt and pulled out a flask. The sweet scent of brandy filled the air as he opened it.

“He's long gone,” said Lee. “But it seems you are in need of protection. My friend and I would be happy to oblige…for the right price.”

“Wha-?” He shook himself to his senses. “Yes, yes. Of course.” He swallowed a mouthful of brandy. “But you may not be so eager, once you hear where I'm going.”

“And where is that?” asked Lee.

“I go to Whiterun Pass,” said Darius. “Just on the other side of the Angraalborder. Not too many want to go there. Especially with all the soldiers gathering.” He handed Lee the flask.

Lee took a long swallow, and passed it to Jacob. “Then why are you going?”

“War is profitable,” said Darius flatly. “I have twenty wagons full of raw cotton, and the Reborn King pays triple what it's worth anywhere else.”

Hearing that name sent Lee's heart pounding. “I see. Well it sounds like just the kind of job Jasper and I are looking for.” He reached across the table and held out his hand. “I'm Barath, and this is my nephew, Jasper.”

Darius shook Lee's hand, then pulled two silver coins from his purse. He tossed Jacob and Lee each a coin then took another drink. “Then it’s good to have you with me. This is for what you did for me in the tavern. Normally, I pay eight coppers per week…” He studied Lee for a moment. “But I think you're worth nine.”

“I'd say we're worth twelve,” said Jacob.

Darius rubbed his chin. “Done.” He stood up. “Grab your gear. My camp is just a mile north; and a sight more comfortable than this place.”

Lee instructed the innkeeper to gather their horses, and he and Jacob retrieved their belongings. Lee offered his horse to Darius, but the merchant refused.

“I've had far too much to drink to stay on a horse,” said Darius. “It will do me good to walk it off.” He patted his round belly. “Besides, I may break the poor beast’s back.”

This brought a hearty laugh. Once the horses were packed, they slowly made their way to the main avenue north, through town. Lee looked for any sign that the two thugs were about, but to his relief, they apparently decided they had enough for one night. Lee didn't want to spill blood this early in their journey. Such things draw too much attention, and even in a dilapidated camp like Klinton, there was a constable or sheriff, and he certainly didn't need to get mixed up with the local law. Not that they were in danger of finding themselves in a hangman’s noose, but explanations would have to be made and coin spent, should men die in the streets.

The night was cold, but the brandy helped to fight off the chill. When they arrived at Darius' camp, Lee could see twenty large wagons filled to bursting with cotton, and arranged in a wide circle. In the center several small fires were burning, surrounded by sleeping men.

Darius grumbled. “Lazy dogs. They're supposed to guard the wagons.” He straightened his shirt and belt, then stiffened his back, standing as tall as his girth would allow. “That’s why I only brought one blasted guard.”

“How many swordsmen do you have?” asked Lee.

“Ten, not counting the two of you,” Darius replied. “Well, nine since I lost the cur that I had with me tonight.”

“Why so many?” asked Jacob.

“The roads south of Angraalare dangerous,” Darius replied. “You may see some action before we get there.”

Lee nodded. “And after?”

Darius chuckled. “No one raids within the borders of the Reborn King. Not unless they wish for death. I'll be glad when they finish whatever war they getting ready for. At least the roads will be safe. I gotta give them credit; they know how to keep order.”

Lee could tell that Jacob wanted to say something, but flashed him a glance. Darius noticed.

“And what do you think about it?” asked Darius. “I see you have an opinion.”

“I think…” Jacob paused. Lee's face was stone. “I think as long as they let people go about their business, I don't care.”

Lee relaxed.

Once within the camp, Darius began kicking awake the men who had been left to guard the wagons, threatening to dock their pay. He pointed to a small tent at the far end of the camp. “I sleep there. After tonight I want you and Jasper to keep your fire and bedrolls nearby. For tonight find yourselves a place with the others. We leave at dawn.”

Lee and Jacob found a spot in the center of the camp and laid out their bedrolls. The other men scarcely looked at them as they settled in.

“It’s going to get even colder soon,” remarked Lee, as he stretched out.

“I'm a northman,” said Jacob. “I don’t mind the cold.”

Lee smiled. His son had done well that night, and he allowed himself to feel proud. He prayed to the Gods that the feeling would last.

Chapter 9

For the next several days, Lee and Jacob spent most of their time with Darius. Originally from The Silver Isles, a small group of islands just off the coast one-hundred miles east of Baltria, Darius had inherited a cotton plantation on the mainland, when his uncle died twenty years prior. When sober, he wasn't nearly as much of a loud braggart, and Lee found him to be a man of quick wit and good humor.

The first day, he invited Lee and Jacob to engage in a dice game with a few of the other men. Though Lee politely refused, Jacob took great joy in the distraction, as well as taking coin from Darius, who turned out to be a very unlucky gambler. After a few more games, Darius chose to sit and talk with Lee rather than lose more coin.

At night, after Darius went to bed, which was usually early when he had too much wine, Lee tried to get to know the others among the caravan. The hired swords were mostly from the edge of the eastern desert. They were regarded as a fierce people of few words and quick temper. Fortunately for Lee, he had spent time in Dantory, and knew how to approach them. Three of the guards intended to join the armies of Angraalwhen they arrived.

“Better to be on the winning side,” said Fennio, a short, thin guard, one night over a few cups of wine. He was by far the most experienced of the lot, and bore the scars to prove it. Unlike the long swords the others carried he preferred a short sword and small mace. “And I hear they pay thirty coppers a week.”

“I'm not servin' in no army,” said Santino, one of the youngest of the group, though he had the look of a hardened veteran. “I don't care if they're payin' fifty coppers. If you ask me, they're payin' so good, because you're marchin' off to get killed.”

“Ha!” scoffed Fennio. “You ain't seen how big the army is. A hundred-thousand if it's ten.”

“You ain't seen it neither,” said Santino. “So shut up.”

Fennio took a swallow of wine and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Yeah, but I heard. They say that before long Angraalis gonna march. You don't wanna be in their way when they do.”

He looked over to Lee, who was feigning disinterest. “What about you? You have the look of a soldier about you. You gonna join up?”

Lee shook head and forced a smile. “If war comes, me and Jasper are going to head east.”

Fennio snorted. “East? You won't find nothin' there but sand and ugly women. Why you think we left in the first place?” The rest of the group burst out in harsh laughter.

“At least Angraalisn't likely to go there,” said Lee.

“You're right about that,” agreed Fennio. They'll be busy with the elves, unless I miss my guess.”

Lee cocked his head. “The elves?”

“Yeah,” said Fennio. “I hear this Reborn King fella's gonna get rid of 'em once and for all.” He shrugged. “Good riddance if you ask me. But who knows. I hear some of 'em are fightin' for him, too.”

“Either way,” Santino interjected. “I ain't fightin' an elf, and I ain't fightin' with 'em. I'd rather go home and marry me an ugly woman, and have me some even uglier children.” This brought more laughter. “Besides, if what those desert dwellers say is true, there's plenty of elves wandering the sand. 'Course most of those folk are daft. You let me know when you head east,” he said to Lee. “I might come with you.”

Lee smiled and got to his feet. “I'll let you know. But I wouldn't wait for the war to start if I were you. And if they go to fight the elves, I'd think twice before I joined.” He brushed off his trousers and went to find Darius and Jacob.

It was a week into their journey when they first started seeing soldiers from Angraal. Mostly small groups of six to ten at a time. They didn't bother with the caravan, other than to warn them to be on their guard for bandits.

“Don't worry,” one soldier had said. “It won't be long before the roads are safe from here all the way to Baltria.”

Lee continued to train Jacob for at least an hour each day. He noticed that since that night in Klinton, something had changed. He was more focused and, in spite of current circumstances, happier. He even seemed to enjoy the training, and to Lee’s delight, was improving dramatically.

On the morning of the eighth day, Lee packed their gear and loaded it on the horses. Darius had taken to walking rather than riding, spending most of their days spinning tales of his adventures. Though Lee could tell the man embellished quite a bit (though not as much as when he had a belly full of wine) it was clear Darius was well-traveled. On several occasions, Lee was asked to tell of his own exploits. At first he was resistant, afraid to give something away that would reveal his identity. But after being pressed by both Darius and Jacob, he relented, and leaving out certain details, told of the many wondrous places he had been.

Just before they stopped for the midday meal, Lee sensed something was wrong. He called for the caravan to halt and reached out with his senses. It was only seconds before he found what he was looking for.

“Gather your men,” ordered Lee.

“What's wrong?” asked Darius.

Lee closed his eyes and listened carefully. “Twenty men. Ten on either side of the road.” His eyes opened. “They're waiting for us.”

Fear showed on Darius' face. “What should we do?”

“Let them wait,” Lee replied. “Organize the men, and set up positions. If they realize we know they're there, they may withdraw.”

“We could sneak around and surprise them,” offered Jacob.

Lee shook his head. “We're outnumbered two to one. We only have nine trained men. The others aren't swordsmen. If we set them to attack, they'll just get themselves killed.” He examined the surrounding area. The trees and brush along the road were sparse and on relatively high ground. Ahead, where the bandits were waiting, the road dipped and was flanked on either side by a slight incline. “We can defend this position, if we need to.” Lee strode off and gathered the men.

“I still think we could take them,” said Jacob, once Lee returned. The guards were lined up behind him and checking their weapons.

“You got a lot to learn, young Jasper,” said Fennio. “The best way to win is to avoid fighting. We're hired guards, not an army. We ain't lookin' to get killed.”

“I thought you wanted to be a soldier,” teased Santino. “I'm with Jasper. We should take them by surprise. I don't like waitin' to be slaughtered.”

“We're not attacking!” barked Lee. “They'll know we're aware of them soon enough. And I doubt we could get behind them in broad daylight, anyway.” He drew his sword. “Believe me, if they decide to attack, they're in for a surprise.” His tone silenced any further argument. He turned to Darius. “You stay behind me at all times.” Jacob moved beside him and drew his weapon. “And you stay by my side.”

Jacob nodded sharply. His muscles tensed with anticipation.

Lee positioned the men around the wagons, men at arms in front and the rest several feet behind. An hour passed and the bandits had made no move, but Lee could still hear them. He looked at his son and furled his brow. He had known all along that they would likely have to fight, but now that danger was a reality, he was afraid for Jacob's life. He remembered dangers he faced with Gewey, not long ago. He loved Gewey as a son, but was never this concerned. Gewey was a God after all, and very hard to kill.

Then, down the road, he saw them. Twenty bandits filing toward them at a slow walk, their weapons drawn. The man in front was tall, broad-shouldered, with head shaved, leaving only an inch wide strip of black hair down the center. In his right hand he carried a large battle axe; in his left a small round shield. They halted about twenty yards away and the leader took a few steps forward.

“Whoever your commander is, he's a sharp one,” called the bandit. “But then, so am I.”

Darius stepped forward. “What do you want?”

The bandit laughed. “Something tells me you're not the one who spotted us, fat man.” He shrugged. “Well, I think you know what we want. The question is, are you willing to die for it?”

Darius held his head high. “Are you?” He looked at his guards, pausing when he met Lee's eyes, smiling. “Give way and find an easier target.”

The bandit addressed Darius' men. “Listen to me. This fat rich merchant will see you all to your graves. If you leave now, none of you will be harmed. Is his gold worth your life?”

Lee stepped forward. He focused his strength to make his voice louder. “If all these men run, I will stand. And by the Gods, if I fall, you will fall with me.”

The bandit shifted uneasily. “I guess I know who the real leader is here.” He steadied his feet. “A man like you could go far. Why are you determined to die? Why not live and get rich?”

Lee tightened his grip on his sword. He glanced at Jacob, giving him a sinister smirk. “I don't need you to get rich. And your time is nearly up.”

“So be it,” said the bandit. He looked back at his men and raised his hand.

The silence was only disturbed by the nervous breathing of the men and the uneasy shifting of the pack animals. Darius moved to Lee's back, a short sword in his hand.

“Stay near me,” Lee whispered to Jacob. “And keep your back to the wagons.”

Then the bandit's hand dropped. The attackers charged, screaming wildly as they came. The guards braced themselves. In seconds they clashed. The deafening clatter of steel on steel cut through the air. Lee hoped the bandit leader would come at him first, but he did not, instead choosing to engage the guards to his left. Two bandits swung their rusty swords at Lee, but found nothing but empty air. Lee cut them down with blinding speed.

Jacob was dodging blows from a tall, heavy set bandit who wielded a thick broadsword. Fear struck Lee's heart as Jacob was pushed back. He moved to take the bandit's head, but Jacob struck first, thrusting his sword through the man's gut, then ripping it free. Jacob flashed a smile at Lee, then stepped forward to greet another attacker.

Two more bandits came at Lee but were quickly dispatched. Jacob had taken the arm of another and had placed himself in front of Darius.

“I'll protect Darius!” shouted Jacob. “Kill the leader!”

Lee swelled with pride. He scanned the melee for the leader. The guards were holding their ground well. Their experience kept the wagons at their backs and forced the bandits to take them on one at a time. The leader was at the far end. He had killed two guards and was beating back a third. Lee pulled the dagger from his belt and hurled it at the leader. The blade slashed across the man's neck, narrowly missing being buried in his throat. The bandit turned to see Lee charging in, and took a few steps forward to meet him.

Lee killed two more bandits before he finally reached the leader. He could see the fear in the leader’s eyes as he brought his blade down hard and swift. The bandit was only just able to raise his axe in time, but the force of Lee's blow threw him back. Lee stepped in again, this time bringing his sword upward in a tight arc. The tip dug into the bandit's left thigh and tore its way to his hip. The bandit grimaced and staggered, swinging his axe frantically. Lee moved deftly away, then slashed into the leader’s right shoulder. The axe fell to the dirt with a sharp thud. The bandit closed his eyes as Lee moved in. One more powerful blow sent the bandit's head flying. The body stood erect for a moment, blood squirting rhythmically from its neck, then crumbled to the ground. Seeing their fallen leader, one by one the remaining bandits began to flee.

“Do not pursue them,” Lee shouted. He rushed to his son's side; Jacob was still breathing heavily from the fight. His shirt and trouser were drenched in blood, and spots of red dotted his cheeks.

Darius was backed against the wagon. His hands trembled and his face was ghostly pale. When he saw Lee he forced a weak smile. “Well done.” He nodded at Jacob. “Both of you.”

“We need to tend the wounded,” said Lee. “And see to the dead.”

Lee examined the aftermath of the battle. The guards had already begun to treat the wounds of their comrades. Each gave Lee a respectful nod as he passed. In all, they lost three men and three more were wounded. They had managed to hold off the bandits well enough to protect the untrained workmen. He checked his pack and retrieved a healing salve he had brought, then set to treating the men. Two could still travel on their own, but one would need to ride in a wagon.

Darius had the men dig graves for the fallen guards, and had the bodies of the bandits placed in a row along the roadside. “They can serve as a warning,” he said, as he looked upon the sight.

A short ceremony was held for the guards. Each of their comrades said a quiet prayer to Dantenos, God of the Dead, asking him to watch over their friends. No one wanted to stay the night there, so they marched another mile then set up camp.

After building the fire and setting the bedrolls, most sat in silence, the horror of the battle still fresh in their minds. Lee checked the wounded, then joined Jacob and Darius at the edge of the encampment.

“Quite a day,” said Darius.

Lee nodded. “Indeed, it was.” He tore off a piece of bread that had been laid out for him. “There is a small town, Farice, a day’s ride from here. We should reach it before sundown tomorrow. The wounded should be left behind there. They will not heal if they continue.”

“I'm familiar with Farice,” said Darius. “I'll see the men are paid and, looked after.” He looked Lee in the eye. “I've never seen anyone fight like you. You could have taken the entire raiding party alone, I suspect.” His eyes drifted to Jacob. “And I see you have the same spirit in you as well.”

Lee shrugged. “I was well-trained. And Jasper is a natural.”

“Well-trained, you say,” said Darius. His eyes bore suspicion. He stretched out on his bedroll, his hands folded, cradling his head. “You know, I have traveled this road six times since the Reborn King came to power. I've seen many soldiers, mercenaries, thugs, bandits, you name it. I've seen many fights, duels, and even one pitched battle, when I was young. But I have never seen a man slay so many with such ease.”

Lee was silent.

Darius chuckled. “Don't worry. Whatever secrets you keep are yours. You and Jasper have saved my life twice. Not to mention keeping my fortune out of the hands of brigands. I'm not so wealthy that I can afford to lose an entire shipment. In any case, I am in your debt.” He rolled over to face Lee. “I have a feeling that you will not be in my employ long. You are a man that acts with purpose, and I think that purpose lays in Angraal.”

Lee met Darius' gaze. “What are you trying to say?”

Darius smiled. “Nothing. I just want you to know, that when the time comes, I will help you as best I can.” He rolled back over and closed his eyes. “I owe you that much.”

Lee looked at his son, then back at Darius. “When the time comes, your help will be welcome.”

Chapter 10

Gewey cracked open his eyes. Kaylia was still asleep beside him, her arm draped across his chest, a tiny smile on her lips. The scent of porridge and bread blew in from outside the tent, causing his stomach to growl.

“They've left a meal for us,” said Kaylia, awake though her eyes were still closed.

Gewey reluctantly sat up and reached for his clothes. He dressed and went to the tent entrance. Just as Kaylia had said, two bowls of porridge and a loaf of bread, along with a cup of sweet wine, had been placed just outside. Kaylia got dressed and they enjoyed their meal in silence. Their bond was all the conversation they needed.

They had only just taken the last bite, when a voice called from outside. “Hello?” It was Linis.

“Come inside,” called Kaylia.

Linis entered, his face grave.

“What's happened?” asked Gewey.

“We received word that Valshara has fallen,” Linis replied.

Gewey and Kaylia sprang to their feet.

“When?” asked Gewey. He reached down and grabbed his sword.

“Not long after we departed,” replied Linis. “The High Lady escaped, along with a few others. They have taken refuge in Althetas for now.” Linis pushed open the tent flap. “I am truly sorry, but you are needed. Theopolou and the others have gathered to decide what to do.”

Gewey took a deep breath and led Kaylia by the hand from the tent. The morning air was cool and moist, and dew still glistened on the grass-covered field. They joined the others not far from where he and Kaylia had completed their bond the night before. Theopolou and the elders were in deep conversation with Aaliyah and her comrades. Only Aaliyah noticed Gewey, Kaylia, and Linis approach. She nodded a greeting at Gewey.

“What's going on?” asked Gewey.

Theopolou held a small piece of parchment in his hand. “Valshara is destroyed. Very few escaped. The High Lady is in Althetas, and plans to petition the king to come to their aid.” He looked directly at Aaliyah. “I believe Gewey should delay the journey until we can decide on a course of action, but Aaliyah disagrees.”

“Any delay puts you in greater danger,” said Aaliyah. “The presence of Shivis Mol will not help you. Besides, your course is clear. Gather as many as you can, and strike back before your enemies can establish a foothold. Unless they have an army, you should be able to mount an attack, and retake what you have lost. My people will give you all the help they can. They will expect only swords and arrows…we can bring much more to bear.” She turned to Gewey. “But we must not delay our departure.”

Gewey wanted desperately to stay. Every minute more he could have with Kaylia was precious.

“Aaliyah is right,” said Kaylia. Feeling Gewey's doubt, she squeezed his hand. “If what she says is true, we need what is hidden in the desert. And Gewey needs to learn to use his power.”

“It is not probable they will look to hold Valshara,” said Bellisia. “Not so far from reinforcements. More likely they are striking at Amon Dahl. And if they try to hold it, we can take it back.” She spoke to Theopolou. “You know Valshara better than most. The battle plan shall be yours.”

“And if we find we are mistaken?” Theopolou furled his brow. “What then? Valshara can be well defended by only a few. If they brought enough force, they could hold it indefinitely.”

“You think in battle terms without taking all of your weapons into account,” said Nehrutu. He held out his palm. The air above it swirled and twisted, then burst into a small flame. Light and heat grew until it forced the gathering back. “We have abilities beyond your understanding.” The ball of flame shot skyward, then exploded with an ear-shattering blast. “They will not expect you to possess such weapons.”

This brought stares of awe and mummers of approval.

“Please, Shivis Mol,” said Aaliyah. We must depart. There is nothing for you to do here.”

Gewey looked at Kaylia. She nodded slowly, then kissed his cheek. Gewey nearly lost himself as the love flowed freely between their bond. He sighed heavily and forced himself to look away. “We leave as soon as you're ready.” He turned to Theopolou. “I'll return as soon as I can.”

Aaliyah had already prepared to depart and told Gewey she would await him at the edge of the encampment. Gewey gathered his pack, Kaylia at his side.

“I'll miss you,” said Gewey. Tears welled in his eyes.

Kaylia pulled him close and kissed him deeply. “Just be careful and return to me safe.” She embraced him, choking back her own tears. Reluctantly, she released him and took his hand. “It's time.” They made their way to Aaliyah.

Theopolou and Linis were also there. Linis smiled as they approached. He held a small silver flask.

“I made this last night,” said Linis. He handed it to Gewey. “If you are to go to the desert, it may be useful. A single sip will keep you strong should you be unable to find water.”

“Thank you, my friend.” Gewey put the flask in his pack and gave Linis a fond embrace.

Theopolou bowed. “Farewell, Gewey Stedding. My hopes go with you.” He looked at Kaylia. “You are now a part of my house and my family. Return to us soon.”

Gewey bowed in return. “I will.” He kissed Kaylia one last time, as tears streamed down both of their faces. He wiped his tears and turned to Aaliyah. “I'm ready.”

Aaliyah nodded and led Gewey to the trail. Gewey dared not look back for fear his heart would break.

“Are we going alone?” asked Gewey.

“We need no escort,” Aaliyah replied. “There is nothing so dangerous as to trouble us.”

“How long until we get there?”

“Two days. But if we press our pace and take no respite, we can reach the shore by morning,” she said. “My ship awaits us.” She slowed as to walk beside Gewey. “I know it is hard to leave her. But it is for the best. And you may find you are glad you did.”

Gewey was in no mood for flirting. “You told me you were once bonded.”

“I was,” she affirmed.

“When he died, did you think it was for the best?” He saw a pang of emotion shoot across her face. Immediately he regretted his words.

“At the time, I did not,” Her lips slowly relaxed, and she smiled sweetly. “But now, I think it might have been.”

Gewey struggled not to return her smile. Instead he reached out to Kaylia. Immense sorrow and worry is all he felt at first, then joy and relief as she reached back. Aaliyah quickened their pace.

By nightfall, Gewey was forced to use the flow more and more, to keep up his strength. At times they almost ran. He could tell Aaliyah was using only her own natural endurance and marveled, though he said nothing about it.

By midnight, the landscape flattened and the trees thinned. Patches of grass were separated by large areas of gray sand and red clay. The tall pines were being outnumbered by curved palms and thick brambles, and the musty scent of the forest was now mixed with the salty breeze coming off the Western Abyss.

“Do you need rest?” asked Aaliyah.

Gewey knew that if he released the flow fatigue would certainly set in. “No, I'm fine.”

Aaliyah reached in a pouch on her belt and pulled out a small orange berry. “Try this.” She handed it to Gewey.

Gewey examined it for a moment. It was no larger than a cherry, and was smooth and shiny. “What is it?”

“We call them Rain Berries.” She pulled out another and popped it in her mouth. Sighing with satisfaction, she motioned for Gewey to eat.

Gewey held it to his nose. It smelled like a plum, only sweeter. He slowly bit down. Sweet juice exploded, and a delicious flavor, unlike any other fruit or berry in the land he had ever encountered, filled his mouth and caressed his tongue. “I've never tasted anything like it.”

“They are my favorite,” said Aaliyah. “And very hard to come by. I searched many days to find only a small handful.”

“I wish they grew here,” said Gewey.

“Perhaps one day you will help me gather them in my homeland.”

Gewey noticed how the moonlight silhouetted the curves of her figure. She moved with a fluid grace that was unmatched by anyone he'd ever seen. She looked over just in time to catch his stare, and gave him a sly grin. He could feel himself flush with embarrassment.

An hour before sunrise he could hear the surf beating against the shore. Walking became increasingly difficult, as the sand deepened and the dunes began to rise ahead, though it didn't appear to hinder Aaliyah. As they crested the last dune, the dim light of dawn broke at his back. The azure of the Western Abyss stretched out before them. Gewey stood transfixed.

“Have you never seen the sea?” asked Aaliyah.

“No,” Gewey replied. “I haven't. I only left my small village a short time ago. Even then, we were on the run most of the time.” He breathed in the sea air.

“You will see the world soon enough,” said Aaliyah. “I must warn you. The first time on a ship at sea can be…disquieting.”

Gewey had not thought about spending two weeks aboard a seagoing vessel. He shrugged, not wanting to show his sudden apprehension. “I'll be fine.”

“Of course, you will.” She led Gewey down the beach to a small boat that had been pulled ashore and tied to a large piece of driftwood. “My ship is just over the horizon.”

Gewey looked out at the water. The waves were at least three feet high and the sea beyond the breakers was rough. “Is it safe to go that far out in this?”

Aaliyah laughed as she untied the boat. “We won't be going that far. My ship is already heading toward us.”

“How-” asked Gewey.

“My crew knows I am here because I let them know,” she said, before he could complete his question. “It is much the same as when you reach out to Kaylia, only we can do so without the bonding. You will learn soon enough.”

Gewey grabbed the side of the boat and helped Aaliyah drag it to the water. It was surprisingly light, which made him even more nervous as his eyed the churning seas. As soon as they were in the water and on board Gewey noticed something missing. Oars. Aaliyah had seated herself at the front and was sitting cross legged, hands in her lap, palms up. The boat lurched forward. Spray soaked his clothes as the craft cut through the waves and into open water. He could feel the flow coursing through her.

In the distance, he spotted red sails breaking above the horizon. “I see them,” he called out.

“Yes,” she replied. “We will be aboard soon.”

The ship came closer at an alarming rate. In only a few minutes it loomed above them. It was well over one-hundred feet in length, and its two giant masts were nearly the length of the ship itself. Gewey had only seen drawings of sea-going vessels, but could still tell that this ship was much sleeker in design, and looked faster. The sails were swollen full, and at first Gewey was afraid the ship would ram them. But just as it came within twenty yards, the sails went limp and the vessel slowed dramatically.

Dozens of elves could be seen alongside looking down at them, all dressed in tan shirts and red trousers. One unfurled a rope ladder, as well as two thin ropes. Aaliyah attached the ropes to two steel rings on either side of the boat and led Gewey up the ladder. He could already feel queasiness in his stomach as he climbed. The ship rose and dipped methodically, nearly causing him to fall twice before he reached the top. Once on deck, Gewey reached over and held the side railing to steady himself.

“You will grow accustomed to the movement soon,” Aaliyah promised. “For now, stare at the horizon. It will keep your stomach from turning sour.”

Gewey looked doubtful, but obeyed. He could hear the whispers of the elves behind him. The words Shivis Mol being repeated over and over. After a few minutes, his nausea subsided, and he turned around. The sway of the ship kept him slightly off balance, and he stumbled forward. A tall, thin elf with dusty-brown hair and ice-blue eyes, leaped forward and grabbed his arm.

“I'm fine,” said Gewey. “Thank you.”

The elf bowed. “It takes time to grow accustomed to the sea.” He smiled brightly. “But I suspect Shivis Mol will have little trouble.”

Gewey looked out over the deck. At least a dozen elves were busy about the ship. Aaliyah was standing several feet away speaking to one of the crew. To the aft end, the deck sloped upward ending at a cabin that stood nearly ten feet tall. A narrow wood door led to the interior flanked on either side by a ladder that led up to the poop deck. The main deck was smooth and glistened in the morning sun, yet despite its slick appearance, it gripped the soles of his boots. He examined the various ropes and pulleys that hung from the first mast, and marveled at the sheer complexity. The riverboats he had seen were as toys by comparison.

Aaliyah motioned for him to join her. “If you wish, you can spend time among the crew. They will be pleased to show you how the ship works.”

“I would like that,” said Gewey. His stomach growled loudly.

Several elves began to gather around each mast.

“You should watch this,” said Aaliyah. “Then you can eat and rest.”

The elves closed their eyes and folded their hands in front of them. Gewey could sense the sudden swell of the flow growing around him. He felt the air begin to stir and build, until the sails snapped full. The masts groaned and creaked as the ship lurched forward. The elves opened their eyes and all but one broke the circle and went back to their work.

“He will maintain the wind until midday,” said Aaliyah. She pointed to the bow where another elf woman stood, eyes fix on the horizon. “And she will guide us.”

Gewey could scarcely believe what he had seen. “You can teach me this?”

“Of course.” She reached out and took his hand. “That is why you are here, is it not? But come, there will be time for that later.”

“But how-”

She placed one delicate finger to his lips. “Later. I am strong, but still I need to eat.” She led Gewey across the deck and through the door of the cabin. The wooden interior was polished, clean and superbly varnished. The long tables had been placed to his right, and a narrow door was at the far end. The walls were bare — with the exception of a silver placard with an expertly carved relief of a dolphin leaping playfully from a turbulent sea, situated on the far left wall just above the last table.

Aaliyah took Gewey's pack and motioned for him to sit. “I will take your belongings to your quarters.” She disappeared through the door.

Gewey waited patiently. It wasn't long before Aaliyah returned carrying two bowls, followed closely by a short, elderly elf woman, clad in brown tunic and trousers, bearing a bottle, two wooden cups, and two spoons. The scent of fresh fish filled the air. After placing everything on the table, the woman nodded and left.

Aaliyah took a seat across from Gewey. “I hope you enjoy our fare.”

In the bowl was a thick creamy stew, dotted with red, green, and black spices. His mouth watered. “What is it?” He picked up a spoonful, and saw large chunks of fish mixed with the thick broth.

“It is a stew made from cream, fish, and spices from my homeland.” She poured Gewey a cup of wine.

Gewey eyes went wide at the first taste. It was almost sweet, yet the spice caused his tongue to tingle. The fish was tender and just salty enough to be a pleasant addition to the overall experience. He smiled and moaned with satisfaction.

“I am pleased you like it,” said Aaliyah.

They ate the rest of the meal in silence. When they were finished, Aaliyah led Gewey through the door and down a narrow corridor that split at the end. To the right of Gewey was an open door that led to a small kitchen. They continued left to the end of the hall to another door. Inside was surprisingly luxurious. The floor was covered by a thick, indigo rug, woven with swirling silver patterns around its borders. A large oak desk was directly ahead, covered with maps, charts, and several leather books. On either side was a single bed, dressed with plush blue quilts and two small soft-looking, round pillows. A large ash chest had been placed at the foot of each bed. The wall was decorated with paintings of various sea creatures, some he was familiar with, others looked like something out of legend. Glowing spheres hung from the ceiling in the corners.

Aaliyah sat on the bed to the right. “You sleep there.” She nodded toward the other bed.

Gewey froze. “You mean we're staying in the same room?”

“Of course,” Aaliyah replied, clearly amused. “Space aboard ship is limited, and I will not have Shivis Mol sleep on deck.”

“I wouldn't mind.” He made no move toward the bed. Knowing her intentions made him feel uneasy, and he knew Kaylia certainly would not approve.

Her laugh rang out like music. “Calm yourself. I can have one of the crew stay with you if you wish.”

Gewey suddenly felt very much a child. He tossed his pack on the bed and settled his wits. “I wouldn't want to kick you out of your own room. I didn't mean to overreact.”

There was a knock at the door and two elf men entered, carrying a small basin filled with water. Their eyes fixed on Gewey as they placed the basin gently on the floor and left.

Aaliyah rose to her feet. “It is time for your first lesson,” She knelt in front of the basin. “The water is cold. You shall heat it.”

Gewey knelt beside her. “What do I do?”

“The same as you do with power from the earth. Only you must focus your spirit on the air that surrounds the basin.”

Gewey cocked his head. “The air? Not the water?”

Aaliyah shook her head. “No. You could heat it that way, but the effort would be much greater.” She reached over and took his hand. “You must learn to find the smooth path. Water will resist you, while the air is pliant.” She squeezed his hand tightly. “Open your mind to me. Allow me to guide you.”

Gewey breathed deep and closed his eyes. At once he saw Kaylia, her face anguished and lonely. His eyes snapped open.

Aaliyah released her grip and sprang to her feet. “This will not do.” Her voice was disapproving and sharp. “If you cannot govern your bond, I must…assist you.” Grabbing Gewey's shoulders she pressed down hard.

“What are you doing,” he demanded. Then it felt as if he had been struck between the eyes. He fell back, reeling.

Aaliyah knelt beside him. “You are not hurt, Shivis Mol.”

Gewey opened his eyes. It took him a moment before he managed to sit up and regain his focus. Something was wrong. An overwhelming sadness filled his heart, and tears began streaming down his cheeks. He closed his eyes, and reached out to his bond with Kaylia. It was gone! He glared accusingly at Aaliyah. “What have you done?” he roared. He experienced sorrow blended with sheer fury.

Aaliyah looked serene and almost satisfied. “Nothing that cannot be undone.”

Gewey leaped to his feet. His hand slid to his sword as the flow raged through him. “Then undo it!”

Aaliyah didn't appear intimidated as she slowly stood. “I will not. Not until your lessons are complete.” She turned to the door. “You are unable to control your bond with Kaylia. That will hinder our work, and we can ill afford that. The time I have to teach you is short, and I will not allow passion to cripple you.” Reaching for the door, she turned her profile to Gewey. “I will leave until you calm your storm.” With those words she left the room.

Gewey let out a tortured scream. For more than an hour he raged, pacing back and forth. Again and again he tried to reach out to Kaylia, but could feel nothing. The sensation of pure emptiness had him weeping openly several times. Finally, he sat on the bed, defeated.

The door opened and Aaliyah entered and sat next to him. Her face bore the look of deep concern and sympathy. “When you have the strength, you can overcome what I have done. I have not broken your bond, only pulled it from your grasp.” She placed her hand on Gewey's. “You must trust me.”

Gewey reached down and roughly pushed her hand away. “You had no right to do this.”

“Better for me to face your anger now, than to let you face your enemies unprepared.” She knelt back down beside the basin. “Come.”

Gewey stared with seething anger, and remained on the bed several minutes, before kneeling beside her. “You had better keep your word. Once you've taught me, undo it.”

Aaliyah took his hand. This time he did not resist. “When I have taught you what you need to know, you will not need me to undo it.” Her mouth turned up to the tiniest of smiles. “When that happens, your foes will tremble before you.”

Gewey closed his eyes and let Aaliyah enter his mind. Despite his anger, the touch of her thoughts felt soothing and warm.

“Allow yourself to feel as I feel.” Her voice lifted away the loneliness.

Gewey let himself drift nearer and nearer, until he could no long separate where his mind ended, and hers began. He had only been this close to Kaylia. Guilt and regret shot through his heart, but somehow, Aaliyah pushed it away, replacing it with a feeling of joy and contentment. He felt her spirit reach out to the air that surrounded the basin. At first it was confusing. It felt very different than when he drew power from the earth. It seemed as if it were so removed and strange, that it couldn't be part of the flow. But as Aaliyah began moving and molding it, he began to see how it melded to the actual fabric of the world. Suddenly it was so simple. He wondered how he had never seen it before.

“Magic,” he whispered.

“Yes,” said Aaliyah. “In a way.”

The air above and around the basin swirled and compressed, faster and faster, until heat sprang forth from its core. Increasingly hot, it danced and swayed, caressing the surface of the water and sides of the basin. Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended. The water steamed and rippled.

Gewey reached out and touched the basin, burning the tips of his fingers. He scarcely noticed the pain. “How didn't I see it before?”

Aaliyah squeezed his hand and helped him to his feet. “It may still elude you.”

Gewey closed his eyes and reach out for Aaliyah once again. This time she didn't allow him to join with her. “Why-”

“You must try without my help.” she said.

Gewey realized in that moment that he longed to feel her spirit, and felt ashamed. He felt as if he had betrayed Kaylia. “Of course.” He pushed his feelings aside, and tried to recreate what they had done, but as Aaliyah said, he couldn't. After three straight attempts, he threw his hands up in frustration.

“Patience,” said Aaliyah. “It will come more easily with time.” She turned to the door. “I will leave you to bathe. Then we can rest.”

“But it's still morning.”

Her voice became soft and seductive. “I prefer the night. And I am weary from our journey.”

Gewey blushed under her gaze. The feeling of guilt and betrayal returned to snap back his reason. He was very tired. And now that he had released the flow and his anger had subsided, he became keenly aware of the dull fatigue that was now washing over his entire body.

After he washed and changed into the elf clothing given to him by Theopolou, he settled into his bed. The waves rocked ever so slowly, until he drifted close to sleep. He was only barely aware of Aaliyah's return. For a moment, just before sleep completely took him, he could feel her mind touch his. It was soft and comforting, as if a mother soothing a frightened child. He felt his lips turn to a smile. Then there was only the dark oblivion of a deep, restful sleep.

Chapter 11

Gewey awoke to the sound of Aaliyah humming softly at the desk, reading a small blue book. He lay there and listened for a time, then sat up, refreshed and strong.

“You slept well, I trust?” she asked, without looking up.

He yawned and stretched. “Yes. I was more tired than I thought.”

“You have had quite an eventful few days.” She closed the book and placed it in the desk drawer. “I am sorry to say that you will get little rest while on board. We have much to do.”

She waited outside for Gewey to change, then led him to the galley. Two plates of eggs and bread awaited them. After breakfast, she took him on deck. The cool sea air sent a chill down his spine. As he looked out onto the Western Abyss he envied the sailors such a life. The dark, rolling waves and the endless expanse calmed him. The sun was just sinking over the horizon, setting the sky ablaze with swirls of orange, blue, and red. Stories his father had told him of storms and sea monsters couldn't exist in such a marvelous place.

Aaliyah walked to the port railing and leaned her slender figure over the side. The wind wrapped her thin cotton dress around her curves. “Beautiful, is it not?”

Gewey blushed, thankful she could not see his unease. “It is,” he replied and joined her. “It's like nothing I've ever seen.”

“It is not always so peaceful,” she warned. “The sea is more perilous than you can imagine. Storms can rise without warning, and there are beasts that lurk within that are larger than this ship.”

Gewey laughed. “Sea monsters?”

“Some,” she replied. “Though not all are monsters. Some are gentle and wise.”

Gewey cocked his head. “Wise? How can a beast be wise?”

“There is much about the world you have yet to learn,” she said. “One is that not all ‘beasts’ are what they seem.” She took his hand. “Come. It is time to begin.”

The crew was busy about their work, but each took a moment to greet them as they passed. Gewey had counted about thirty elves aboard, and assumed there were more below. Aaliyah led him to the bow where the navigator was concentrating on her duties.

“Is she using wind or water?” asked Gewey.

“Both,” said Aaliyah. She placed his hand on the navigators shoulder. “This is Faaliyasi. Join with her.”

Gewey obeyed, allowing his mind and spirit to drift outward toward the navigator. Her mind was different than that of Kaylia or Aaliyah. It was hard, cold, and as unyielding as steel. She let Gewey draw close, but only close enough so he could feel as she did. The flow was similar to what he experienced that morning, but a million times more complex. The forces intertwined in perfect harmony, dancing and twisting as one.

“Amazing,” he whispered. “How can you do this?”

Faaliyasi did not respond.

After several minutes Aaliyah pulled Gewey away. “She has trained for many years to learn this skill.”

“Can you do that?” Gewey asked.

“Yes, but not as well,” she admitted. “Our navigator’s begin learning their craft at childhood. What you saw was just a small thing. Should a storm arise, you will see her true power.”

Aaliyah had a small bowl of water brought on deck, and Gewey spent the rest of the evening trying in vain to touch the power of the air to heat it. He soon found Aaliyah to be as severe a task master as Lee had been, though not as harsh in temperament. By morning he was exhausted and frustrated.

When they returned to their quarters, he found that a basin of wash water had been left. The prospect of joining with Aaliyah excited him. He had not been alone inside himself since he first joined with Kaylia, and the loneliness was unbearable at times. Had he not been so utterly engrossed in his training, he was certain it would bother him considerably.

“You shall wash with cold water until you can learn to heat it yourself,” Aaliyah said.

Gewey's heart sank, but he tried once again. This time he felt it. Unlike the throbbing pulse of the earth, he felt an irregular current of energy.

“Yes,” said Aaliyah softly. “The air is not a brute like the earth. It is like a whimsical child. Let it dance through you.”

Gewey drew in the flow of the air for the first time. His fatigue washed away at once, and like when he used the earth, his senses erupted with awareness. But unlike the earth, it was difficult to control. It scattered and twirled throughout his body as a tempest. It resisted him, threatening to tear him apart.

“Do not use force,” Aaliyah instructed. “Use your heart…your soul, to have it obey your commands.”

“I don't understand.” The flow continued to build, rushing through him. Finally, he could no longer contain it. Gewey let out a horrifying scream and the air exploded, tossing both he and Aaliyah back, slamming them hard against the wall.

Gewey slid down, the breath forced from his lungs, gasping. After a moment, he regained his senses and caught his breath. Aaliyah was slumped down against the door. He sprang to his feet and rushed to her side.

“Are you all right?” he asked desperately. “Gods, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” He took her limp hand in his and reached out to her spirit. The moment he touched it, he felt the keen sense of loneliness vanish. Her spirit seemed to embrace him, pulling him to her.

Slowly her eyes fluttered open. “I am unhurt.” She managed a smile. “You are far stronger than I could have imagined.” She sat up straight. “But I should have known Shivis Mol would be.”

“I am sorry,” he repeated.

“Do not be sorry,” she said, soothingly. “The fault was mine. I must be aware that I am not training an elf child, but a young godling.” She placed her hand gently on his cheek. “And in this world you have only just come of age. I must remember that as well.”

Gewey stiffened. “I am a man.” he insisted. “Even before I came of age, I was my own master.”

She giggled, amused at his reaction. “A man need not assert that he is a man. Only a child would do so.” She struggled to her feet, aided by Gewey, and smoothed her dress.

Gewey gave no reply. Embarrassed by the truth in her words, he turned and retrieved his elf clothing from the chest. Aaliyah left the room to allow him to wash, returning just as he was climbing into his bed.

Aaliyah dimmed all the lights and climbed into her bed. “I am sorry if I upset you,” she said, pulling the blanket close. “But compared to me, your years in this world are few. There are lessons for you still to learn.”

“I know,” said Gewey. “I just feel…I don't know. I suppose I don't like being reminded that I'm so much younger and inexperienced than everyone around me.”

“You are young.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “But you are not without experience. And you are mature for your age. You should think no more on it. I will try to be more delicate with the matter.”

Gewey let the ship rock him to sleep. His dreams were fraught with images of battle, blood, and mayhem. They were so vivid that, at first, he feared the Dark Knight had found him again, but to his relief, he didn't appear.

Over the next several nights Gewey and Aaliyah continued their lessons, but Aaliyah thought it better to do so on deck rather than risk damage to the ship. Though there were no further accidents, Gewey struggled for the first few days to control the flow. The more he failed the more frustrated he became. But then on the fourth night it happened.

One of the navigators was on her way to her quarters. Her face was tense, her eyes narrow, and she appeared to be upset. Gewey stopped her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I am fine, Shivis Mol,” she replied.

Her name was Drasalisia. Gewey had seen her nearly every evening on his way up to the deck. Usually, he was already involved in his lesson, but this evening Aaliyah allowed him a little bit of extra sleep. “It's just that you look upset,” he remarked.

Drasalisia's face relaxed a bit and she managed a polite smile. “No, Shivis Mol. I am not upset. When you channel power from the air and water it can leave you…emotional. It takes effort to calm myself.”

“Emotional?” Gewey rubbed the back of his neck and tilted his head. There were three navigators on board. All women, and all seemed to him to be as stoic as priests of Dantenos, God of the Dead. “How do you mean?”

“The water is power and mystery.” she replied. “Difficult to understand, but easy to manipulate. The air is another matter. It is passion and fire. It burns and flows with a will of its own. When you control air, it demands that you use your own passion, or it will defy you.”

“You speak as if it were alive,” he remarked.

“Did you ever think it was not?” She huffed a laugh and walked away.

Gewey thought on this for a time, then sat next to the waiting bowl of water. He closed his eyes and felt the flow of the air around him, drawing it near. He could feel it raging and bursting with power. Then he felt it. The passion. Love, hate, joy, sorrow, all pressing in together, trying to force its way out. It was alive. He drew it inside and let his own feelings surge into the storm. It was in that moment he understood why he couldn't control it before. In his attempt to control, he had withheld the part of himself needed for the air to join with him as one. His heart. In moments all the lessons came together and he knew exactly what to do, and heated the air around the bowl.

“Perfect.” Aaliyah knelt beside him. “Soon it will become effortless. You will be able to create wonders.”

Gewey sighed with satisfaction. “It's alive. I can feel it.”

“Of course, it is,” she replied. “The world is a living thing formed by the Creator. The pulse of the earth is its heart and body. The air its breath. The water its blood.” She took his hand and pulled him to his feet. “And when you are ready, you will see its soul.”

“Its soul?” Gewey imagined the world as an immense creature atop which all people resided. “I'll be able to see it?”

“Oh, yes,” said Aaliyah. “When you have control enough to master the physical powers of the earth, then you shall be ready to join with its spirit. For an elf, there is no greater power. Only a few of us have touched it.”

“Have you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “I am one who has achieved such power. Though I admit, only to a small degree. To journey through the unseen world, touching the minds of others wrapped within your own spirit is a gift we all possess. But to join with the true spirit of creation…it is unlike anything you can imagine. Once you can do that, you will be invincible.”

Gewey realized she still held his hand, and felt his heart race. He quickly withdrew. Aaliyah smiled and let out a soft, contented laugh. She looked at him for a long moment then stood over him.

“I know what you're trying to do,” said Gewey, in a half-whisper. “It won't work. I love Kaylia.”

“I have made no secret of my intent,” she replied. “But I am no trickster. Do not sully our time together with accusations.” She motioned for him to resume his lesson.

The rest of the evening, Gewey practiced channeling the flow. By the end of the night, Aaliyah had taught him to create a tiny ball of flame above his hand and send it flying through the air.

From then on, time aboard ship passed quickly. By the beginning of the second week, Gewey began rising early to study the ship and its workings. The crew was happy to teach him, and he found himself looking forward to it as much he did his lessons with Aaliyah. The crew relished telling him stories from their homeland, and were eager to learn of his life as well. Their cheer and good nature reminded him of Linis and his seekers. It was comforting to know that he did not need to convince them to be his allies. Though they did not say it, he felt as if they would do anything he asked of them.

But even though he had immersed himself in his lessons, Kaylia was never far from his mind. The absence of her thoughts and emotions was an open wound that felt as if it would never heal. Several times per day he would try to reach her, but without success. Each time he did, Aaliyah appeared shortly after to give him further instruction. Somehow she knew what he was doing. But worse, she knew what he was feeling, and could say just the right thing to send his heart pounding and cheeks blushing. Most of the time this was followed by heart-wrenching guilt. But she would occasionally catch him off guard, and he would respond more in the manner of a suitor than a student. This, naturally, caused him even more guilt and torment.

Then, by midway through the second week, the cool evenings had become warm and muggy. Aaliyah told him that they were about a hundred miles from the shores of a large delta city. Gewey assumed it was Baltria. She explained that they would remain far from shore to avoid other ships, until they neared their destination in four days. Gewey marveled that they had traveled so far in such a short time.

Aaliyah had told him that he would begin lessons with water on their return journey. Gewey had all but forgotten why they had come. He had heard stories of the desert nomads. Fierce and dangerous, they wandered aimlessly, preying on anyone foolish enough to stray too far from the oasis towns. Ravenous beasts supposedly, roamed the sands as well. Wolves the size of a pony, hunting at night, devouring entire caravans, leaving only the bones to bleach in the scorching sun. He even had heard stories of great flying lizards that breathed fire, though these were the things told to children at night. His father would occasionally delight him with desert tales, and the giant lizard stories had been his favorite.

The day of their arrival Gewey gathered his belongings and went on deck to wait for Aaliyah. He had decided to wear his elf clothing. It was cool and he hoped it would keep the sun at bay. It was just before nightfall and the air was unusually mild. He had hoped some of the crew would be joining them — the idea just the two of them braving the desert sands unsettled his nerves — but Aaliyah had explained that the crew’s place was aboard ship. Should they need help, she could certainly call them.

The small boat they arrived in had already been lowered into the water. The sea was calm and had a pale green tint, unlike the deep, rich blues he had seen before. The crew took turns bidding him farewell and good luck. He knew he would miss their good humor in the days to come, especially if what he had heard of the desert was true.

Gewey saw Aaliyah approaching from the main cabin. She was dressed in a pair of loose-fitting tan trousers and tunic, and she wore a pair of short leather boots. On her belt were two long daggers. Her hair was tied in a tight braid that danced to and fro as she moved. One of the crew followed close behind, carrying her pack.

“Are you prepared?” she asked, taking her pack and slinging it across her shoulders.

Gewey nodded and they climbed down the ladder, into the boat. As before, Aaliyah channeled the flow, and the craft sped forward. It wasn't long before Gewey could make out the dunes just beyond the shoreline. Even from so far away he could see that they were massive, and tried not to think about how hard it would be to walk them. Soon they were to the beach. The waves lapped curiously against the small boat as the craft slid ashore. They gathered their packs and Gewey checked his sword. There was no driftwood about, so they pulled the boat to the base of the dunes.

“With luck, the tide will not rise this high,” said Aaliyah, “or we may be forced to swim back to the ship.”

“What do you-” he started, but saw Aaliyah's mischievous grin. “You're funny.” He looked up at the dunes and sighed. “I assume you know where to go from here.”

“I know what direction to take,” she replied, “but not the exact whereabouts of our destination.” She stiffened and her hands shot to her daggers.

Gewey instinctively drew in the flow of the earth. At once he knew what had alarmed her. On the other side of the dune, he could sense at least fifty humans. He could feel them moving up the side of the dune and heard swords being drawn and arrows notched. “Nomads,” he whispered. “My father told me stories about them.”

Aaliyah drew her daggers. “Whoever they are, they intend us harm.”

How she could tell that, Gewey had no idea, but he was not about to question her. He freed his sword and let the flow rage through him. He could feel it flowing through Aaliyah, but could not tell if she drew from earth or air.

“Pay heed, and do not lose focus,” she commanded. This brought Gewey back to attention. “When they crest the dune, follow me.”

Gewey crouched ready to spring, his knuckles white around his sword. Then, from a hundred yards to their left he heard the snap and twang of a bowstring, and the thin whistle of arrows flying. He looked skyward, fearing that a shower of arrows was about to rain down on them. But they were not the target. A dozen nomads screamed out in agony as the arrows struck home. Gewey reached out to find the source, but could sense nothing. Another volley zipped through the air, and more men fell.

“What should we do?” asked Gewey.

“We hope that whoever aids us is not doing so to keep spoils for themselves,” she replied. “I cannot tell who or what they are.”

He shook his head. “Nor can I.”

The nomads were scattering like ants, some dragging the wounded, others in a full run down the dune, completely abandoning the attack. After a few minutes there was only the sound of the sea and rustle of the wind.

Aaliyah tapped Gewey's shoulder. “Should we be attacked, drag the boat to the water.”

“What will you do?” he asked. He was not about to let her fight alone.

She held out her palm and a tiny ball of flame appeared above it. “I will be showing them that arrows are of little use.”

It was then a thin figure appeared atop a dune one-hundred yards to their north. In its right hand it held up a bow, and in its left a quiver. Gewey could hardly believe his eyes.

“Elves,” he whispered. “Here in the desert.” For the first time Aaliyah looked surprised and uncertain. “You didn't know?”

“That there were elves here?” She shook her head slowly. “I did not. But I am grateful to see them. Unless I am wrong, that is not a gesture of aggression.” She raised her hand, returning the greeting. “Still, mind what you say. Do not tell them who I am or, more importantly, who you are. If they are like the other elves of this land, being human may be enough to anger them.”

The elf made his way deftly down the dune, slinging the quiver over his back as he descended. He was dressed in white trousers and shirt, and high boots made from a material Gewey had never seen. Like leather in its thickness, but clung like cloth, and was as pliable. At his side hung a long, curved saber attached to a thick tan belt. His short cropped, blond hair was shaved to the skin on either side of his head. His face was obscured by a thin piece of cloth wrapped just below the tip of his nose, and around his forehead, but Gewey could see that the skin around his eyes was pale white.

“Have you ever seen an elf like this?” asked Gewey.

It took a moment for her to answer. “You have more experience with elves than I. I only know those of my own land, and none are like this one.”

He strode up with amazing grace and speed, seemingly unaffected by the deep sand. “How lucky you are,” he called, when he was a few yards away. “Had we not been aware that the Soufis were near, you would be slaves…or worse.” He removed his covering, revealing a broad smile. He looked young, though Gewey knew that when it came to elves, looks could be deceiving. “I was not aware elves from the west journeyed to the desert.” He laughed. “Or that they preferred the company of humans.”

Aaliyah stepped forward. “I am Aaliyah. This is…Gewey.” It was the first time Gewey had heard her use his name. He cracked a smile. “If we have trespassed-”

The elf held up his hand. “One cannot trespass in the desert. They can only step unwisely, as you have done.” He turned his head and let out a high pitched whistle. “But fortune smiles on you. Now you are our guests, rather than Soufis slaves.”

Twelve more elves appeared atop the dune.

“We thank you for your assistance,” Aaliyah said, bowing. “And would be grateful for your hospitality. We have traveled far.”

“Though not alone.” He glanced at the boat. “You did not come here in that. Will the rest not join us? We have never seen elves from the west and would enjoy knowing them. We have heard of their hatred of humans; a tale clearly not true. We would be pleased to have as many of your comrades as care to come.”

“You don't hate humans?” asked Gewey.

He threw his head back in laughter. “Hate? We have few dealing with humans. Why would we hate them? They do not trouble us. Most beyond the heart of the desert do not even know we are here. The humans that choose desert life keep to their own ways, and we have respect for one another.” He glanced at the dead Soufis. “Well, there are some that we are not fond of.” He placed his hand on his chest. “I am Pali. And I welcome you.” He spun around. “Come. The nights are cold and my belly is empty. Our camp is not far.” He paused. “That is unless you would rather brave the night alone.”

Without waiting for a reply, Pali strode off in the direction of his companions. Gewey and Aaliyah followed as best they could, but the soft, pliant sand hindered their steps. Soon, they were yards behind, but Pali didn't slow his pace. When they finally reached the dunes where Pali's companions awaited them, Gewey was already dreading their trek. Days of wading through sand would not be easy.

The other elves were dressed in the same fashion as Pali, though the three females kept their hair in lengthy braids rather than short and shaved like the men. It struck Gewey that their skin was just as pale as Pali's. How this was possible in such a climate, Gewey couldn't guess. Pali introduced them, and each greeted them in turn. They all had the same cheerful expressions and seemed very pleased to have them along.

“We can be at our camp in less than an hour,” said Pali. “We move fast across the sands, but we will slow our pace, as you are not accustomed to the terrain.”

“Thank you,” said Gewey.

Pali led them between the dunes, twisting and turning until Gewey was certain he would be lost without their guidance. The sun had nearly disappeared and the soft orange glow of twilight reflected on the yellow sand, making the world seem surreal and unnatural. The elves began singing loudly, and though Gewey didn't recognize the tune, the words and images were easy to understand, mostly about traveling in the desert with friends or living free from troubles. Aaliyah remained quiet and expressionless, and walked close by Gewey's side.

Just as Pali had said, an hour later, they rounded a large dune, Gewey spotted several palm trees in the distance. He could hear the sound of voices laughing and talking. They arrived not a moment too soon. The temperature had begun to plummet uncomfortably.

“Don't worry,” said Pali, noticing Gewey rubbing his hands. “Soon a warm fire and a hot meal will cure your chill.”

As they approached the camp Gewey could see about twenty elves, scattered about a small oasis. The scent of camp fires mingled with the pleasing aroma of spiced meat. A cacophony of boisterous greetings rang out, followed by murmurs of curiosity as the camp spotted Gewey and Aaliyah.

“These are our new friends from the west,” Pali announced. “They will be joining us as long as it pleases them to do so.” He turned to Gewey and Aaliyah. “Feel free to explore what little there is to see here. There is a small spring just over there.” He pointed north to an area behind the last fire. “I only ask that you use it sparingly. It's a slow spring, and takes several days to replenish itself.” He inhaled deeply. “And I can tell you are accustomed to bathing. I'm sorry to say that water is too precious to be used that way.”

Gewey sniffed the air. “You seem clean to me.”

Pali laughed. “I didn't mean to say that we don't clean ourselves. Just not by the same means. If you wish I can show you.”

“Perhaps later,” said Aaliyah. “For now, a meal and your company is sufficient.”

“Our meal will be ready soon,” said Pali. “Until then, you may find a place by a fire.” He stopped a passing elf and whispered in his ear. “I will have wine brought to you right away. But now I must tell our Sand Master about the encounter with the Soufis.”

Aaliyah and Gewey found a vacant spot near one of the fires beside six elves. The much-needed warmth lifted Gewey’s spirits, and he was quick to introduce himself. Aaliyah was not as forthcoming, choosing only to say her name and be silent. Gewey could tell something troubled her. The elves, two women and four men, greeted them warmly.

“I'm Dreta,” said a short thin, dark hair woman. “How lucky we are that you chose this fire to warm yourself. We'll be the envy of the camp.”

The rest eagerly called out their names in turn — Freda (the other female), Hali, Ghenti, Deransil, and Freuli.

“How is it your people came to live in the desert?” asked Gewey.

“Some legends say that we were exiled thousands of years ago for protecting humans from slavery,” said Dreta. “Others claim that we were put here by the Gods as punishment for defying their will.” She shrugged. “But who knows what the truth really is. Our people belong to the sands now, and this is our home.”

“So you never go west?” asked Gewey.

“No,” said Dreta. “Why would we? As I said, this is our home and we love it dearly.”

Gewey couldn't imagine living in such a desolate place, let alone loving it. “But wouldn't life be so much easier away from the desert?”

The elves burst into laughter. “I doubt life is easy no matter where you live,” said Dreta. “But even still, we live a good life. The sands have made us strong, and through that strength we have become one with the Creator. No. There is no other life for us.”

“And if you could learn the real reason you are here?” asked Aaliyah. “What then?”

“What does it matter?” Dreta shook her head and grinned. “This is where we are, and this is where we'll stay. You would be hard pressed to find any among us who desires to leave.”

Aaliyah leaned forward. “And if someone did?”

“We do not hold our people captive,” Dreta replied. “If anyone wishes to leave, he is free to do so. It has always been our way.”

Just then Pali joined them carrying, two bottles of wine. “The Sand Master is in a foul mood now.” He passed a bottle to Gewey and opened the other himself. “She was hoping the Soufis would stop venturing this far south, after what we did to them the last time.” He turned up the bottle then passed it Dreta. “We must have killed fifty of them.”

“Why would they come then?” asked Gewey.

“For slaves,” he replied.

Aaliyah stiffened. “They take elves as slaves?”

“Of course not,” said Pali. “There are several small human settlements, and a few nomadic tribes in this region. They raid and take what they want.”

“And you protect the humans?” asked Aaliyah.

“We try,” Pali replied, eyes down-turned. “But we cannot be everywhere at once. And the Soufis are clever.” He looked up and his smile returned. “But enough tragedy. I am curious; why have you journeyed so far?”

“We seek a very special place,” said Aaliyah. “A temple of sorts. I know it is in this area, but not exactly where. It is urgent we find it.”

Pali thought for a moment. “There is only one place in the southern desert I know of that would hold interest. But I advise you to abandon the idea. It is an unnatural place…evil lurks there.”

“What do you mean?” asked Gewey.

“It is a place where the shadows live.” He wrapped his arms. “We have not been there in many years. But those who went did not return.”

Aaliyah refused the bottle when Gewey passed it. “Can you tell us how to get there?”

“Yes,” said Pali. “But it is some distance from here, and you are not accustomed to the desert. I doubt you would make it alone.”

“We are stronger than you might think,” said Aaliyah.

Pali chuckled lightly and shook his head. “If you mean you can steal life from the earth, that will do you little good.”

Gewey could see that Pali's words bothered Aaliyah. “What do you mean steal?”

“Our people once used power to control and dominate,” he explained. “To us, using such power is unthinkable. We believe the sands live, and we would never take life from it for our own selfish needs.”

Gewey understood Aaliyah’s apprehension. “So you consider it a crime?”

Pali laughed loudly. “A crime, no. We have few laws beyond murder. But it is…immoral.” He grabbed Gewey's shoulder and gave it a fond squeeze. “But don't worry. We do not judge the ways of others, so long as they do not hurt our people, or our friends.”

“That is good,” said Aaliyah. She relaxed noticeably.

“You didn't think we would extend our hospitality only to do you harm, did you?” This brought another round of gay laughter. “You should spend more time among us. That is if I can convince you not to complete your quest.”

“Sadly, it is a matter of great importance,” said Aaliyah. “We would not ignore your warnings if it were not so.”

Pali sighed heavily. “The Sand Master will not take you there.” He put his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “But I will. Though I can only take you to the edge of your destination, I will not have new friends brave the desert alone.” He took one more drink from the bottle. “And I thought the Sand Master was in a foul mood before…” With that he left.

“What is a Sand Master?” asked Gewey.

This time it was Ghenti, a broad shouldered elf with a hawk like nose and piercing gray eyes who spoke. “The Sand Masters are our guides in the desert. They know the sands better than anyone. Though we all can navigate our way, the Sand Master can find the easiest trail, nearest water, and best shade without hardly a thought. When an elf turns eleven, the child is blindfolded, taken deep into the desert, and left alone. If the child finds its way home, training begins as a Sand Master.”

“What if the child doesn't make it?” asked Gewey, afraid to hear the answer.

Ghenti met Gewey's eyes. “Then the child dies.” His tone was harsh and low. He didn't look away for several seconds, then slowly his face broke into a smile. The others began to giggle and smirk. “We bring the child home, of course.” He tossed Gewey the bottle, then addressed his comrades. “I do believe the boy thinks us savages.” His tone was teasing and light, as were the voices of agreement from the others.

Gewey felt foolish and embarrassed, but forced a smile.

Soon after, the meal was ready. Aaliyah and Gewey ate and talked around the fire for a few more hours. From time to time a new face appeared by the fire for a while. They kept the conversation away from serious matters, and though Aaliyah seemed more at ease than before Gewey could tell something still bothered her.

Just before they were about to lay down to sleep, a short, stout elf woman, with deep brown hair and care-worn eyes approached. Unlike the cheerful expressions held by the others, her demeanor was grim. She sat across from Gewey and Aaliyah, crossing her legs, and studying them for several minutes before speaking.

“I am Weila, Sand Master,” she said finally. “Pali tells me that he is to lead you to the Black Oasis.”

“If that is the location of what we seek, then yes,” said Aaliyah, “though he did not call it that.”

“I assume he has warned you of the dangers?” she asked.

“He has.”

“Then you should also know what he does not,” she continued. “The Oasis was always a queer place, but in the past few years, a new evil has arrived.”

“I did not know-” said Pali.

“Of course, you didn't,” snapped Weila, cutting him off. “You only think you know everything.” Her stone gaze made Gewey uneasy. This was clearly a woman to be reckoned with. “You are strangers here.” Her eyes drifted to Aaliyah. “And though you are an elf, we are not the same. Certainly, you have sensed it. Your kind steals life from the Mother. We do not, and that leaves you blind to our presence.”

Aaliyah started to respond, but Weila held up her hand.

“You cannot deny that it has caused you concern,” she continued. “I can see it in your face. But our way has kept our people alive and strong for many generations. If you go to the Black Oasis, you will do so alone and the creatures that now haunt it, will know you are coming.”

“If you cannot draw power from earth, air, and water how can you know this?” asked Aaliyah.

Weila sneered. “You think us unaware of these powers simply because we do not use them? You are blind to us, not us to you.” She leaned forward. “You will face an enemy there with no fear and no remorse. It will not hesitate to destroy you.” Her eyes shot to Pali. “Or anyone with you. I will allow Pali to guide you, but you must swear to me one thing.”

“What is that?” asked Aaliyah.

“Once you come to the edge of the Oasis, you cannot allow Pali to continue.” Her face became strained. “Swear it! No matter how much he pleads.”

“I told you, mother-” Pali protested, but another glance, once again silenced him.

Aaliyah nodded with understanding. “I swear to you, he shall only guide us as far as the edge, and no farther. And though you may feel my use of the powers wrong, I also swear that I will use them to keep him safe.”

“I do not fear for my son in the open desert,” she replied. “But I thank you.” She leaned back. “I know I must appear hard and inhospitable to you. But I assure you I am not.”

“You have no need to explain,” said Aaliyah. “I, too, am responsible for the lives of others, and understand the need for caution when it comes to the safety of my people.”

Weila's countenance softened. “Then I shall let you rest. Tomorrow you will get proper clothing for your journey.”

Aaliyah and Gewey bowed as the Sand Master rose to her feet.

“That went better than I thought,” remarked Pali.

“You're lucky to have a mother that cares so much,” said Gewey. He thought of his own mother and her absence from his life. “Mine died when I was very young.”

“I am sorry to hear it.” Pali cocked his head. “You share much with our kind. I see that you are accustomed to the company of elves. That is good to know. Most of what we have heard of the west are stories of hatred and war.”

“The stories are true,” said Gewey. “But things are changing.”

They sat up for a few more minutes, then bedded down for the night.

Chapter 12

Kaylia awoke screaming and crying uncontrollably. In seconds Linis and Theopolou were at her side.

“It's gone!” she cried. “It's gone!”

Theopolou pulled her close. “What's gone?”

It took her a moment to stifle her sobs. “My bond with Gewey. It's gone!”

Theopolou closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He placed his hands on her head. “It is not gone. It has been…somehow blocked.”

At that moment Nehrutu approached. “Is everything all right?” His shimmering red pants and shirt, along with his effortless, regal movements made him easy to recognize. As graceful as the elves of this land were, they appeared awkward by comparison.

Kaylia tried to rise, but Theopolou held her fast. Her eyes burned. “Aaliyah is behind it! I know it!”

“What has happened?” asked Nehrutu.

“I believe Aaliyah may have somehow blocked the bond between Kaylia and Gewey,” Theopolou explained. “At least that is the only explanation I can imagine.”

Nehrutu leaned down and placed his hand on Kaylia's shoulder. He closed his eyes for a full minute. “Yes, she has.”

“That witch,” Kaylia hissed.

“Can you undo what she has done?” asked Theopolou.

“I could…perhaps,” Nehrutu replied. “But I will not.”

“Why?” Kaylia screamed. “Why will you not help me?”

Nehrutu sighed. “Aaliyah has done this, and she has her reasons. It is not for me to interfere. Take comfort that she did not break your bond. She is certainly strong enough.”

“Why would she do this?” asked Linis. “What purpose does it serve?”

Nehrutu thought for a moment. “The only reason would be to help Shivis Mol. If the bond hindered his training, she would not hesitate to block it. I would do the same.”

Kaylia's anger boiled. She pulled away from Theopolou and jumped to her feet, standing inches away from Nehrutu. “And if you did, the powers of the Creator would not save you. Nor would they save Aaliyah, if she were here.” Tears welled in her eyes, as the pain of Gewey's absence grew.

Nehrutu's face was expressionless, and he met her eyes unflinchingly. “Then it is both fortunate that I did not do this, and that she is not here to face your wrath.”

Linis gently grabbed Kaylia's arm. “There is nothing to be done. I am certain Gewey will find a way to undo this.”

Kaylia stepped back and walked away into the darkness. Over and over she reached out, but to no avail. Finally, she collapsed on the ground and wept. The vast emptiness was more than she could bear. The bond with Gewey was a part of her. It was as if it had always been, and until that moment, she thought it would always be. For nearly an hour she wept in the darkness, until she heard footfalls approaching. Expecting to see Linis or Theopolou, she wiped her eyes and stood. But instead she saw Nehrutu.

“I do not want to speak to you.” Her voice seethed with hatred.

“You may change your mind when you hear what I have to say,” said Nehrutu.

Kaylia folded her arms and turned away.

“You are aware of Aaliyah's intentions toward Shivis Mol,” he said.

“His name is Gewey,” she shot back.

“As you say.” He took a step closer. “We are not all in harmony with her intentions. Particularly me.”

Kaylia turned. “And why is that?”

“Before we became aware of…Gewey,” he replied, “I was Aaliyah’s betrothed. We were to be joined.”

This took Kaylia aback. “And now?”

“Aaliyah is determined,” he said, lowering his eyes. Kaylia could see the pain in his expression. “She truly believes that it is her duty to join with Gewey, and she will not relent. That he loves you is your greatest ally. But Aaliyah is clever and powerful. She will not make it easy for Gewey to refuse.”

“What can I do?” she asked, desperately. “How can I stop her?”

“You must learn to use the powers that the Creator has provided.” He took her hands and looked into her eyes. “I can help you, but only if you let me. I do not want to lose Aaliyah, and I fear I will. But if you show yourself to her as an equal, she may very well step aside.”

“How can I do this?” Her voice cracked. “I am no seeker, nor am I an elder.”

“You have the ability inside you,” he assured. “If only you will allow me to show you, you will discover your true gifts. Then perhaps we can both find peace and contentment.”

Kaylia nodded slowly. “I would be grateful for your help.” She pulled away and rubbed her arms from the chill night. “How is it she simply abandoned you?”

Nehrutu gave her a sad smile. “You should not judge her harshly. She is dedicated to the well-being of our people. She looks to the needs of others above her own desires. Everything she has done has been for the good of our people…though I often wish it was not so.”

Kaylia choked back her tears. “When shall we begin?”

“As soon as possible,” Nehrutu replied. “With your fire we should accomplish much.”

They walked back to camp together. Kaylia felt more at ease, though the loss of the bond still wrenched at her heart.

Since Gewey and Aaliyah's departure the elves began making preparation to retake Valshara. Mohanisi, through the power of the flow, was able to get word to his ship and send it back to his homeland. Kaylia and Linis both remarked at the advantage of such communication.

The elders immediately sent messengers to muster the elves, and bear news of the events at the Chamber of the Maker. Theopolou had one of his guards bring a letter to Selena in Althetas, informing her of their intent. They reckoned it would take at least four weeks to ready a viable assault, and decided to use that time to gather intelligence on the temple occupation.

The first night of Kaylia's training was more frustrating than anything she had ever experienced before. Nehrutu took her away from the camp and sat her on a soft patch of grass.

“The earth will be first,” he said. “It is the simplest to achieve. Once you master it, you will be able to do many things that were far out of your reach before.”

“I have seen Linis and Theopolou use such power,” she said. “I know-”

“You know nothing,” he said, cutting her off, though he did not raise his voice. “The elders and your seekers, have no idea of how to harness this power. In my land, elf children can do more.” He leveled his gaze. “I am at odds with Mohanisi by my instructing you, exclusively. Do not make me regret this by thinking that you know what you do not.”

“I am sorry,” said Kaylia. “I will listen to your instructions.”

“Good,” said Nehrutu. “Now close your eyes and reach out with your spirit as you do through your bond. Only touch the world around you.”

Kaylia tried, but could feel nothing. For hours she concentrated, but with no results. Finally, Nehrutu stood and held out his hand.

“I am sorry,” said Kaylia. “I tried.”

Nehrutu smiled warmly. “You did well.” She took his hand and he pulled her up. “Most cannot sit so long without breaking their concentration. You are using a power you have forgotten. Should you not use your legs for a hundred years, would you walk the first day?” He offered her a flask of honeyed water, which she gratefully accepted. “You will get stronger very soon. This I promise.”

Over the next three days, Kaylia's frustration grew, but still she did not give up. Hours upon hours she reached out, hoping to feel…anything. It was on the fourth day it happened. It was nearly time to end the lesson when she felt it. It was almost intangible in the beginning, so slight and quiet at first she doubted she even felt it. Then it grew stronger. Gewey had once described it as a pulse, but to Kaylia it was a heartbeat. The heartbeat of the earth.

Her eyes popped open. “I felt it!”

Nehrutu smiled broadly. “That is good. And sooner than I expected.”

“It was wonderful.” She trembled with excitement. “It was as if I could feel the living earth all around me.” She closed her eyes, but Nehrutu placed his hand on her shoulder.

“That is enough for tonight,” he said.

“But-” she protested, but Nehrutu's stare silenced her.

“Tomorrow will come soon enough,” he said. “And I am weary.”

The next three days were like nothing Kaylia could have imagined. Though she felt ready, Nehrutu warned her against actually drawing the flow inside.

“Only see it for now,” said Nehrutu. “Hear it sing its song. Let your own heart beat with the same rhythm. Once you can do that, then you will be ready to go further.”

By the end of the third week, she was ready. Drawing in only small amounts at first, then a bit more and more, until her entire body was saturated with power. For the first time, she thought she understood what Gewey experienced, and the intoxicating effect it had on him.

The field, by that time, was quickly filling with hundreds upon hundreds of elves, and many still had yet to arrive. Bellows had been erected and the sounds of the smith's hammer echoed through the field and the smell of war filled the air. The pavilion had been taken down, and the rubble cleared away, and the field was dotted with tents and piles of provisions. By the time they were to march, their force numbered twenty-five hundred. More than enough, Kaylia thought, to retake Valshara. And still not nearly a portion of what was to eventually come. On the morning of their departure, Theopolou addressed the elves. He thought long on what to say. He had not spoken of war in five-hundred years, and he knew he must inspire.

“I have received word that the High Lady of Valshara has petitioned the King of Althetas to aid us,” Theopolou announced. His voice was clear and forceful. “And he has agreed. The city guard will be awaiting our forces north of the temple.” He looked out over the gathering. “This will be the first time in our history that we have fought alongside humans. But rest assured, until the Dark One in the north is defeated, it will not be the last. I know that many will resist this notion, but the time for old hatred has passed. We fight for more than the possession of one human temple. We will show the powers that seek to divide and destroy us, the peril they place themselves in when choosing to take what is not theirs. And we do not belong to Angraal. We will not believe their lies. We will not be played for fools. And we will not allow them to annihilate our people.” This was met by a roar of enthusiastic cheers. “Though our brothers and sister on the Steppes had been brought under the yoke of the Dark One, we will not suffer the same fate. So now we march.” He stood silent. The gentle breeze bent the tall grass and the smell of oil and leather permeated the air. “To war!” His voice boomed and echoed over the field. Another round of cheers and war cries sent his heart racing. It had been five hundred years since he had spoken words of war, and though he hoped he would never do so again, the fire in his people’s eyes told him that it was time. Time to live in the world again. Time to fight for the right to survive…and it begins here.

In less than an hour, the elves had formed ranks. Unlike a human army, there were no wagons and horses. No banners fluttered in the breeze. No. An elf army, was marching death; fast and efficient. Theopolou, Linis, and Kaylia led the way, while Nehrutu and Mohanisi followed close behind. The rest of the elders marched among their individual tribes.

Kaylia looked back on the field, to where she and Gewey had spent their first night truly bonded.

Nehrutu, touched her shoulder. “Your love will return,” he whispered.

She grasped his hand lightly. “As will yours.”

Theopolou raised his hand high. “Forward!”

It was done. The elves now marched to meet their destiny.

Chapter 13

Gewey awoke to find Aaliyah sitting up looking down with an expression of both curiosity and understanding. His dreams had been filled with visions of Kaylia, and somehow he knew that Aaliyah knew this. “Do you think about your unorem often?” he asked.

She smiled tenderly. “It was not he who occupied my thoughts. There was another, years later.”

“What happened?” He propped himself up on his elbows.

She thought for a moment before she replied. “It was best that we did not complete the bonding.” She touched his cheek. “Sometimes what is in your heart is not what is best.”

“I don't agree,” said Gewey. “My father taught me to follow my heart, and so far it has guided me well.”

“Ah,” Aaliyah replied. “But your years are still few…at least in this world. You are a leader of both human and elf. I think, in time, you will find that you must do what is best for those whom you care for, rather than follow your own desires.”

“I do that now,” he asserted, ignoring the remark about his youth. “I think that if I follow my heart I will do right by them.”

“You may think that,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “But you have yet to face the burdens of leadership. You have been the student; but the time will soon come when the whole world will look to you for hope and strength. When the day comes, you will understand.”

The camp was already abuzz with activity. Gewey could see that they were making preparations to leave. A small group of them, were digging a large hole just beyond the perimeter of the camp.

“I wonder what that's for?” remarked Gewey.

“We bury anything we leave behind,” said Pali as he strode up, a small pack slung across his back and a cloth bundle in his arms. “These will better keep you cool.” He tossed the bundle to Gewey.

Inside, Gewey found two sets of clothes identical to what Pali wore. He gave one to Aaliyah and found a private spot to change. The cloth felt cool on his skin and was far softer than it appeared, and was much like the elf clothing given to him by Theopolou.

By the time he and Aaliyah had changed, the rest of the camp was already gathering. Pali and his mother stood side by side at the edge of the oasis, speaking quietly. Pali smiled when Gewey approached.

“Now you look civilized,” Pali remarked, approvingly. A moment later Aaliyah appeared. Except for the headdress, she looked very much like a desert elf. “If you are ready, we have much ground to cover before sundown.”

Weila embraced her son and bowed to Gewey and Aaliyah. “I pray you a safe journey. Listen to my son. He may not be a Sand Master, but he knows the desert. He will guide you well.”

“I thank you for your aid and hospitality,” said Aaliyah. “I hope we meet again.”

Weila smiled and turned, moving slowly toward the other elves. Pali waved a farewell, which was boisterously returned with cheers and shouts. Pali pointed them north and in minutes they were around the dunes and out of sight.

“Where are they going?” asked Gewey.

“They head east to join more of our people,” Pali replied. “Our business here is done.”

“And what was your business?” asked Aaliyah.

Pali unslung his pack and pulled out a thin, blue blanket. “This.” He handed it to Gewey. “We trade with the humans in this area for spices and wool.”

The blanket was as soft as silk, and warm to the touch, as if heated near a fire. “What is it made of?” he asked, handing it back.

“The plant is called Trulu.” He shoved it back in his pack. “It will keep you warm on the coldest night, though I prefer a fire. Humans tend to be more sensitive to the cold. You will be happy I brought them come nightfall. With Soufis in the area, we cannot risk a fire.”

The rest of the day they wound their way between the dunes. Pali occasionally climbed to the top to take a look around. The sun was brutally hot, and Gewey's legs burned from trudging through the soft, deep sand. After only two hours he drew in the flow to give himself enough strength to continue. To his great relief, Aaliyah caused a cool breeze to follow them, making the heat more bearable. This caused Pali to take notice.

“My mother would be very displeased,” he remarked. “But I must admit, it is a useful skill.” He glanced at Gewey. “Though I was unaware that humans could steal life from the earth. Or perhaps humans of the desert have forgotten such things.” Receiving no reply and seeing Gewey's sudden unease, he shrugged. “It matters not.”

They stopped only once to rest and did not eat. By sundown, even using the flow Gewey could feel the tightness in his legs. He almost dreaded the evening when he would release it and the pain would set in. They found a high dune and climbed up onto it once night began to fall.

Pali distributed the blankets and some dried meat. “I know you may be accustomed to more frequent meals, but in the desert, a full stomach will cause your gut to knot.” He smiled at Aaliyah. “Though, with such a soothing wind at our backs, perhaps tomorrow we will have a small midday meal.”

Just as Gewey feared the moment he released the flow the pain in his legs struck hard. He moaned with discomfort.

Pali laughed. “It will take some time to build your strength.”

Aaliyah leaned over and placed her hands on his aching legs. Gewey could feel the flow rush in and the pain immediately subsided.

“Thank you,” said Gewey. For once he did not feel shy at her touch. “My father told me stories as a child of terrible creatures that roam the desert. Some I can hardly believe.”

Pali tilted his head and grinned. “There are all manner of beasts on the sands. Most leave you alone, as long as you do the same.”

“What about the giant lizards?” asked Gewey.

“Your father must have listened to an elf lore master to have heard such stories,” said Pali. “If they exist, they must be in the North West canyons, where no human or elf roams. I have never seen such a creature here…and there are few places among the dunes I have not traveled.”

Gewey couldn't help but be disappointed. “What about wolves?”

Pali nodded. “They are very real. Though not as perilous as people believe them to be. They will not trouble you as long as you are not alone, and even an elf does not wander alone. Not even a Sand Master.”

They stayed up and talked for another hour. Aaliyah kept quiet, preferring to listen. Gewey found the blanket to be more than adequate for keeping out the cold. The wind brushed across the dune rhythmically, and soon Gewey felt himself drift.

No sooner had his breathing grown deep and steady, he was awakened by a low grumble. He quickly rose to see Pali and Aaliyah already on their feet, weapons drawn. Gewey reached down, freed his sword, and filled himself with the flow.

“What is it?” Gewey whispered.

“Wolves,” Pali replied, in a low tone.

“I thought you said they didn't bother people,” said Gewey. He closed his eyes and listened. At once he sensed them. Six beasts, large as ponies, were slowly circling the dune. The feral growls rose, causing the hair to stand up on the back of his neck.

“They don't,” said Pali. “There's something wrong. I have never heard of them preying on anything but a lone traveler. And even that is rare.”

“Do not fear,” said Aaliyah. She drew in the power of the air. A small ball of flame burst to life above her head. “I have faced fierce beasts in my lands, yet I still live.”

“They go for the throat,” warned Pali. “Stay low.”

No sooner did he speak than all six rushed up the hill at once. Their speed made a Vrykol seem slow by comparison, and their immense paws appeared to glide effortlessly across the sand. The flame above Aaliyah flew down and exploded, engulfing a wolf in white-hot fire. It let out a high-pitched cry, and tumbled down the dune. Gewey caused the sands beneath another to heave skyward, but to his dismay the wolf fell back, only stunned. Another jumped at his throat, and he just managed to duck away in time. The wolf slid to a halt and turned, its teeth gnashing. Gewey quickly glance over his shoulder. One wolf lay dead at Pali's feet, and he was keeping another at bay with his long scimitar.

A flash of light illuminated the dune, and Gewey heard another wolf cry out. By then the first wolf had recovered and reached him. It didn't go for his throat as had the first one, instead ran straight at him, its cruel teeth gleaming. Gewey brought down his blade in a narrow arc, splitting its skull in two. Its body slammed into him, knocking him from his feet. The other wolf was on him the second he landed, bring its deathly maw down hard at Gewey’s neck. He raised his sword and the sound of fangs on steel rang out. He pushed hard with the flow and sent the wolf sprawling. It landed a few feet down the side of the dune, turned and stopped. Gewey struggled to his feet. Aaliyah and Pali were already next to him. Pali's left shoulder hung loosely at his side, soaked with blood that poured off his fingertips. The beast’s black eyes suddenly glowed with an unnatural green light, then it slowly backed away and disappeared into the darkness.

Pali stumbled and collapsed. Gewey caught him and gently lower him to the ground.

Aaliyah knelt down and ripped away Pali's shirt. Blood poured from a vicious bite. The teeth had sunk deep and nearly pulled his shoulder from its socket. She closed her eyes and directed her power at the wound.

Pali tried to push her away. “No,” he protested. “You cannot.”

Aaliyah did not yield. “I swore an oath to your mother that you would return unharmed. I intend to keep it.” She looked up at Gewey. “You must help me.”

Gewey placed his hands on Aaliyah's and their spirits combined. The flow rushed through him, and for the first time he drew both air and earth together, as she guided his energy. Pali struggled at first, then gasped, arching his back. Gewey could feel the wound close as the flow surrounded it. He had healed before, but Aaliyah's skill astounded him. In less than a minute, the wound had closed.

“We must help him recover the blood he has lost,” she whispered. She sent the power deep inside Pali's body. It expanded and pulsed, saturating him completely. Finally, she lifted her hands and smiled. “It is done.”

Gewey stared at her in awe. He understood now, just how much he still had to learn.

Pali sat up, his face twisted in anger. “What you did is forbidden. You had no right-”

“I had every right,” snapped Aaliyah. “I made a promise to your mother, and even had I not, I would not allow another elf to suffer death if I have the power to prevent it.” She rose to her feet. “I need not justify myself to you. If you prefer death, seek it somewhere else. And if you must leave us, so be it.”

Pali glared for a long moment, then closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I will not leave you. I made a promise as well.” He looked up at Aaliyah and rose to his feet. “I will guide you. But we must leave this place before the scavengers catch the scent. They can be far deadlier than wolves.”

The heaping bulk of the slain wolves were scattered across the top and sides of the dune. The glow of the wolf's eyes still burned in Gewey’s mind. Pali led them east for about an hour before bringing them atop another dune. They all wrapped the blankets tightly around themselves, and stared into the darkness. Gewey reached out with the flow and to his great relief, heard nothing.

“I am sorry I was angry,” said Pali, after a time. “You saved my life. But you must understand how we feel about such things.”

“I do understand,” said Aaliyah. “And had there been another way, I would not have gone against your wishes. But I will not return your dead body to your mother if there is a way to prevent it.”

Pali smiled and chuckled softly. “No. I suppose I wouldn't want to do that either, if I were you. And if you knew her better, that feeling would become even stronger.”

“You said that you'd never seen wolves attack like that,” stated Gewey.

“No I have not.” He looked sideways at Gewey. “Nor have I seen their eyes glow green light. Something evil has entered the sands.” He pulled the blanket closer. “Perhaps the Creator had you save me to find out what it is…and destroy it.”

“Perhaps,” Aaliyah agreed. “Still, I will not have you go beyond the border of the Oasis. From there we go on without you.”

“I go where I please,” said Pali. “Besides, it seems to me that it is unwise to camp alone. If the wolves will attack the three of us, they would certainly attack a single elf.”

Aaliyah thought hard on this. “Perhaps you are right. But the dangers within the Black Oasis may be far worse, if what your mother says is true.”

“Whatever dangers are out there,” said Pali. “I would rather face them with friends at my side.” He smiled at Gewey. “Even if those friends are human. Though I must admit, you fight like no human I've ever seen. I am grateful the Soufis are not as fierce as you.”

“I was trained well,” said Gewey.

The rest of the night was quiet, though none slept, and they continued on an hour before dawn. Gewey flooded himself with the flow listening for any sign of danger.

“We will arrive at the Oasis by sundown,” said Pali. “I suggest we wait until tomorrow to enter. I would not want to brave the Black Oasis at night.”

“Agreed,” said Aaliyah.

By late afternoon, Gewey was becoming increasingly and inexplicably anxious. It was as if an aloof presence lurked just beyond his senses. From time to time he would glance over at Pali and Aaliyah. They seemed untroubled, although alert.

An hour before sundown the dunes began to flatten and Gewey noticed a jagged black stripe peaking over the horizon. It stretched for miles in either direction and even in the waning sun, heat radiated above it causing the air to ripple and twist. Gewey tried to use the flow to see it more clearly, but his vision was reflected off the surface, causing his sight to fail.

“We're here,” said Pali. “The Black Oasis.”

“Indeed,” remarked Aaliyah.

“It's enormous,” said Gewey.

“Yes, it is,” agreed Pali. “It is twice as deep as it is wide, and so thick with trees and brush, one can hardly move. A path exists, but we'll have to find it.”

“We should stop here.” Aaliyah eyed the Oasis warily. “This is as close as I want to be at night.”

“Then we rest here and look for the path in the morning,” said Pali.

That night Gewey's sleep was troubled by a dark presence. Several times he awoke hand reaching for his blade, and Aaliyah did not sleep at all. She sat hugging her knees close to her chest, peering into the blackness. Pali drifted off almost as soon as he lay down.

Finally, Gewey decided restful sleep was out of his grasp and he sat next to Aaliyah. The presence remained. “Do you feel it?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “Something resides there. Something ancient. Something with fury in its heart.”

He glanced over at the sleeping figure of Pali. “How can he sleep so near this place?”

She pulled the blanket tight around her. “It could be that he cannot feel it. Or…”

“Or what?” asked Gewey.

“Or perhaps whatever lives there chooses not to trouble him.” She shuddered. “If so, then it knows we are here. Either way, I am pleased that our guide will be rested. I feel that we will need all of our wit and strength very soon.”

Chapter 14

Theopolou led the army at a pace that would have astounded any human warlord or general, only pausing briefly once a day to rest and take a quick meal. At night they made camp alongside the roads and trails, sleeping for only a few hours, then marching before the sun broke the horizon.

Kaylia and Nehrutu continued with their lessons, though only for an hour each day. Still, she progressed rapidly, and by the third day of the march, was able to allow the flow to pass through her with ease. By the end of the first week she could move small amounts of earth and use the power to heighten her senses far beyond that of even the most experienced seeker. Scouts brought news of Valshara preparing for siege, with sightings of at least a dozen Vrykol roaming the area outside the temple. A guard of twenty men blocked the path leading up to the gates, and bowmen patrolled the ramparts day and night. Theopolou hoped that they may be able to enter through the rear passageway, but learned that it had been completely blocked off.

The army turned north to avoid coming too close to Valshara before joining with the human forces. It added an extra day, but Theopolou felt it better to hide their numbers until the last moment. The terrain became rocky and jagged, causing them to twist and turn to avoid spots where they could be ambushed.

The day before they arrived, Theopolou called a council of the elders. Nehrutu and Mohanisi joined them, as did Linis and Kaylia. Theopolou had received word that the soldiers from Althetas awaited them ten miles north of Valshara.

“This means that they will be expecting an attack to come soon,” said Chiron. “A human army is loud and easily spotted.”

“It is likely they know we are coming as well,” said Theopolou. “It is not the battle that will take them by surprise. It is the weapons we bring.” He motioned to Nehrutu and Mohanisi, who stepped forward.

“We can break open the gates,” said Nehrutu. “But from the way they are described, it may take both of our efforts. The approach is narrow and exposed, so we will need to dispose of the enemy archers.”

“Our bowmen can give you the time you need,” said Bellisia.

“I assumed so,” Nehrutu continued. “But if the gates are held by these Vrykol, we may find ourselves faced with a different problem. If they can only be slain by removing their heads, then we will lose many elves before we can overcome them. The narrow passage will make our numbers count for nothing.”

“Let us not forget our human allies,” Bellisia reminded. “Their city is close, and they may be well-supplied with siege engines.”

“I have not forgotten,” said Theopolou. “But they have not made war in five hundred years, beyond petty border squabbles. The human armies of old were cunning and powerful, but I doubt a single soldier today has ever seen true battle.” His eyes grew dark and distant. “And many of us have.”

“Still,” Linis interjected, “they are our allies, and perhaps we should wait until we arrive to make any final decisions. Otherwise they may take it as an insult.”

“Linis speaks wisely,” said Nehrutu. “Though it is clear that Mohanisi and I must breach the gates, you would be well served to include your new allies in your planning. And as Lady Bellisia pointed out, they are near their home. It may provide assets we cannot yet account for.”

“Then we wait,” said Theopolou. “We will join with the humans tomorrow.”

The knowledge that the elf army would soon join with humans had caused palpable tension among the ranks. Many were still unsure, not having been present at the Chamber of the Maker. They accepted the word of the elders, but this did little to calm their unease. Many had never even seen a human, and all had grown up with the hatred.

That evening they halted early and slept until dawn. Theopolou wanted his army rested when they arrived. By midday, they could hear the sounds of blacksmiths’ hammers ringing out in the distance. The ground had become even and far less rocky, and a few trees struggled out of barren soil. When the camp came into view, Theopolou and the other elders gathered in front, and called for a halt.

Moments later, trumpets blew and the sound of human commanders barking orders carried over the still air as the soldiers scurried to form ranks.

“I see elves among them,” remarked Linis. “That is a good sign.”

Theopolou only nodded.

The humans formed a long line of red shields and long spears. A lone banner hung lifelessly, bearing the image of a great serpent coiled around a full moon. The humans made no move and soon all was silent. Some of the elves among them stirred uneasily, but did not approach. It was Theopolou who moved first, followed closely by Linis and Kaylia.

“The rests stay behind for the moment,” said Theopolou over his shoulder.

When they were about one-hundred yards away the line parted and four figures appeared. Three Theopolou recognized immediately as Selena, High Lady of Valshara, and Haldrontis and Stintos, his escorts that had been sent back to Valshara. The fourth was a tall, lean man, with a salt and pepper beard, deep olive skin and piercing blue eyes. His face was wrinkled and cracked with age, but still his strides were long and sure as a young man in his prime. He wore simple leather armor and a long sword on his belt, but atop his brow rested a thin gold crown.

“I am pleased to see you are well,” said Theopolou to Haldrontis and Stintos.

“We have been well-tended,” said Haldrontis.

Theopolou nodded, “Then return to your comrades. They will be glad to see you.” They bowed and walked toward the elves. He turned to Selena. “I am pleased to see you again as well.”

Selena smiled warmly. “And I you.” She stepped aside to allow the man beside her to come forward. “May I present King Lousis Maldiva, King and Protector of Althetas.”

“I am honored to meet you, Lord Theopolou,” said the king. His voice was course and gruff, though steady and commanding. “Lady Selena speaks highly of you.” He held out his hand.

Theopolou paused a moment, then took it, shaking it firmly. “The honor is mine, your highness. I extend to you the friendship of my house, and the houses of all my kin.”

The king smiled and gave Theopolou's hand one more solid shake. “My city has welcomed elves for some time now. We are glad to extend our hospitality to as many as care to take it.”

“Sadly, we are in need of far more,” said Theopolou. His somber expression wiped the smile from the king's face. “And I fear many lives may be lost before we see peace again.”

“As do I,” the king agreed. “But perhaps spilling our blood together will remedy old fears and hatreds. If that is the price we must pay, then I am willing to pay it.”

Theopolou nodded. “Then let us begin here. Together, we shall rid Valshara of this plague that had besieged it.”

“If what the High Lady tells me is true, then this is only the beginning.” The king turned and ordered his men to break ranks. “Come, let our forces be as one. Tonight we dine and celebrate our union. Tomorrow is for war.”

“I would speak to your generals and captains as soon as it can be arranged,” said Theopolou.

“They already await you,” the king replied. “The High Lady has been mapping out the temple for us. Of course, we wanted to wait until your arrival before forming a plan of attack.”

“I thank you,” Theopolou bowed slightly. “We have assets that may save many lives, your highness.”

He raised an eyebrow “That's good news. We have been fearful of the approach to the gates. We hope that you have a way to lessen our enemy’s advantage. I have five hundred swords and fifty horses. More could not be spared without leaving my city and territories defenseless.” He held his arms wide. “But that can be discussed later. Your elves have traveled far. We don't have much in the way of comforts, but you are welcome to all we have.”

“It is gratefully accepted,” said Theopolou. He raised his hand high, and the elf army marched forward.

“It's good to see you again,” said Selena to Linis and Kaylia. She moved in and hugged them both. “I notice that Gewey is not with you.”

Kaylia paused, her eyes suddenly sad and distant at the mention of Gewey's name. “He will be joining us as soon as he is able.”

Selena nodded with understanding. “I'm sure he will.”

When the elf army was only a few yards away, they halted. The camp-ground where the humans had chosen was easily large enough to accommodate them, but they stood still, uncertain what to do.

King Lousis stepped forward and address the elves. “You must feel welcome. We have brought food, water, and wine enough for you all. My soldiers have been instructed to provide you with whatever you may need.”

After a nod from Theopolou, the army slowly made its way into the camp and spread out. Unlike the elves, the humans had brought dozens of wagons filled to the brim with provisions of all types. Three bellows had been erected at the north end, away from the main group, and a large tent, surrounded by several smaller ones, had been placed in the center, where Theopolou told the elders to gather as soon as they could.

“If your elders require tents, it can be arranged,” said Lousis. He led the group into the interior, toward the large tent.

“That will not be necessary,” said Theopolou.

The passing of Theopolou, Linis, Kaylia, Selena and King Lousis, brought more than a few stares as they made their way through. Theopolou was thankful that the first encounter was with humans that had had dealings with elves, not to mention that there were already elves among them. The situation could have been far worse.

The large tent was guarded by two stocky rough-looking soldiers, and was spacious enough for ten people to enter comfortably. They snapped to attention at the sight of the king. Inside, a small round table covered by a roughly-drawn map had been place dead center. In the corner, was a small wooden cot, and a chest. A brass lantern hung in each corner and two others above the table. In the far left corner, six chairs were arranged in a semi-circle around another small table.

King Lousis instructed the guard to bring his commanders, then offered Theopolou and the rest a seat. “I must say, this has happened at just the right time.” Lousis grabbed a bottle of wine from the chest and sat down with a grunt. “I fear that if we are left on our own, we shall come under the thumb of Angraal.”

The mention of Angraalcaused Theopolou to sit up. “Have they troubled you before?”

“I wouldn't say that,” Lousis replied, and took a long drink from the bottle. “But they have made offers of friendship. But I know an ultimatum when I hear one. They all but cut off our trade with Baltria, when I refused to sign a trade agreement stating that we would only ship to cities allied to the Reborn King.” He sighed. “But that is not what troubles me the most. They have made trade bargains with other cities along the coast. You must understand, though my title is king, I only rule my city and the lands that surround it for fifty miles.”

“And the other cities?” asked Theopolou.

“The same,” Lousis replied. “There are twelve kings and queens from the north port of Lamitia to the Tarvansia Peninsula. We govern our territories absolutely, with no interference from the others. This has been the way of things since the Great War.”

“And if something threatens you all?” ask Kaylia.

“Then a council of kings and queens is called,” said Lousis. “Before the war, Althetas ruled the whole coast of the Western Abyss. After the war ended, the cities were in turmoil; several leaders, mostly former governors of the territories, wanted to seize control. Instead of civil war, we eventually formed an alliance of city states.”

“A wise decision,” Theopolou remarked.

“It was,” Lousis agreed. “The war was over, and no one desired more blood, so the council was forged. It has kept the peace for five-hundred years. But now…” His jaw tightened. “Now a snake has slithered its way into our midst. Men and women I once trusted are under the influence of a foreign power. It is why, for now, Althetas stands alone. Even the kings and queens who I still name friend, and in the past would have called for aid, fear reprisal. None are as rich as Althetas, and can ill afford to lose trade with Baltria.”

“Why did you not sign the agreement?” asked Kaylia.

Lousis' back stiffened and his eyes narrowed. “Althetas trades with who it chooses. We do not bow to the will of some tyrant in the north that clearly seeks war and havoc. Our ports and markets have always been free. And while I live, they will remain so.”

“I commend your resolve,” said Theopolou. “I can only hope that your example will show others the right path.”

“Cities in the southern region are far more vulnerable than those north of Althetas,” said Lousis. “We use the roads west as much as we do our ports. And I’m embarrassed to say, your people hold the lands to the east of the southern cities, and they fear travel by land.”

Theopolou nodded. “Rightly so. But those times are in the past.”

Lousis grinned. “That is good to hear. It will go a long way toward uniting the twelve cities, when the time comes.”

The tent flap opened and three armor-clad men entered, each bearing the crest of Althetas on their chest plate. The first was tall and lean, and looked weathered and worn, much like the king, though clean shaven. The other two were considerably younger, and far broader in the shoulders, though not quite as tall.

King Lousis stood. “Ah, good. This is Lord Maynard Windcomber, war master and commander of my forces. These are his captains, Lord Brasley Amnadon and Lord Jeffos Windermere.” The commander and his captains bowed low. Theopolou and the others stood and returned the gesture.

A moment later, Nehrutu, Mohanisi, and Chiron entered. Theopolou made introductions and they gathered around the table.

“The other elders have chosen to remain with the army,” said Chiron, before Theopolou could ask. “Though the humans here have had experience with elves, alas, the opposite is not true.

They want to be near their people in case of any…misunderstandings.”

Theopolou nodded. “That is probably for the best. We can go over the plans with them later.”

“To business then,” said Lousis.

Lord Maynard leaned over the map. “I'm sure you are aware of the danger in approaching the gates. The way is narrow, and protected by bowmen. Unfortunately, it is the only way in.”

“We can fell the gates,” said Nehrutu. “But not without exposing ourselves. The narrow approach makes it impossible to match their bowmen in number, and as skilled as elf archers are, our enemy need only shoot into the thick of our ranks.”

“What about the rear entrance?” asked Linis. “We were told it has been blocked. Can it be cleared?”

“No,” Lord Maynard replied. “It has been completely collapsed. But even still, we face further danger.” He pointed to the path leading to the gates. “We must defend the cliffs on either side of the path. Should they control it, they can simply rain down death upon us. We'd be destroyed before we came close enough to see the temple.”

“Do you know their strength?” asked Theopolou.

“We haven't been able to get close enough to know their numbers,” admitted Maynard. “They have taken six of my scouting parties. Still, if they have enough men to protect the cliffs, we'll need to take them first. The terrain is rough and uneven. A skilled captain could make it difficult for us to dislodge them.”

“And if they are not defending, we waste our strength,” said Linis. “We should send elves to scout. I will lead them. No offense to the skill of your men, of course.”

“There is no offense taken,” said Maynard. “I have been told of elf seekers. But make no mistake. The men I sent were not without talent, and most were intercepted and likely killed.” He placed his palms on the table and looked directly at Linis. “The elves that came with the High Lady told me of the Vrykol. I think it must be those creatures who watch the pass. If you go, you may not return.”

Linis flashed a sinister grin. “I have dealt with the Vrykol before. If I encounter them again, there will be less for us to deal with later.”

Maynard raised an eyebrow and smirked approvingly. “I like that. I like that, indeed.” He turned to Theopolou. “You say you can smash the gates from bow range, as well as take out their archers?”

“Yes,” said Theopolou. “Without a doubt.”

“How will you do this?” asked Lousis. “I saw no siege engines with your army, and we brought none. And even if we had, the difficult approach would make them useless.”

“My kinsmen and I have the means,” said Nehrutu. “We possess skills you may not be able to understand. But rest assured it can be done.”

Lousis looked skeptical, scrutinizing the elf. “You back up this claim?” he asked Theopolou.

“I do,” Theopolou replied. “But still we are left with our archers being bunched up and exposed.”

“I think I can help,” said Maynard. “My men can protect them with shields until they are close enough to fire.”

Chiron shook his head. “If you do that then they will be first through the gates. Those behind must wait until they move forward. You will lose many men.”

Maynard threw his head back in laughter. “Then our foes will die by the hands of humans rather than elves. We have not marched here to stay out of the fray.”

“Then I suggest your soldiers meet with our archers as soon as possible,” said Chiron.

Maynard glanced at his captains, who nodded in return. “My men will be at your disposal.”

The rest of the battle plan was simple. Once the gates were down they were to section off each area of the temple until it was all secured. With the exception of the initial force of humans, the rest would be elves, with the remainder of the Althetan soldiers protecting the rear. At first Maynard protested, but eventually let go of his pride, in favor of Theopolou's wisdom. If Vrykol were encountered, humans would be no match for them.

After the meeting they dispersed. Kaylia and Linis stayed with Theopolou and found a place among his kinsman, while Nehrutu and Mohanisi found a spot far removed from the rest. Theopolou and Chiron met with the other elders and explained the strategy. Each tribe sent their best archers to meet with Lord Maynard just north of the camp to drill.

By late afternoon, barrels of wine were being unloaded from the wagons, and cooking fires burned everywhere. At first, the elves kept to themselves, but soon the humans intruded and forced their hospitality on them. The elders and commanders made certain they were close at hand, in case trouble broke out, but the so called ‘rebel elves’ who, like Linis, had been living among humans for quite some time, joined them. This went a long way toward easing tensions, and by the time the sun was beneath the horizon, the camp was completely integrated. And though the comfort level was not one of friendship, soon stories and songs sprang up from both human and elf.

Selena invited Kaylia to join her in her tent, just beside the king's. When she arrived, Selena was sitting on a chair beside a small chest, atop which sat a cup of wine. She smiled and offered the chair beside her, then filled another cup and handed it to Kaylia.

“I could see your pain when I mentioned Gewey's name earlier,” said Selena. “I thought you may wish to talk.”

“There is nothing to say,” Kaylia replied. “Gewey is on an important mission, and I worry. That is all.”

Selena leaned forward and placed her hand tenderly on Kaylia's. “I'm no elf. But I am a woman, and can tell when another woman needs help. Please…”

Selena's words and genuine concern struck home and tears welled in Kaylia's eyes. She took a breath and recounted the events leading up to the march.

“I see,” said Selena, in a half whisper. “And these elves from across the Abyss… you are certain they know what Gewey is?”

“Yes,” she replied, wiping her eyes. “Though I know Gewey loves me, I still fear that she will convince him that she is the better choice.” She lowered her eyes. “I should not despair, but the loss of our bond is driving me mad. If not for Nehrutu, I….”

“Gewey is your husband,” Selena interrupted, “to use the human term. He is not hers and will never be. What I know of Gewey, tells me his heart is true. More importantly, that heart belongs to you. If you feel that learning these powers will benefit you, then by all means do so. But if you think you must compete for his love…” She shook her head, laughing, then squeezed her hand fondly. “You are the one he chose. And you chose him. That is all you need care about. And I assure you that when he returns, nothing will have changed between you.”

Kaylia smiled. “Thank you. Your words have lifted my spirits.”

The sounds of songs and laughter drifted in from the camp.

“Speaking of spirits,” Selena remarked, “it seems as if the very first elf-human alliance is going better than expected.”

“So it would seem,” Kaylia agreed. “Though I wonder about the wisdom of wine and song on the eve of battle.”

“I think it may bring the two people closer,” said Selena. “Better to have an aching head and good allies, than suspicions and mistrust.”

Kaylia thought on this for a moment, then rose to her feet. “Perhaps we should join them.” She held out her hand and helped Selena up.

The brisk night was warmed by dozens of fires. The smell of meat and wine filled the air, mingling perfectly with the songs and laughter. By the time the meal was served, Kaylia stood in amazement at the sight of two armies — one elf and the other human — laughing like the Great War had never happened. Her heart filled with hope. And though her thoughts were ever on Gewey, she knew somehow all would be well.

Chapter 15

The orange sky that proceeded the dawn brought with it an eerie glow that washed across the sand. Gewey thought that it was beautiful in a way that only could be appreciated firsthand. Kaylia would be the only one who would ever understand what it looked like through his eyes; he could never find the words. Just then his heart ached from the emptiness he felt without her voice inside him.

“Keep your thoughts here and now,” scolded Aaliyah.

Pali stirred and stretched. “I see neither of you slept.” He reached in his pack, retrieved some jerky and flatbread and shared it with Gewey and Aaliyah.

Something caught Gewey's eye. A figure approached from the direction of the Black Oasis. As it neared he could see that it was a human woman. Her dark blond hair was tangled and matted, and her tattered clothes were covered with dust and grime. She stumbled through the sands as if near exhaustion until she was only a few yards away. Gewey and the others stood, but did not approach her.

“Who are you?” the woman asked, weakly. She didn't meet their eyes, and stared submissively at the ground. Cuts and bruises on her face and arms told of abuse. “Why are you here?”

“A slave,” whispered Pali. “Who is your master?”

“Why are you here?” she repeated.

“You need not fear us,” said Aaliyah. “If you wish, we shall protect you.”

Pali nodded approvingly. “Come forward.”

She didn't move. “Please. Why are you here?”

Gewey could see the fear in the woman's eyes. He took a step forward, but she jumped back, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Slavers do this to them.” Pali's face burned with fury and disgust. “They destroy their will, and torture them until they are nothing resembling what they once were.” He looked hard at Aaliyah. “This is why we protect the humans.” He turned to the woman. “Look at her. She is so afraid, that she will not go with us. She fears what will happen to her if she tries to escape. I've seen this before…far too many times.”

“Is this true?” Aaliyah asked the woman. “Will you not let us help you?”

Tears welled in the woman's eyes “Please. I must obey my master. He wants to know why you're here.” She anxiously gripped the sides of her long tan skirt, and her light blue blouse was caked with thick patches of dried blood and filth.

“Who is your master?” asked Gewey.

The woman shook her head nervously. “Please.”

“Tell your master that our business is our own, and none of his affair,” said Pali.

The woman bowed and scurried away.

“Poor wretch,” Pali muttered, sadly. “It seems we are expected. What do you suggest?”

“We have little choice,” said Aaliyah. “We must continue. They may expect us, but I doubt they are prepared for us.”

They watched the slave return to the Oasis, making a note of where she entered. Once she disappeared, they cautiously followed. Gewey reached out, but his senses were deflected. The look on Aaliyah's face told him she was faring no better.

As they neared, the blackness of the Oasis turned to enormous deep green and thick gray vines. Slick, round leaves, beaded with the dense humidity, hung low, some touching the moss-covered ground. Vines and thorns twisted their way through the branches, wrapping themselves from tree to tree in a never-ending web. Tiny blue flowers dotted the vines and low branches, their colors so deep and rich that one had to strain to notice them as they blended with the leaves. Each flower was cradled by a nest of black berries no larger than the tip of a child’s finger. High above the canopy, flocks of jet black birds, of a species Gewey had never seen, darted and swirled, landing in the tree-tops for a moment, then taking flight again.

Gewey could taste the moisture in the air in stark contrast to the arid desert, and the scent of rotting foliage left a foul taste in his mouth. They checked where they saw the slave enter the wood, but saw no trail or path. Pali slowly scanned the area, then with a satisfied smile, pushed his hand against a patch of brambles. They swung back as if on hinges. Gewey could make out a narrow trail that disappeared into the blackness.

“I will lead,” said Aaliyah.

Gewey could feel her drawing in the flow and reaching out. Her face twisted in frustration and she drew her daggers. The trail was very narrow, making Gewey's sword all but useless, as well as Pali's scimitar. He pulled out his small dagger and followed Aaliyah into the gloom of the Black Oasis.

Though Aaliyah was only a few feet ahead, he could barely see her; even with his heightened senses. Thankfully the trail was, for the time being, straight and even. The ground was covered in thick moss that was nearly as deep as the desert sand. The impenetrable trees and vines compounded the darkness, making it impossible to see more than a few inches on either side. Even the air was thick and humid. Already his clothes were soaked and his hair hung limp. The few sounds to be heard were the drops of dew and creaking of trees and the occasional rustle of some small animal scuttling through the undergrowth.

Aaliyah stopped short, her back stiff and straight. “Something lurks,” she whispered. The sound of her voice only barely reached Gewey.

“What?” asked Gewey.

“I do not know,” she replied. “But I can feel something watching us.”

Gewey looked around. He couldn't imagine from where someone could watch them. The foliage was far too thick for a man or even an elf to pass through. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Then, as an itch in the small of his back, just where he couldn't reach, it was there. A presence…watching. He was reminded of when he was in the Spirit Hills with Dina.

“Some say, the Black Oasis is alive,” remarked Pali. “And though I do not possess your skills, I feel something odd, as well.”

They continued for another half mile. Both Gewey and Aaliyah's frustrations grew as neither could sense beyond a few feet, regardless of how much of the flow they allowed to pass through them. Then they smelled it before they saw it….smoke. Foul smoke. Ahead they could see the trees thin and open into a small clearing. The closer they came, the more apparent it was that this was not a natural clearing. No, this had been carved out by hand. The perimeter smoldered and in some spots small fires still burned. The moss on the ground had been trampled flat and at the far end the trail had been sheered wider. Gewey and Pali put away their daggers and drew their swords.

“Whoever was here has clearly fled,” said Pali.

“Yes,” agreed Aaliyah. “But why?”

“I don't know,” said Pali. “But I'd wager we'll find out.”

Gewey listened for signs of people, but as every time he'd tried, his senses reflected back on him. “Well, whoever they are, there's only one way they could have gone.”

“Don't be so sure,” said Pali. “If they can survive this place, they may have learned its secrets.”

Aaliyah nodded in agreement and cautiously moved across the clearing. The smoke lingered just above the ground, and reeked like rotting earth mingled with decaying flesh. Gewey nearly became ill. As they neared the trail Gewey spotted a dark lump a few yards away. At first he couldn’t tell what it was, but then a cold chill sent him shivering when the blood-spattered face of the slave girl came into view. “Monsters,” he fumed.

“Indeed,” said Pali.

They dragged the body to the clearing and covered her with a blanket.

“We must continue,” said Aaliyah.

Gewey nodded and said a silent prayer for the poor creature.

The ground on the trail ahead had been stripped of all life, leaving only tightly packed black earth. On either side the trees and vines had been hacked away, making it wide enough for them to walk abreast.

Aaliyah slowed their pace to a near crawl, then after about twenty yards stopped altogether. She knelt down and examined a cut vine on the side of the trail. The second she touch it she quickly withdrew her hand and shot to her feet.

“I think I understand,” she whispered. “And if I am correct, the mystery has deepened.”

“Correct about what?” asked Gewey.

“The Black Oasis is alive,” she replied darkly.

“How do you mean?” Gewey bent down and looked at the vine. It pulsed and throbbed like an open wound.

“I mean that the presence we sensed was not those who reside here,” she explained. “It was the Oasis itself.” Her face tensed. “And whatever has cut it away must be strong enough to resist its wrath. This place is powerful…and angry.” She turned to Pali. “You say that none have returned that has ventured here?”

“Not that I know of,” he affirmed. “But then I know of no elf that has dared the Black Oasis. At least none have in my lifetime.”

“If whoever is here is so strong, why did they flee?” asked Gewey.

“Perhaps they didn't,” said Pali.

Aaliyah nodded in agreement. “I think you are right. I think we are being allowed to go deeper inside.”

“Maybe we should go back to the clearing,” Gewey suggested.

“I do not think that would help,” said Aaliyah. “We can only go forward, or leave this place.”

“Assuming we would be allowed to leave,” muttered Pali.

They continued cautiously for another half mile. Ahead a dense haze obscured their vision. Gewey reached out with the flow and tried to move the fog aside, but with no effect. Aaliyah tried as well, but with the same result.

They entered the mist and Gewey immediately felt a presence wrap its spirit around him, pressing in on his mind. He was only just able to keep it out and stumbled, gasping from the effort. Aaliyah placed one hand on his shoulder and wiped the tiny beads of sweat from his forehead.

He held out his hand and steadied himself. “I'm fine.” He looked into Aaliyah's eyes. “Did it try to reach you?”

“No,” she replied softly. “What did it feel like?”

Gewey thought about the first time Lee had entered his mind. “It was as if someone wanted to force its way inside me. I was only barely able to keep it out.”

Aaliyah furled her brow. “It is good you had the strength. Though it could be useful to know what is out there.”

“Should I allow it in?” asked Gewey. The idea worried him.

“No,” she replied. “The risk is too great. But let me know if it happens again.”

The fog only allowed them to see a couple of feet ahead, and was several degrees colder. After a few hundred yards, it began to thin, to Gewey's great relief, though the chill remained even when the air was clear. The light that crept in from the widening of the trail, allowed Gewey to see the true color of the Oasis. In contrast to the dark green of the exterior, the leaves were a rich vibrant mixture of green, pale blue, and delicate lines of bright yellow. The trunks were smooth and without blemish, as if polished by skilled hands. Even the vines and brambles were less sinister in appearance, flowing in an elegant weave of life and symmetry.

One-hundred yards ahead, they saw a narrow black stone archway the height of two men. Symbols of the nine Gods had been carved across the face and inlaid with pure gold. Just beyond the archway, the ground had been paved with smooth red marble, veined in green and blue, and polished to a mirror shine. The moment they passed beneath the arch, the forest on either side melted away like wax in a fire. In its place was a series of white marble columns the same height as the archway, connected by small arches of blood-red volcanic glass. To the left and right of the columns, the ground became a meadow of soft turf scattered with tiny yellow and purple flowers. It extended for one-hundred feet then was reclaimed by the dense trees and vines. The sun beamed down illuminating the glass arches, causing tiny rays of red light to shoot out in every direction. At the end of the path stood a forty-foot pyramid of polished bronze. The sides were smooth, and the top was crowned with a blue crystal. At its base, a shallow arched corridor of black marble, led to a silver door with the nine Gods were etched in a circle at its center.

“What is this place?” gasped Pali.

“It is a temple built to house the tools of the Gods,” explained Aaliyah. “I have read of its existence, but had never thought I would see it for myself.”

Gewey shifted uneasily. “We still haven't seen whoever is in here, and it looks as if this is as far as we can go. So where are they?”

“Perhaps they await us beyond the door,” suggested Pali.

“I suppose there's only one thing to do then,” said Gewey. He strode down the path until he stood in front of the door, grabbed the small silver knob and turned. Aaliyah and Pali stood, weapons drawn, just behind him.

Gewey pushed the door open without a sound. Just inside a narrow passage led to a stone staircase leading down into the earth. The walls were covered with bronze plates that gave off a faint light similar to the glowing globes of the elves. As Gewey stepped inside, the glow became brighter, and extended down the walls of the staircase. They descended for about thirty feet to another long hall that ended with a dull gray stone wall.

“A dead end?” asked Pali.

Aaliyah examined it carefully. The stone was rough and uneven, in stark contrast to everything else, and tiny quartz crystals were embedded throughout. She reached out and gently ran her index finger over the stone, then pressed her palm flat against it. She stood there silent and still for a full minute.

“There must be another way,” said Gewey.

“Did you see one?” asked Aaliyah, irritably.

Gewey reached over her shoulder and touched the wall. There was a bright flash of white light. When it was gone, so was the wall. In its place was another silver door. They all stood in amazement.

Aaliyah reached for the door, but Gewey grabbed her wrist. “Don't.”

“What is it?” she asked.

Gewey put his back to the door. “I don't know how, but I know it is meant for me.” He placed his hand on the door, feeling the cold metal. He could feel the pulse of the flow everywhere, calling to him. “Don't you feel it?”

Aaliyah touch his shoulder and let her spirit flow toward his. She could feel the power calling to Gewey. But it was different. It was not the abstract raw power she molded to her will. This had form and…consciousness. She gasped and snatched back her hand. “It knows you.”

“Yes,” Gewey affirmed. “I don't know how, but it does. I can almost hear its thoughts.”

“Hear whose thoughts?” asked Pali.

“The temple,” Gewey replied. “It speaks to me. From here I must go alone. It won't allow you to enter.”

Aaliyah took Gewey's hand. “Are you certain?”

Gewey smiled and nodded. “Yes. Don't worry. I don't sense the anger of the Oasis. But I do know that I must go on alone.”

Aaliyah squeezed his hand and stepped back. “We will await you here.”

Gewey turned and placed his hand on the doorknob. The second his flesh touched it, darkness surrounded him and there was a great rumble as if the very earth was being shattered all around him. Aaliyah, Pali, and the hallway vanished. For a moment, he was struck by fear and panic, as the rumble became a roar, and a powerful wind rose up and swirled in a tempest lifting him skyward. He let out a scream as he struggled against the force. Then as quickly as it came, it disappeared. He felt himself begin to fall. Unable to see through the darkness below, he braced himself for impact, but it didn't come. Instead, he felt his feet land gently on soft ground. Gewey knelt down, expecting grass, but was shocked to find what felt like polished marble. He pressed down with his finger. It gave way, sinking in, then reforming once he withdrew.

“This can't be real,” he said. His words echoed repeatedly, then slowly faded. “Am I alone?”

As if in response, a small ball of light, appeared just in front of him. It grew brighter and brighter, until he was forced to shield his eyes. Then it dimmed, and there stood the figure of a man. He was as tall as Gewey, and just as broad. His raven hair fell carelessly, in loose curls just above his shoulders. He was dressed in a long, silver robe, open in the front, revealing a loose-fitting white shirt, and trousers. His features were sharp and angular, with a perfect symmetry that was beautiful to behold. His flawless ivory skin bore no sign of age or blemishes, and glowed with a soft radiance. He smiled as he met Gewey's eyes.

“I knew you would come,” he said. His voice was deep and soothing.

“Who-who are you?” Gewey stammered.

“You know me as Gerath,” he replied.

“God of the Earth,” Gewey whispered.

“Yes,” he replied. “And no.”

Gerath stretched out his arms. “What you see before you is merely an image. A piece of my essence left behind in this world. Left behind for you.”

Gewey eyed him carefully. “Are you my father?”

Gerath laughed. “Indeed, I am. At least I am your father in the way you would understand it. I played my part in your creation.”

“Then who is my mother?” he asked. The words of Felsafell echoed in his mind. This knowledge would drive him mad. Suddenly he was afraid to hear the answer.

“I'm sorry,” he replied. “But some answers I cannot give.”

Gewey became irritated. “Then why are you here?”

“I am here to help you,” Gerath turned around slowly and bowed his head. “Many mistakes have my kind made. And you must help us atone. You must redeem us.”

“How am I to do that?”

“By mending what we have broken.” He faced Gewey again. His face bore immeasurable sadness. “We had foreseen our imprisonment,” he continued. “And we built this place. We built it so that you could one day find it. What resides within this temple will aid you and those whom you love, should you choose to follow the path put before you. But I sense that your efforts will be hindered. Something evil now surrounds you and you must face it. You must drive it out.”

“What is out there?” Gewey asked.

His eyes grew dark. “Creatures of pure hate and malice. They were sent by the one who imprisoned us. But do not fear them. You are stronger….far stronger than they can understand. Stronger than all in creation, save one.” He stepped forward and placed his hand on Gewey's shoulder. “My son.” His voice was filled with compassion and sorrow. “Of all the Gods, you were chosen to right our wrongs. You are untainted by our sins, and bound to this world. Your connection to this place binds your spirit to the very heart of the earth. Use that connection to attain your true power, and none can stand against you.”

“How do I do that?” Gewey felt the touch of his father. It felt as if love it was a tangible thing he could see and taste. Only his bond with Kaylia could compare. “Can you teach me?”

“No one can teach you this.” He withdrew his hand, reached inside his robe, and pulled out a small silver chain with a medallion the size of a gold piece attached. On it was carved the symbol of Gerath. “In a few moments I will empty myself into this. From that moment on I will cease to be, yet my power will remain. Wear it, and my strength will pass to you.”

“What do you mean ‘you will cease to be?’” he asked.

“The part of me I left behind…its will and its mind will be gone.” He handed Gewey the medallion. A light flashed and a table appeared beside him. On the table rested a bow, a dagger and a staff, all gleaming white. “Take these. They are the tools of Vismal, crafted by my own hands. Give them to those whom you love and trust, and your power will aid them. But choose carefully, for once given they will only serve that master.” He smiled a sad smile. “I have little else to give you. Most of what I am has been trapped by the betrayer. What you see is a shadow. But even the shadow of our kind carries great power. Use that power so that you may better understand what you must do.”

“Why not just tell me?” he cried. “Why not show me?”

“I cannot,” he replied. “Or all will be for naught. You must discover your power on your own. I can only say that you have begun rightly. I sense mortal teachings within you. They can give you what we never could.” He staggered back. Gewey reached out to catch his arm, but his hand passed as though a mist. “My time is short. The moment you stepped within these walls, I began to fade. My knowledge does not extend beyond the moment I was put here, and that slips away from me with each passing second.”

“But I have so many questions,” said Gewey. “Please, I must know more.”

Gerath's form began to ripple and fade. “Know that you have your father’s love, and that I await you even now.” He gave Gewey one last loving smile. “I have only one more thing to give…your name.”

“My name?” Gewey's mind raced.

“Yes,” Gerath replied. “It is the name given to you by a father whose worst crime was to sacrifice you to a world of peril and hardship, in order to undo what he cannot.” He faded completely. “Darshan.”

Gewey stood in stunned silence for a moment. “Darshan,” he whispered.

He approached the table and examined the weapons. The dagger was sheathed in an ivory scabbard, etched with the symbol of Gerath. The hilt was wrapped in white leather and crowned with a single diamond. The bow, short and impossibly thin as to be certain to break if drawn, though Gewey was sure it would not. The staff was as long as he was tall, and three snakes had been carved to coil their way up its length. Gewey reach down and gathered them in his arms. The table faded, and he found himself in a large, empty room. A glow radiated from bronze plates on the walls and he could see the silver door at the far end. Carefully cradling the weapons and holding tight to the medallion, he walked to the door, and pulled it open. There stood Pali and Aaliyah.

Aaliyah beamed and threw her arms around him, nearly causing him to drop everything. ”Thank the Creator. When you vanished, I feared the worst.”

“We may be facing the worst,” said Gewey. “If what I was told is true.”

“What are those?” asked Pali, pointing at the weapons.

“Gifts,” Gewey replied. “Gifts from Gerath.” He recounted his experience, leaving out that he was the son of Gerath, as he was unsure how Pali would react.

“Darshan?” asked Aaliyah, when he finished. “You are called Darshan?”

Gewey nodded. “I know you call me Shivis Mol. Have you heard this before?”

“It means ‘the bringer of knowledge,’” Aaliyah replied. “Shivis Mol is more a title than a name, given to the one who will bring healing to the world.”

Gewey shrugged. “I don't know about that. Right now, I'm more concerned about getting out of here. Gerath said an evil resides here; one that will try to stop us.”

Aaliyah nodded in agreement. “Yes. These matters can wait until we reach safety.”

“I have heard of the legend of Darshan,” Pali interjected, with a curious stare. “But if that is who you are, then it can only mean that the Gods walk among us.” He looked Gewey up and down. “Is that what you are?”

Aaliyah stepped forward, but Gewey caught her arm and pulled her back. “I will not try to deceive you. Yes, I am a God. But I am not like what you may think. I eat, I sleep, and I can be hurt, just like any other man. My spirit is no different than yours.” He could feel Aaliyah's muscles tensing in his grasp.

“I ask that you do not reveal…Darshan's presence.” she said.

“You mustn't worry,” said Pali, smiling broadly. “I will not betray you. And you need not fear my people. They bear the Gods no hatred. Though you may find it difficult to convince them you speak truth. I admit, had I not seen you vanish then return bearing your gifts, I would as well. Besides, if the legend is true, and it seems it is, this is joyous news. It is said that Darshan will bring everlasting prosperity to our people, and cast out the evil that plagues the sands.” He slapped Gewey on the shoulder. “But there will be time to tell you of our legends. I will be coming with you when you return west.”

“You cannot,” objected Gewey.

“Oh, but I must,” Pali countered. “If Darshan has come, then it means that the elves of the desert shall be reunited with our brethren in the west.” He eyed Aaliyah. “I must see it done.”

“I swore an oath to your mother,” said Aaliyah sternly.

“I may be her child, but I am not a youth to be coddled,” he challenged, meeting Aaliyah's gaze. “If you do not allow me to come with you, I shall make my own way west.

Pali and Aaliyah stared hard at one another.

“Look,” said Gewey, breaking the deadlock. “We can talk about it once we're out of here.” He took his blanket from his pack and wrapped the staff, strapping it and the bow across his back. The dagger he fastened to his belt.

“Are you going to wear the medallion?” asked Aaliyah.

Gewey held it in his hand and traced his finger over the engraving. Slowly he draped it around his neck and took a deep breath.

“Well?” asked Pali.

Gewey reached down and lifted the medallion off his chest and examined it again. “Nothing.” He rubbed it with his thumb. “I feel nothing at all.”

“Perhaps you should draw power from the earth,” suggested Aaliyah.

Gewey did as she suggested, but still nothing changed. “I don't understand.”

A loud blast from a great horn rang out. Even muffled by the walls of the temple the sound was strong enough to cause the corridor to tremble. Gewey drew his sword. The narrow hall would make it awkward, but he knew that the increased ability to use the flow would be needed. He looked down the hall, but no one came.

“They await us outside,” said Aaliyah, after a few minutes. “We are trapped.”

“Maybe they want to take us alive,” offered Pali. A wicked grin crept across his face as his looked at Gewey. “But then we have Darshan with us. I wonder if they are prepared for that?”

“My enemies know about me,” said Gewey, darkly. “If they choose to attack, they know who and what they face. And they know that I bleed just like you.”

Gewey led them down the corridor and up the stairs to the door. It was still shut. The horn blasted once more, making Gewey wince. “Stay here,” he commanded, and exited the temple.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight’s intense glare. When they cleared, he saw a familiar black-cloaked figure, long curved blade in hand, twenty paces ahead.

“Do the Vrykol fear death?” Gewey shouted. The flow raged through him.

The Vrykol took a step forward, then pushed back his hood. “We do not.”

Gewey stared, stunned by what he saw. It was not the burned, twisted features he had seen before. Instead it was the face of an elf. Its skin was lightly tanned, and his long black hair was tied in a tight braid. His face was narrow and angular, with closely set deep blue eyes that tried to stare straight through Gewey.

“You can't be…” said Gewey. “How?”

The Vrykol smiled, as though he had not a care in the world. “My master went to great trouble in my creation, young godling. I am the first of my kind…though not the last, I assure you. I am here to offer you your life.” He chuckled. “Though I already know what your answer will be.”

“Then be gone,” said Gewey. He strengthened his grip on his sword. “Allow us to pass.”

“I'm afraid that is out of the question,” he replied. “That is, unless you surrender what was inside the temple to me. Do this, and I shall let you and your companions go free.”

“If you attack us, I will have your head,” warned Gewey.

“Perhaps,” said the Vrykol. “You may be able to fight your way out of this place. I know you are powerful. But understand that I am not alone. Ten of my more…brutish brothers and sisters are in the clearing, and fifty Soufis await you beyond the Oasis. Do you think your friends will be as fortunate as you? Are they Gods as well? If so, then you should ignore my offer.” He paused, then pulled his hood over his head. “I await your answer in the clearing.” He turned and disappeared down the path.

The door opened behind him and Pali and Aaliyah stepped out.

“What was that abomination?” asked Pali, horrified.

“They're called Vrykol,” said Gewey, still staring down the marble path to the trees. “I'm not sure what they really are, but they're fast, strong, and hard to kill. You must take off their heads to stop them.”

“I have heard stories of the Vrykol,” said Pali. “They were the assassins of the Gods. But I never thought them to be anything more than a myth.”

“This one is different from the others I've seen.” He looked hard at Aaliyah. “We may have no choice but to give them what they want.”

“We will do no such thing,” Aaliyah protested. “We have journeyed too far to simply give this creature what we came for.”

“I agree,” said Pali. “If these weapons are as powerful as you were told, you cannot let them fall into the hands of evil.”

Gewey thought for a moment. “Gerath told me that I must give these things to those I love and trust. And once given they only serve that master. Why then force me to give them up? They would be useless.”

“They may not be aware of that fact.” Pali suggested. “It seems that they were unable to enter the temple on their own, which is likely why they allowed us to enter unmolested. They may not have knowledge of what was kept there. And perhaps it is not the weapons he desires.” He pointed to Gewey's medallion. “If that contains the essence of a God…”

“He's right,” said Aaliyah. “You cannot let it fall into their hands. We must fight.”

Gewey straighten his back and clenched his jaw tight. “Then you should know that Vrykol can block your ability to use the flow. At least when used directly on them. But you can still affect things around them.” He withdrew the Vismal dagger from his belt and held it out to Aaliyah. “Take it.”

Aaliyah stared at it. Finally, she reached out and asked for confirmation. “Are you certain?”

Gewey nodded and she took it from his hand. The moment her hand touched it she cried out and fell to her knees. Gewey rushed down to help her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, cradling her forearms.

Aaliyah smiled. “Yes. More than all right. You have no idea what you have given me.” She looked around wide-eyed, as if seeing color for the first time. “It is beautiful.” She rose lightly to her feet holding the dagger to her breast. “Gerath was right. You must choose wisely to whom you give these.”

Gewey turned to Pali, but the elf shook his head knowing what Gewey was going to do.

“Keep the rest and give them to those who will use them.” Pali held his sword aloft. “I cannot steal life from the Creator, but with this, I can certainly take life from the wicked.”

Gewey smiled. “Then let us meet our foes. They await an answer.”

With Gewey leading the way, they headed down the path, past the columns and into the wooded trail. The surge of power through both Gewey and Aaliyah was so great, that the earth shook with each step, and the air roared before them. As they approached the clearing, Gewey saw a line of black-cloaked figures wielding cruel jagged blades; they stood just a few yards from the opening. He counted ten in total. Just as they entered the clearing he spotted another a few yards behind the others. Though cloaked, he assumed it was the one that had spoken to them outside the temple.

Gewey lowered his eyes and took a breath. “I see you hide behind the others.”

“And I see your answer is what I expected,” he shouted back. “Pity. Your friends will pay for your lack of wisdom.” He spun around and held up his right hand. “Kill them.” Then he disappeared down the path.

The Vrykol charged. A ball of flame burst to life exploding just at the feet of three Vrykol, but they moved with tremendous speed and ran straight through the flames. Gewey hardly had time to react, as two of the beasts were upon him. The four had rushed right at Pali and the rest at Aaliyah. He knew he had to make quick work of these two or they would certainly be killed. He struck at the neck of the nearest foe, but it stopped just before it was in range of his sword. The other feinted and slashed, but only close enough to keep Gewey at bay.

He charged forward, but they only fell back, darting in and out, keep him off balance. He understood the tactic. They were going to keep him busy until they had defeated Pali and Aaliyah. He glanced to Pali. His sword flashing in tight arcs as he danced and spun avoiding blows. One Vrykol lay dead, but the others were pressing in, forcing his back to the trees and vines. Aaliyah was faring a bit better. Two Vrykol were surrounded by flames and their black cloaks burned brightly. Another had already lost its head. The fourth was moving to her left swinging wildly. Gewey tried to step right to help her, but the Vrykol cut him off, and the two that were on fire stepped in between, pressing Aaliyah back.

Gewey spun and used the flow to up-heave the earth behind him. Pali had cut the arm from another Vrykol, but he was bleeding badly from his left leg. The two creatures at his back had already recovered by the time Gewey reached Pali, and rushed in. Gewey drove his blade through the chest of one of Pali's attackers, then pulling it free took the head of another. Pali grinned and pushed forward.

Gewey was only just able to duck and roll, as the Vrykol at his back thrust their swords in unison. From his knee he took the leg of one, and it tumbled to the ground. Pali was still fighting two. The one Gewey had skewered had moved in to Pali's right and its blade found his shoulder. Pali cried out, but he managed to move away and open up a wound across the chest of the beast to his left. He struck again and sent its head flying. Before he could turn to face the last, a blade shot through his chest. Pali gasped and fell forward, the blade slipping out. Blood spewed forth as he dropped to his knees and Gewey could hear the soft hissing laugh of the Vrykol.

Gewey looked over just as Pali's body hit the ground. His heart filled with rage. He rolled, bringing his blade up between the legs of the last Vrykol, spitting it in two. Thick, black blood sprayed out like a fountain, as each half crumbled to earth. He knew he couldn't allow his anger to cloud his mind. Aaliyah still faced three Vrykol, though two had slowed considerably as they burned. He leaped to his feet and took the heads off both flaming beasts with two quick strokes. Aaliyah ducked under the other’s guard and in a flash its head rolled off its shoulders.

The final Vrykol paused. “This means nothing.” Its rasping voice grated at Gewey's ears, fueling his anger. “You will not leave the desert alive.” He charged.

Gewey snarled and his sword took the creature’s head. The moment the it fell, Gewey decapitated the legless Vrykol and rushed to Pali's lifeless body. He rolled him over only to see dead eyes staring into nothingness. Gewey bowed his head and close his eyelids shut.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, as Aaliyah knelt beside him.

“Thanks to your gift, no.” She placed her hand on the back of his head. “You did your best to save him.”

“He should have never been here,” Gewey whispered. “We should never have brought him with us.”

“He came of his own free will,” said Aaliyah. “And he came as a gesture of friendship and kindness. We would not have made it here without him.”

A crackling sound as if from a thousand camp fires filled their ears. They jumped up to see the bodies of the Vrykol turning hard and gray. Thousands of tiny cracks formed and they began splintering like glass, then turned to dust. The ground shook and rumbled. The earth around Pali's body exploded and hundreds of thin roots shot skyward then draped over him. Before Gewey could move, the roots pulled the body into the earth. Gewey fell to the ground, digging feverishly with his bare hands. Aaliyah stood back, staring in wonder at the spectacle. Soon, Gewey began pounding his fist in the dirt and screaming with rage.

“What is this?” Gewey's voice was met with silence. Slowly he rose to his feet.

Aaliyah gasped and grabbed his arm, pointing a few feet away. “Look.”

A soft ball of light hovered just above the ground, expanding until it took the form of a man. Its features were hazy and unrecognizable. Its feet didn't touch the earth, and its arms were held wide.

“Who are you?” Gewey demanded.

At first there was nothing. The specter was silent and still. Then nine more figures appeared just behind it.

“We are the first born.” The voice was distant and echoed as if within a great cavern. “We thank you for our freedom.”

“I don't understand,” said Gewey.

“The creatures which we were forced to become are now gone,” it said. “We are free. And here, we are safe.”

“You mean you are the Vrykol?” asked Aaliyah.

“Yes, we were,” it replied. “Our spirits were enslaved by the evil that holds the power of the Gods. The spirits of the first born turned into abomination and darkness.”

“I think I understand,” said Gewey. “You are the spirits of Felsafell's people. That's what he meant at the Chamber when he said he had to free his kin.”

At the mention of Felsafell, their light grew brighter. “Yes. He is the last of us that walks with the living. It is good to know he has not forgotten us.”

“What of Pali?” asked Aaliyah. “What of his spirit?”

“He is safe with us,” it replied. “This place is special. The Gods created it and gave it life. Now that you have driven out the sickness that poisoned it, it can begin to heal. Your friend will stay here with us until the path to heaven is no longer barred by the one who seeks to destroy you. Only when he falls, will the spirits of the dead be led to paradise. Only through his destruction can the world, once again, be set to rights.” Their lights began to fade.

“Wait, please!” Gewey implored. But they faded completely.

Aaliyah took Gewey's hand. “They are gone, and we should leave as well. If what the Vrykol said is true, fifty men await-” She cried out as a pain shot through her shoulder, where a tiny black dart had silently struck. She pulled it free and threw it to the ground.

On the other side of the clearing, a black cloak vanished down the trail, harsh laughter trailing behind. Gewey tore off after it, but just as he reached the path he heard Aaliyah moan. He turned just as she fell to her knees, her hand grasping at her wound. He rushed back to her side.

“Poison?” he asked.

She nodded, wincing.

Gewey pulled her hand away and touched the wound. It had already closed and was no larger than a pin prick. He reach into her body with the flow, seeking to expel the poison, but was forced back.

“I don't understand,” said Gewey.

Aaliyah closed her eyes and breathed deep. For a full minute she knelt motionless. “Mandrista,” she said weakly, opening her eyes. “I have been poisoned with sap from the mandrista tree. I cannot be cured using the powers of the earth and spirit alone.”

“What can we do?” asked Gewey, desperation seeping into his voice.

“I must return to the ship,” she replied. “I have the means to extract it there.”

“Do we have time?” asked Gewey, squeezing her hand tightly.

“The poison is slow.” She struggle to her feet. “Three days. We may make it if we hurry.”

Gewey's thoughts turned to the Soufis. He needed to deal with them quickly. “Wait here. I'll take care of the Soufis myself.”

“You cannot do this alone,” she protested. “I-”

“No,” he said, fiercely. “Pali has died, and I'll not watch you die, too.” Fury burned in his eyes. “We'll see how brave the Soufis are when I blast them apart, and then bury their bodies in their precious desert.” Before she could argue Gewey tore off across the clearing and down the path. He covered the distance in only a few minutes, his legs fueled by the flow of both air and earth. The brush that lay in front of the entrance had already been pushed aside, and he could make out the figures of men twenty yards away. He slid to a halt a foot beyond the path, his blade tight in his hand. But he had no intention of cutting his way through fifty men.

The Soufis were lined up in two loose rows. They were wrapped in thick tan robes and their heads were covered by white turbans. The men in the front row, held long, curved blades, while those in the rear carried lengthy black bows. The Vrykol stood front and center, his hood thrown back, revealing his elf features.

“Did your elf mistress enjoy my gift?” asked the Vrykol, laughing.

“Laugh if you want,” said Gewey. His eyes narrowed and his legs parted. “But if I were you, I'd be running.”

The Vrykol smiled. “Excellent advice. But, we'll meet again, Gewey Stedding. Or should I call you, Darshan?” With that he turned and disappeared behind the Soufis lines.

The moment he was out of sight, the Soufis bowmen notched their arrows and fired. Gewey raised his hand and a blast of wind sent the arrows falling harmlessly to the ground. The Soufis took a step back, looking confused, and murmuring with doubt and fear. Before they could decide on their actions, Gewey let loose a great ball of flame into the heart of the lines. Twenty men fell instantly, while several others rolled screaming in the sand trying to put themselves out. This was enough to send the rest scattering. But Gewey was in no mood to be merciful. He sent another flame streaking across the ground. The sand crackled and popped as the flames surrounded the remaining Soufis. He tightened the circle forcing them together. A few tried to run through the fire, but were roasted alive before they reached the other side.

“Die!” Gewey roared, and closed the circle.

Cries of pain and desperate pleas for mercy, went unheard, as the Soufis burned. The flames grew hotter and taller, until they reached fifty feet in the air. The voices of the Soufis were silent. Only the roar of Gewey’s anger could be heard.

As he allowed the flames to subside, Gewey scanned the area for the Vrykol, but he was already gone. The burned stumps of the Soufis dotted the sands, and the sickly sweet smell of charred flesh fill the air. A great circle of pale, green glass had replaced the desert sand. It glittered in the sun, with contrasted beauty to the carnage. He turned and ran back to Aaliyah. When he reached the clearing, she had already dressed her wound and sheathed her knife. Her face turned grim when she saw Gewey.

“They are gone?” she asked.

Gewey relaxed his muscles and nodded. “Yes. They’re all….gone.” He took her hand and led her from the clearing.

The image of the flames still remained in his mind, and as they approached the entrance to the Oasis he halted. Gewey didn't want her to see what he had done. He almost held her back as she moved past him and stepped onto the sands. For a moment she stood silently surveying the carnage. Timidly, he followed her out.

“All gone, indeed,” she remarked.

“I was just….” Gewey paused. “I was just so angry.”

“The wrath of a God is truly not to be taken lightly.” She turned to him and smiled. Her face was awash with pity and understanding. “But you did what had to be done.”

“I know,” said Gewey. “This is not the first time I've killed. It’s just I never imagined unleashing such power.” He held up the medallion around his neck and examined it. “Only the Gods know what I can do when I learn to use this. I fear that it may be too much power for me to control.”

“I doubt it,” said Aaliyah. “The one you must vanquish wields more power than you can imagine. You will need this, and more.” She glanced one more time at the smoldering corpses. “We must go. My time grows short.”

With that they headed off in the direction of the shore, in hopes that they would make it in time to save Aaliyah's life. Gewey swore an oath to kill the Vrykol who poisoned her. He would teach it to fear death.

Chapter 16

Frost covered the bleak landscape as Lee and Jacob rose from their tent, shivering and rubbing their arms. The bitter cold of the far north was nothing even a Hazrian Lord could ignore. Fires already burned around the camp and the scent of bacon wafted on the frigid air. Darius was already up. Something uncharacteristic for the fat merchant. He was kneeling down by a fire, cradling a cup of hot coffee in his gloved hands. Lee and Jacob joined him.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Darius. “It seems foolish to me.”

“I'm sure,” Lee replied. He grabbed the tin kettle from the spit and poured himself a cup. “If what I hear is true, we will gain passage north if we join the army. All new recruits are brought to Kratis for training and deployment. And that's where we need to go.”

“I haven't asked you your true business,” said Darius. “And I won't. But you seek the palace of the Reborn King, it would seem. If you do this, you will be caught, and you will die. You don't want to know the stories I've heard about what they do to spies.”

“I can imagine,” Lee said, soberly. The thought of his son suffering torture caused his stomach to knot. “Still, we must try.”

“Well, if I cannot dissuade you,” said Darius, “at least allow me to help you.” He reached in his coat and pulled out a piece of folded parchment. “It's a letter of endorsement stating that you have been in my service for the past five years. I am known in these parts, so it will pass scrutiny.”

Lee took it, and smiled gratefully. “Yes. This will certainly help.”

They ate, and then packed their gear. Fennio and three others awaited them by the road. Lee knew it was a risk to travel with the others. Should their cover story be questioned, any of them could say that Lee and Jacob had only just joined the caravan. If that happened, the endorsement letter would be a liability. Darius was there as well, holding five small purses.

“Alright, lads,” said Darius. “Don't you ever say I'm not a fair man.” He handed out the purses to the men. The jingle of coins sounded as they bounced them up and down. “Don't you go counting it just yet. You've been paid already, so wait until I'm gone to complain about how little is there.”

“Thank you for all your help,” said Lee. He shook Darius’ hand firmly and smiled.

Darius laugh heartily. “And thank you for saving my life.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Now go. I have a business to run, and wine to drink.” He spun on his heels and strode back to his tent.

The recruiting station was three miles away, at the Whiterun Pass garrison, just south of the city proper. It only took them an hour to arrive, but the town could be seen from more than a mile away. Tall buildings of burgundy stone rose from behind thick granite walls. Lee was impressed. Cities and towns this far north were little more than trading posts for the most part. In fact, Hazrah was by far the largest city north of the Razor Edge Mountains, and it was small compared to Baltria or Althetas. Clearly, Angraalhad been hard at work.

The garrison was impressive as well. It resembled an ancient fortress, similar to those in paintings he had on his walls back in Sharpstone. The twenty-foot curtain walls were smooth and seamless, as if carved from a single block, stretching out two- hundred feet, left to right. In the center, an arched iron gatehouse door, covered in vicious spikes, was closed shut. At the corners of the wall, round towers loomed another twenty feet, with dozens of arrow slits looking outward, and capped with a domed turret manned by three watches. Atop each turret dome, the now familiar banner of Angraalflapped in the strong north wind. The walls were patrolled by at least two dozen archers and pike-men.

Just outside the gatehouse door, someone had set up a long table. Two soldiers stood at both ends, and a slightly built man in a red linen suit and thick wool coat, sat taking information from four new recruits. Lee, Jacob and the others filed in behind them. Each recruit was told to wait a few feet away from the table after their information had been taken.

When it was Lee's turn, he handed the recruiter the letter. The man examined it for a moment, then sighed.

“More sell-swords,” he muttered. “Do you have any military experience?”

“No, sir,” Lee replied. “But my nephew and I are both good with a blade. We're from-”

“I don't care where you're from.” He glanced up, then shook his head. “I'm sure you are both eager to join up, so we'll make this quick.”

The man took their names, (the false ones, naturally), and wrote down what skills they listed. After he finished, he had them sign a large parchment and instructed them to wait with the others. After the rest joined them, they huddled together trying to fight off the cold. For hours they just sat there as dozens of men came to join. By late afternoon their numbers had swelled to nearly one-hundred. No offer of food or drink had been made, so Lee and Jacob shared what little they had with Fennio and the rest of Darius' former guards, who had clearly not thought to bring anything for themselves.

An hour before sundown, the recruiter stood and announced that anyone else who wished to join must return tomorrow. The two guards picked up the table and followed the man into the gatehouse. The sun was nearly gone, and the air began to turn even colder. It wasn't long before the new recruits became restless, and disgruntled whispers could be heard.

“Enough of this bloody nonsense,” yelled a stocky, dark-haired fellow, clad in thick, leather mail. “I did not come here to freeze and starve.” He strode off south.

There was a whistle and a thud, as an arrow pierced the back of the man’s neck. He fell to his knees, grasping desperately at the arrow, then crumpled to the ground, gurgling his last breaths.

“In case you were wondering, you are not permitted to leave.” A tall, lean man stepped from the gatehouse. He was wearing a shining metal breast plate with the broken scales of Angraaletched in gold across it. His blond hair was cropped close, and even in the fading light his chiseled features and square jaw were evident. He was as broad as Lee in the shoulders and carried himself with supreme confidence. A thick, heavy broadsword hung from his belt and in his hands a short, curved bow. He dropped the bow to the ground and walked toward the men. “I am Captain Faris Lanmore. From the moment you signed your name, you were in the service of the Reborn King of Angraal. And as you can see, we do not tolerate desertion.”

He strolled casually in front of the men. When he reached Lee he paused. “You have a hard look about you.” His eyes went to Jacob for a moment. “Is this your son?”

“No, sir,” replied Lee. “He is my nephew.”

Captain Lanmore nodded rubbing his chin. “Then that would make you….Barath. Yes, that’s the name you gave. I noticed you and your nephew as you approached. You claim to be a mere sell-sword, here to do some soldiering?”

“Yes, sir.” Lee tensed.

He pointed to Lee's sword. “That’s quite a weapon for a sell-sword. Let me see it.”

Lee unsheathed his weapon and handed it to the captain.

“Well-balanced,” Lanmore remarked approvingly. “Superbly crafted. A true master’s sword.” He looked up at Lee and smiled. “Is that what you are? A sword master perhaps? By the way you walk I doubt you're a mere sell-sword. I've been a soldier too long not to notice that.” He handed Lee back his sword.

Lee returned his sword to his scabbard and squared his shoulders.

“And you know when to be silent as well,” remarked Lanmore. “Good. Very good. Well, whatever you run from, you need not fear it here. The Reborn King will give you a new life. Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir,” Lee replied.

“I thought as much.” He turned his attention to the rest of the men. “That goes for everyone. Whoever you were before, whatever wrongs you have committed, they are, as of this moment, forgiven. The Reborn King grants you pardon. Together, we shall forge a new world in his name. We shall sweep aside the liars and oppressors.” His sword sang as he pulled it from his scabbard and stepped back. “But be warned. If one of you seeks to betray us, or fails in his duty, you will find the king’s justice to be harsh and final.” He turned to the gatehouse and whistled.

Ten men burst forth carrying sacks of food and blankets, and distributed them among the recruits. Soon fires were lit, and the scent of cooked meat permeated the air. Lee and Jacob gathered with Fennio and ate in silence.

“What do you think?” asked Fennio. “Sounds all a bit crazy to me. Not to mention that Captain Lanmore fellow shooting that poor chap.”

“If he hadn't, we'd still be sitting hungry and cold,” said Lee. “The point was to make an impression.”

“Exactly,” said a voice, just behind Lee. It was Lanmore.

Lee and the others leaped to their feet, and stood at attention.

“Come with me, Barath,” ordered Lanmore.

Captain Lanmore led Lee through the gatehouse door and into the fortress. The flagstone path led to the inner yard. A few soldiers were here and there, patrolling the area. The keep at the far end was a single story structure, with a gray slate roof. Barracks were built just below the curtain walls on either side, large enough to house two-hundred men each.

Halfway to the keep, Captain Lanmore halted and turned. “I've brought you here to see if my judgment has failed me.”

A large man, broader and taller than Lee, clad in black fur, leather boots, and carrying a long, two-handed sword, stalked out of the barracks and made his way beside Lanmore. His head was shaved and scarred, and his dark eyes fixed on Lee.

“This is Lars,” said Lanmore. “By far our strongest warrior, and one of the few we have here native to Angraal. I want you to kill him…if you can.”

Without a word, Lee drew his sword and prepared for Lars to charge. He didn't have to wait long. The hulking Northman sprang forward with surprising agility and speed, but Lee easily moved aside and brought his blade across the man’s left arm, laying it open. The Northman roared with fury and swung his sword in a wide arc, but again, Lee stepped away. This time he sliced open his right thigh. Lars reached down, clutching the wound. Lee brought the hilt of his sword square between his opponent’s eyes. Lars staggered, and Lee struck him again, this time sending him to his back.

“Why are you toying with him?” asked Captain Lanmore. “Has he offended you?”

Lars struggled to rise, sword still in hand, but Lee brought his boot down hard. The great blade fell free and Lee kicked it away.

“Your order stands?” asked Lee, the tip of his sword and Lars' throat.

Lanmore said nothing. Lee nodded with understanding and rammed his blade through Lars' exposed neck, burying it in the flagstone below. The Northman gurgled, clutching at the wound. After a minute he moved no more. Lee cleaned his sword on his opponent’s furs.

“I'm glad I didn't test your skills with my own blade,” Lanmore remarked, with a hint of amusement. “You are clearly one of the best trained swordsmen that has come through here in some time. But then you don't hide it as well as you might think. In fact, I think you could have taken Lars the moment he came at you. Why didn't you?”

“I may have been able to kill him more quickly,” said Lee. “But, I've learned to never underestimate an opponent. His first strike may have been a deception. As it was, he moved with great speed for one of his size. I saw no need to risk it.”

“Wise,” said Lanmore, smiling. He reached in his belt and pulled out a small red ribbon. He handed it to Lee. “You shall lead the recruits on the journey north. Do a good job and there may be more rewarding positions awaiting you.” He spun on his heels and walked toward the keep.

Lee cursed under his breath and walked to the gatehouse. Four men were already collecting the body of Lars. When he reached Jacob, he pulled him away from earshot. His face gave away his feelings.

“What's wrong?” asked Jacob.

“I have failed to go unnoticed,” Lee replied. “Captain Lanmore is a very good judge of people. At least from a soldiering standpoint. He saw my training in my movements. Now, I'm promoted.”

“How is that bad?” Jacob laughed. “Won't that make things easier?”

“Don't be a fool,” growled Lee. “As a simple soldier, I could move about without drawing attention. As an officer, not only will I be noticed, but sooner or later I'll be discovered for who I am.” He thought for a moment. “If I am captured, they will figure out who you are, as well. It may be better if you flee.”

“You know I won't,” shot Jacob.

“Yes.” Lee reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I know. But if I'm found out, you must try to escape. You must abandon your attempt to rescue your mother, and head to Sharpstone. Millet will aid you.” He met Jacob’s eyes. “Swear it.”

“But-” began Jacob.

“Swear it!” he repeated, this time more forcefully.

Jacob bowed his head. “I swear. But only if rescue is impossible.”

Lee wanted to embrace his son at that moment, but didn't. He knew he must seem to others to be distant, and Lanmore may be watching. “I suppose that will suffice.” They rejoined the others and bedded down for the night.

The sunrise brought trumpets from the fortress walls. Captain Lanmore and six soldiers emerged from the gatehouse. Lee attached the ribbon to his coat and strode off to meet them.

“Good morning, Captain,” said Lee.

Lanmore nodded curtly. “Get them ready, Barath. We march in ten minutes.”

Lee spun around and jogged back to the recruits. “Form ranks!” The force of his voice snapped everyone to attention. At first they just stood, staring at him. “Now!” That was enough to get the men moving. In less than five minutes, all were packed and lined up along the road.

“You command men well,” said Lanmore, approvingly. “Not the first time, I'd wager.” He stepped forward then walked up and down the line. “We have an eight-day march to Kratis. We will do it in seven. Those who fall behind will be considered deserters. And I think you all know what happens to deserters.” He looked at Lee. “Move them out.”

Lee turned to the recruits and shouted, “On my order! Move out!”

The line moved with Lee in front, Captain Lanmore just behind him. The six soldiers positioned themselves three on each side of the recruits.

“Push the pace, Barath,” said Lanmore over Lee's shoulder. “I meant what I said about making it there in seven days.”

Lee did as he was told and sped his pace to a near jog. By midday, the recruits were panting and struggling with each step.

“Shall we halt for a meal, sir?” asked Lee.

“What do you think, Barath?” Lanmore replied. “Should we?”

“I do, sir,” Lee replied. “If you intend for these men to maintain speed, they must maintain strength. Twenty minutes to eat and rest still puts us in Kratis a day and a half ahead. And I would recommend a ten-minute respite every four hours.”

“And why is that?”

Lee straightened his shoulders. “Because, sir, most of these men will not be able to keep this up for seven days without it; unless you intend to execute half of them before we arrive.”

“Perhaps I want to weed out the weak,” said Lanmore. “Or perhaps I simply don't care about how tired they get.” He chuckled softly. “But as is happens, I agree. The king's army would not be served if I killed off half of the men.”

Lee was relieved. “May I asked a question, sir?”

“You may,” said Lanmore.

“Do you usually escort new recruits to Kratis?”

“No,” said Lanmore, with a hint of irritation. “I've been summoned.”

Lee knew better than to ask why. Lee joined Jacob and Fennio for the short meal, then moved the men out again.

“You will no longer eat among the recruits,” said Lanmore. “You shall take your meals with us. If you wish, your nephew can join us as well.”

“He should eat with the men,” said Lee.

Lanmore smirked. “Not wanting to show favor, I see. Or perhaps the two of you aren't close.”

“He is my sister’s son,” said Lee. “I am bound to protect him if I can. But, no. We're not close.”

“It's for the best,” he said dismissively, “gives a lad a chance to make his own mark.”

The first night Lee set his bedroll a few feet away from the soldiers. Captain Lanmore had them set up a small tent where he would bed down, but chose to eat and talk with them for a short while before turning in. Lee could hear the men laughing and talking, and wondered how Jacob was getting on with the others. He shook his head, quietly laughing at himself. He was thinking as if Jacob was still a boy, playing with other children. He wished he could be with him now. He feared soon their time together would end. Lee knew his chance for success was slim, and often on their journey wished he could turn Jacob away…to keep him safe. It no longer mattered that Jacob had betrayed him. Lee had brought that on himself. His thoughts turned to that day with the Oracle, and his anger swelled. He wished he had ignored her. He wished he had stayed with his family.

“Once this is finished, my part is done,” he swore to himself. “The world can end in fire, for all I care.” He would take his family far from this conflict. Even if that meant living in the remote desert.

Over the next few days, Lee kept the men moving at a near unbearable pace. Even the hardened soldiers showed signs of fatigue. They passed dozens of companies of troops marching south.

“War comes,” said Lanmore, offhandedly on one occasion, when they had to make way for five full companies and their supply wagons. “Soon we can march south and leave this icy land behind.”

“When will it begin?” asked Lee.

“Soon, I hope,” Lanmore replied, with a shrug. “I hear there are things to take care of in the west first. But those are matters for kings and diplomats.” He slapped Lee on the shoulder. “We're soldiers, you and I. Our job is to fight and die, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” said Lee. He couldn't help but respect Captain Lanmore. He was a true leader and soldier. Ruthless and harsh, yet educated in the ways of men. Everything he did was calculated. Even the slaying of Lars had a purpose. By then, rumors had been leaked about it, (probably at the direction of Lanmore) and the recruits gave Lee a wide berth and took his orders without question.

By the fifth day, a light snow began to fall. The sky told Lee that it would soon come down in earnest. Normally, this wouldn’t be cause for concern, given how close they were to their destination, but he knew the recruits, with a few exceptions were ill-prepared. If a storm came, many would freeze to death. When Lee brought it to Lanmore's attention, he just laughed.

“The king hadn't allowed a blizzard for years,” said Lanmore.

“Are you suggesting that he controls the weather?” asked Lee, feigning ignorance.

“When you meet him, you'll understand,” Lanmore replied. “He likes to meet all of his new officers, from the grandest general to the lowliest lieutenant.”

“That will be something,” said Lee. The thought of meeting the Dark Knight of Angraalsent his heart racing. He hoped to be away with his wife and son, long before that happened.

“You have no idea,” said Lanmore. Lee could hear unease in his voice. “To be in his presence is no small matter. You may have seen many battles, and slain many men, but nothing can prepare you for it. The Reborn King possesses the power of the Gods.” He rubbed his hands together nervously. “I felt like a naked child. To tell you the truth, I can't even remember where I was or what he looked like…just that overwhelming feeling.” As if catching himself in an awkward state, he cleared his throat and stiffened his back. “In any event, you have some time before you're worthy of such an audience. Now go tend to your duties.

As Captain Lanmore had said, no storm came, though the temperature dropped to a point that even walking at a quick pace did nothing to warm them. On the last night of the march they all huddled so close around the fire that several were singed. The only ones seemingly unaffected, were Lanmore and Lee. Lee had looked in on Jacob, a few times, who had decided to stay close to Fennio and the other men from Darius' guard.

“You deal with the cold well, for a southerner,” remarked Lanmore, as they took their meal.

“I am cold, sir,” said Lee. “But there's no point in complaining. Besides, I have to set an example for the men.”

“Quite right, Barath,” he replied. “Quite right, indeed. You'll do well here. And don't worry. We'll be south soon enough.” Lanmore alluded often to the coming war, but never divulged anything useful. “Thanks to you we're far ahead of schedule. It's a break in protocol, but you will stay with the officers when we arrive tomorrow. I think you'll find it more pleasant than the recruit barracks.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Lee. He stared deep into the camp fire, pleased. Perhaps the officers would have information on his wife. And it would separate him from Jacob. Should things go badly, Jacob would need time to escape.

“If you wish to speak to your nephew,” Lanmore added. “You should do so before we arrive. It's unlikely you'll see him again anytime soon. Officers and soldiers train separately.”

“I'll do that tonight,” Lee replied.

Lee finished his meal then went to seek out Jacob. He found him playing dice and passing around a small flask of brandy with several other recruits at the far end of the encampment. When they saw Lee, they jumped to their feet and stood at attention.

“Jasper, come with me,” Lee commanded.

Jacob nodded and followed Lee away from the camp.

“Did you find out where Mother is?” asked Jacob.

Lee shook his head “Not yet. But I'll be staying in the officer’s barracks when we get there. I hope to find out more then.” He placed his hand on Jacob's shoulder. “If I'm discovered, I intend to bring down hell upon Angraalbefore I go. If that happens, run. Keep to the woods. Avoid towns until you are south of the Razor Edge Mountains, then make your way to the Goodbranch and take a riverboat to Sharpstone.” He handed Jacob six gold coins. “Hide these. It's enough to get you to Millet.” he saw a flash of defiance in Jacob's eyes. “There can be no debate. If things go wrong, it won't take them long to come after you. If I fail and they capture you, all is lost. You must survive.”

“I will do as you say,” said Jacob.

“I'm so very sorry,” said Lee, forcing back a tear. “But I'm about to hit you.”

Jacob stepped back. “What?”

“As we speak, Captain Lanmore watches. It must seem as if I don’t care about you. It will keep his attention on me.” Lee clenched his fist. “Are you ready?”

Jacob nodded.

Lee's fist connected with Jacob's jaw, sending him tumbling to the ground. He looked down at Jacob, using all his will power not to rush to his side. “You're on your own, boy.” He made sure his voice carried far enough for all to hear, then marched back to his bedroll.

“Didn't go as well as you hoped?” Lanmore, spoke not from amusement but from curiosity.

“It went as expected,” said Lee. “As you said, they have to find their own way.” His heart was aching. He glanced over to see Jacob stumbling back to camp, holding his jaw.

Lee bedded down, trying to slow his mind. Thoughts of punching Jacob mingled with fears of his son being captured, made sleep impossible. At dawn, he mustered the men and had them ready to leave in short order. Every time he came close to where Jacob stood, shame washed over him. But at least hitting him seemed to have the desired effect. Twice as many recruits ate with him during the noon respite, and Lanmore made no mention of him at all.

As the afternoon wore on, Lee noticed more and more buildings and houses, mostly crafted from small gray stones, common to the region, lining the road. There were a few farms here and there, but the fields were barren this time of year. Lee reckoned Angraalimported most of its food supply up the Goodbranch, from Baltria.

An hour before dusk, the city of Kratis came into view as six massive black spires broke the horizon. Lee saw them very clearly, even though the city walls were still five miles away. Lee stood in awe of the sheer scope of the city. Construction of such magnitude should have taken decades at least, and the skills implemented Lee had believed were only known to the master builders long ago. Not even the ruins of the forgotten kingdoms of old boasted buildings of such height. The city of Kratis had indeed been the seat of power in Angraalin the distant past, yet Lee had never imagined as much more than a place the size of Hazrah.

Captain Lanmore notice Lee staring at the towers. “We’ll not be going that far. Not just yet.”

“I didn’t know buildings of such scale were still possible,” said Lee, unable to hide that he was impressed.

“Kratis is being rebuilt,” said Lanmore. “In the time of King Ratsterfel, it was the greatest city in the world. The Reborn King has found the secrets of the ancients, or so I’ve been told, and will see it returned to its former glory.”

“So it would seem,” said Lee.

The garrison came into view minutes later, and was nearly an exact copy of the one in Whiterun Pass, only four times the size, and Lee guessed that it housed at least fifteen hundred men. Lanmore halted them at a narrow road leading east just before the fort, and ordered the soldiers to escort the recruits to their barracks. Lee was told they were a mile west of the main garrison. He knew this may present a problem if things went wrong, but there was little he could do about it.

“You will come with me,” said Lanmore. “I need to present you to Lord Pollus, the garrison commander. He's a bit of a pompous ass, but a competent leader. Keep quiet and only speak when spoken to.”

Lee followed Lanmore to the gatehouse. Two guards halted them.

“And you are?” asked the guard.

“You know very well who I am.” Lanmore stepped forward bringing his face an inch from the guards. “Are we to do this again?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir,” he replied, with disdain. “I simply didn’t recognize you.”

The guards smirked then stepped aside and allowed Lanmore to pass, but stepped in Lee's path when he tried to follow.

“He's with me,” said Lanmore. “Allow him to pass.”

“Not until I get word from Lord Pollus…Captain.” The guard stiffened his back. “Until then, he can wait here with us.”

Lanmore glared at the guard, then stalked into the fort. Lee waited silently. The guards didn't seem interested in speaking, and completely ignored him. After ten minutes, the captain returned and shoved a piece of parchment into the guard’s chest. He motioned for Lee to follow.

“They can't stand it when a commoner advances through the ranks,” explained Lanmore, as they passed through the gatehouse. “In their mind, only a lord should command.”

Lee cracked a smile. “In my experience, if only lords commanded, it would take a year to march an army ten miles.”

Lanmore threw his head back in laughter. “I wouldn't repeat that in the officers’ barracks. Especially round those bloody Baltrian fools. Most will run straight to Lord Pollus, to try and curry favor. And frankly, he isn't known for his humor.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” Hearing that Baltrian lords would be near did not ease Lee's mind. He hoped that they were too young to recognize him.

The main yard was filled with soldiers drilling and marching. About three-hundred men in all. The barracks were as high as the curtain wall, with two catapults placed on each of the flat roofs. The keep was much larger than in the other fort as well, standing two stories high and covered with arrow slits capable of raining down terror inside the parade yard, should the walls be breached. The clash of metal, stomping of boots and shouting of orders roared through the air. Lee marveled that the sound did not carry outside the fort, or even through the gatehouse. The design must have held its own secrets. Even the catapults appeared sophisticated compare to others he'd seen. He saw only a single hand crank, and a long metal tube placed just above the arm. Lee guessed that it held the shot. If a single soldier could operate it, instead of the usual four, it would be a devastating weapon. A lone platoon could wreak havoc.

The door to the keep was unguarded, and still, Lanmore paused and took a deep breath. He flung open the door and Lee followed him in. The gray stone floor and walls were lined with weapon racks and maps. To his left, were three rows of long tables, with a door at the far corner, leading to the kitchens. To his right where he expected there to be an officers’ lounging area, were dozens of desks and small tables. Cotton and linen clad bureaucrats were busy at their duties, not bothering to look up as Lee and Captain Lanmore passed by.

“Welcome to the heart of the kingdom,” joked Lanmore.

“This is where we take our meals?” asked Lee.

Lanmore shook his head, chuckling softly. “No. I'm afraid the keep is reserved for the commander and these fine fellows. We take our meals in the barracks.”

They entered a door directly ahead that led to a long hall, ending in a flight of stairs leading upward, then left, to the second level. At the top, the hall split off in two directions, each with several doors along the walls.

“The bureaucrats stay in these rooms,” said Lanmore. “They’re quite comfortable compared to our quarters.”

“A soldier has no need of comfort,” said Lee.

They turned left for several yards, then right, until they reached an elaborately carved mahogany door, with a polished silver carving of broken scales, the sigil of Angraalattached in the center. Lee fought back the urge to smash it to pieces. Captain Lanmore knocked firmly, then pushed the door open.

Inside was a room with a large oak desk at the far end and a round table on which rested various maps and charts in the center. A long rope hung from a small hole in the ceiling just behind the desk. To his right, a plush, tan suede couch and four matching chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, each with a small brass end table and facing a hearth that burned brightly. Three polished brass lanterns hung from the ceiling center, and two more protruded from each wall at ten-foot intervals. Behind the desk hung a mural depicting a gleaming champion on horseback, leading a charge against an elf army. Between the lanterns stood an oak bookcase that held beautifully leather-bound tomes along with a crystal decanter and glasses.

A man sat behind the desk dressed in a fine white shirt and a red jacket. His salt and pepper hair was oiled and combed back in regal fashion. His tan skin gleamed in the bright light, offsetting his fragile build and narrow features.

“Ah, Captain Lanmore,” said the Commander. His voice was tinny and a bit feminine. “I see you have arrived ahead of schedule. And with a new officer.”

Lanmore bowed his head sharply. “Yes, Commander. The message said to come with all speed.”

“Indeed, it did,” said Lord Pollus. “And yet you chose to travel with the recruits, rather than on horseback.” He rose to his feet. Though thin, he was quite tall — as tall as Lee — and walked with the effortless grace of a true noble. He sighed. “I suppose there is nothing to be done.” He took notice of Lee, and looked him up and down. “And you are?”

“I am Barath, my lord,” said Lee, bowing as Lanmore had done.

“Just Barath?” Pollus shook his head and frowned. “Yet another commoner.” He turned and went back to his deck. “I suppose if Captain Lanmore deems you worthy, you will do.” His eyes fell on the captain. “He is your responsibility and under your command. And please…if you don't have a last name…choose one. People will think you’re one of these native Angraalbarbarians our gracious King has scattered among our ranks. Dreadful people.”

“You will be pleased to know that Barath fought one before we set out,” said Lanmore.

Pollus raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? And you survived. Impressive.”

“He did more than survive,” said Lanmore, puffing out his chest. “He defeated him as if fighting a child.”

“Impressive, indeed.” Lord Pollus opened his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment and scrawled something on it. He blew the ink dry, then pushed it across the desk. “This is your commission…Barath. If for no other reason that ridding the world of an uncouth beast, I am happy to give it. I left enough room for you to put a proper name.”

Lee took the parchment, and bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

Lord Pollus reached back and pulled the rope. A moment later a thin, blond boy in a dark blue tunic and trousers scurried in.

“Show this man downstairs,” Pollus ordered. “He is to be given a commission under Captain Lanmore.” He waved off the boy, dismissively. “As for you, captain, I will speak with you now.”

He looked sideways at Lee. “I will join you as soon as I can.” He then turned to the boy. “If I am not down in time, show him to the barracks when he's done.”

Lee bowed one last time and followed the boy downstairs. He was shown to a desk where a scrawny wraith of a man was busy scribbling on one of the many pieces of parchment piled high on his desk. Lee handed the man his commission.

The man didn't look up but only opened the parchment and began writing notes. “What is your surname?”

“Drakis,” Lee replied. Drakis was the name of a fiend in a story he heard as a child. He almost smirked at the thought, but it was the only thing he could think of at the time.

“You have an odd sense of humor,” the man said off-handedly. “And before you ask, I know that tale as well. All men of the north do.”

Lee sat quietly as the man spent the next half hour writing, checking and double-checking, each note. Finally, he handed Lee a small round wooden token with the number one painted on either side.

“Give this to the quartermaster,” He straightened the pile of papers on his desk. “He’ll give you what equipment you’ll need.”

Lee stood up and turned to the door. The blond boy was standing just behind him, waiting patiently. Half way to the barracks, Captain Lanmore caught up with them.

“I'll take it from here, boy,” said Lanmore. Without a word the boy ran back to the keep. “Did you pick a name?”

“I'll be known as Barath Drakis,” Lee replied.

“A dire name to be sure,” he said with obvious approval.

“Will it be possible to see my nephew?” asked Lee.

“I thought you weren't close,” said Lanmore. “In fact, if I recall you nearly took his head off the last time you spoke.”

“I would not have it end as such between us,” Lee explained. “Though I have no great affection for him, he is my sister's child.”

Lanmore nodded. “I'll see what I can do. Until then, we need to get you settled in. We'll be here for three weeks.”

“A short time for training,” said Lee.

“Pollus likes you,” said Lanmore. “Mostly because you killed Lars. But I assured him that you understood military discipline, and also that I would train you, personally.” He stopped and faced Lee. “Do not disappoint me, Barath Drakis.”

“I will not,” said Lee. A tinge of guilt struck him. He knew that he would soon betray the captain’s trust. And even though he was the enemy, he was beginning to respect him.

“Good.” He slapped Lee on the back. “I enjoy having officers without the arrogance of nobility draped about their shoulders.”

The barracks was no more than a two-story warehouse, with dozens and dozens of three-man bunks lining the walls and a series of long tables and benches in the center. A brazier, filled with hot coals had been placed between the tables on either side of the entrance. A crude flight of wooden spiral stairs stood dead center. Only a few dozen men were scattered about. Some sleeping, others playing cards and dice at the tables, and a few reading over paperwork or going over maps. All took notice as they entered, but none spoke.

“Officers of the Reborn King live the same as the common soldier,” said Lanmore as they entered. “We're lucky to have arrived when we did. The day watch is on duty now, so we'll not have to spend the next hour on introductions. The night watch are mostly commoners like us. They don't care much about who comes and goes.” He walked toward the stairs. “We'll be bunking on the second floor.”

The upper floor was much like the lower, except along the far left wall, several casks of ale were neatly stacked three high. Lanmore removed his pack and threw it on an empty bed, and motioned for Lee to do the same. He then escorted him back outside around the side of the keep to the quartermasters. In exchange for the wooden token, he was given his tunic embroidered with the sigil of Angraaland on the sleeves one red star, signifying his rank as lieutenant, and studded leather armor. Lee was offered a sword, but told the quartermaster that he would use his own; the quartermaster looked down at it and nodded approvingly. A large, burlap bundle containing an officer’s coat, boots and trousers were the final items to complete his transformation into officer.

“Anything else you have to buy on your own,” said the quartermaster, grumpily. “There are smiths and armorers in Kratis who can outfit you, if you want something sturdier than plain leather. If you need your sword tended, I’d go there. I don’t trust the garrison smithy.”

Lee thanked the man and left.

It was nearly full dark by the time they returned to the barracks, and the day watch was beginning to file in. All took notice of Lee and Lanmore, and immediately hissing whispers could be heard throughout the room. Servants were busy readying the table for the evening meal.

“We needn't bother with this lot tonight, unless you want to,” said Lanmore. “I intend to take my meal in the bunk, then get a good night’s sleep.”

Lee knew he should at least try to gather information, but felt it may be better to speak with Lanmore in a more relaxed setting. “I think I will do the same.”

Lanmore called over a servant and instructed him to have their meals brought up. The meal was a simple beef stew and salted bread, along with a cup of sweet wine. As simple as it was, Lee was grateful for it. After a servant retrieved their plates and cups, Lee stripped off his clothing, and changed into a pair of heavy cotton pants, and thick wool socks. He felt his muscles relax as he eased into his bunk, and had to fight to stay awake.

“May I asked you a question, sir?” Lee rolled over so he could see Lanmore.

“Ask,” he replied, yawning.

“How did you end up in the service of the Reborn King?”

Lanmore smiled and slid down beneath his blanket. “I was captain of the Kaltinor city guard, once. I was accused of theft and treason by the city temples, and forced to flee or face execution.” He laughed softly “I journeyed north to Hazrah and caught word that Angraalwas seeking soldiers. I heard that a man could remake himself here, no matter what burdens his past carried. It sounded like a good idea at the time, so off I went. The funny thing is, as it turned out, it was Angraalthat controlled the temples in Kaltinor, and probably gave the order to have me accused.”

“If you know this why not return?”

Lanmore closed his eyes “I have pledged my fealty to the Reborn King. I couldn't return even if I wished. You'll understand when you're in his presence. When that happens there's no turning back…ever.” He drifted off into a deep sleep.

Lee awoke abruptly a short time later, and instinctively reached for his sword.

“Don't move!” yelled a harsh voice.

He looked up to see five soldiers, all pointing crossbows at him. He raised his hands.

“What is the meaning of this?” roared Captain Lanmore. “Answer me at once!”

From the stairs, Lord Pollus strode toward them, glaring at the captain. “It would seem, my dear captain, you have brought a spy with you.” His gaze fell on Lee. “Don't bother with denials…Lord Nal'Thain.”

Lanmore leaped from his bunk. “Barath?”

Lee's eyes never left Lord Pollus. “How did you find me out?”

Pollus laughed. “Your son, my lord. How else?”

Chapter 17

Linis had returned just before dawn, as the armies were readying to march. He and his scouts had found the cliffs unguarded, though they had seen Vrykol lurking.

“The Vrykol fell back the moment we approached,” Linis told Theopolou.

Theopolou nodded and left to inform the king. Linis joined Kaylia and Selena, who were made to join the rear guard. Kaylia clearly was unhappy about this.

“I don't like being treated like I'm some helpless child in need of protection,” complained Kaylia.

“We can't afford for you to be harmed,” said Linis. “If you are killed or captured, what would happen to Gewey?”

“Besides,” Selena added, “you may not need protection. But I do. And I feel better with you at my side.” She smiled. “And didn't you promise your husband that you would stay safe until his return?”

Kaylia grumbled angrily, but said nothing.

Soon the army began to march. Nehrutu, Mohanisi, the elf bowmen and human shield bearers, led the way. Theopolou led the elf soldiers just behind the front line, along with Chiron. The other elders scattered among the elves serving as captains. The Althetans were just behind Kaylia, Selena, and Linis, led by King Lousis.

Selena was surrounded by what was left of the Valsharan guard along with a few knights that had arrived after the siege. Ertik had refused to let her out of his sight, and spent most of his time seeing to her every need.

“How are you faring?” Came a boisterous voice from behind. It was King Lousis, astride a great black warhorse.

“We are well,” replied Selena. “And you?”

“I long for battle, High Lady.” He leaped from his horse with the vigor of a much younger man. “I hope that the elves don't win the day before I arrive.”

“I hope they do,” said Selena. “I would not see you in peril. Your people need you. As do all free people of the world. In these times a stout heart and firm resolve is in short supply.”

“I think they need you far more than they need me, my lady.” His friendly smile was a welcome respite from the nervous tension of men and elves preparing for war. “Your name will become a battle cry after today, and Valshara, a symbol of hope for victory.”

“I hope not, your highness,” said Selena. “I would not have men and women going to their death with my name on their lips. Though I fear it may be so.”

The entrance to the road leading to Valshara was a half-day’s march. Soon the men began singing songs of victory and glory, and though the elves did not join in, it seemed to lift their spirits nonetheless. Theopolou had sent a small advance force to secure the road and paths leading to the cliffs, and reported that the way was clear.

“Whatever they have planned, it is to wait until we are within the cliff walls,” said Linis. “They know we come, yet refuse to guard an easily defensible road. Our numbers would count for nothing in that narrow passage.”

“Are you worried?” asked Selena.

“I am,” he replied. “You should stay near me at all times.” He tapped Kaylia's shoulder. “You, too. I will not explain to Gewey why I allowed you to be hurt.”

“He knows full well that I can look after myself,” Kaylia shot back. “If something happens to me, the fault will be mine.”

“That will not matter to him.” He looked up and saw the Stone of the Tower come into view. His face grew solemn. “Frankly, at this moment, I wish he were here with us.”

All nodded in agreement.

Word came back that the advance force had secured all access points to the cliffs and that the road was abandoned. The temple, however was not. From the cliffs they spotted dozens of archers lining the battlements, and smoke billowed up from within.

Slowly, the army funneled into the narrow valley, guarded from above on each side by fifty elf archers. It took a full hour before the Althetan soldiers began to creep forward.

The king rode up, face hard, with sword in hand. “I'd ask you to halt here and allow my men to pass.”

Kaylia opened her mouth to protest, but Selena held out her hand and bowed to signal her compliance. She and the others made their way to the cliff-face, so that the army could pass. Nearly half the Althetans had entered the passage when a low horn blast sounded in the distance. Not from the temple, but from the north, behind the human lines. Another blast rang out.

“What is that?” asked Selena.

Linis drew his weapon. “I believe we are flanked, high lady.”

Orders were shouted by commanders as the army slowly turned. Another horn echoed against the cliffs, followed by a low rumble. Kaylia, Linis, and the Valsharan guard stepped in front of Selena. The rumble grew to the roar of hundreds of frenzied voices. The king rode up, fury in his eyes.

“We were out-maneuvered,” yelled the king. “Linis. Inform Theopolou.”

Linis nodded and pushed his way through the soldiers into the narrow passage. Althetans were still trying to turn and exit. Linis had to knock several to the ground to get through. Once he cleared the lines, he ran full speed to the elves who were less than a quarter mile ahead. He grabbed the first elf he reached and ordered him to relate to Theopolou what had happened, then raced back to Selena and Kaylia. By the time he reached them he could hear that the battle had begun.

The king was shouting orders and waving his sword wildly. He tried to spur his horse forward, but a dozen men surrounded him, and wouldn't allow him to move. Selena was still against the cliff face clinging to Kaylia's sleeve.

“Are you all right?” asked Linis.

Selena nodded. “I'm-“

The hairs on the back of Linis' neck stood up. He spun around to see the sky was streaked with incoming arrows. The guards raised their small round shields and pushed back, hiding Selena and Kaylia. Kaylia squirmed and struggled, but Selena tightened her grip. Linis backed away. There was no room and he carried no shield. The air filled with high pitched whines, and dozens of loud thuds and cracks as the arrows sank into the ground and smashed into shields. Linis moved, barely in time to avoid being skewered. One guard fell screaming, the shaft of a black feathered arrow protruding from the top of his shoulder. Two guards reached down and pulled the man to the rock facing. Selena bent down and immediately began tending his wound, but a knight dragged her back to her feet.

“How dare you!” she shouted.

“We will see to him,” said the knight. “You stay behind us.” But as she looked down she realized it would be useless. The guard was slumped over, eyes closed, with a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. The arrow had pierced his lung. There was no hope.

Linis could see that the Althetans were being forced back, though he could still not see the enemy. A tall soldier ran up, his breast plate covered in blood.

“High lady,” said the soldier, trying to catch his breath. “The king commands that you retreat into the passage. We are out matched, and I fear our line may soon collapse.”

“How many are there?” asked Linis.

“Nearly a thousand,” he replied. “They came from nowhere. We were only just able to form ranks when they reached our lines. They fight like men possessed.”

“Hold fast,” said Linis. “I've sent word to Theopolou. Help is coming”

No sooner had the words left his mouth when dozens of elves came pouring out of the passage, weapons drawn.

“What is your name, soldier?” asked Linis.

“Mitchis,” he replied.

“Come with me,” he ordered, then turned to Selena. “As soon as the elves clear the passage, you and Kaylia go inside.” Without waiting for an answer, he and Mitchis ran to meet the elf warriors.

Bellisia’s was the first face Linis recognized. In each hand she wielded a thin, short-sword. When she saw Linis approach she rushed to meet him.

“What has happened?” she asked, urgently.

Linis nodded to Mitchis, who explained the attack.

“Our left flank is nearly gone. If it collapses, we are undone,” said Mitchis.

“Go and tell them help is on the way,” said Bellisia. She pointed the sword in her left hand to an elf bearing the symbol of her tribe on his leather armor, carrying a longbow. He nodded with understanding and shouted for the other archers to form a line. Bellisia reached in her belt, pulled out a small silver horn, and blew. The high-pitched sound pierced the air like the cry of an eagle.

“The humans need us to reinforce their left flank.” Her voice rose above the sound of the battle. “It is time to prove our worth.” She pulled three elves aside. “See that the king is unharmed. Get him to pull back to the wall if you can.” They bowed quickly and obeyed. Lousis was atop his horse urging his men forward, and his personal guard was still struggling to keep him from riding to the front line.

Bellisia and Linis raced to catch up with the others. As Mitchis had said, the left flank was nearly demolished. Warriors, in black mail with the symbol of broken scales in bright red across their chest, were starting to push through. The bodies of the dead and dying littered the ground. The elves cut a path through the advance, and quickly the enemy panicked and fell back. The Althetan soldiers began to pursue, but their commanders wisely called them back and reformed the lines.

Linis looked to his right. The elves had arrived just in time to prevent them from crushing the Althetan center. They met Angraalwith fury as the clang and clatter of steel sang its deadly song.

For nearly an hour the battle raged as more elf reinforcements arrived. On three separate occasions, it looked as if the Althetan center would break, but they managed to hold long enough for more elf support to arrive and push the Angraalsoldiers back. Linis had slain at least a dozen men, and Bellisia just as many. Linis was impressed with her fighting skill and smiled every time he caught sight of her.

By mid-morning the Angraalforces were routed and in full retreat, with the men of Althetas on their heels. Nearly half of the elf force had come out of the passage to aid in the battle. Hundreds had died. The king had injured his right leg when his horse reared, throwing him from the saddle, during the final surge forward. His personal guard had pulled him to the cliffs beside Selena and Kaylia.

Bellisia was cleaning her sword on the tunic of a dead enemy soldier when Linis approached.

“You fight well,” he remarked. “As well as any seeker.”

Bellisia smiled, looking prideful. “My father was a seeker. He trained me until I came of age and chose the life of a scholar and healer.” Her smile vanished and she cast her gaze on the battlefield. “A skill I believe we need at this moment.”

Theopolou appeared from the passage with half a dozen elves. Linis waved his arm in greeting and went to meet him. Bellisia walked beside him.

“What are your losses?” asked Theopolou.

“I cannot say,” replied Bellisia. “Substantial, I would think. The enemy was well-prepared.”

Theopolou led them to where the king was being tended. Lousis smiled as they approached and sat up straight.

“Are you badly injured?” asked Theopolou.

“No.” The king looked at his leg with disgust. “But my fighting is done for now. Were your elves assaulted in the passage?”

Theopolou shook his head. “No. I believe they counted on breaking through and assaulting our rear.”

“If you hadn't sent your elves, they would have,” said Lousis. “I mourn the loss of those who died in our defense.”

Theopolou bowed. “As I mourn the loss of your soldiers. They died bravely facing overwhelming numbers.”

“What will we do now?” asked Linis.

“We will do what we came here to do,” said Theopolou. Determination burned in his eyes. “Nehrutu and Mohanisi are with the archers and shield bearers, one-thousand yards from the gates. They await my return.” He turned to Linis and placed his hand on the elf's shoulder. “You should know that the bodies of three of your seekers hang from the walls.”

Linis lowered his eyes and clenched his fists. “I will come with you.”

Theopolou nodded. “What are your plans, your highness?”

King Lousis shifted uncomfortably, digging a rock from beneath his thigh and tossing it aside. “The wagons are being emptied to carry the wounded back to the city. Those that can't be moved will be cared for here.” He looked out on the battlefield riddled with bodies. “I will have my men take care of the dead. Rest assured the elves will be taken care of as well.”

“Are there captives?” asked Bellisia.

“A few,” the ting replied. “I suppose I must see to them until this is over. I'm hoping that we can learn something useful from them.”

Selena approached, blood covered her clothes from treating the wounded. Kaylia was at her side.

“I will remain with the High Lady and Kaylia,” said Bellisia. “I believe my healing skills will be of greater use than my skills in battle.”

“Your help is most welcome,” said Selena.

“I will join you and Theopolou,” said Kaylia.

“No,” shot Linis. “My heart is full of vengeance. I am told that bodies of my kin hang from the walls of our enemy. I cannot promise to protect you as my fury may blind me. You will stay here.”

Kaylia could see Linis would not be moved and stepped back.

Theopolou bowed to Lousis and Selena. “We must hurry.” He spun around and headed back to the passage, with Linis and the guard close behind.

“It is done,” said Selena.

“What is that, High Lady?” asked Kaylia.

Selena lowered her eyes. “Human and elf have bled together. Whatever our destiny may be, we will meet it together. I only wish the cost of peace was not so high.”

Chapter 18

The wind whipped between the tall cliff walls, blowing the banners tight. Linis and Theopolou pushed their way through the ranks until they reached the vanguard where Nehrutu and Mohanisi awaited. Linis fixed his eyes on the tall, thick walls of Valshara. Just as Theopolou had said, three bodies swung in the breeze from just left of the main gate. He boiled with fury as he recognized Sitrisa, Prustos, and Santisos. Their faces were swollen, bruised, and caked with dried blood and grime, and their clothes tattered and stained.

“They will pay for this dishonor.” Linis drew his long knife and grabbed the blade tightly. Blood trickled down to the hilt. “I swear this.”

“You must wait until the gates are down and we vanquish the archers before you charge,” warned Nehrutu.

“My fury does not make me a fool,” Linis snapped.

“Of course, not,” Nehrutu replied. “And you are not alone. The sight of my kin displayed with such malice and contempt fills me with rage as well.” His eyes fell on the mutilated bodies. “I swear that you will have vengeance. They will understand wrath and fear after this day.”

“Then ready yourself to advance,” commanded Theopolou. The shield bearers lined up in front of the archers. Nehrutu and Mohanisi just behind, weapons drawn. “Attack!”

Slowly the column inched forward. Trumpets blared from behind the wall. Men scrambled about just behind the bowmen atop the battlements as orders were shouted frantically. Theopolou and Linis stood shoulder to shoulder watching as their forces came within range of the enemy arrows. The thwack of dozens of bowstrings rang out and streaks of death flew across the sky. The shields came and the elves crouched behind them. But the arrows never found a mark. Both Nehrutu and Mohanisi stood, their arms outstretched. A blast of wind gusted up, knocking the arrows back. The clatter of wood on stone punctuated what had happened, and murmurs of shock and approval carried through the elf ranks, soon followed by loud cheering. The humans on the wall stood in silent fear.

“Why would they need the shields?” wondered Linis.

“I would think it is for when they bring down the gates,” Theopolou answered. “It may be beyond their skill to do both at once.”

The elves drew closer until finally they were in range. The archers stood and fired. All but one found its mark. Bodies slumped, then disappeared, and some fell screaming from the wall. This brought another round of cheers from the elves. The humans returned fire, but again Nehrutu and Mohanisi sent their missiles back. Four more volleys and the wall was clear.

Nehrutu and Mohanisi stood, their heads down and arms folded. The earth began to shake violently. Then the gates to Valshara burst into flame. The heat could be felt all the way to where Theopolou and Linis stood. Several arrows flew from over the wall, but they were completely random and undirected. Only a few came close enough to strike the shields. The ground continued to shake, until finally the gates burst into flaming splinters. They crept forward as the archers kept their eyes on the ramparts.

“Forward!” cried Theopolou.

At a quick march the army moved in behind the archers just as they reach the shattered gates. Smoldering pieces of wood littered the ground, but were soon stomped out by elf warriors. Smoke obscured their vision, making it impossible to see more than a foot beyond the gate, but the sound of clashing steel and the pounding of boots, told them that the battle had yet to begin.

“To me!” roared Nehrutu, holding his sword high.

Black-cloaked figures appeared in the acrid, gray smoke. First, one, then another, until five stood in the entrance. Five more were standing just behind them. The elf archers fired in a volley. The arrows struck home but had no effect.

“Vrykol!” shouted Nehrutu. “You must take their heads!”

The elves dropped their bows and drew their long knives. The Vrykol were tall, menacing, and motionless. A thick ball of flame shot out from in front of Nehrutu and Mohanisi engulfing the beasts, but the flames died the moment they reached them. When the shield bearers were only a few feet away, the Vrykol stepped forward in unison. Their blades struck with tremendous force, shattering all but two shields and throwing the soldiers to the ground. The elves leaped over the fallen humans hacking and slashing maniacally. Two Vrykol were laid open across their chests. Foul, black ooze poured out of the wounds, but this did nothing to stop them.

The humans scrambled to their feet, but the elf line blocked their way, and they could only watch as the Vrykol cut the elves down, one by one. After the first wave of elves were slain, the Vrykol fell back to the gate to await another charge. With fury the Althetan soldiers attacked, and were immediately cut to pieces.

Nehrutu and Mohanisi charged in together, followed by a dozen elf warriors. They clashed with the Vrykol; a wave of air erupted as they struck, throwing the Vrykol back and slamming them into the others standing at the rear. Nehrutu took three heads with unearthly speed, and Mohanisi two others. The Vrykol countered, killing three elf warriors and pushing them back past the thresh-hold. Another blast of air knocked two Vrykol off their feet. Nehrutu moved in and took another head. Ten elves were at his back moving to engage the rest. Soon the Vrykol were overwhelmed and hacked to pieces by vengeful blades.

Beyond the gates the center of the courtyard was empty. At the rear, just in front of the temple, a six-foot wooden wall had been erected, spanning the breadth of the yard.

Nehrutu held out his arms and halted the attack. “I need archers now!”

The words were barely out of his mouth when arrows flew from behind the wall in a low arc. Nehrutu and Mohanisi tried to deflect them by blasting a current of air, as they had done outside the battlements, but their actions were too late. Only a few were sent back, and three elves were struck, including Mohanisi.

“No time to wait,” shouted Theopolou, from behind. He forced his way by Nehrutu, followed by Linis and a stream of screaming elves.

Nehrutu looked down at Mohanisi and saw that a red-feathered arrow protruded from his belly. His anger boiled as he drew in the flow. Theopolou and the others were already halfway across the yard. He let loose all the power he could muster. A ten-foot section of the wall heaved up and flew against the temple, sending both wood and men back.

From the left and right on the battlements and atop the roof of the temple, more archers appeared, ready to rain down hell on the advancing elves.

Mohanisi struggled to his feet. Blood soaked his tunic and trousers. “Bring down the wall. I will handle the archers.”

A tempest erupted just above the heads of Theopolou, Linis and the others. Arrows were thrown clear just before they would have pierced their target. Nehrutu destroyed another section of the wall, just as the elves engaged the enemy. The archers abandoned their positions, dropping their bows, and unsheathing their swords.

“That's enough,” said Nehrutu to Mohanisi. The tempest dissipated. He helped his friend to the wall and allowed him to gently slide down.

“I will be fine,” said Mohanisi. “Attend to the more seriously injured.” He looked up to see Linis and Theopolou cutting a path through the humans.

Elves poured through the gate, joining in the fray. Soldiers exited the temple and descended from the wall to meet them.

“The temple will soon be ours,” said Nehrutu. “I will need your help, my friend.” He pulled the arrow from the wound. Mohanisi grimaced. “Be still.” He placed his hands on Mohanisi stomach. In moments the bleeding stopped.

“You can complete this once the battle is done,” said Mohanisi, smiling. “You have done enough for now. Go aid Theopolou.”

Nehrutu squeezed Mohanisi's shoulder, and leaped to his feet. “I shall return as soon as I am able.”

The battle continued to rage. The Angraalsoldiers had formed a shield wall around the main entrance to the temple and managed to stop the elf advance. Several elves fell to spears thrust from over the rim of the shields. Nehrutu drew in the flow and a blast of air pushed the humans back. He could have easily destroyed the line, but dared not use more force with the elves so close at hand. Another blast pushed them back farther creating a small gap. This was all Theopolou needed. He ordered the elves in, and in seconds the line was scattered. The cries of the dying mingled with the sound of clashing swords.

Nehrutu held back as the elves finished off the remaining soldiers. Dozens simply threw down their weapons and fell to their knees once it became clear the fight was lost. By the time the courtyard was secure, hundreds of soldiers lay dead, along with several dozen elves.

Without wasting a second, Theopolou ordered the courtyard cleared, and began gathering the wounded. Several elves wanted to enter the temple, but he told them to wait. Linis climbed the wall and retrieved the bodies of his fallen comrades.

“The interior is vast,” said Theopolou to Nehrutu, as he helped carry a wounded elf. “There may be many more soldiers inside. And they will have had time to set traps and prepare a defense. It may take time to dislodge them.”

“The rear of the temple is blocked,” said Nehrutu. “There is no escape. Perhaps you should offer their lives in exchange for surrender.” He glanced at the prisoners who had been herded against the north wall. “It would seem that they have no intent to fight to the last man.”

Theopolou nodded. “And for that I am grateful. Too much blood has been spilled this day.”

“What will you do with them?” asked Nehrutu.

Theopolou shrugged. “It is for the High Lady of Valshara to decide their fate. It was Amon Dahl that was attacked, and her people that were slaughtered when the temple was taken.” He shook his head slowly. “I do not know if they will be shown mercy.”

Nehrutu looked up to see Linis several yards away, kneeling over the bodies of his seekers. “I am not certain they should be.”

Theopolou tightened his jaw, then walked to where the prisoners were being held. He picked one of the soldiers and had him brought to the main door of the temple.

“Tell any remaining that they are to throw down their arms and come out at once,” Theopolou ordered. “If they do not, then the Temple of Valshara will become their tomb.”

The soldier nodded and enter the temple. More than an hour passed before he returned. By then Selena and Kaylia had joined Theopolou. Tears welled in Selena's eyes at the sight of so many dead.

“They will come out,” said the soldier. “But you must promise they will be spared.”

“I promise to burn this place down around them if they don't come out at once,” said Selena, furiously. “You tell them that I will send their ashes back to Angraalin a box.”

The soldier lowered his eyes, clearly afraid. “Yes, my lady.” He turned and re-entered the temple.

A short while later the door swung open and soldiers began to file out, unarmed, with their hands on their heads.

“What will you do with them?” asked Kaylia.

“Until my anger subsides, nothing,” Selena replied. “I will not act until I am certain my mind, and not my heart, speaks for me.”

They watched as the soldiers were led to the north wall. Once they were all out, a small group of elves entered to see that the temple was empty. A few minutes later, the door flew open and a woman was shoved through, an elf holding a long knife at her back. Kaylia recognized her at once.

“Salmitaya,” she whispered, and drew her knife.

Salmitaya stood there, defiant and proud, dressed in a long black robe, with a silver cord tied at the waist. Her light brown hair was pulled back and interlaced with white and gold, bound together in the back by white silk.

“I knew I would fall to an elf blade,” said Salmitaya, glaring at Kaylia. “But I would not have it happen by your hand.”

Selena stepped in front of Kaylia. “You may yet save your wretched skin. I have heard your name before…Salmitaya. And I have known of your evil works longer than you think.” She grabbed Salmitaya's chin and forced her to look into her eyes. “I also know that you are high in the council of the Reborn King.”

Salmitaya jerked her head free of Selena's grasp. “You know nothing, fool.” She shut her eyes. “Kill me and be done with it.”

Selena scrutinized Salmitaya for a full minute. “I may. Or perhaps I should send you back to Angraal.”

Salmitaya's eyes shot wide.

“Yes. That's what I'll do.” Selena stepped back and smiled.

“Please,” cried Salmitaya. “You can't-”

“I can and I will,” said Selena. Her tone was low and dangerous. “Or do you wish to remain here?”

“I wish you to kill me,” she replied.

“I say we give her what she wants,” said Kaylia, still holding her knife.

Linis approached. He snatched Salmitaya up by the arm and shook her violently. “Who had the elves hung from the walls?”

Salmitaya said nothing.

“Answer him,” Selena commanded. “Or I swear I will send you back.”

“Yanti,” answered Salmitaya, meekly.

“Who is Yanti?” asked Selena. “Was it he who ordered the taking of Valshara?”

“You will find out soon enough.” Salmitaya shook her head. “But understand that I know nothing of value to you. I am disgraced in the eyes of my lord. If you intend to question me, you will get nothing, for I know nothing. If you set me free, I must continue to fight you. That is if I’m allowed to live. So you have to kill me.”

“It appears you fear returning to your master more than you fear death,” said Selena, thoughtfully. She looked up at the elf who had brought Salmitaya out. “Put her with the other prisoners, for now. We have wounded to attend. I will decide her fate later.”

Linis glared at Salmitaya, then released her.

“Do you think she will tell us anything?” asked Theopolou, once Salmitaya had been led away.

“I don't think she knows anything,” Selena replied.

“Then why keep her alive?” asked Kaylia.

Selena bowed her head. “As I said, I will not decide anything until my anger lessens. Whoever Yanti is, it is clear he escaped before we arrived.”

“He may be among the prisoners,” offered Theopolou. “If not, they may know where he has gone. I will have them questioned.”

Selena nodded in agreement. “Thank you. Let me know what you discover.”

The rest of the day was spent tending to the wounded. Once Nehrutu cared for Mohanisi, he and Kaylia began treating the most severe injuries. Mohanisi was too weak to assist and was taken inside the temple and given a bed. Selena ordered that the wounded from the first battle be brought in and soon the entire courtyard was filled. King Lousis refused further treatment until all of the men and elves had been seen to first. By nightfall Nehrutu and Kaylia were exhausted, and stumbled from person to person as if in a daze. Finally, Selena decided to intervene.

“You must rest,” Selena said to Kaylia. “We have other healers among us. You have already saved the most critically wounded.”

“I will rest when Nehrutu does the same,” said Kaylia.

“Then that time is now,” came the voice of Mohanisi from behind. “I am well enough to continue what you have started. I will take over until morning.” He strode off to relieve Nehrutu.

Linis and a small group of elves were gathering the bodies of their fallen kin, preparing them for the funeral rites. King Lousis ordered the slain humans to be taken back to Althetas. The bodies of the enemy were to be burned and buried near the passage entrance, along with their weapons and armor.

Selena found that her chambers remained as she left them, with the exception of Salmitaya's clothing and a few extra books. She ordered the bed sheets to be burned and replaced, then she had Salmitaya's belongings packed away. She had a basin of hot water brought in, and changed into a plain, tan cotton dress and suede moccasins. Sitting in her plush chair she closed her eyes, trying to push the visions of battle from her mind. Just as she opened them, there was a light rap at her door. King Lousis entered, with a guard helping him walk on his broken leg, followed by Theopolou, Linis and Nehrutu.

“It is good to see you back where you belong,” said Linis, smiling.

Selena stood. “As soon as possible, I want the injured in the courtyard brought inside the temple.”

“We are already clearing out the rooms,” said Theopolou. “I can have the beds ready within the hour. Though I am not certain what to do about the prisoners. We cannot keep them here indefinitely.”

“I will decide what is to be done with them in the morning,” said Selena. “Keep them under guard until then.”

“And Salmitaya?” asked Linis.

“I will speak with her again shortly,” Selena replied. “She will be kept apart from the soldiers. We have a small holding area in the west wing.”

“I would like to be with you,” said Linis.

“No,” Selena replied. “I will speak to her alone.”

“Should you decide to spare the soldiers,” said Lousis, “I can have my men construct cages in a small compound outside Althetas.”

“I will keep that in mind,” said Selena. “How many did we lose in battle?”

“More than three-hundred men and elves,” answered Lousis. “Our enemy lost three times as many. Angraalwill think twice before moving against us now.”

“This was nothing,” said Theopolou. “A skirmish, at best. When the Dark Knight sends his armies south, we must be ready. This defeat may only serve to anger him. And it may cause him to march sooner than he had originally planned.”

Lousis furled his brow. “Are you saying we should have held off our attack?”

“Not at all,” Theopolou replied. “This victory has solidified the bond between elf and human. And it will show potential allies that our defeat is anything but certain.”

“It will go a long way toward helping our cause when I assemble the kings and queens,” said Lousis. “That must be my first priority. I shall leave tomorrow.”

“Are you well enough to travel?” asked Selena.

Lousis held his head high and smiled broadly. “The King of Althetas will not be laid low by a broken leg, high lady.”

Nehrutu leaned over with his hands outstretched to Lousis' injured leg. “With your permission.”

The King nodded. “If you are well enough.”

Nehrutu touched the leg, eyes closed. The king gasped, reached for Nehrutu's shoulder, and cried out in pain. The king’s guard rushed to his side, but by then it was over. Nehrutu straightened his back and heaved a sigh.

“It is done,” said Nehrutu.

Lousis tenuously put his weight on his leg. He began stomping his feet hard as a low chuckle turned into a full-on belly laugh. “If only my people possessed such power.”

Nehrutu smiled weakly. “Perhaps one day they will. I cannot say with certainty that such abilities are beyond your kind.”

Lousis slapped Nehrutu on the shoulder. “What a wondrous notion.” He turned to Selena. “I must beg your leave. Thanks to our elf ally I can see to my soldiers as a king should. Unless you object, I will be leaving fifty men here to give you aid, and I will send men and materials to repair damage done during the battle.”

“Your help is well-received, your highness” said Selena.

The king bowed low and left, his guard struggling to keep pace.

“A strong leader,” remarked Linis, with an approving nod. “We could use many more like him.”

“Indeed,” Theopolou agreed. “And his haste is warranted. We must decide our next course of action.”

“I intend to join Millet and Dina in Sharpstone,” said Linis. “Angraalwill certainly move their armies down the Goodbranch. If they secure it, they will have a supply line leading all the way to Baltria.”

“I agree,” said Theopolou. “But we must remember that elf and human are not united there. Your presence may be disruptive.”

“I can ask Lord Ganflin for assistance,” said Linis. “And Lord Broin as well. The sight of human lords alongside elves may ease fears.”

“Then you should depart with King Lousis,” said Theopolou.

“I will send what is left of the knights of Amon Dahl with you,” Selena added. “Dina sent out a general request for aid, and in light of the attack, I doubt many, if any responded. I would not have her mounting a defense with nothing but sell-swords. I can send instructions ahead of your arrival by messenger flock.”

“That will be wise,” said Linis. “If Broin and Ganflin are able to help, it may take time for them to assemble men and supplies. Millet and Dina should be made aware of the situation as soon as possible.”

“And what will you do?” she asked Theopolou.

“I must see to the situation with my kin from the Steppes,” he replied, mournfully. “I cannot allow Angraalto divide us further, and I am certain that once the elves have served his purpose, they will be disposed of.”

“How do you intend to accomplish this?” asked Linis. “Will our people even accept them, now that they have spilled elf blood?”

“I have spilled elf blood, Linis,” said Theopolou. “During the first split, I led thousands to their death, against our own kind. I will not sentence our brothers and sisters to death for sins I have committed myself, unless all hope of redemption is exhausted.”

“So you will go to the Steppes yourself?” Linis' face was dark with worry. “Then you should see if Mohanisi or Nehrutu will go as well.”

“I cannot,” said Nehrutu. “I must await Aaliyah and Gewey. But I agree that one of us should go. I will speak to Mohanisi tonight.”

“And what shall you do, Kaylia?” asked Selena.

“I will wait here for Gewey,” she replied. “If you will allow it, high lady.”

Selena smiled. “You are now a part of this temple, and can stay if you wish. And I could certainly use your help in the coming days. At least until Gewey's return.”

“With your approval, I would like to leave some of my people here in addition to the king's,” said Theopolou. “The elders will be returning to their homes to organize a defense of their lands, and to help other elves understand our cause. There will still be much resistance to these new ideas. Though, considering what has happened, I doubt that resistance will persist.”

Selena nodded. “Your people are welcome to stay, and their help is also welcome. But now I must rest. I have much to think about. Kaylia, if you would, find Ertik and have him bring Salmitaya here in two hours.”

“Yes, high lady,” replied Kaylia.

The party bowed and left. Selena walked the floor of her chambers, examining each and every object. She was loath to touch anything until it had been cleaned. The idea of the beasts who slaughtered her people pawing her possessions made her skin crawl. She wasn't sure what to do about Salmitaya…or the enemy soldier for that matter. The screams of her people echoing through the halls of Valshara were still fresh in her mind, and she knew this was not the time for rash choices. She must still her anger.

As she slipped into her bed and closed her eyes, fatigue took over. Though feeling a bit guilty for resting, while others still labored, she could feel that she was spent. She hoped a couple of hours would be enough to clear her mind and rejuvenate her body. The soft bed cradled her, pulling her into a deep slumber. And though much blood had been spilled, she couldn't help but be happy to be back in her own bed, and in the temple she loved.

“I shall restore this place,” she thought, just before her consciousness faded.

Chapter 19

Selena was shaken out of her slumber. As her vision cleared, she saw Ertik standing over her, his face awash with worry.

“I'm sorry, high lady,” he said. “But you ordered the woman, Salmitaya, brought to you in two hours.”

Selena stretched and rubbed the back of her neck. She was not exactly rejuvenated, but felt more like herself than before. “Give me a moment to change, then bring her in.”

Ertik bowed, then left.

Selena searched her wardrobe and found a long, blue linen dress, with the symbols of the Nine Gods embroidered in white on the front. She doubted that Salmitaya would wear such a thing, but still she wished she had brought other attire. She pulled her hair back, tied it in a loose ponytail, and looked at herself in the mirror. The lines of worry and age were carved deeper than ever before. She sighed and scolded herself for her vanity.

“Bring her,” she called out firmly. The door opened and in walked Salmitaya, hands bound in front of her, Ertik scowling behind her. “Cut her bonds.”

Ertik hesitated for a moment, then drew his dagger and cut the rope.

Selena sat in her chair and motion for Salmitaya to sit across from her. “Please, leave us.” Once Ertik left, she took a deep breath. The anger still boiled in her breast.

“What do you want from me?” Salmitaya demanded, as defiant as ever.

“I'm not sure,” Selena replied. “Perhaps nothing. Maybe just to look at the face that had my temple captured and its people slaughtered.”

Salmitaya sneered. “Then you will be disappointed…high lady. I arrived after Valshara was already taken.”

“Is that so?” She looked in Salmitaya's eyes. The woman masked her fear well. “If that is so, then why not plead for mercy? Why wish for death? You speak as if you prefer it to being returned to your master.”

“If you don’t kill me now, I shall die soon enough.” She shifted in her seat. “If you imprison me, then I will languish in squalor until Angraalreturns and destroys this place. Then die I will, slowly, for my failure.”

“If you are so certain your master would kill you, why return? Why not flee?”

Salmitaya sneered. “You know nothing. You don't think I've tried to run away? You think I would be under the lash of someone like Yanti if there was any other way? If it were possible, I would disappear, but I can't. And even if I could elude Yanti, I've been in the presence of the Reborn King. I've heard his true name. I am bound to serve him until I die. There is no other way.” Her lips trembled at the mention of her master. “And when he comes, when he has you put in chains and brought before him, you will give yourself to him, too.”

“I think you underestimate me,” said Selena.

Salmitaya laughed. “It is you who have underestimated him. Do you think this petty victory means anything? Do you think allying yourself with the elves will save you? Nothing you can do will stop what is coming. He possesses the power of the Gods. By his will he has imprisoned them. Such a man will not be defeated by the pitiful force you have gathered. And when the time comes, not even your godling will be able to save you? No. Soon, even Gewey Stedding will be his as well, along with everything and everyone else in this cursed world.”

“If you know what Gewey is, then you can't possibly think he can gain power over him,” Selena scoffed. “Your king is powerful, yes. But he is still just a man.”

“That may be, but the Reborn King has laid low the Gods of this world in one fell stroke.” She cocked her head. “They are nine…he is one. Gewey will either serve or die. As for me, you waste your time speaking to me. I know nothing of value. And you gain nothing by keeping me alive.”

“That is for me to decide,” said Selena. “For now, I give you your life. But you need not fear. I will kill you myself, before I allow Yanti, or your king to take you.” Selena called for Ertik. “We will speak again very soon.”

Selena returned to bed. She knew what she must do next. She had known from the beginning. The captured soldiers could not be released. They must die. But such things could wait until morning. One night more without being the instrument of death was all she asked for…and she would have it.

The next morning the temple was a beehive of activity. Selena ran into Ertik on her way to the kitchen. He had already prepared her breakfast, and was bringing it to her room.

“Thank you, but I'd rather eat in the dining hall,” she explained. “Could you find Theopolou and King Lousis and ask them to join me?”

Ertik bowed and ran down the hallway, still carrying the tray of food. The east dining hall was nearly filled to capacity. Elves and human dined together talking and laughing over their meal. Selena smiled at the sight. She had only walked a few steps when cheers broke out, mugs were banged on tables, and the words “Hail the High Lady of Valshara, Hail Amon Dahl” carried through the hall in loud, boisterous voices. Selena held up her hands to quiet the crowd.

“Please,” she said in a clear strong voice. “It is you who deserve all the praise. If not for you and your bravery, this holy place would still be under the control of Angraal. Through your ability to set aside old hatreds and misgivings, you have found kinship and solidarity. It is I who applaud you.” This set off another round of cheers.

Selena smiled graciously, and sat down. Just as she began to eat her breakfast, King Lousis and Theopolou entered and took their seats.

“How go things this morning,” asked Selena.

“Well,” Lousis replied. “The courtyard is clear, with the exception of the prisoners. The elves have made preparation for funeral rites a few miles beyond the passage. Also, I have chosen the men to remain behind. Ertik has already taken it upon himself to organize them.”

“I have also chosen fifty of my people to remain,” added Theopolou. Once the funeral rites are complete, most of us will return to gather our full force. Lousis has asked me to delay my journey to the Steppes until after his council meets, and I have reluctantly agreed.”

Selene nodded, pleased. “That is good. I think your presence at the council will be a help.” Her face turned grim. “And now I must tell you what is to be done with the prisoners.” She lowered her eyes and breathed deep. “They are each to be questioned,” she paused. “then hanged.”

“High Lady,” said Lousis. “I know they have wronged you, but one does not simply execute prisoners of war.”

“You said you would abide by my decision in this matter,” she countered.

“I will but-” he stopped as Selena held out her hand.

“They are not prisoners of war,” she continued. “They did not march across a field and do battle. They did not sack a city of a nation with whom they were at war. No!” She rose to her feet. “They broke into my house, and slaughtered my family. They are brigands and thieves, nothing more. Should a murderer of the innocent be allowed to return to his home, stained with the blood of his victims? Would you allow it in your city, King Lousis?”

The entire hall was silent. The King stared at Selena for a moment then answered. “I would not.” He sighed. “But I fear this choice may haunt you.”

“It haunts me even now,” she replied. Her eyes turned to Theopolou who was sitting quietly, with his hands folded in front of him. “And what say you?”

“I agree,” he said, after a long pause. “They are not prisoners of war. And if you look upon them as criminals, they should be treated as such. But I think that is not why you do this.”

Selena stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”

“You need to show Angraalthat you are ruthless and determined,” said Theopolou. “You know this to be a minor victory. Since this campaign began, I have thought it odd that the Dark Knight should show his hand so soon. There was no reason to take Valshara now. Not unless he was certain he could keep it. If it was his plan, it was a blunder, and you must see to it he is understanding of this.

“You are correct in your actions, high lady. And though I cannot say I would do likewise, I will not criticize your decision. You have chosen to keep the woman, Salmitaya, alive. I think you do this to somehow ease your conscience. However, whatever you do, from this moment to the last, I do not think it serves you to be in denial. You said you held off your decision until it was made without anger, so to claim indignation is false. And though your actions are harsh, they are justified.”

Selena sat back down. “You are correct, of course. And though I hear your words, my mind is not swayed. I stand by this decision.”

Theopolou nodded.

“I will order gallows built at once,” said Lousis. He leaned forward, and cleared his throat.

“You have something else to say?” asked Selena.

Lousis nodded hesitantly. “We found the bodies of your people. They had been piled up and burned in one of the rooms in the basement. I had my men gather the ashes and the few personal possessions that remained.”

This struck a nerve, and tears welled in Selena’s eyes. “Thank you…I…” She dried her eyes. “I will see to the remains, personally.”

“Very well,” said Lousis. “Will you want me to see to the executions?”

“No, your highness,” Selena replied. “It is my decision that sends them to their death. So it will be I that will see it done. I only ask you leave skilled interrogators.”

“I have already seen to it, and they have begun the questioning” said the king. “There is another matter. I would have you at the council when it convenes. Will you come?”

“No,” she replied, “There is too much to do here. Sister Celandine is in Sharpstone with Millet. They are gathering the few remaining knights of Amon Dahl there, to establish a foothold along the Goodbranch River. Linis is to join them, and I must see to it they have all that is required. Also, I must make contact with the other temples throughout the land. We must know who is with us and who has been compromised.” She looked at Theopolou. “Keeping Salmitaya alive serves more than to ease my conscience.” She leaned back and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I will be sending out some of the people you have left me into great peril. You should be aware of this.”

“My men are at your command,” said Lousis. “I would not leave them otherwise.”

“As are the elves who are remaining,” added Theopolou.

“Good,” she said, and smiled. “When do you depart?”

“I have already sent word to gather the kings and queens together,” Lousis replied. “I only have a few more things to attend to, then we will be away.”

“I ask you one last favor,” said Selena. “Though I cannot attend, I would like Ertik to witness the council and represent me in all matters. Unless there is some protocol that will not allow it.”

“Actually, I think that is wise,” said Lousis. “Your presence carries weight and will be missed. But as you cannot attend, your proxy should suffice. I will see that all know that he speaks on your behalf and is afforded all due respect and courtesy.”

“Thank you.” Selena pushed her food away. “I have no appetite. So if there is nothing further?”

Theopolou and King Lousis excused themselves, and Selena sat for a minute staring at her unfinished plate. She knew Ertik would resist the idea of leaving her side, and did not look forward to telling him.

The rest of the morning she walk about the halls seeing that things were attended to and in order; though with Ertik about this was nearly a pointless exercise, and only served to keep her distracted. He had been busier than she thought any man capable. When she finally cornered him and told him he would be leaving with King Lousis, he nearly broke down in tears. He begged not to be sent away. It was only after she promised to have an elf guard with her at all times did he relent.

Kaylia had made no secret that she intended to remain near her side, having chased away several soldiers who were in awe that they stood in the presence of the High Lady of Valshara, leader of the legendary order of Amon Dahl. At first, the admirers didn't bother her, but soon questions about the Dark Knight arose, and his time within the Order. These were subjects that she didn't care to discuss, and Kaylia had become adept at knowing when it was time to tell them to move on.

At midday, Selena and Kaylia sat quietly in the High Lady’s chamber. A light meal of fruit and bread had been brought in. As they ate, Selena could tell that Kaylia had something on her mind, but whatever it was, something prevented her from speaking.

“Kaylia,” said Selena. Her voice was calm, yet humorless. “You must not think me frail. If you wish to speak your mind, you must do so.”

Kaylia sat her plate on the small table beside her chair. “I do not think you frail. Nor am I afraid to speak. I simply did not want to cause you more grieve so soon after so much tragedy and bloodshed.” She fixed her eye on Selena’s. “I cannot help but wonder why you do not speak of the Dark Knight’s time in Amon Dahl. Surely, this knowledge may be valuable to our cause.”

Selena nodded. “It would, without doubt. But sadly, I know very little. When the Dark Knight first came to power, he all but destroyed this order, including all records of who he really was. Those who might have known him cannot remember anything specific about him. Even those who were among us at the time of the betrayal.” Her face was grave. “You must understand that the Sword of Truth wields a power beyond your imagination. My guess is that he used it to mask his true identity from the minds of those in the order who knew him.

“When I first joined the order I had heard of a great knight of unparalleled strength and valor. He had aspired to be the protector of the Sword. But his efforts failed, and another was chosen. Enraged, he abandoned his vows and sought out the Sword’s resting place.” She rose wearily to her feet. “That is the limit of my knowledge. The rest you already know.”

“Then why not tell people this?” asked Kaylia.

Selena sighed sadly. “You ask me to speak of what has brought Amon Dahl its greatest shame. For thousands of years we were guardians and protectors. Now…”

“I understand,” said Kaylia. “I will not ask you again.”

When it was time for the King and the others to depart, Selena, Kaylia, along with most of those who would remain behind, gathered in the courtyard to see them off. Selena's eyes wandered repeatedly to the prisoners against the wall. She wanted not to hate them. She wanted to believe her decision was right and not vengeance.

“Do not heed my earlier words,” said Theopolou. Clearly, he could see she was in self-doubt. “I spoke from the perspective of my longing for peace. This is war, and I would do the same. You cannot afford to second guess yourself in these times. You will act wisely. Have faith in that.”

King Lousis took Selena’s hands and kissed them fondly. “I will eagerly await our next meeting, high lady.”

Selena blushed. “As do I, your highness.”

Once the farewells were said, she watched as the party departed. Cheers erupted from both human and elf as they passed through the shattered gates. Ertik looked back at least four times before disappearing out of sight. Theopolou’s words still echoed in her mind.

She called to Lord Jeffos Windermere, who the King had left in charge of the Althetan forces. “I want you to have your men take the prisoners to the temple basement. There you will find an empty wine cellar. It hasn’t been used in many years and is large enough to house them, for the time being.” Windermere threw his fist to his chest in salute, and marched away.

“I must not doubt,” she whispered softly.

Chapter 20

The reflection of the desert sun on the sands made navigation increasingly difficult as Gewey and Aaliyah made their way back to the shore. Each dune looked the same as the last, and Aaliyah could no longer sense the direction of her ship. Though their pace started out fast and determined, after only a few hours, signs of the poison working its way through Aaliyah's system was beginning to show. Gewey did his best to keep the air around them cool with the flow, but each time Aaliyah would stumble or pause, he found it difficult to concentrate. On more than one occasion a blast of hot air washed over them, making it nearly impossible to breathe. He couldn't imagine living in such a hellish place.

By mid-afternoon their pace had decreased to a slow walk. Beads of sweat formed on Aaliyah's brow, her skin was pale, and her breathing was shallow and quick. Gewey took her arm, but she pushed him away.

“No need for that,” she said, weakly. “It would seem the poison was stronger than I anticipated. I think I will rest for a moment.” She eased herself onto the sand. “If you would just keep the air cool, I think I will be all right in a few minutes.”

Gewey could tell she was lying. He tried once again to heal her, but again his flow was thrown back. He clenched his fists with frustration. “There must be something I can do.”

“There is nothing, I'm afraid.” She reached in her pack, pulled out a blanket, and used it to cushion her head as she lay down. “I just need to rest.” She closed her eyes.

“You must fight it,” Gewey pleaded. “You must stay with me.”

She reached up and touched his cheek. “I have fought, and it would appear I have lost. But do not be sad. I am content to have lived to be part of your story. I have seen our kin reunited, and for all of this I am thankful.”

“Don't talk like that,” said Gewey, fiercely. “I will carry you, if I must.”

“There is no time,” she said. “I will be gone in a few moments. I can feel it.”

“Please.” Gewey's voice cracked. “I can’t let you die.”

Aaliyah smiled sweetly. “This is beyond your power.” She closed her eyes. “Tell Nehrutu that I am sorry. Tell him I only did what I had to do. Tell him…I…”

Gewey lifted her head and cradled her in his arms, tears flowing freely. Her body grew limp as life slipped away. He tried desperately to reach her, but still could not. Throwing his head back, he let out a primal scream. The sand exploded all around them and the earth trembled.

The ground settled and Gewey closed his eyes and allowed his spirit to drift to her. The light inside her was fading and the warmth of her spirit was growing colder. He could not bear to see her fade and he drifted skyward. Just above where they lay, he could see himself holding her limp form in his arms. It was the first time he had ever seen himself in such a manner. The scene threatened to shatter his heart. He could see his own life force burning brightly, and watched as hers flickered and vanished.

Then, as if from far away, he heard the sound of a child’s laughter. First, only one, then another and another, until he heard dozens and dozens of mirthful voices all laughing at once. Not in a clamor of incoherent sound, but in the purest of harmony. Gentle at first, they grew louder and stronger until the sound surrounded him with magnificent wonder. In between each sweet voice, the tinkling of tiny bells increased the harmony. A wave of joy washed over him, causing his heart to swell with unmeasured happiness. It was as though bliss were tangible; a treasure one could possess.

He looked back down at his body holding Aaliyah's. He looked the same, but her body was surrounded by a million tiny points of light twinkling and swirling in rhythm with the laughter. The light moved closer and closer together until they began to take form. At first it wasn't clear, then slowly he realized it was the figure of Aaliyah. She glowed and shimmered with the light of a thousand stars. Her face beamed at him as she drifted away from her body.

Gewey reached out. It was then he felt a burning on his breast. He looked to see the specter of the medallion Gerath had given him that still hung around his neck. Heat upon heat burned into his spiritual flesh, until he thought he could no longer bear it. He tried to scream, but no sound came from his lips. He could see Aaliyah drifting farther away, above him. Her spirit was fading. He called to her. She stopped. Right then he understood.

He concentrated on the sound of the laughter. In moments it took physical form. It appeared as a shimmering mist that surrounded everything. It was everywhere. Gewey could not believe he had never seen this before. He knew this was the spirit of the flow. The very soul of the earth.

He reached out to Aaliyah's spirit and shepherded it back into her body. He drifted back into his own, as the laughter grew distant, then went silent. He looked down at Aaliyah. Almost imperceptibly her chest move up and down as life returned. He reach out to her, and this time met no resistance. The poison was gone. He allowed his energy to flow into her, slowly at first, then more and more, until he could feel her strength returning.

“That is enough, Gewey.”

Her voice shocked him back into reality. She was smiling up at him, eyes closed, gently stroking his arm.

“How do you feel?” he asked, brushing her hair away from her face.

“Thanks to you, I feel alive,” she replied. “But weary. I should rest until morning, I think.” She squeezed him tight then slipped back onto the desert sands and nestled her head in the blanket. “You felt it, didn't you?” she whispered. “The spirit of the earth.”

“Yes,” said Gewey. “It was beautiful. Like nothing I could have ever imagined.”

“I wish I could have seen it.” She sighed, and fell into a deep, restful sleep.

Gewey watched over her until the dawn broke, keeping the chill night air around them warm. When she awoke, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. She looked at him and scowled.

“You have not slept,” she scolded, though not convincingly.

Gewey took out a piece of flatbread and his flask, and gave it to her. “I'm fine. I've lived with less sleep before. And after a swifter pace.” He recalled his journey from Valshara to the house of Theopolou.

“Still, what you did for me could not have been easy,” she countered.

“Actually, it was.” He tore off a piece of bread. “Though I'm not sure I could do it again.” He remembered the medallion and reached to his breast. It was gone. “It was the gift of Gerath that showed me how.”

Aaliyah touched his chest where the medallion once hung. “Such a sacrifice.”

Gewey smiled. “I don't need it anymore. The power that was in it, is now inside me. I can feel it.”

“How does it feel?”

He shrugged. “It's hard to explain. It’s not much different than when I touch the spirit of another person, only much more intense. It lacks the negative emotion and uncertainty of the mortal spirit. When your spirit left your body, I could see you join with it…in a way. Do you remember?”

“No,” she said, sadly. “I truly wish I did. I remember fading, as if falling asleep. Then waking up in your arms. I knew you had found a way to save me.”

This brought a smile to Gewey’s lips. Aaliyah jumped to her feet, listening intensely. Immediately, Gewey heard it, too. The sound of footfalls barely audible in the sand, even to Gewey's heightened senses, were just about to crest a nearby dune.

“An elf,” Aaliyah whispered.

“Better than the Soufis,” said Gewey, relieved.

Then, at the top of the dune, Weila appeared.

“Perhaps not,” said Aaliyah.

As Weila descended the dune, Gewey could see the intensity in her expression.

“Where is my son?” she asked, before she was even half way down.

Gewey opened his mouth to speak, but Aaliyah cut him off.

“He fell in the Black Oasis,” she said lowering her head.

Weila's hand slid to the knife on her belt, and hovered just above it. “He was not to enter that evil place. You swore an oath!”

Aaliyah told her about the wolves, and his reason for going.

Weila spun around, clenching her fists. “Did he die well?”

“He died bravely, expelling the evil from the Black Oasis,” said Aaliyah, in a reverent tone. “Because of his courage, your people need not fear entering that place ever again. It is there his spirit rests, kept safe by the life force that dwells within.”

“And how do you know this?” she asked, her voice wavering. “Did you see it?”

Aaliyah told her of their battle with the Vrykol, and what their spirit had told them. “He is safe. This I swear.”

“You swear nothing,” she spat angrily. “You swore to protect my son, and yet his body is rotting in the jungle of the Black Oasis. Keep your oaths to yourself.”

“It's not her fault,” said Gewey. “It's mine. I was unable to protect him. I tried, but I couldn't reach him in time.”

She sneered at Gewey. “Arrogant human. What could you have done? A weak member of a weak race who…” her words trailed off. She closed her tear-filled eyes. “I am sorry. I should not have said that. I did not mean it.”

“No need to apologize,” said Gewey. “I understand your pain. I have lost those close to me as well.”

“Unless you have lost a child, you cannot understand.” Her tears fell onto the sand. “I do not know how to bear such pain.” She rocked back and forth and wept.

“You could journey to the Black Oasis,” said Aaliyah softly, once Weila’s sobs lessened. “You can see for yourself where his spirit resides. Now that the evil is gone, it is safe.”

Weila wiped her eyes. “I may, in time. But for now, I must ignore my pain and do what I came here to do. You are to accompany me to see the Amal Molidova. She has sent me to retrieve you.”

“I am sorry,” said Aaliyah. “But we are in need of haste. Our people await us.”

“You will not leave the desert unless she allows it,” said Weila, coldly. “Your presence is not an option. The Soufis are gathering in vast numbers, and she will see what role you have played in this.”

“We have nothing to do with it,” Gewey protested.

“Perhaps,” said Weila. “That will be for Lyrial to decide. Do not try to run. You will be cut down before you reach the shore.” She motioned for them to follow. “And don't think your powers will save you. I know what you did to the Soufis, Aaliyah. Their burned corpses are a testament to what you are capable of.”

Gewey started to correct her, but a stern glance from Aaliyah silenced him.

“We will comply,” said Aaliyah. “How far must we travel?”

“It is an eight-day journey,” Weila replied. “But we will get there much faster.”

“How,” asked Gewey. The idea of more than two weeks’ delay did not sit well.

“You shall see.” Weila headed west. Gewey and Aaliyah looked at each other then followed.

The heat of the day was nearly unbearable. Aaliyah thought it best not to use the power of the flow to cool the air. Weila was in pain at the loss of Pali, and she didn't want to make matters worse by offending her beliefs.

By midday, they had nearly exhausted their water. Weila had not even opened her flask and her pace had steadily increased. A few hours later, they saw a small rock formation at the base of a large dune. As they neared they could make out an opening, just big enough for a single person to pass through.

“We are here,” said Weila. Just inside the opening was a steep staircase leading into the dark depth of the earth. “Mind your feet. The stairs are treacherous.”

Gewey had to duck to enter the opening and his feet hung over each step. In seconds, the light from the entrance was gone and they were surrounded by pitch blackness. The air was stale and dusty, and the corridor was barely wide enough for Gewey to squeeze through. The descended for several hundred yards before the stair finally ended and flatten into a narrow hallway. The hall twisted and turned for nearly a half-mile, until Gewey could see a soft light ahead. As they approached, he realized the light emanated from the walls of a rough, rounded, natural enclosure, twenty feet high and twenty feet in diameter. At either end a tunnel disappeared into the distance. Thousands of tiny bulbs of blue crystals were embedded into the rock, each giving off a faint light, illuminating the cavern. The floor was smooth and polished, clearly made so by the hands of skilled craftsmen, with the exception a rough stripe of gritty sand that spanned the cavern and led to the entrance of each tunnel. The closer Gewey looked the more the sand appeared to move and ripple.

“That is how we will travel,” said Weila. She walked to the far right end of the cavern, where a line of round curved disks, four-feet in diameter, were leaned against the wall. She grabbed three and gave one to Gewey and Aaliyah.

“I don't understand,” said Gewey.

Weila reached in her belt, pulled out a copper and tossed it on top of the rough spot on the floor. At once it came to life, flowing like a swift river, into the tunnel. “This is the Blood of the Desert. We will ride it to the Waters of Shajir.”

Gewey and Aaliyah stared in wonder as the sand settled. Gewey bent down to touch it, but Weila quickly snatched him back.

“Do not touch it,” she warned, sternly. “It will pull you in and drag you down into the depth of the earth.” She placed her disk on the floor just beside the sand. “This is a slithas. We will ride atop them.” She motioned for them to place theirs beside hers.

Gewey closed his eyes. He could feel the flow raging all around him. He was tempted to let it in, but resisted. “This place…did your people build it?”

“No. It was here when we arrived,” Weila replied. She took several leather strips from her belt and lashed the slithas together through tiny holes along the outer edge. There are many scattered throughout the desert, though only a few are safe to use.”

“And the ones that aren't?” asked Gewey.

Weila pushed the slithas into the Blood of the Desert. Again it came to life. “They lead to a great vortex in the center of the desert. If you go there, you will not return.” She put one foot atop the lead slithas. “Now be ready.”

Gewey took the center and Aaliyah the rear. Weila nodded sharply and they all jumped aboard. They barely had time to sit, when the sands grabbed the slithas, and flung them forward. The staff and bow strapped to Gewey's pack jammed into his kidney, sending a shockwave of pain through his body.

In seconds, they were through the tunnel and the glow of the crystals vanished, replaced by utter darkness. After Gewey's eyes adjusted, he turned to Aaliyah. She was sitting, legs crossed and eyes closed.

“Have you ever heard of a place like this?” he asked.

“No.” She folded her arms and sighed. “But it is truly wonderful. I can feel the power of the earth here like in no other place I have ever been in my life. Even the jungles of my home seem dead and dreary by comparison.”

“This is where the power you steal comes from,” said Weila, with a tinge of disgust. “The desert is filled with such wonders. If my heart wasn't so heavy, I would tell you about them.” She covered her face with her hands, and shuddered. Then she heaved a sigh and wiped her eyes. “I know that it was not your fault that my son perished, Aaliyah. You made the only choice you could. If the wolves attacked, then it was due to dark forces. They are not evil creatures by nature. I would not have had Pali left alone in the desert.”

“I thank you for your understanding,” said Aaliyah. “And I hope you will journey to the Black Oasis. I believe seeing what has become of it will help heal your heart.”

“Perhaps. For now I must mourn.” She noticed the bow and staff Gewey carried. “Is that what you were after? You did not have those when we first met.”

“It was,” Aaliyah affirmed. “The Oasis guarded these things. It was what drew the evil there. It wished to possess them.”

“Is that why the Black Oasis is safe?” she asked. “Because it no longer has anything to protect?”

“Yes,” Aaliyah replied. “At least in part.”

“Then Pali died for a worthy cause.” More tears fell from Weila’s eyes.

“Your son died fighting at our side,” said Gewey. “He could have stayed within the temple, but chose to face the evil that had invaded your land. To me, that alone is worthy of pride.”

“You are wise for one so young,” said Weila. A smile crept upon her lips. “To die fighting alongside one’s friend is worthy. But to face evil, when it is easier to hide, is even more so.” She leaned forward and touched Gewey's arm. “Your words are a comfort, where I thought none could be found.”

Hours passed as the slithas sped along, twisting and winding through the bowels of the desert. The disks appeared to guide themselves, with no actions required from Weila. Gewey had never spent so much time beneath the surface, and soon had lost track of time and direction.

As they continued, he noticed the air would change from time to time. It would grow warm and dry, then later cool and moist. Gewey tried to imagine what lay above that would cause this. Occasionally, they would pass through a section of tunnel with the glowing blue crystals dotting the walls. It was then he could feel the flow intensify.

“There is so much I don't know,” he thought. “So many mysteries.”

As if reading his thoughts, Aaliyah said, “I could spend a lifetime learning about this place.”

“You could spend many lifetimes and never learn all the wonders of the desert,” remarked Weila.

Finally, Gewey looked ahead and saw the glow of another cavern approaching, rapidly. Weila crouched on her slithas, Gewey and Aaliyah did the same.

“We are traveling faster than you may realize,” said Weila. “You will have only one chance to get off. If you miss it, you will end up in the vortex. Just jump when I do and you will live.”

Gewey was unnerved by the idea of being swallowed by a vortex of sand, and allowed the flow to enter. The world slowed and he calmed his heartbeat. When they reached the cavern Weila jumped. Gewey and Aaliyah followed just in time. Even with the power of the flow raging through him, he nearly lost his footing as his boots struck rock.

The passageway out was a gentle, upward slope, a fact that relieved Gewey. Hours of sitting had caused his legs to cramp and twinge. But what it lacked in depth, it made up for in length. He guessed they walk for at least a mile, before they reached the end. As they emerged Gewey could see the stars of the night sky, shining in the heavens.

The landscape had changed from endless dunes, to flat, tightly packed sand, with patches of coarse, brown grass and thorny bushes scattered about. On the horizon, the silhouette of jagged mountains blackened the sky. Gewey had seen his father’s map of the desert when he was a child. He would bring it out when he told him stories of the fire lizards.

“We’re on the other end of the desert,” he gasped. “How…” During their passage, it didn't seem like they were traveling long enough or fast enough to have gone this far.

Weila cracked a smile. “I told you. The desert is full of wonders.”

Weila led them east along a well-trodden trail. Immediately, they could see a bright blue light, the same hue as the crystals they had seen in the caverns, cutting away the darkness, only a few miles away.

“When we arrive, you must be silent until I speak with Lyrial,” said Weila. “She will take the death of Pali no better than I.”

“Why is that?” asked Gewey.

Her face was hard and dark. “In human terms, she was his wife.”

A cold chill shot down Gewey's spine. “I see.”

“What is she exactly?” asked Aaliyah. “What authority does she possess?”

“She is the Amal Molidova,” Weila replied, reverently. “She is the spiritual leader of my people. In times when a single voice must guide us, we have chosen for it to be hers.”

“And the Sand Masters?” asked Gewey. He had assumed they were the leaders of the desert elves.

Weila held her head high. “We concern ourselves with matters of the desert. Our task is the well-being of our people as they journey through the dunes. Once our folk are safely home, our responsibility ends. We do not often need a single voice to guide us. War and turmoil are rare. But things have changed. The Soufis are forming an army. This has never happened…until you arrived.”

Gewey could feel Aaliyah's unease. Since he had returned her spirit to her body, more and more he could feel what she was feeling. It was almost like the bond he shared with Kaylia, only more subtle.

Soon, the light grew brighter and brighter, until the surrounding area was awash with blue illumination. Gewey could feel the flow growing more and more powerful with each step. The light seemed to be emanating from the ground and soon an immense, fifty-foot high statue came into view. At first Gewey was unable to make out what it was. The light danced playfully across its surface, but as they drew closer it was cleared. An elf woman, in a flowing gown, face upturned, and holding aloft a silver urn. The urn was tilted forward and a stream of shining blue liquid spilled out.

When they were only a short distance away, the ground changed from sand to smooth, polished white marble. Gewey realized it was part of a massive round platform. In its center was a pool, one-hundred yards in diameter, filled with the blue liquid that poured from the statue. The white marble reflected the light from the water, giving off an eerie, yet calming glow, and made Gewey think of being within a dream. The flow was so strong, it nearly entered him before he could stop it.

“Wait here,” Weila ordered. She walked around the edge of the pool and disappeared behind the statue.

Gewey and Aaliyah waited in silence, gazing into the water. Nearly an hour had passed before Weila returned carrying a small tan reed basket. Beside her walked a tall, thin elf woman. Her long golden hair fell loosely about her shoulders and down her back. Her alabaster skin was made more pronounced by her penetrating, dark green eyes. She wore a blue satin robe, embroidered with tiny, intricate silver swirls that interlaced, becoming one large pattern, and tied at the waist by a silver cloth. Her feet were bare, and made no sound as they touch the cold marble. Her ageless features were thin and delicate, yet bore the seriousness of authority. Just before she reached them Gewey could smell a salty sweet fragrance, which reminded him of the wild flowers after a spring rain.

“I am Lyrial.” Her voice was feminine and soft, yet commanding. “Weila has brought news that Pali fell in the Black Oasis, fighting at your side.”

Gewey wasn't sure if he was to speak, so he just nodded.

Aaliyah stepped forward and bowed. “I am-“

“I know who you are,” she interrupted. “And you know who I am. You are here so I can determine if your arrival has anything to do with the recent gathering of a Soufis army. Once I have found the truth of the matter, we will discuss Pali.”

“I can assure you, we do not have anything to do with the Soufis,” said Aaliyah.

“We shall see.” Lyrial spun on her heels. “But I am not a discourteous host. You shall eat and rest. Then we shall talk. Weila will see to your needs.” She made her way back to the statue and sat cross-legged beside it.

Weila opened the basket and pulled out two thin blankets, a loaf of bread, some dried fruit, and a bottle of wine. “You will have a few hours before she will speak with you. I suggest you rest until then. I will return a shortly before sunrise.” She turned to leave, then paused. “Don't worry about the cold. The Waters of Shajir will keep you warm enough.”

Once Weila was away, Gewey and Aaliyah laid out their blankets and ate their meal. The bread was plain and tough, but the fruit was sweeter than expected. The wine wasn't as good as what he’d had in the past, but it went down well enough.

“What should we do?” asked Gewey, leaning back on his elbows.

“What can we do?” Aaliyah lay down and closed her eyes. “If we run, we will either be killed or be forced to kill those who are not our enemy. We will rest while we can and speak to Lyrial. Hopefully we will be able to convince her that we have nothing to do with the Soufis.”

“I may be forced to tell them what I am, you know.”

Aaliyah opened her eyes and looked at Gewey. “That is for you to decide.”

Gewey lay down and allowed himself to drift off to sleep. Aaliyah was right. What could they do?

Chapter 21

Weila woke Gewey and Aaliyah, and offered them both a cup of clear, sweet-smelling juice, which they gratefully accepted, though its fragrance did not prepare Gewey for the sour taste. His face twisted and he nearly spat it out.

Weila laughed. “It is from the fruit of the ganhi bush. It is sour, but very good for you.”

“Is Lyrial ready to see us?” asked Aaliyah.

Weila nodded, and pointed to the far end of the pool near the statue. “Go to her. I will wait here.”

“You're not coming?” asked Gewey.

“As I said, this is a matter for the Amal Molidova, not a Sand Master,” she explained. “Do not worry. We have spoken of Pali, and she does not hold you to blame any more than I.”

Gewey and Aaliyah finished their juice, then made their way around the pool to where Lyrial sat waiting. In front of her, two flat round cushions had been placed. She motioned for them to sit. She wore a pair of loose-fitting, cream, linen trousers, and a matching blouse. Her blond hair was in a tight braid that fell down her back and wound around her waist, ending up in her lap, and her bright green eyes twinkled in the blue light emanating from the water. Her face had the same timeless quality Gewey had come to know in elves, yet he knew she must be quite old.

Lyrial's eyes darted back and forth from Gewey to Aaliyah. “I do not think you are in league with the Soufis. So do not fear.”

“That is good,” said Aaliyah. “And know that we come in friendship.”

Lyrial raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? It is hard to imagine those who exiled my people so long ago have suddenly had a change of heart. No. I believe if you desire friendship, it is out of necessity. Whatever the troubles are in the west, I think you have brought them with you.”

“First, I would say that my people did not exile you,” said Aaliyah, her tone forceful and steady. “My people are from across what you know as the Western Abyss. But do not think that is a reflection on the other elves of this land. I do not believe they even remember you exist. Certainly, those living today had no part in your exile.”

Lyrial shook her head and let out a huff. “It would stand to reason that their arrogance and folly would shorten their memory.”

“Your kin do not seem to share your attitude,” said Aaliyah. “Those we spoke to seem pleased that the elves of the west would come.”

“It is for them to live and die, free in the sands,” she shot back. “It is for me to protect that freedom. Their hearts are not as burdened as mine.” She shrugged. “They do not read the ancient lore.” She paused and sighed. “Still, I am not unwilling to welcome them, if they truly wish it. And stories of the elves from across the Abyss have been told long before we came here. If your people have returned, then perhaps it is you who have brought war.”

“I can only tell you we have not,” she retorted. “We have been unable to return until now.”

Lyrial sighed. “Very well, then. Tell me your tale.”

Aaliyah told her story, beginning with their arrival and ending when they left for the desert, leaving out Gewey's identity as a God. “I know that Weila told you why we came, and that we had intended to leave your desert in peace.”

“She told me what you allowed her to know,” Lyrial replied. “But you have not revealed all. What is it you fear me to learn, I wonder?”

Aaliyah stiffened. “I have told you all that you need to understand that we are guiltless regarding the Soufis. Anything else is our affair.”

Lyrial placed her finger to her chin and met Aaliyah’s gaze. “Is that so? You may not have caused the Soufis to gather, but I wager that whatever it is you fight, did. They are wretched slavers that plague the sands. And though cunning and fierce, they would never gather in such great numbers on their own. They raid and flee.”

“I will say nothing more on the matter,” said Aaliyah.

Lyrial and Aaliyah stared into each other’s eyes, unblinkingly.

“What she hasn't revealed is me,” Gewey interjected. “I am what she will not tell you.”

Aaliyah stiffened then folded her hands.

Lyrial threw her head back in laughter. “You? And what could she reveal about you?”

“We came here to retrieve what was guarded within the Black Oasis,” he said. “They were gifts, left for me by my father…Gerath.”

Lyrial burst out laughing again. “You think a half-man is something new to us? You think us ignorant fools?”

“I am not a half-man,” Gewey asserted. “And it was not Aaliyah that burned the Soufis. I did it.”

“I see.” Lyrial stood. “So you claim to be a God, and not a half-man? That would be something indeed…if it were true. Of course, such an outrageous claim can be settled easily enough.” She held out her hand. Gewey took it and she led him to the edge of the Waters of Shajir. “Do not move.” In a flash she drew a dagger from her sleeve and cut the back of Gewey's hand.

Gewey winced as blood trickled into the shimmering liquid. The second it touched the surface of the water, the ground began to rumble. Beneath the waters, a billowing red cloud boiled up violently, rapidly covering the entire pool. Suddenly, a thunderous boom knocked them off their feet, as fire erupted from the urn atop the great statue, shooting hundreds of feet into the air. The fire spread out, then fell, raining down flames that disappeared in a blinding flash, just a few feet above the ground.

Slowly, the earth stopped shaking and the blood red water transformed back into its original blue color. Lyrial sat, eyes wide and mouth agape. Gewey got up and offered her his hand. She looked at him in awe, then after a long moment, allowed him to help her to her feet. He held her hand as he walked her back and sat down. Lyrial looked stunned, unable to speak.

Just then Weila ran over. “What happened?”

Lyrial motioned for her to sit. “It seems that this concerns all elves, Weila. You should stay.” She lean forward and stared into Gewey’s eyes. “How is this possible? Can the end times be here at last?”

“I don't know anything about that,” said Gewey. “But if you will let me, I'll tell you my story as well.”

Lyrial nodded. “Of course. Yes, please.”

Gewey recounted the events of his life, beginning with the death of his father. Several times he had to stop and back track, as he remembered details. Lyrial and Weila took a special interest when he told of his bonding with Kaylia, asking him three times to repeat it.

More than two hours passed before he finished. The light of the morning sun had painted the sky red and purple. Gewey got to his feet, rubbed his neck and stretched his arms.

“Then it has come to pass,” Lyrial whispered to herself. “Your name…Darshan. We have heard this name before. It is the name of the one who will herald the end times. It is said that your coming precedes the reunion of the elves, and the upheaval of the world. The waging of a great war will remake creation and reveal to the elves, a new destiny.”

“I have no desire to involve your people in any war,” said Gewey. “I only came for the gifts of Gerath. Now that I have them, I intend to leave you in peace.”

Lyrial shook her head and smiled, as a mother speaking to an ignorant child. “The Soufis have gathered for war. The one you call the Dark Knight, is clearly behind it. He either intends to make war on us, or to march them from the desert and make war on you. Either way, we cannot allow it. If they attack us, then it will be their doom, but if they leave the sands…” Her jaw tightened. “I will not allow the filth of the desert to visit their horrors on the rest of the world. And if this Dark Knight would call on such people to fight for him, he has revealed to us his true nature.”

“What will you do?” asked Aaliyah.

“We have already begun to gather our forces,” said Lyrial. “And our scouts are watching every move the Soufis make.”

“Then you should take care to watch for the Vrykol,” said Gewey. “They are powerful and deadly. It was a Vrykol that killed Pali, and nearly killed Aaliyah. If they are with the Soufis, you must be careful. They can only die if you remove their heads.”

“I will inform my people,” said Weila, grimly.

“If the Soufis attempt to leave the desert, we will stop them,” said Lyrial, determinedly. “Once they are dealt with we will go west for the first time in many generations.” Lyrial got to her feet and looked at the statue, her arms across her chest. “And though this may be our end, we will not be idle while evil floods the world.”

“How many are you,” asked Aaliyah.

Lyrial turned back to Gewey, her chest swelling with pride. “We can raise an army of twenty-thousand in a short time. Twice that, if needed. But it would take longer.”

“And how many are the Soufis?” asked Gewey.

“They have three times our number at least.” Lyrial smiled viciously. “But they could have ten times that and still they could not hope to defeat us. It is long past time we dealt with them once and for all. The atrocities they have visited on the people of this land will finally be avenged.”

“I would hear more of your people,” said Aaliyah. “Your desert is filled with wonders I have never dreamed of. The scholars of my land could spend generations studying the Blood of the Desert alone. And this.” She pointed to the statue. “Who built it?”

Lyrial sat and crossed her legs. “It was here long before we arrived. The legends say it was built by the Gods. As far as our tales…it will be a pleasure to tell you of the desert. For all my people's merits, they care little for my stories.”

“That's not true,” Weila protested, jokingly. “I have listened to you ramble on for six-hundred years and never complained.”

This made both Aaliyah and Gewey's eyes shoot wide.

“How old are you?” asked Aaliyah.

Lyrial smiled. “I am seven-hundred and four. But Weila is far older.” She could see the confusion in their expressions. “This surprises you?”

“Indeed,” said Aaliyah. “I am nearly three hundred. The elders of my land rarely see six. How is it that you live so long?”

Lyrial thought for a moment. “Perhaps it is that we do not steal life from the earth. Perhaps that power shortens your own life.”

Aaliyah looked closely at both Lyrial and Weila. “That may be. Or perhaps it is the desert itself that extends your life.”

Lyrial nodded. “That could be. It is said that the power of the Creator first gave life to the world here. And that it was here that the Gods were born. It could be our legends are more than just stories.”

“If it is the desert that extends your life,” said Aliyah, “then I fear what will happen if you try to leave it.”

Lyrial pondered this for a moment then said, “I cannot allow this to concern me. My people will not be trapped by our own mortality. We will know soon enough if what you suggest is true.”

“But-” started Gewey. Lyrial held up her hand, silencing him.

“There is nothing to discuss,” she asserted. “Our course is set. I will not dwell on it. Now if you still would like to hear stories of my people?”

“Of course,” said Gewey.

For the next few hours, Lyrial told them of how her people were exiled for protesting the enslavement of humans, and how they came to live in the desert. She spun tales of adventure, tragedy, and joy. She told them of their fight with the Soufis, and their protection of the humans from slavery. Weila looked bored and began dozing.

“Your people have lived a noble life,” Aaliyah remarked, once Lyrial had finished. “That you were exiled for objecting to the subjugation of humans connects with our own history.”

“A story you can tell me another time,” said Lyrial, rising to her feet. “I will not delay your mission any longer.” Weila handed her a small silver flask. She walked to the pool and filled it. “Take this.” She handed the flask to Gewey. “The Waters of Shajir are powerful. Their healing properties are unmatched. A single drop will heal the deepest wound.”

“Thank you,” said Gewey, bowing low. “It will serve as a reminder of your kindness.”

Lyrial bowed in return. “Once we have defeated the Soufis, I will march my people to the western edge of the desert. There we will await word from you. Weila will take you to the shore.” She smiled at Aaliyah. “I look forward to our next meeting. Please tell our kin that we are overjoyed to reunite with them.”

Aaliyah nodded. “I will. I know they will feel the same. Your friendship will be of great value in the days to come.”

Lyrial took one last, long look at Gewey, then smiled. Gewey watched as Lyrial turned and walked away.

“Come, Darshan,” said Weila. “If we hurry, we can have you back to the shore by nightfall tomorrow.”

“I wish we had more time,” said Gewey.

“I agree,” said Aaliyah. “We should send an envoy here as soon as possible.”

“But what if you're right?” Gewey couldn't help but think about what would happen if the elves left the desert. “What if it's the desert that lets them live so long?”

Weila stopped in her tracks. “My people will not sacrifice their honor for a long life. Do not think on it any longer.”

“How long do you live?” asked Gewey.

“Our elders see nine hundred years or more,” she replied. “But think on this. I heard your story. You have lived more in your short life than any elf that walks the sands. I would give all of my years to live a life of substance, however short it may be. If we step off the sand and perish, it would be better than to have hidden ourselves away in fear and dishonor.”

Weila led them ten miles, to a similar rock formation that they had seen on the journey to the Waters of Shajir. This time the trip seemed to pass by much more quickly. Weila regaled them with tales of the desert with ceaseless energy.

“I noticed that during your recount of events you spoke very little of your homeland,” Weila said to Aaliyah. “Surely there is much to tell.”

“There is,” she replied. “More than could be told in the time we have.”

“Then tell me of your village,” said Weila.

Aaliyah laughed. “Well, my village is a city of more than one-hundred thousand elves.”

Gewey cocked his head. “Then, that's something I'd like to hear about, too.”

“Very well,” she said, laughing softly. “My city is called Parylon. It is on the shores of what you know as the Western Abyss, though on the other end, and many leagues away.” Her voice became distant. “To put is simply, Parylon is beautiful. Tall silver spires that glimmer majestically in the sunlight, dwarfing the redwood forest that border it to the east. Between the spires are lavish homes and stunning gardens. Halls of learning and meditation are built from the finest marble, and adorned with sculptures and reliefs lovingly carved by the greatest artisans the world has ever seen. One could spend a hundred years wandering the city and never see them all.

“The streets are paved with polished green slate that reflects the light of the noonday sun, making the whole city look as if it were an extension of the Creator's grace. In winter, when the sea churns and foams, the spires cast a green shadow, transforming the coast into an emerald field of waves and sand.

“Each afternoon, the city fills with music and laughter. We boast six schools where the finest musicians study, teach, and compose. Each afternoon, the students take to the streets so the world can listen to what they have learned. In the evening, the masters give concerts in the city square. As a girl I would wait for hours and hours for the song masters to arrive, and listen until my mother would find me and take me home.”

“At night, the glow of a million lights shine more brilliantly than the stars in the heavens. In the spring, the moss of the listorlia grows on rooftops in infinitely intricate swirling patterns. In the light of the full moon it glows softly, and releases its snow white spores into the air, covering the streets in a blanket of sweet smelling wonder.”

She paused and sighed sadly. “I do miss it.”

“How could anyone leave such a place?” asked Weila. “Why would your people have come here to begin with, when such magic exists?”

Aaliyah smiled. “I look at your desert home and see far more magic. For all our accomplishments, we have nothing like the Blood of the Desert, or the Waters of Shajir. And our life is not without peril. I tell you of the best we have to offer. These are the things I love, yet not all there is. Beyond our borders live a brutish race of foul creatures. We call them the Morzhash. Though only the Creator knows what they call themselves.”

“What are they?” asked Gewey.

“We do not know for certain,” she replied. “They are twice the size of any human, stronger than any elf, and covered in thick black hair. Their faces are twisted and flat, with a swine like nose and narrow red eyes.”

“Are they intelligent?” asked Weila.

“They are cunning to be sure,” said Aaliyah. “And deadly, though, I do not know that they possess anything more sophisticated then a club or spear. They do not work metal and live in make-shift huts, as they hunt and scavenge the forests and jungles. Occasionally, we will find what remains of a camp, but we have never found any permanent settlements. As far as we know, they live a nomadic life.”

“It wouldn't seem like they could trouble your people too much,” said Gewey.

“For thousands of years they have been little more than a nuisance,” she replied. “They raid a village, or attack a traveler. We have captured a few. But have never been able to decipher their crude language. In fact, until the time of my grandmother, we had no idea they even had a language.”

Gewey tried to picture the creatures in his mind. “You say they raid your villages? Why?”

Aaliyah shrugged. “There is no apparent reason. They take nothing. They simply kill and destroy.”

“Why not hunt them down?” asked Weila.

“We have tried,” she replied. “For all their size and girth they move through the forest with amazing speed. And they disappear long before we can track them.”

“Still, it seems like a minor problem,” said Gewey.

“Until the past few years it has been,” she said. “But lately, their raids have become more brazen. They have begun to invade deeper into our land than they ever had in the past.”

“You think it is because of what's happening here?” asked Gewey.

“It may be linked somehow,” Aaliyah replied. “The Morzhash would certainly make formidable allies should the Dark Knight find a way to control them.”

The thought of massive savage beasts fighting on the side of the Dark Knight sent chills down Gewey’s spine. The Vrykol were bad enough, but should these creatures reach their shores, it could cause fear and panic across the land. “Let us hope the two are not related.”

Weila laughed, shocking Gewey out of his morbid thoughts. “Beasts or no beasts, I intend to see your city, Aaliyah. And may the Creator help any pig-nosed oaf that tries to stop me.”

Aaliyah smiled. “I would not worry. My city is one of three, and by far the oldest. The lands around us would burn to cinders before we let it fall. Though we did not come in great number to these shores, should the Dark Knight think to extend his grasp to my home, he will find that only the humans of this land could raise a larger army.”

“Your words give me hope,” said Weila. “I must admit, the elves of the desert have been alone for too long. Your arrival, Darshan, has brought us the hope of kinship.” She folded her hands and bowed her head. “I think that perhaps your arrival has saved us. A people cannot live without moving forward. We have become too set in our ways.”

Gewey reached out and touched her shoulder. “Darshan is a name given to me by a God. And yes, I am his son. But my father was a human. He raised me, and taught me to be the man I am. He named me for his father…Gewey.”

Weila’s face twisted as she tried not to laugh. “Gewey is a silly name for a savior.”

“Gewey is a human name,” he countered. “It will be the human in me that fights the Dark Knight. And I will either defeat him, or be destroyed. And should I win. If I somehow find a way…nothing will change. Your people will still be in the desert.” His gaze shot to Aaliyah. His passion swelled. “Your people will still be across the sea. The world will still be the world. Humans, elves, and even the Morzhash. Nothing will change. Once there is victory…what then? What will you do with the world you are given?” The flow was raging through him as his voice roared. He calmed his spirit and closed his eyes. His frustration and anger grew. He reached out desperately. Aaliyah was there. His spirit had flown straight to her.

“Calm your storm,” Aaliyah whispered. “I am here.”

Gewey shot an accusing glance. “You-I-” His eyes fell. “I don’t know why I said that. I suddenly felt angry. I am sorry.”

A tear spilled down Aaliyah's cheek. “There is no need to apologize. I could feel your passion. Your true nature is beginning to assert itself.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You are what your nature has made you,” she explained. “Your human side is only one part of you. The Gods are the most powerful beings ever created. And their feelings are equally powerful.”

“This is true,” agreed Weila. “Even in our stories, the anger, love, hate, and desire of the Gods are far beyond that of mortals.”

“Are you saying I am becoming more…God?” The idea frightened him.

“Perhaps,” Aaliyah replied. “I cannot say for certain. But I feel that you are changing.”

“What do you mean you feel it?” asked Gewey.

“When you saved me, it created a bond between us,” said Aaliyah, smiling sweetly. She touched his cheek. “I knew it at once. I am surprised you did not.”

“But…but,” Gewey stammered. “What of Nehrutu? And what of Kaylia?”

“What we share is different,” she explained. “When you touched the essence of my spirit, I became a part of you.” She could see Gewey’s discomfort. “Do not fret. As far as I can tell it has not interfered with your connection to Kaylia. And as far as Nehrutu is concerned, that time between us has passed.” The mention of Nehrutu brought sadness to her voice.

This did little to ease Gewey’s mind. “Please release your hold on my bond with her.”

“You could do this on your own, I suspect.” She sighed and nodded. “But very well. I will do as you ask.”

Suddenly, Gewey could feel the barrier being lifted. Instinctively, he reached out for Kaylia. She was there. Joy and rapture rushed through him, as they became one. The longing was over. He was with her.

Aaliyah was almost unable to shake him out of his communion before they arrived at their destination. Weila led them back to the surface. The sun was just going down and Gewey could taste the salty sea air. Three hours later they were back at their boat. Gewey and Aaliyah said a heartfelt farewell to Weila, then made their way back to the ship. The crew cheered wildly as they climbed on deck.

“Tales will have to wait until tomorrow,” announced Aaliyah. “We are both weary from travel.”

That night Gewey washed and slid into bed, excited that he could contact Kaylia once again.

“I envy her fortune,” said Aaliyah, as she lay down and pulled the blanket tightly around her.

Gewey looked over. “I am the fortunate one. And not only because of Kaylia.”

Chapter 22

Kaylia ran through the halls of Valshara, nearly knocking over several people as she passed. When she reached the healing chamber, she threw open the door. Nehrutu was treating a wounded soldier who had been hurt building the gallows.

“You look happy,” remarked Nehrutu, offhandedly. “Has something happened?”

“Aaliyah released her hold on Gewey,” she replied, speaking and laughing at once.

“That is good,” said Nehrutu. “Were they successful?”

“They were,” she replied. “They are returning as we speak. Better still, Aaliyah has given up her quest for Gewey's heart.”

Nehrutu nodded. “Then you have won. You should be pleased.”

“I am.” She knelt beside Nehrutu. “This means you can be with Aaliyah again.”

“Perhaps,” he replied, skeptically. “I would first like to know what happened to sway her. She does not give up easily. That she abandoned her aspirations for Gewey does not mean she wishes to return to me.”

The door opened and Selena entered. Her face was dark with worry. “I have received a message from the one called Yanti.”

“What does it say?” asked Kaylia.

“He is demanding the release of his soldiers,” she replied. “He claims that he occupied Valshara by order of King Halmara. He says that Valshara rests within the borders of his kingdom and not that of King Lousis.”

“Do you think there is any truth to this?” asked Nehrutu.

“I don't know,” she replied. “But if there is, King Lousis may be in danger. We must warn him. The council will be meeting any day now.”

“Yanti may be trying to draw you out into the open,” Nehrutu suggested. “If you leave these walls you will be vulnerable.”

“I agree.” She furled her brow. “I have already sent a messenger. But if what Salmitaya says is true, Yanti is powerful. If he defeated my son, he will be able to stop a messenger from getting through easily enough.”

“There is nothing to do but wait and see,” said Nehrutu.

The door flew open and Matrus, one of Selena's personal guards entered, looking pale and anxious. “High Lady. There is someone requesting your presence at the gate. He says his name is Yanti.”

Selena's eyes shot wide. “I want archers on the wall at once. Tell them to not let him out of their sight.”

“A bold move,” Nehrutu mused. “Or he does not fear us. Will you speak to him?”

Selena thought for a moment. “I will.”

“But high lady-” objected Matrus.

“Don't worry,” said Selena, smiling. “If this Yanti fellow makes a move to harm me, it will be his last. No, I think if assassination was his goal he wouldn't simply walk up to the gates.”

“Still,” Nehrutu interjected, “you should keep your distance. I will accompany you.”

“As will I,” added Kaylia, thumbing her knife.

“Now, go,” Selena said to Matrus. “I want archers on the wall in five minutes.”

Matrus spun around and sped off.

Selena allowed enough time for the archers to get into position, then made her way to the front gate. A few yards from the entrance stood Yanti. He was dressed in an elegant, red shirt, black trousers, and a black, satin jacket with polished gold buttons. A red, leather belt, held a beautifully crafted gold hilted rapier. His brown, curly hair was oiled and pushed back in true noble fashion. As they approached he flashed a broad smile and bowed low.

“Thank you for seeing me, high lady,” said Yanti.

“What is it you want, Yanti?” asked Selena, trying to contain her anger.

“As my message said,” he replied, “I want my men. Oh, and Salmitaya, if you please.” He spoke her name as if it were an afterthought.

“Your men are to be hanged,” said Selena. “And you will never see Salmitaya again.”

Yanti laughed and wagged his finger. “There is no reason to hang my men. They are not criminals. And as for dear, sweet Salmitaya…what possible use would you have for her? She has no information useful to you.”

“Your men are criminals,” she shot back. “They broke into my home and slaughtered my people. This is the act of thugs, not soldiers. And they will be treated as such.”

“They acted on orders of the lord of this land, my love,” said Yanti. “Your temple's very existence is in clear violation of the laws of King Halmara, and the city of Skalhalis. I simply carried out the will of a trusted ally. Your quarrel is with him, not me, not my men, and certainly not poor Salmitaya. If you release them to me, we can all put this unpleasant business behind us.”

“You waste your breath,” barked Selena. “And my time. You think you can come here after what you have done and dictate to me what I must do?”

Yanti sighed and shook his head. “I thought you would want to prevent further bloodshed, my love. I shudder to think what King Halmara will do when he learns what has happened here. Especially, if you were to execute my men.” He glanced up at the archer on the wall. “And please do not think to harm me. Should anything happen to me, the consequences to King Lousis would be…severe.” His smiled widened. “And you should know that your message to the King was not received, though I assure you that your messenger is unharmed…for now.”

Selena face turned red with fury. “If you harm him-“

Yanti held up his hand. “Fear not, my love. I am not an animal. I only take life when I must. After all, I did leave your beloved son alive, did I not? I’m sure Salmitaya told you of our little scuffle.”

It was all Selena could do not to order the archers to fill Yanti with arrows. “You should be glad you did. Or I swear your false king would hear you scream all the way in Angraal.”

“I admire your passion,” said Yanti. “It is a shame you have chosen to be an enemy of the Reborn King. Your fall will cause me great sadness.”

“We shall see who falls,” she said, clenching her jaw. “If there is nothing more, you should leave, before I decide to do something…rash.”

“I will leave when the matter of my men is settled,” said Yanti. “Release them by sundown and I will send word to Althetas to allow King Lousis to live. Do it not, and he will surely die.” He bowed again. “I will await your favorable reply.” He turned and strode off.

“Do you think he is telling the truth?” asked Kaylia. “Do you think he has the means to assassinate the king?”

Selena watched as Yanti disappeared around a bend. “I don't know. But I don’t think I can take that risk.”

“And what of Salmitaya?” asked Nehrutu.

“No matter what happens, she will remain here,” Selena replied, with determination. “I gave my word that she would not be returned to that brute, and I will keep it.” The words stuck in her throat. She knew what must be done, and it stabbed at her heart. “Prepare the prisoners for release. But see to it they leave with nothing more than their underclothes. Pile their possessions in the center of the yard and burn them.”

Selena went to her quarters and sent for Salmitaya. A few minutes passed and a guard arrived, with Salmitaya in shackles.

“You can remove those,” Selena ordered.

Salmitaya sat across from Selena, her face expressionless, hands folded in her lap.

Selena told her about Yanti. “I told you I would not allow you to be taken, and I will keep my word. But I need to know-”

“You need to know if he has someone near King Lousis,” said Salmitaya. “I would think he does. In fact, I'm certain of it. And if he says he is allied with King Halmara, I would think that is true as well. Yanti lies, but he mixes lies with truth. I also know that if you do not do as he requests, he will make good on his threats.”

“I will release his men,” said Selena, sternly. “But I will not turn you over.”

Salmitaya shook head and chuckled softly. “If you do not, he will make good his threat. Lousis will die.”

“He may do that regardless,” Selena countered.

“No,” said Salmitaya, “He will hold to his agreement. At least until his men are away. By then you may be able to warn the king.”

“Why would he care about a few hundred soldiers?” she asked.

“Who knows?” Salmitaya bowed her head. “It is not out of a sense of responsibility to them, that much is certain. Whatever the reason he is not one to bluff. If he says he will kill Lousis, you can count on it.”

Selena stood up and poured two cups of wine. Offering one to Salmitaya, she stared thoughtfully into the woman's eyes.

Salmitaya held the cup under her nose, savoring the sweet scent. She closed her eyes as the wine passed over her tongue. “I remember when I was a novice, I would sneak away to the tavern to drink wine and listen to the musicians with my friends. We were always so afraid we’d get caught…but it just made it that much more fun.” Her body relaxed. She could almost hear the songs, and the laughter of her fellow novices. “Things were so much simpler then.” Her eyes grew heavy, as the sound of breaking glass seemed distant. So very far away. Yes, that's what she wanted. To be far away.

Selena called the guard. “Have her body wrapped in linen and given to the captives when they are released.” She leaned down and pushed the hair from Salmitaya's face. “I'm sorry.”

Chapter 23

For six days, the kings and queens of the twelve city states had been arriving. Only King Halmara was still absent. The presence of elves had caused more than a few nervous stares. King Lousis had made a point to greet each new arrival with Theopolou and Ertik at his side. Co-existence with elves was common in most of the twelve cities, but only in certain areas. And never as welcome guests in the house of the king. But even the elves didn't cause as much of a stir as Ertik, a representative from the High Lady of Valshara. Speculation ran wild as for his reason for attending.

Theopolou spent his time exploring the king’s library, reading about the history of the twelve cities. Mohanisi spent most of his time with Linis, who was busy preparing to journey to Sharpstone. From time to time Theopolou would be approached by the kings and queens, and asked about the goings on of the elves. Word had already spread about the battle in Valshara. Most could scarcely believe human and elf had fought side by side. Theopolou politely answered their questions.

By the seventh day, it had been decided to proceed without King Halmara. That night there would be a banquet, then in the morning the council would meet.

A few hours before the banquet, Theopolou returned to his quarters. The flood of questions had steadily increased until the very thought of another conversation caused him to cringe. As he settled into a plush chair and opened a book, there was a soft rap at the door.

He sighed and closed the book. “Come.”

It was Linis. “I want to speak to you before I leave for Sharpstone. Mohanisi is still exploring the city and says he will not be joining you for the banquet.”

“Your company is welcome,” said Theopolou, smiling. “I wish my presence was not required or I would join Mohanisi. Have you spoken to Lord Ganflin?”

“I have,” he replied, taking a seat beside Theopolou. “He is providing me with two dozen men and ten thousand gold, to aid Millet and Dina. He has already sent word to Lord Broin, and I hope to get his help as well.”

Theopolou nodded approvingly. “That is good. You should have enough to raise a sizable force.”

“I hope to send for elves soon,” said Linis. “But I think it best to prepare the people of Sharpstone first. Most people along the Goodbranch have never seen an elf, and only have heard stories of the Great War to form their opinions.”

“I am certain you can ease their fears,” said Theopolou. “When the time comes, send word, and I will send as many as can be spared.” He could see Linis’ expression darken. “What is it?”

Linis sat. “I have heard some disturbing news. The human, Maybell, has just arrived in the Temple of Ayliazarah, here in Althetas. She was a priestess in Kaltinor and traveled with Gewey and Lee, when I first met them. I am told she was accompanied by Malstisos.”

“I know of him,” said Theopolou. “His father and I fought together in the Great War.”

“He has left Althetas to go north to the Steppes.” Linis paused. “To face judgment.”

“For what purpose?” he asked, taken aback.

“I do not have enough information to say for certain,” said Linis. “But I think you should speak to Maybell.”

“I will send for her after the council meets.” Theopolou stood. “And you should not delay any longer, my friend.”

Linis got to his feet and sighed. “It seems I am ever traveling. But, you are right. Every moment is precious. Farewell, Theopolou. May the Creator bless you.”

“And you,” he replied, smiling.

Once Linis left, Theopolou sat back down and tried to clear his mind. He felt age gathering upon him as he thumbed through the pages of his book. The journey to the Steppes weighed heavily on his mind, and the fact that Malstisos had gone to face his judgment could complicate matters. He put the book down and slipped into bed. A bit of sleep would do him good.

A few hours later, he rose and dressed for the banquet. The king’s manor was vast and boasted a dining hall large enough to seat more than two-hundred guests. It had been built just after the Great War. It stood three stories high, and was constructed from hard, black stone, quarried from the lands just south of the Steppes. Though the decor was not elaborate, it suited the personality of Althetas and its people. Tapestries of great warships and valiant warriors hung on the walls of the larger room, alongside paintings of former kings. There were also sculptures of various lords and heroes. The furniture was diverse, as one would expect from a port city. Examples of styles from all over the world were found in every room. Theopolou even spotted a few tables and chairs of elf make. He had seen paintings of the original building. It was much smaller than what stood presently. He was told that each new king adds a little bit to the manor.

The grounds were well-tended and included dozens of small flower gardens. Mostly, local flora, but here and there, a flower from a distant land could be seen. A tall, wrought-iron gate surrounded the entire manor and grounds, with a manicured hedge just inside.

He contemplated the idea of skipping the banquet. Every moment he spent in idle conversation with the nobility of the Western Abyss made him anxious to depart for the Steppes. He wandered for a time, admiring the tapestries and sculptures, and though not as fine as those in his own home, he was impressed by the talent of human hands.

When he finally arrived in the banquet hall, the polished oak double doors were open wide and the room was already filled to capacity. Six long tables were placed side by side and ran along the length of the one-hundred foot long room. To his left, a harpist played softly. The music carried over the voices, filling the hall. Three crystal chandeliers hung from the tall ceiling and dozens of silver lanterns lined the walls. On the opposite end of the room, a raised platform held another table that spanned the halls width. Their, King Lousis, Ertik, and the other nobles were seated. He saw a few elves that had taken seats at the far right table, along with Lord Brasley Amnadon. Theopolou had only taken a few steps when a trumpet rang out.

“Lord Theopolou, your highness,” cried a herald stationed beside the door.

The room went silent as all eyes fell on Theopolou. He paused a moment, then made his way to the King’s table, where an empty seat at the king’s right side awaited him. Everyone rose and bowed. Theopolou returned the gesture, and took his seat.

“Our kitchen has been preparing a few elf dishes just for you and your people,” said Lousis, cheerfully. “Though, from what I've heard, The Frog's Wishbone may far outshine what I have to offer. Lord Ganflin prides himself in his elf cuisine.”

“Yes,” said Theopolou. “Linis mentioned it. If ever I have the time, I would like to explore your city.”

Just then a servant ran up to the King and whispered into his ear.

“It would seem King Halmara has arrived,” said Lousis, a look of concern on his face. “Along with a representative from Angraal.”

“Will you receive him?” asked Theopolou.

“If he travels with King Halmara, I have little choice,” Lousis replied angrily. “To deny him entrance would be seen as an insult. Skalhalis is an important port, and nearly as large as Althetas. And King Halmara carries much influence in the council.”

“Prepare them a seat,” Lousis ordered the servant. “And show them in. Then have quarters prepared.”

The servant scurried off.

“So it would seem Angraalis making no secret of their intent,” said Theopolou.

“It could be worse than you think,” said Lousis. “Valshara is within King Halmara’s boarders. If he took part in the siege, then the council meeting may be a useless gesture. The cities to the south will certainly side with Skalhalis, leaving the coast split in two. Then we will be caught between the elves of the Steppes and Skalhalis.”

“I hope to sway the elves from their present course, once my business here is concluded,” said Theopolou. “If I am successful, then the situation will not be as dire.”

“And if you fail…” Lousis' words faded as two figures stepped inside the hall.

The first was dressed in a fine blue silk shirt, open at the neck, with silver ruffles, matching trousers, and polished, black leather boots. A golden scabbard hung from a black belt. The hilt of the sword was interlaced with gold and ivory, and crowned with a blue sapphire. His short, sandy blond hair was oiled and combed back neatly. Though clearly a man of some years, his tan skin and stout build gave him a somewhat youthful appearance.

At his side, stood a short, thin man dressed in a plain, black cotton robe tied at the waist by a thin, white rope. Theopolou guessed him to be in his early thirties, yet his jet-black hair was already thinning. Though not strong in stature, his piercing blue eyes shone brightly and could be noticed even from across the room. This and his confident strides gave him a commanding presence. He followed close behind as they approached the table.

King Lousis stood up and bowed. “King Halmara. I welcome you.”

Halmara smiled. “Thank you, my old friend. I have missed your company.” He stepped aside and motioned toward his companion. “I present Lord Sialo Magrifal, Ambassador of Angraal, and servant of the Reborn King.”

“You dress oddly for a lord,” remarked Lousis. “Do you not?”

“If my attire offends your highness, I will change,” said Sialo, bowing low.

“Not at all,” Lousis replied. “Please, be welcome. A place has been set for you both. My home is at your disposal.”

They bowed and took their seats at the far left end of the table.

“I think I will be glad to have you in the council tomorrow,” said Lousis. “Your support will be crucial.”

“I will help, if I can,” Theopolou replied. “Though my experience dealing with humans is quite limited, I am well-versed in the nuances of diplomacy.”

Lousis lifted his cup. “A skill I will need in abundance. As for me, I have never enjoyed the subterfuge and misdirection of the nobles. My father was the politician. I am far to plain spoken for my own good.”

Theopolou laughed quietly. “I regard that as an admirable trait. I may speak the language of politics, but I prefer simple truth.”

Lousis chuckled. “I doubt we'll hear much of that tomorrow.”

Theopolou excused himself from the banquet after another hour. He felt the eyes of Sialo Magrifal following him as he left. Two elves accompanied him and insisted they guard his door. At first, he protested, but seeing their determination, relented. They wished for this business to be done. With every day that passed, the Dark Knight's grip on his kin would strengthen.

The darkness closed in as he allowed himself to drift into a dreamless slumber. His final thought was of Sialo Magrifal. He knew his arrival was a bad omen.

Chapter 24

Theopolou was wakened at dawn, when Mohanisi arrived at his door.

“What did you think of the city?” asked Theopolou.

“Humans have come a long way,” said Mohanisi, approvingly. “Their skills at building are more advanced than I would have guessed. In fact, many of the temples are quite stunning.”

“And the people?” he asked.

“Not what I expected.” He took a seat. “Though some are clearly not accepting of us, in large they are very hospitable and kind, particularly Lord Ganflin. Have you met him?”

Theopolou shook his head. “Not yet. Though I am sure I will soon enough.”

“I heard from the others, that a representative of Angraalhas arrived,” said Mohanisi. “How do you think this will affect the council?”

“Not well. It may be that we may be fighting on two fronts if my mission to the Steppes fails. King Lousis believes the cities south of Skalhalis will rally to King Halmara’s banner. And it is quite possible he was involved in the siege of Valshara.”

There was a knock at the door and a young servant boy entered.

“King Lousis summons you to the council, Lord Theopolou,” said the boy, timidly.

“Very well,” said Theopolou. “Wait for me outside.” He rose to his feet. “Go to the Temple of Ayliazarah. There you will find a woman named Maybell. I need you to bring her here. Tell her you are a friend of Linis and she will come.”

Mohanisi nodded. “I will do as you request. I wish you fortune today.”

Mohanisi left and Theopolou got dressed. The servant boy led him through the labyrinth of corridors to the east end of the manor to a broad oak door, guarded by two soldiers. The soldiers snapped to attention as Theopolou opened the door and entered the room. The council chamber was a fifty by fifty-foot hall. The walls to his left and right were covered with carved reliefs of various ships and sea creatures. At the far end stood a dozen pedestals with marble busts, each bearing a gold crown. The center of the room was dominated by a round table and fifteen chairs. The kings and queens had already arrived. Ertik was seated at the left hand side of King Lousis and Theopolou's chair stood empty at his right.

“Ah, Lord Theopolou,” called Lousis. “Now we can begin.”

Theopolou took his seat and looked out over the table.

Lousis stood. “My lords and ladies, this is Lord Theopolou. As many of you know, he is here to represent the elf nations. You have been introduced to Ertik, representing the Order of Amon Dahl.” He raised his arm in a grand sweeping motion. “These are the rulers of the western kingdoms. Starting to my right, King Stanis of Calderia, King Tredford of Yuledan, Queen Lilian of Farthing, King Braal of Maiden Shore, Queen Fasheil of Lamitia, King Halmara of Skalhalis, Lord Sialo Magrifal, ambassador of Angraal, King Victis of Tarvansia, Prince Loniel of Sieren Bay, King Jeris of Wisterton, Queen Illirial of the Saraf's Jewel, and King Tranton of Red Cliff. On behalf of all the kings and queens of the twelve cities, we bid you welcome.” He took his seat. “I think you all know by now why I have called this council.”

“I hope it’s to explain why your soldiers have invaded my land and taken possession of what is rightfully mine,” said King Halmara.

Ertik stiffened and turned red with anger. But a glance from Lousis kept him silent.

“Surely, you do not refer to the liberation of Valshara?” Lousis countered. “We merely came to the aid of a friend in need. A friend who had been set upon by the forces of Angraal. Forces who marched on your borders long before my men arrived.”

“Then perhaps this has all been a huge misunderstanding,” Sialo Magrifal interjected. “We were asked by our dear friend and ally, King Halmara, to expel those residing illegally in Valshara. According to King Halmara they were in clear violation of his law.”

This was more than Ertik could stand and he shot out of his seat. “You lie! Our temple has stood for thousands of years unmolested. You murdered my people out of revenge. Revenge your master could not exact after he was expelled from Amon Dahl for his betrayal.”

Lousis grabbed Ertik's arm and pulled him back in his seat.

“This is who the high lady sends to speak on her behalf?” mocked Sialo. “You should learn to govern your passion, when in the presence of your betters.”

“Ertik may have spoken out of turn,” said Lousis. “But he speaks truth. And I would remind Lord Sialo, that no question has been posed to him, yet he chose to speak…in the presence of his betters.” This brought a round of soft laughter.

Sialo showed no signs of anger, as he nodded and folded his hands.

“The fact remains that I was well within my rights to take Valshara,” said Halmara. “It should not matter that I enlisted the aid of Angraalto do so.”

Queen Fasheil spoke. “You believe it none of our affair that a foreign force is allowed to enter our domain?”

Halmara curled his lip. “And what of the elf army that slaughtered the Angraalsoldiers when King Lousis marched his men into my land? Is that not a foreign force?”

King Stanis of Calderia, King Tredford of Yuledan, Queen Illirial of the Saraf's Jewel, and King Victis of Tarvansia all nodded in agreement.

“The elves have as much right to be here as we,” said Lousis. “They have been here far longer and have lived among us in peace. The presence of Angraalis of great concern to them as well.”

King Stanis spoke. “Is your memory so short? There are elves living today that fought our people in the Great War. You may be liberal in your thinking, King Lousis, but for those of us in the south, we cannot ignore that elves have been a constant threat to our way of life. They have never forgiven humans for their defeat…and I doubt they ever will.”

“What say you to this, Lord Theopolou?” asked Queen Fasheil.

Theopolou looked over the council. “King Stanis is correct. In fact, I fought in the Great War.” This brought gasps and whispers. “Until recently, I was opposed to a human-elf alliance, as were most of our elders. But that has changed. We face a threat that none of us can overcome alone. We must leave behind mistrust and hatred in order to survive.”

“And what threat is that?” asked Halmara, contemptuously. “The only threat I see here is you.”

“You know well the threat I speak of,” Theopolou replied, calmly. “That you have aligned yourself with the power you believe will be victorious will not save you in the end. Should the elves fall and the armies of Angraalsweep across this land, do you think your people will remain free?”

“If I may?” said Sialo. Lousis nodded his consent. “The Reborn King has no intention of making war on this or any other land. He only seeks to strengthen friendships and create prosperity for all. Lord Theopolou speaks of unity, yet his own people assault him from the Steppes. He would have you believe that his people will protect you from the wrath of a kingdom that has done nothing to offend you. We have not invaded your land, nor will we ever. It is the elves that seek protection. And what is worse, protection from their own kind. It is they who would need you.”

Theopolou smiled. “Very well put. I can see why your master sent you. And I must admit, you are not entirely wrong. We do need an alliance with humans to survive. Our numbers are few compared to the vast armies in the north. But if your king has no intention of making war, then why raise a force so immense as to rival the armies of the Great War? Such an army can have only one purpose. Conquest.”

“You exaggerate, my lord,” said Sialo, smiling back. “We have been beset with requests for aid from all corners of the world. We only raised the forces necessary to accommodate our ally’s needs.”

“I see,” said Theopolou. “Then you should be willing to allow the kings and queens of this land to send envoys to Angraalto seek the truth of the matter…am I correct? Certainly, they would report that tens of thousands of soldiers are not massing for war, and that their neighboring kingdoms are not under the yoke of Angraal. In fact, I could send an elf envoy along with them. It would certainly ease the minds of my people. If they departed right away they could be there and back before spring. Of course, you would remain here to ensure complete objectivity.”

Sialo glared at Theopolou.

“What say you, Lord Sialo?” asked Lousis, clearly amused at the man's anger. “You could remain my guest until then.”

“I, naturally, would have no objection,” Sialo replied, regaining his composure. “But you would have to allow me to send word of their coming.”

“I think not,” said Lousis. “It may cause doubt about their findings.”

“I must insist,” Sialo retorted. “I would not want there to be any misunderstandings.”

“You could write a letter of safe passage,” offered Lousis. “Certainly, that should clear up any potential misunderstandings that might occur.”

Sialo shifted uneasily in his seat.

“Enough of this distraction,” roared King Halmara. His voice echoed through the hall. “I came here to resolve the matter of the invasion of my land, not listen to my guest have his honor insulted.”

“Indeed,” Lousis agreed. “Though I do not see where anyone has given insult. The fact is, that foreign forces invaded and killed those within your rightful borders.”

Halmara leaned forward, menacingly. “And as I said, they were acting on my behest.”

Lousis cocked his head and furled his brow. “I'm confused. What crime did these people commit to warrant their slaughter?” He leaned back. “Surly if some crime was committed they should be brought to justice, not put to the sword without trial.”

This brought murmurs of agreement…even from the southern rulers.

“You say that Valshara existed in violation of your laws,” Lousis continued. “I know your laws well, your highness. They were written at the same council as ours here in Althetas, along with the other kingdoms. Since when is a temple considered an outlaw state? When is a temple looked upon in the same manner as a brigand or bandit?”

“Valshara hid their existence from us,” argued Halmara. “They have never sworn allegiance to my rule. Moreover, they support a military branch of their order. You expect me to sit idly while this so-called temple builds its own army, beneath my very nose?”

Lousis looked to Ertik, who had managed to calm himself, and nodded.

“The Order of Amon Dahl has never had an army,” said Ertik. “Any who would say differently knows nothing. For thousands of years we have been the guardians of heaven and the keepers of history. Our knights have fought to protect all that is sacred and have served the Gods since the ancient kingdoms were young. This is well known to the Reborn King, as he betrayed our order and seized the Sword of Truth, which we had protected for generations.” He stood up and looked over the council. “You need not go to Angraalto see the Dark Knight's treachery. Temples throughout the land have been desecrated, their priests and priestesses murdered. In Baltria, the king has become little more than a puppet. In Hazrah, there are entire battalions garrisoned and ready to march. Do you think the people of Hazrah need so many for protection?

“Most of you have heard stories about my order. Can any one of you say that you have heard stories of our conquests? We have stayed hidden for so long because what we guarded could unravel the world should it fall into the wrong hands. Well, that has happened. The master Lord Sialo serves possesses a power beyond any of your imaginings. Do you think he has no intention of using it?” Ertik sat back down, staring daggers at Sialo.

There was a long pause, then Sialo got to his feet, his eyes never leaving Ertik's. He sneered, then pushed back his chair and stormed out. King Halmara stood and followed.

For more than a minute, there was silence in the hall. Finally, King Lousis stood and addressed the council. “I believe we should adjourn for an hour.”

The council rose and filed out. Only Theopolou, Ertik and Lousis remained. A servant brought them cups of wine.

“I hope what I said made a difference,” said Ertik. His hands trembled as he held his cup.

Lousis slapped Ertik on the shoulder. “I think it did. If we can sway enough of the southern rulers to our side, the rest will abandon King Halmara.” He drained his cup. “If our fortune holds, we may yet turn the tide in our favor.”

“What will happen if we cannot?” asked Theopolou.

Lousis shook his head and sighed. “In all probability, civil war. Halmara will rally the southern cities, and we will be forced to respond in kind.”

“That would be a tragedy,” said Theopolou. “Let us hope we can avoid it.”

Lousis squinted his eyes and rubbed his throat. Suddenly, he threw his head back, gasping for air and slid from his chair.

Theopolou rushed to his side. He looked back to tell the servant to get help, but the boy was gone. “The king is poisoned.”

Ertik looked at his cup and flung it to the ground.

“Are you all right?” Theopolou asked Ertik.

Ertik could only nod.

“The wine is poisoned.” Theopolou swept the table clear. “Help me get him up, then go find Mohanisi. If he is not in the manor, he may be at the Temple of Ayliazarah.”

They lifted the king onto the table. Theopolou placed his hands on the king’s chest and closed his eyes. Ertik bolted from the room yelling for the guards. Theopolou could feel Lousis' life slowly draining away as he used the flow to slow the poison coursing through his veins. Whatever the assassin had used, it was powerful. He just hoped he could keep the king alive until Mohanisi arrived. Six guards burst in, swords drawn.

“Find the servant who was just in here,” Theopolou commanded. “And let no one leave the manor. Two of you stay and guard the door.”

The guards obeyed at once.

Lousis slipped further away as Theopolou strained to keep his body alive. “Stay with me,” he whispered. “You are still needed.”

Chapter 25

Theopolou and Ertik, waited just outside King Lousis' chambers, along with a dozen guards, both elf and human. The other kings and queens had been secured in their quarters, and the manor had been sealed. Theopolou prayed that Mohanisi had arrived in time. The King was nearly dead by the time Ertik had managed to find him.

One of Lousis' personal guards approached, fury in his eyes. “The servant has been found dead in his quarters, and King Halmara and Lord Sialo are not in the manor. It seems they have fled the city. I'm sending men to pursue them.”

“No,” said Theopolou. “There is no need. They will see justice soon enough.”

“But my lord,” said the guard, “the king is poisoned and the culprits are within our reach.”

“I doubt that very much,” said Theopolou. “Someone like Sialo will have planned well his escape.” He placed his hand on the guard’s shoulder. “If you wish to serve your king, send more men to the city gates and scout the surrounding area.”

The guard heaved a sigh of frustration. “It will be done, My Lord.”

The door to Lousis’ chambers opened and Mohanisi stepped out. “The king will live. Though it may be a few days until he is fully recovered. He was moments from death, and even my skill has limits.”

This brought cries of relief from the guards.

“Say nothing to anyone,” ordered Theopolou. “Tell the council I wish to speak to them. I will await them in the council chambers in one hour.”

“Not to offend, my lord,” said an older guard. “But the council may not honor your request. They are a prideful bunch, and not all of them care much for elves.”

Theopolou smiled. “If they refuse, then threaten to drag them to the chamber by the scruff of their necks.” He could see the look of fear in the guard’s eyes. Clearly the idea of threatening royalty disturbed him. “The king nearly died, and it is very possible one of the other kings and queens had a hand in it. I swear, you will not be punished if you must become…insistent.”

The guard smiled devilishly, then marched down the hall.

“Do you really think one of them had something to do with this?” asked Ertik.

“No,” Theopolou replied. “But I am well aware that the allies of King Halmara fear such an accusation. I cannot undo what has been done to the king. But I can use it to our advantage.”

“How do you propose to do that?” asked Mohanisi.

“With your assistance,” Theopolou replied. “We must show them our strength. And most of all, we must help them unite.”

An hour later, the council filed into the chamber. Mohanisi stood behind Theopolou as they watched them take their seats. The kings and queens had looks of both anger and concern.

King Victis of Tarvansia spoke first. “What right have you to summon us?”

“You ask me this after what has happened?” said Theopolou, not hiding an accusing tone.

“What are you suggesting?” King Victis' nostrils flared.

“I suggest nothing,” Theopolou replied. “Only that King Lousis is poisoned, and someone is responsible.”

“It's obvious who is responsible,” said Victis. “King Halmara is the only one absent.”

“That is true,” Theopolou agreed. “But it begs the question…did he act alone?”

“You think to call us here to accuse us?” Victis shouted, angrily. “How dare you! You are not a ruler of these lands. What right does an elf have to be so bold?”

Prince Loniel spoke. “King Victis, perhaps you should ask if King Lousis still lives. That is the first question I would have answered, and what weighs most heavily on my heart.”

“And if he does not?” asked Theopolou. “Will you march under the banner of King Halmara?”

Prince Loniel leveled his gaze. “My father has long been a friend to King Lousis. Were it not for his ill health he would be here, and his first question would be about the well-being of his dear friend. But to answer your question. If Lousis dies, we may have no choice. We are not blind to the strength of Angraal, nor are we the fools you may think us to be. Without Althetas, how can we resist such an enemy?

“King Lousis has no heir. His passing will throw the city into chaos. If the Reborn King would have our lands, would not that be the time to take them? Who will stand against him? What resistance could we offer? We have no standing armies. Will the elves save us, as you claim? With how many swords will you do this? Ten-thousand?” He laughed sarcastically. “By the words of your own ally, we would need a hundred times that.”

“There is more to war than swords,” said Theopolou. “And victory is claimed by those who have the will to take it. If Angraalmarches on this land, it will not find simpering cowards, but a free people, fighting to protect their love and land. If the King of Althetas has died, will you simply hand over your freedom? The king has been poisoned. Do you really think those who poisoned him will not take what is yours by force?” He motioned for Mohanisi to step forward. “But you are right that we must possess the weapons to combat such a foe. I tell you that we possess strength the armies of Angraalhas yet to account for.”

Mohanisi held out his palms and a ball of flame appeared a few inches above them. Gradually, it grew, and the heat became more and more intense. The members of the council leaped from their seats and bolted for the door. The flame shot out from Mohanisi's hand barring their way.

“You have nothing to fear,” said Theopolou. “Please be calm.”

Mohanisi allowed the flame to die.

The council returned to their seats. They all stared fearfully at Mohanisi. Prince Loniel was the only one who seemed undaunted by the display.

“And this one elf will defeat these vast armies?” asked Prince Loniel.

Theopolou smiled. He liked the young prince. “No. Not alone. But know that you are not without great power on your side.”

Queen Illirial spoke. “I have been a friend to King Lousis. And I do not wish to be under the thumb of King Halmara. But if Lousis dies, you are still left without the ruler of the most powerful of all the twelve city states. The people will not accept the rule of any of us, and they certainly won't follow an elf ruler.”

“Then you must form an alliance now,” said Theopolou. “Your unity will galvanize the people of Althetas. Should the king die, there are worthy lords that could take up the mantle. You could lend your strength to this city. You could give hope to those who would otherwise despair.”

“And what role will the elves play in all this?” asked Loniel.

“We defend our homes, our lives, and our children,” Theopolou replied. “We have lived among you for more generations than can be counted. And though we have been separated by fear and hatred, we intend for that to end. Already, elf and man has spilled blood together. We have fought side by side and faced death as brothers. Understand that I was against this before your grandmother’s were children. If I can change, then so can you. Elf and man live in this world together, and we will rise or fall…together. You ask what our role will be. Our role is to create a new world…together.” He rose to his feet. “Those of you who will join me in this cause stand with me now. Those who will not…” He paused and held his hand to the door. “Your presence is no longer required.”

One by one the kings and queens stood up.

“Then I leave you to your plans,” said Theopolou.

“Will you not stay?” asked Queen Illirial.

“I cannot,” he replied. “But Ertik speaks now for my people, until our elders arrive.”

Ertik looked at Theopolou, shocked. “My Lord…”

Theopolou turned and faced him, and took his hands. “You have my confidence, Ertik. If I am to stand by what I say, I must trust in my own words. You are to be the voice of the elves, whilst I am away.” He smiled warmly. “If you need aid, there are elves here that can assist you until Lord Chiron or one of the others arrive.”

Ertik stared, stunned. Finally, he bowed his head and returned to his chair.

“Before you leave,” said Queen Illirial, “I wonder, did you intend to tell us that King Lousis still lives?” Her face slowly twisted into a smile.

“As you were able to find this out on your own,” replied Theopolou, “it would appear that is unnecessary.”

Theopolou bowed and left, Mohanisi just behind him.

“I noticed you did not mention Shivis Mol,” said Mohanisi.

“That is not for me,” said Theopolou, “and I think it would have done more harm than good. These people fear for their lands and family. It is enough that a vast army intends to wreak havoc. Should I tell them their very souls are at stake as well?”

Mohanisi nodded with understanding. “The woman, Maybell, is here.”

“Good,” said Theopolou. “Gather the men. We leave as soon as I have spoken to her.”

Mohanisi led him through the manor to where Maybell waited.

Maybell sat on the edge of a bed. She had dimmed the lanterns and allowed the dark to surround her.

“You are Maybell?” Theopolou's voice was deep and soothing.

“Yes,” she replied weakly. “And you want to hear my story. You want to know what happened to Malstisos.”

“I do,” he replied and sat next to her. “My name is Theopolou. I am-.”

“I know who you are,” she said, irritably. “And I know why you're here. But I don't know if what I can tell you will be of any help.”

“Whatever it is, I need to know,” said Theopolou

“You know, when I saw two brothers….real brothers mind you…fight to the death, I thought I had seen enough to break my heart in two.” The light from the crack in the door silhouetted Theopolou. “But when I saw someone as noble and kind as Malstisos slowly become dark and diseased…” A tear fell down her cheek. “I can't explain what happened.”

“Do your best,” said Theopolou.

Maybell recounted the events up until the duel between Grentos and Vadnaltis. “Once that happened, Malstisos withdrew. His mind and spirit grew darker each day. I just thought he was agonizing over what had happened, but soon it was clear to me that there was more to it than that. He began muttering to himself, almost like he was arguing with some inner demon. I tried talking to him, but he either ignored me or became angry.”

“Do you think he went mad?” asked Theopolou.

“I did at first,” she replied. “But then strange things began to happen. Dark figures began lurking about, wherever we went. Then, Malstisos started disappearing for hours at a time. I thought he was scouting or hunting, until one night when we camped just outside a small farm village, I caught him talking to a black-cloaked figure, behind a clump of bushes. When I asked him about it, he grew enraged and started shouting and flailing about. I swear, I thought he was going to hurt me.”

Theopolou rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “These cloaked figures…could you hear what they were saying?”

“No,” she replied. “I could only hear whispers. But after that I didn't question where he went.”

“Did he say or do anything else that would explain what was happening to him?”

She shook her head. “By the time we reach Althetas he had stopped talking altogether. But whatever is happening, I pray you can help him.” She covered her face and wept. “He was so good and kind.”

Theopolou placed his hand gently on her head. “If I can help him, I will. That he kept his word, and delivered you safely means that there may still be hope.”

“I'm sorry.” She choked back her sobs. “I wish I could tell you more.”

“You have told me enough.” He stood up. “If you wish, I can have you escorted to Valshara. Kaylia is there.”

“I would like that. Thank you.” Maybell stood and walked Theopolou to the door. “May the Gods keep you.”

Theopolou smiled and left.

Mohanisi was waiting outside. “Was she helpful?”

“I do not know,” he admitted. “What she said was strange. From what I know of him, Malstisos was strong-willed and noble. I cannot imagine what may have affected him in such a manner. But I intend to find out. Ready yourself to depart and meet me in my quarters in one hour.”

Theopolou pondered what Maybell had said. Perhaps whatever corrupted the mind of Malstisos had affected the elves of the Steppes as well. And if he could not overcome it, this may very well be his final journey.

Chapter 26

For three hours, the council had debated on what to do about King Halmara. Most of the southern rulers, with the exception of King Tredford, thought it would be best to negotiate rather than go to war. The others argued that the attempted assassination of King Lousis left them no other choice. Ertik was to the point of utter frustration when the door flew open and King Lousis entered, assisted on either arm by a guard. His face was pale and he struggled to take each step, but the fire in his eyes said he was determined.

There was a moment of silence, then the hall erupted in applause and cheers. As Lousis took his seat he held up his hand to quiet the council.

“By the Gods we are grateful that you live, your highness,” said Prince Loniel.

This prompted another round of cheers.

“I'm grateful as well, Prince Loniel,” he replied, his voice matched the fire in his eyes. “I am told King Halmara and the snake Lord Sialo have fled. Also, that you have seen the wisdom of alliance against Angraal. Though I wish it hadn't taken an attempt on my life to accomplish this.”

King Victis spoke. “We are all overjoyed that you survived. And clearly Angraalcannot be trusted. But many of us feel that perhaps King Halmara has been deceived into doing you harm, if it even was King Halmara, and not Sialo acting alone. We would know the truth before we consider war against one of our own.”

“The truth is that he fled,” said Lousis, sternly. “The truth is that he allowed the murder of the men and women in Valshara. That is enough for me to go to war. Those who do not have the stomach for it…well, then you have chosen your side.”

Queen Illirial spoke. “But your highness, surely you would rather not see us at war with each other? Would not a peaceful resolution with King Halmara be preferable?”

“While you contemplate peaceful solutions, Angraalmay be already moving against us,” Lousis countered. “I understand that the southern cities are dependent on trade with Skalhalis as well as Baltria, and the idea of losing that trade worries you. But King Halmara is not fit to rule. And either by his action, or inaction, he has made his intentions known. I will not allow him to sit on the throne after what he has done. He has brought shame to his house, and his kingdom.” He struggled to his feet. “Those who are willing, you should begin to muster your armies.”

“What do you intend to do?” asked Prince Loniel.

“I intend to defeat King Halmara,” He sat back down. “Then I will do the same to this so-called Reborn King.” He looked to Ertik. “I am informed that you speak for both Valshara, and the elves.”

“This is true,” Ertik replied. “Lord Theopolou gave me that honor. He heads north with Mohanisi, to speak to the elves of the Steppes.”

“Then I will need you to send word to Valshara,” said Lousis. “We will need the help of the elves.”

“I will go myself as soon as possible,” said Ertik. “You will have whatever support you require.”

Lousis looked over the council carefully. “I will return to my chambers now. In one hour, those who are with me, may join me there. Those who are not…you are free to leave my home.”

King Stanis spoke. “And should we not join you, will you make war on us as well?”

Lousis smiled. “I will not. Unless you support King Halmara, you will remain unmolested by me. But know that when Angraalcomes…and they certainly will…you stand alone.” He struggled to his feet, and the guards rushed to his side. “You have one hour to discuss it. Ertik, as your mind is set, I would have you join me now.”

Ertik followed as the king carefully made his way from the chamber. They could hear the room erupt as the door slammed shut behind them.

“What do you think they will do?” asked Ertik.

“Most will not suffer Halmara to sit on the throne,” he replied. “They would have come to that conclusion without my help. Of course, it would take them weeks…and if Halmara is bold enough to make an attempt on my life, then he feels that there is nothing the others can do about it. That would mean he thinks he has the strength to keep the others in line. It may also mean he is ready for war.”

“You think Angraalhas already sent an army?” asked Ertik.

The king shrugged. “I don't know. But if they haven't, they soon will. We must be ready.”

They wound their way back to the king’s bed chambers. Ertik was surprised to see how humbly the king lived. The walls were covered with paintings of past rulers of Althetas, each with an engraved gold placard fastened below it, stating their name and years they ruled. The large mahogany bed was well-made and comfortable, but simple in its design. A small, round glass-topped table and four chairs sat beside a picture window that overlooked a well-tended garden. At the opposite end a tall sturdy bookcase housed dozens of leather-bound tomes. Two doors on either side of the bed were ajar, revealing a shower in one, and a closet filled with the kings clothing in the other.

Lousis dismissed the guards and walked carefully to the table and eased into a chair. Ertik took the seat opposite him.

“The southern rulers are not as bad as they seem,” said Lousis. “They fear for their people, should trade cease. None of them would admit it, but the Reborn King has already forced many of them to trade exclusively with Angraal. His stranglehold on Baltria has forced them in to it.”

“If that is the case, then what will you do?” asked Ertik.

“First, I will deal with Halmara. Then I will see to Baltria.”

“You intend to make war with Baltria?” asked Ertik.

“I hope not,” he replied. “But it very well may come to that. This war may begin here, but it will spread to all nations. We must find other allies. Baltria may not be as lost as we think. My understanding is that Angraalhas influenced the nobles and merchants. If we can break that hold, then war will not be necessary. Of course, if Baltria is already under military control, then we will be forced to liberate it.”

“Do you have enough men?” asked Ertik.

“Alas, no,” admitted Lousis. “Even with all twelve kingdoms united we would be hard-pressed. The elves will be of great help, but we will need even more of them.”

“Then let us hope there are more rulers such as you, who are not afraid to stand against the Reborn King.”

Lousis smiled. “Make no mistake, I am afraid. But I fear even more what would happen to my people should we fail.”

There was a knock at the door and Prince Loniel entered.

“I hope your highness doesn't mind,” said the Prince. “I grew tired of listening to the nobles bicker. My mind was set the moment you were poisoned.”

Lousis offered him a seat, which he gratefully accepted.

“How are things faring,” asked Lousis.

“As one might expect,” he replied, with a shrug. “They speak of peaceful resolutions and fear of war. But I think most are more afraid to stand alone. And in light of recent events, they fear what Angraalmay do to them.”

“So you think they will side with Althetas?” asked Ertik.

“I do,” Loniel replied. “At least they will give what support they can. Most cities do not have the wealth of Althetas, and could raise no more than a few thousand soldiers at best.”

“It will be enough,” said Lousis. “It will have to be.”

A few minutes later the other kings and queens began to arrive. With only a few minutes until the hour was up, only King Victis had not yet arrived.

“It will be a blow to lose the Tarvansia Peninsula,” remarked Loniel.

“Being that it has the most direct route to Baltria, it will make thing’s far more difficult,” agreed Lousis.

Just then, the door opened and King Victis entered, looking very unhappy. “I am loathed to use force against King Halmara. But as the will of the council is against me…”

Queen Illirial spoke. “King Lousis. As you know, none of our kingdoms possess the wealth of Althetas, and this shall cut off our trade with Baltria. What can you do to ensure our people don't starve?”

“If I must, I will empty my treasury,” Lousis replied, allowing his gaze to meet each of them. “There are already lords and ladies in my city that are struggling against this growing threat. We will enlist their help as well. Once we deal with Halmara, we will address Baltria.”

“So you will expand this war to include Baltria?” asked Victis, scowling.

“I will try other means first,” said Lousis. “But we cannot allow a port of that size to be under Angraal’s control. But these are things to be discussed once we have settled with Halmara. In the meantime, we must discover what is happening in Skalhalis. I will ask Ertik to send elf scouts to see if they have armed for war.”

“I will do so at once,” said Ertik. “And I would suggest you send more men to Valshara. One hundred can hold off a siege for a long time, but not indefinitely.”

“I agree,” said Lousis. “I intend to make Valshara our staging point.” He got to his feet. “I know that some of you do not have many soldiers to offer. So all cities south of Althetas should keep what you must in your land to keep order, and send the rest to Tarvansia. If Angraalsends forces from Baltria, that is where they will strike first. The rest will join my forces in Valshara. Agreed?”

Gradually, all nodded in agreement.

For the next several hours, they mapped out plans for troops and supplies. It was late in the afternoon before they decided to adjourn for the day. Lousis asked Victis to remain in his chambers once the others had left.

“Thank you, my friend,” said Lousis. “I know how difficult it was for you to make this decision.”

“King Halmara is my cousin,” Victis replied. “But in the end, there is no denying that you are right. He is not fit to rule. I have worried about the future of my land for some time, and I am not blind to what Angraalhas done. I can see what will become of us. But I still do not think we can prevail.”

“Then why did you join us?” asked Lousis.

Victis held his head high. “Because I am King of Tarvansia. My people will remain free for as long as I draw breath.” He moved to the door. “But I am tired, and I believe we have several more days of planning ahead of us.” He pulled open the door. Just as he left he paused. “I thank you for excluding me in the campaign against my cousin.”

Lousis smiled as the door closed. He changed into his robe and slipped into bed. His body ached and his head was swimming. The battle of Valshara entered his thoughts. The sights and sounds of the dead and dying were still fresh in his memory. This would get worse. Much worse. He looked up at the picture of his father, King Hersal, which hung on the wall. Hersal had ruled for fifty-two years. In all that time, there had been only one border dispute, and a few bands of marauding raiders had been run out of the kingdom.

“What I would give to trade places,” he muttered, then let himself drift off to sleep.

Chapter 27

For six days, Lee had been chained, hands above his head, to a cold stone wall. At least, that’s how long he thought it had been. No food or water had been offered, and even with the strength of Saraf running through his veins, he was beginning to weaken. He occasionally heard someone enter the small cell where he had been taken, but a blindfold had been kept tight over his eyes, and he could not tell who it was. He did his best to concentrate and hear what was going on nearby, but there was only the sound of various rodents scurrying about, and the stomping of hard boots on stone floors.

His mind wandered to thoughts of Jacob. He refused to believe that he had been betrayed, though his captors had clearly wanted him to believe so. He would not fall prey to doubt and despair. In all probability, his life would end soon, and he would need more than innuendo for his last moments to be filled with anger.

The door opened. The footfalls were light and graceful, not the clumsy, plodding of a soldier. The scent of lilacs filled the air.

“So they have sent a woman to attend me,” said Lee. His mouth was so dry, each word was an effort. “You can tell your master his efforts to break me will fail. It is just as well that he kill me and be done with it.”

He felt a cup touch his dry cracked lips. The water poured down his throat. He moaned with relief in spite of himself.

“So what is it you intend to do?” he asked, contemptuously. “Keep me alive so you can watch me suffer?” There was no response. “You fear to speak? It's just as well. Your words would be lies.”

“I don't know what to say.” The voice was a soft whisper.

“Then say nothing,” he shot back. “Better next time they send a mute fool.”

There was a long silence, then he felt a cool rag gently cleaning the grime from his face.

He shook his head violently. “Do not touch me, unless it is a blade you carry.”

“Are you so anxious to die?” she asked.

The voice was familiar. “Another trick,” he thought.

“Yes, my love.” She spoke as if she knew his thoughts. “It is me.” She lifted the cup to his lips again, but Lee turned his head.

“Then remove my blindfold,” he commanded.

“I am forbidden,” she replied. “It was the only way they would allow me to see you.”

“I know you are lying. Penelope would not act with such cruelty.”

“I will remove your blindfold,” she offered. “But know that if I do I will be taken from here at once and not be allowed to return. You will learn I speak truth, but we will not speak again…ever.”

Lee's heart ached. “Then leave me blind. But know that I will tell you nothing the Dark Knight may want to know.”

“That is best,” she said. “There is much that has happened of which you are unaware.”

“And Jacob,” he asked. “What has happened to him?”

“He has escaped,” she replied. “He did not betray you, Lee. He was recognized by a recruit from Hazrah.”

“That is good to hear,” he replied. This lifted a great weight from his heart. “But if the Dark Knight intends to break me, why tell me this.”

She continued to clean his face. “The Reborn King does not need to leave you in despair to break you, my love. You will understand once you are in his presence.”

“He may find it more difficult than he imagines.”

“He is aware of your strength,” she said. “It is why he has waited. He wishes you intact. Should he force his will upon you, your spirit could shatter.”

“And how is it you know this,” asked Lee.

“I have been in the presence of the Reborn King,” she replied, sadly. “I have witnessed his power. No one can resist him. Not even you, my love.”

“Did you come here to warn me, or prepare me,” he asked, angrily. “Penelope would never say these things.”

“I only tell you the truth,” she replied. “I wish things were different. I am Penelope Nal'Thain, but no longer the woman you knew. The king has changed me.”

“Then help me,” said Lee. “I will undo what he has done.”

“If only that were possible,” Her voice was filled with sorrow and longing. “But I am lost. Even if I helped you escape, I would betray you. I wouldn't be able to help myself. You can't know what it means to be under the king’s power.”

He could hear her weeping softly. “Please. I can help you. I swear it. I can break the hold he has over you.”

“I must go.” She lifted the cup to his lips once more. “I will try to return tomorrow. Soon you will be brought before the king.” Lee heard the door creak open. “I would speak to you again before you become his.”

The door slammed shut. A tear fell down his cheek. He didn't want to believe it was Penelope, but he knew it was. Rage and frustration swelled in his chest. He jerked the chains that bound his wrists with all his might, but even with his immense strength they were far too thick.

He knew he must escape, somehow. He would find a way to free Penelope. He would take her away from this wretched place. His thoughts turned to Jacob. He had escaped. But would he run? He doubted it. Jacob had too much of his father in him, which meant he would likely end up being killed or captured. There must be a way to escape before it was too late. If what Penelope said was true, the Dark Knight had the power to break him, then soon he may be helpless to do anything. He wished he could have seen her, if only for a moment.

He thought back to the last time they were together; her eyes filled with tears, her voice hot with anger. She cursed him for leaving.

The door opened again. His heart jumped, but the sound of boots told him that it was not Penelope. A fist slammed into his abdomen, nearly causing him to lose his breath.

“You know what you cost me, Starfinder?” It was Captain Lanmore. “Because of your deception, I have lost everything.”

“And you expect me to feel guilt?” Lee scoffed. “You are the servant of my enemy and the enemy of all free people.” This brought a fist crashing to his jaw. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and he spat. “I'm surprised they allowed you to live, after they realized your stupidity and incompetence.”

He whispered in Lee's ear. “I should kill you now. But perhaps I'll kill your son, instead…while you watch. Yes. He's stupid enough to think he can rescue you. When he's caught, I'll skin him alive.”

Lee laughed. “Those are the words I would expect from a coward. You are truly bold when faced with a man in chains. Were I free, you would run like the scared dog that you are.”

“You think me a fool?” He grabbed Lee's face and squeezed. “I am not ignorant to what you are, Lee Nal'Thain, Starfinder, or whatever you call yourself…son of Saraf. You think my king sends us to war ill-informed. I know what you are capable of. So if you think to goad me into releasing you, then you waste your breath.”

“Then I suggest you finish your business and leave,” said Lee.

“I'm finished,” said Lanmore. “And soon, you will be, too.”

The door slammed hard. Lee couldn't help but feel pity for the captain. A commoner in a world of nobles, clawing his way through the ranks, was admirable. He had felt a genuine kinship with the man. But still, he was the enemy. He had not really thought he could anger Lanmore enough to release him. But it had been worth a try. Still, there must be a way.

He slid down the wall, allowing the chains to support him. He needed to rest. He need to stay strong. When the moment arrived, he would be ready. He fell asleep, his face still showing determination.

The sound of a creaking door shocked him out of his slumber. It was the light footfalls of Penelope, but mixed with the clinking of metal, and scraping of leather. He felt thin, delicate fingers pull the blind-fold from his eyes. He squinted at the light from the torches, but as his eyes focused, he saw her.

Her long, straight, raven hair fell down her back and around her shoulders, framing her sweet features. Her ivory skin and deep blue eyes staring lovingly at him, brought him to tears. She smiled a warm, sad smile as she stepped back. Even in the blue nightgown she wore, she looked graceful. Age had not touched her. She was every inch the woman he remembered.

“It is you,” he cried.

In her right hand she held a large, iron key. With it, she reached up and unshackled him. Lee nearly collapsed. Struggling to steady himself, he threw his arms around his wife and embraced her tightly.

“I am here, my love,” she whispered. She pulled back slightly and met his eyes.

Lee was weeping openly. He kissed Penelope long and deep, crushing her to his chest. “I prayed for this. Come. We will find Jacob, and I will get you away from here.”

She pointed to a guard’s uniform and sword, piled next to the door. “Quickly. Change into this.”

Lee beamed, and donned the uniform. “Are you ready?”

Penelope smiled a sad smile, and kissed Lee once more. “I cannot go with you.”

“What do you mean,” he exclaimed. “Of course, you can. They will not stop us. If I have to, I will cut my way through every soldier in Angraal.”

Penelope grasped her stomach and doubled over. Lee rushed to her side and helped her as she slid to the floor.

“What is wrong?” His voice was desperate.

“I am saving you the only way I can,” she said, weakly. “I told you. I belong to the king now. He has enslaved my spirit. I could only resist him for a short time. But it will be long enough…” She winced in pain, then reached inside her robe, and pulled out a small, empty vial.

“Please, no!” he sobbed. He recognized the faint odor of venil root. “Not this way!”

“It was the only way I would not betray you,” she explained, softly. “I could not bear you falling under the same curse that now possesses me. The Reborn King is more powerful than you can imagine. He must be stopped. His plans go far beyond the coming war. He wants to watch the world burn. And once he has conquered all, he will destroy the earth….and heaven along with it. Nothing will remain.” She tried to push Lee away, but he held her fast. “Now go. Jacob has been spotted three miles south of the garrison. Find him before they do. Please, save our son.” Her eyes closed and with one last gasp, and she went limp.

Tears fell freely as he pulled her close. Then, as if an echo in his mind, came the words save our son. He laid her gently on the floor and kissed her lips. “Goodbye, my love.” He took one final look and wiped his eyes. Dark sadness began to boil into blinding rage.

He open the door to his cell. Two guards lay dead, just outside, one wearing nothing but his underclothes. He dragged the bodies inside the cell and closed the door. Lee thought about the layout of the garrison. He hoped the uniform would be enough to allow him to pass through unnoticed. That must have been why Penelope cleaned his face, he thought. She must have known all along. The memory stabbed at him, harshly. No. He must push aside despair for now. He recalled how he had been brought there. They had not blindfolded him until after he was in chains. Their mistake.

He made his way through the stone corridors of the keep until he reached the main hall leading to the front entrance. His muscles tensed as two guards walked by, but to his relief they didn't even bother to look at him. The bureaucrats had left their desks for the evening, so the path to the door was open.

Hoping it was night, he opened the door and stepped into the yard. Torches burned around the perimeter and along the slate path leading to the gatehouse. The frigid night air swept under his clothes. He shivered for a split second, then walked at a steady pace toward the gate. Two guards were at the gatehouse, but they scarcely noticed his passing.

The road south was empty. He looked north to Kratis. It glowed on the background of the night sky, its towers looming ominously. The thought of the Dark Knight being so close redoubled his rage, but he forced it down and headed south. Once out of eyesight of the garrison, he left the road, darting in and out from behind trees and brushes, and stopping every few yards to listen for signs of Jacob. Just as Penelope had said, after three miles, he heard him.

Lee crept silently until he was only a few yards away from a felled tree. Jacob crouched behind it ready to spring.

“Jacob,” whispered Lee. “Come out.”

Jacob stayed perfectly still. Lee called out again. This time he cautiously climbed over the tree and walked to where his father waited. Lee embraced his son.

“How did you escape?” asked Jacob.

The pain of Penelope's death cut deep once again. “We must flee.”

“What about mother?” he pressed.

Before Lee could respond, he heard several men approaching from the road. He spun around, but heard more men coming from the other direction.

“Don't try to run,” called the voice of Captain Lanmore. “There is no escape.”

Lee and Jacob drew their swords.

“Come closer if you long for death,” called Lee.

The men halted their approach.

“There is no need for this,” shouted Lanmore, from a few yards away. “My master wishes you returned to him unharmed. You and your son.”

“If I return to your master, it will be to end his life,” roared Lee.

Lanmore laughed. “Even your dear wife knew that was impossible. Why do you think she helped you escape?”

Jacob shot Lee an accusing glance.

“And for that she paid with her life,” Lee replied, with hatred spewing from his lips. “My wife lay dead because of your master’s evil. Do you think I will simply return with you? You’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

“Do you really think the Reborn King would allow such a noble lady to die?” he asked. “She could not escape his grasp so easily. No, Lord Nal'Thain. Your wife still lives.”

“You lie!” he shouted. “I saw her die. I held her in my arms.”

“I'm sure you did. But the king is powerful. Those whom he wishes to live will live.” He took a step forward, and sheathed his sword. “He knew she would help you escape, and he knew she would try to take her own life to ensure that she could not betray you. Ask yourself this. How did you escape so easily? How did you walk straight through the front gate? He knew you would try to find your son. Should we have tried to capture him, he would have resisted, and the King does not want his blood. Return with me now and you can be with your family again.”

“When I run, you follow,” Lee whispered to Jacob.

“But mother-” he protested.

“Your mother is dead,” he snapped. “And you will not follow her.”

Lee burst into a dead run southeast. Jacob was on his heels. He passed the soldiers just as they realized he was there. They gave chase, but Lee and Jacob were too fast and soon they disappeared into the darkness.

The soldiers returned to Captain Lanmore, scraped, bruised, and out of breath. He ordered them to return to the garrison. He paused and stared into the shadows of the forest. He felt a presence just behind him. Its raw power nearly sent him falling to his knees, but he dare not turn around.

“Such a pity.” said a voice. It was almost a whisper, yet it carried a power that made the sound seem to take physical form.

“Forgive me, Master,” he said. Fear pierced his heart. “They escaped. My men weren't fast enough.”

“If I wanted them captured I would have sent the Vrykol.” It sounded amused. “But it matters not. I already have foreseen the fate of Lee Starfinder.”

The presence vanished. Lanmore fell to the ground and wept.

Chapter 28

Gewey stared over the bow of the ship. Aaliyah had continued with his training, but as they drew closer to their destination, he noticed that she would frequently lose focus. After a week she had taken to sleeping on deck. Gewey had offered to give her the room, but she told him that she preferred to sleep under the stars, and enjoy the scent of ocean air.

He had tried on several occasions to speak with her, hoping to lift her spirits, but she would withdraw even further. By the time the ship rounded the Tarvansia Peninsula, Aaliyah informed him that he would be spending his remaining time studying with Drasalisia, the navigator. Gewey tried to object but she would not be swayed, and seemed relieved when the navigator reluctantly agreed.

From the onset of the lessons, he realized that Drasalisia intended to be a strict task-master. The first day, he joined her at the bow of the ship. She looked at him sideways, then handed him a small cup of water. She had him sit cross-legged on the deck, a few feet behind her.

“You can join me when you learn control,” she said. She held out her hand and a small droplet of water floated from the cup and hovered a few inches in the air. Then it rolled on the cups edge and slid back in. “When you can do this, you are ready to continue.” She stood up and stared down at Gewey for a moment, then with a huff, returned to the bow.

Gewey closed his eyes and allowed the flow of the air to surround the tiny cup, but quickly found that he could not lift the water. Again and again, the cup spilled over. Each time he returned with more water the navigator shot him a disapproving glance. After three hours, he leaped to his feet and let out a frustrated scream.

“What good is this?” he shouted. “How does this help me?”

The navigator strode over and picked up the cup. “Hold this in your palm.”

He obeyed, unenthusiastically. Another tiny droplet of water floated out and drifted toward the navigator.

“Not everything needs brute force,” she said. The droplet flew forward at blinding speed, and struck the cup, shattering it. Water and glass fell to the deck. Gewey stared in amazement. “Such a thing could be quite useful, wouldn't you say?” She returned to her duties and glanced over her shoulder. “You will need another cup.”

Gewey nearly broke into a run, excited by what he had seen. For six straight hours he continued to try, but was still unable to do it. The sun was setting and the navigator was being relieved. She walked over to Gewey and sat next to him.

“Show me what you are doing,” she said, in her typical, emotionless way. She took Gewey’s hand and brought her spirit close to his.

Gewey tried once again, and once again failed. He forced the water over the side. The moment it touched the deck he felt the navigator seize the flow and return it to the cup.

“You must understand the way this power works,” she explained. “Power of the earth, air and water are not different. At least, not in essence. They are pieces of the same world. You try to dig and lift the water with air, as a shovel to earth. Or you throw it, as a bale of hay into a wagon.” She reached out and touched the flow of the water, surrounding a tiny drop, pressing it in. “You transition it from one to the other. It is as one hand touching the other. The air stirred almost imperceptibly, and blended with the droplet. In unison, it rose, carried on a tiny cushion of air. “Do you see?” The droplet fell gently back into the cup.

“I understand.” His words were a gasp.

“Good,” she said, with a hint of satisfaction. “Return tomorrow and try again. You have done enough today.”

In spite of his desire to continue, he knew it was useless to argue. The rest of the evening he spent with the crew, learning the ship and listening to their tales. Aaliyah joined him for dinner, but stayed in her cabin for the rest of the evening, until she went on deck to sleep.

This time Gewey was determined to find out what troubled her and brought his blanket and pillow and lay down beside her.

“I know you think you can help me,” said Aaliyah. “But there is really nothing you can do.”

“If I can't help, would you at least tell me what is troubling you?”

She sighed, and closed her eyes. “I am trying to still my heart. Soon I must see Nehrutu again.”

Gewey raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I would think you'd be happy about that.”

“I am uncertain how I feel,” she replied. “I will be pleased to see him, but uncertain as to what to say. Through your communication with Kaylia, he will be aware of your decision…and my failure.”

Gewey chuckled. “That should make him happy.”

She looked over at Gewey. “If Kaylia left you in pursuit of another, would you be happy when she returned?”

“If it meant we would be together, I might,” he replied. “You left him out of a sense of duty, not because you stopped loving him. I’m sure he understands that.”

“He does. But I cannot help but wonder how I would feel if the situation were reversed. Would I be so willing to return to the one that spurned me?” She smiled. “I am acting as a child. But matters of the heart make children of us all. Even the most wise.”

“Have you reached out with your spirit?” he asked. “I'm sure it will ease your mind if you do.”

“I have more knowledge than you, Gewey,” she replied. “But I am not as strong. I cannot span such great distances.”

“I could help,” he offered.

Aaliyah couldn't stop herself from laughing. “I am afraid such a meeting would be too personal. But I thank you, regardless.” She closed her eyes. “Now if you intend to stay under the stars with me, you must allow me to rest.”

Gewey squeezed her hand and rolled over. The sound of the ocean swells lapping against the hull was sweet music, singing him to sleep. As he drifted, he thought of Kaylia. He considered reaching out to her, but the motion of the ship pulled him down too fast, and in seconds, his breathing was deep and steady.

The morning brought the sound of gulls and the spirited voices of the crew hard at work. Aaliyah was already busy with the running of the ship and appeared to be in much better spirits. After breakfast, he returned to the navigator carrying his cup of water. Taking his place on the deck, he continued the exercise. This time, after only two tries, he did it. A small droplet of water floated from the cup. Gewey was elated. He moved it around, making it rise, fall, and travel in a tight circle. He allowed the flow to swell, and concentrate within him. He removed another droplet….then another and another, until there were ten in all. He formed them into a ring and pushed them above the navigator’s head. Then, one by one, allowed them to fall.

The navigator turned slowly, her expression unmoved. “That is enough for today.”

Gewey tried to suppress a laugh. “Don't you have a sense of humor?”

She turned back around, saying nothing. Gewey frowned and headed toward the cabin. After only a few steps toward the door a large ball of water crashed down on his head, soaking him to the skin. The elves on deck burst into laughter. Gewey looked back at the navigator who was still facing forward.

“There is nothing wrong with my sense of humor,” she said.

Gewey grinned, boyishly. He used the flow to dry his clothes, then went in search of Aaliyah. He found, her in her quarters, pouring over a large map that covered the entire desk. He told her what the navigator had taught him…and what she had done.

“She must like you,” she noted.

“You'd never know it by the way she looks at me,” Gewey replied.

“I've known Drasalisia for seventy years and never seen her be playful.” She leaned back in her chair and grinned. “We should arrive just north of the city of Skalhalis in two days. From there we will cut across country, and arrive in Valshara the following day.”

Just then a bell sounded repeatedly from on deck. Aaliyah jumped up and flew from the cabin, Gewey on her heels. As they made their way up, he could feel the ship slowing.

“What is it?” asked Aaliyah, as she made her way to the bow.

“A fleet of ships just beyond the horizon,” said the navigator. “At least fifty.”

“Can we avoid them?” asked Aaliyah.

“We can,” she replied. “But you may wish to go ashore further north. From their course it looks as if they are heading for Skalhalis.”

Aaliyah thought for a moment. “No. I want you to plot a course that has us arriving under the cover of darkness. Once Gewey and I are away, take the ship as far off shore as possible, while still close enough to be contacted.”

“There is more.” The navigator’s countenance betrayed her worry. She took Aaliyah's hand and they closed their eyes. After a few minutes she let go and lowered her head as if fatigued. “Is that what attacked you in the desert?”

“It was,” replied Aaliyah. She turned to Gewey. “It would seem Angraalhas sent more forces. Vrykol are aboard ships bound for Skalhalis. They will arrive just as we get to Valshara. You must warn Kaylia.”

Gewey nodded sharply and bolted to his quarters. Sitting in front of the desk, he reached out for Kaylia, but her thoughts were presently turned to matters of the flow. “Nehrutu must be giving her another lesson,” he thought. He pressed his spirit in even harder. This time he reached her. He explained what Aaliyah had said, and at once, she broke contact.

Aaliyah enter a moment later. “Did you succeed?”

The shock of Kaylia pulling away so suddenly, made him dizzy. “Yes. I'm sure of it.”

Aaliyah walked over to the desk and stared down at the map. “We will come very close to the ships when we land, and we still may be seen from the shore if an army is mustering for war.”

“Then they will not live to tell of our passing,” said Gewey, a small fire building in his heart. The rage returned. It felt good. He smiled fiendishly, and looked sideways at Aaliyah. “I guess the war has truly begun.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder. “It would seem so.”

The rest of the day he spent with the crew, trying to calm himself and keep his mind as far from war as he could. By now, he had learned quite a bit about the workings of the ship and offered to lend a hand wherever he could. This was well received by the crew, who in short order were teaching him elven seafarer’s songs and telling old tales passed down aboard ships for thousands of years. Most were about sea monsters and adventure, but a few dealt with the Gods. Gewey tried to pretend not to be interested about those, but couldn't help wondering how much truth was hidden within the fiction. After seeing what secrets the desert held, he thought that perhaps the stories held more truth than anyone had guessed.

In spite of all his efforts, his mind kept wandering to the coming battle. The force that marched on Valshara would certainly not be enough to defeat fifty ships filled with soldiers. And he had no idea how many had already landed. There could be one-hundred thousand troops ready to sweep across the land for all he knew. If that was so, then the war would be over before it had begun.

By nightfall, he was dreading what dreams might come. He knew Kaylia would be making preparations, and would likely be unable to contact her. Aaliyah could tell he was troubled and stayed in her quarters with him.

“Should you need me, I am here,” she said, as they both slipped into bed.

“Thank you,” he replied. He rolled over and squeezed shut his eyes. “I'll be fine.”

“Do not fear the strength your feelings bring,” she said. “They are a part of you. That strength saved my life.”

He sat up and pushed his back to the wall. “I know. And when it happens, I don’t mind it. But afterwards…it’s as if I’ve lost part of who I am. I feel it changing me.”

“It is changing you,” she replied. “I told you that before. But it should not upset you. You are just becoming what you were always meant to be.”

“And what is that,” he asked, worriedly. “I feel it most when I’m angry. What if that’s what I become? An angry, vengeful God? Will the world be better off once the Dark Knight is gone, if I still remain?”

Aaliyah scowled. “You will not become evil, if that is what you are suggesting. Powerful, yes. Dangerous, inescapability. But dangerous to whom, is the question? I think not to those you love and protect.”

“I hope not.” Gewey slid back down, and wrapped himself in his blanket. ”Each time, I feel it more than the last. The name Darshan is becoming more and more natural to me. I’m just afraid I’ll lose that part of me that is Gewey.”

“You will not,” she said, her tone reassuring. “I swear it.”

His dreams were troubled and filled with visions of hopeless despair and suffering. Human and elf, bleeding and crying. The whole world trapped in an inferno of chaos and death. In the midst of it all, he stood, unable to stop it. The morning was the only thing that brought him a welcome relief.

They would arrive at sunset, so Gewey spent the morning gathering supplies and checking his gear, then rested in the cabin until the early afternoon. He wanted to be as strong as possible when they landed. He only left the cabin twice to take his meals. When he finally went on deck he brought his pack, the bow, and staff along with him, and stowed it near the landing craft.

Aaliyah was already there and ready to depart.

“I see you are excited to get underway,” she remarked.

He shrugged and leaned over the port railing, and looked out at the setting sun. The cloudless azure sky was beginning to reveal the night stars as daylight slowly faded. There would be no moon tonight. He was grateful.

As he waited to depart, the crew came one by one to bid him farewell. As night fell and the ship slowed to a halt, the navigator joined him.

“You will return once your task is done,” said Drasalisia. “I still have much to teach you.”

Gewey thought he almost saw her smile, but couldn't be certain. “I would like that.” He watched her for a second as she walked away. As soon as his gaze returned to the sea he felt something strike his head, and water poured down his back. He spun around to see the navigator enter the cabin.

Aaliyah approached, pack in hand. “Of all the wonders I have seen, that was the most amazing. Were you an elf, you would certainly be doomed to be her apprentice.”

Gewey laughed, touching the wet spot on the back of his head. “So it's time to go?”

Aaliyah nodded and led him to the boat. The crew lowered it into the water and they climb down. As they began to move away, Gewey looked back to see the crew gathered along the starboard railing, waving. He waved back, as did Aaliyah.

Gewey drew his sword and let the flow of the air rage through him. Soon he could make out the shoreline. The seas were calm and small waves lapped against the sand. The moment the boat touched shore they dragged it into some nearby brush and covered it with branches. He reached out to see if anyone was about. Approximately, three-hundred yards due east, where the beach turned to a thin forest, twenty men were moving north.

“I sense them, too,” whispered Aaliyah. “And twenty more a quarter mile south of their position.”

“If they stay bunched together we should be able to slip between them,” said Gewey. “Kaylia taught me to move in the shadows unseen.”

“A useful skill,” she replied. “Let us hope it serves us tonight.”

They crept forward until they were only a hundred yards from the patrol. He could see their armor reflecting in the light of the torches they carried. One turned toward them, revealing the broken scales insignia of Angraalacross his chest plate.

They paused, crouched behind a clump of reeds, as the patrol slowly moved away. Just as Gewey and Aaliyah entered the tree line, they sense an all-too-familiar foulness coming at them from the east.

“Vrykol,” Gewey hissed. “Only one though.”

“It's enough to raise the alarm,” said Aaliyah. “If that happens, use the earth. Fire will draw even more down upon us. We should try to avoid that if possible.”

Gewey allowed the flow of the earth to replace the air. It felt odd, yet invigorating. The earth was so much more visceral and raw. “If it hears us, I'll knock him over. Soon as I do, we'll rush it. Hopefully, it won't have time to call out.”

They moved south, then east. At first, it looked like the Vrykol wouldn't sniff them out. Then, just as they were parallel to it, it halted, and began walking swiftly toward them. Just as it came into view, Gewey could see it held a curved blade in one hand, and a small, bone horn in the other. Gewey was just about to fling a fallen log at the beast when it stopped and raised the horn to the hidden lips beneath its black hood. It rang out and the beast backed away.

“I guess they are becoming more cunning,” observed Gewey. He remembered the elven Vrykol from the black Oasis. He grinned maliciously at Aaliyah, and charged forward. Aaliyah drew her dagger and followed.

In moments, he saw the Vrykol, waiting. But, instead of a sword, the twang of a bowstring sounded. The arrow whizzed through the air seeking Gewey's heart. Gewey twisted and dove sideways. Only his incredible speed saved him from being skewered.

Aaliyah ran straight ahead, slashing at the Vrykol's neck. The creature was barely able to drop its bow and draw its sword in time. The sound of metal on metal rang out. Aaliyah pressed the attack, forcing the beast back.

Gewey scurried to his feet and charged in. The Vrykol slashed hard at Aaliyah, and in a split second he reached inside his cloak. Just as Gewey was about to be in striking distance, the creature threw something to the ground at Gewey's feet. The earth burst into flame, and Gewey slid to a halt. He heard soldiers approaching from either side. Quickly, he threw the earth beneath the fire upward and to his left, then leaped over the gouge in the ground. Aaliyah was being pushed back, as the Vrykol attacked, furiously. Gewey slashed at its leg, cutting deep, and sent it stumbling back. Aaliyah slashed at its neck, but it lifted its sword deflecting the blade. In a flash, it brought its fist across Aaliyah's jaw, sending her sprawling.

The Vrykol turned to Gewey, and thrust his blade at his gullet. Gewey twisted and countered, opening the Vrykol's chest. It fell back stabbing wildly.

Just then the first patrol of soldiers arrived. Aaliyah recovered her feet and brought her knife across the first soldier’s neck. She spun around gutting another. A blast of wind threw the center of the patrol forced them back, as she attacked the left side, cutting down two men with a single stroke.

Gewey pressed the Vrykol hard. The flow swelled inside him made even stronger by his sword. With all his strength he swung the blade at the beast’s neck. The Vrykol tried to block the blow but its blade shattered and its head rolled from its shoulders. Gewey turned to the soldiers, Aaliyah was blasting them back with bolts of air as she carved her way through their ranks.

He could hear more soldiers approaching from the south. The flames from the Vrykol attack were beginning to spread to the dry leaves and twigs that lined the forest floor. “No use hiding anymore,” he thought. He created a wall of flame, splitting the soldiers in two, and pushing them back. Only two men were on the other side, in front of Aaliyah. Fear struck their hearts, and they dropped their weapons and fled. Gewey had already surrounded the others. He tightened the ring of flame, as he had done to the Soufis. The soldiers began to scream and cry.

“Kill them or let them go,” yelled Aaliyah.

Gewey realized he was allowing the wall to creep in slowly, squeezing the men together. Hatred and anger were filling his spirit. He wanted them dead. He wanted to watch them burn. Then, with great effort, he let the flame die. “Run if you want to live!”

The soldiers dropped their swords and ran away. The other soldiers had just come into view. Gewey turned to face them. A column of fire burst to life above his head. Shouts of terror filled the air as the second patrol fled as well.

“Your powers are growing,” said Aaliyah. “You could have easily bested ten times as many.”

Gewey glanced down at the dead Vrykol. Not powerful enough, he thought. Not yet. They ran off into the night at a full run. The flow raged….but it felt different. More intense. He smiled as he wound his way through the forest. The name Darshan echoed in his mind.

Chapter 29

King Halmara paced in front of the jeweled throne of his forefathers, glancing angrily at the door every time he turned. The throne room was cold and empty, and rarely used. For generations the well-being of his kingdom was navigated from the king’s office, and the council chambers. This room was for receiving honored guests, and nothing more. The walls bore the banners of the twelve kingdoms, with the eagle and fish symbol of Skalhalis hanging proudly above the throne. His family had ruled for more than four hundred years. Now folly could end everything. Lord Sialo sat in a plush chair to the right side of the throne, watching the king carefully.

“You should relax, your highness,” said Sialo. “Things are going according to plan.”

Halmara stopped and turned on Sialo. “Is that so? In what way was the poisoning of King Lousis, part of the plan?”

“I told you that I had nothing to do with it,” said Sialo. “It was Yanti that gave the order.”

“Then Yanti is a fool,” he roared. “And when I see him-“

The door flew open. Yanti strode in confidently. “You will do what?” He laughed. “My good king, nothing has been done that wasn't according to my design.”

Halmara snarled. “Your idiocy has ensured that the other kingdoms will surely align against me. They probably gather as we speak.”

Yanti stopped. His eyes grew dark and threatening. “Mind your tongue…highness, or you may find your long reign become a fleeting moment. I have enough soldiers to crush Althetas. They cannot muster enough of a force in time to stop us.”

“I will not be intimidated by you.” Halmara's voice wavered.

“I do not try to intimidate,” said Yanti. “I only want you to know your situation. You are a vassal of Angraal, and will bend to the will of the Reborn King. And his will, is what I tell you it is.” He leveled his eyes. “Are we clear about this, your highness?”

Halmara felt as if his breath had been taken away. He fell back onto his throne and slumped down, defeated. “I still think it was a mistake to poison King Lousis.”

“I'm truly sorry, but that had to be done,” Yanti explained. “After poisoning my poor dear Salmitaya, it was an imperative.”

A messenger burst through the door and bowed low. “I bring news, your highness.” He handed King Halmara a rolled up piece of parchment. The boy bowed again and hurried away.

Halmara unrolled the parchment and read it carefully. “It would seem your attempt on King Lousis' life has failed.”

Yanti smiled, and waved his hand carelessly. “It matters not. Once the army is assembled and ready we will attend to that.” He turned to Sialo. “How go the preparations?”

“On schedule,” he replied. “Will you be staying?”

“Of course,” said Yanti. “I have learned not to leave these events unattended. Now if you will pardon me, I desire a wash and a fresh set of clothing. Please tell me this place is civilized enough to possess a shower.”

The king didn't bother to respond. He rose, led Yanti to the door and instructed the guard to show him to his chambers.

“You should be careful, your highness,” warned Sialo. “The Reborn King puts a great deal of faith in Yanti's judgment. You should maintain a pleasant relationship with him.”

King Halmara returned to his throne. He rubbed his finger along the cushioned chair arms, and wondered how long he would be allowed to sit here. King Lousis had been right. But it was too late now.

Chapter 30

Kaylia had been wandering the halls anxiously. Since Gewey had told her of the ships bound for Skalhalis, Valshara had been in a panic. Elf and human soldiers had been arriving for over a week, but so far there were only fifteen thousand in total, not nearly as many as they needed. The rest would not arrive for several more weeks.

Selena had been distraught when she heard of the attempt on King Lousis' life. She knew it was because of Salmitaya. That he had survived was the only thing that kept her from flying into a rage.

Riders and fauna birds came three times per day bringing news from the elf and human nations. The elf elders had galvanized their people and they were ready to fight, but many were far away, and it would take time to assemble them.

Nehrutu had ordered his ship to patrol the coast, but far out of sight, and to only observe and report. Should enemy ships attempt to invade the Althetan harbor, they would face skilled navigators more than capable of running ships aground.

Maybell had been escorted to Valshara two days prior. She was not the unyielding yet witty woman Kaylia remembered. And after hearing what had become of Malstisos, she understood why. The thought of such a noble elf falling prey to evil made her want to weep. Selena had taken Maybell under her charge, and kept her close. Kaylia hoped it would help Maybell become herself again.

Ertik had also arrived. When he told her that Theopolou left him to speak for the elves, she had burst out laughing. Only a short time ago, Theopolou had been opposed to contact with humans, and now he allowed a human to speak for his people. She wished she could have seen the old elf one last time before he went north. She feared he may never return.

As she tried to find things to keep herself occupied she heard cheers coming from the courtyard, and she hurried to see what it was. Just as she neared the front entrance, the door flew open, and there stood Gewey, dusty, hair tangled, and smiling widely. Aaliyah stood just behind him. Gewey dropped his pack and ran to Kaylia. He lifted her up, crushing her to his chest. Her heart leaped for joy. She felt as if she never wanted this moment to end.

Gewey looked into her eyes. “I missed you.” He kissed her with desperate intensity, as if he were trying to make up for their time apart in a single moment.

When their lips parted, she was unable to speak. She grabbed his head roughly, and pulled him to her, and kissed him again. Only the sounds of applause brought her back to rights. She smiled up at Gewey. “I have a surprise for you.” She held out her palm. A tiny ball of flame came to life. It hovered for a second, then she closed her hand, snuffing it out.

“Nehrutu has been a good teacher,” said Gewey, unable to take his eyes off her. “Speaking of Nehrutu, where is he?”

“I am here, Shivis Mol.” Nehrutu was standing in the doorway behind Aaliyah.

Aaliyah spun around. “It is…good to see you.”

Nehrutu smiled. “It is good to see you as well.” He stepped closer. “We have much to teach these people, Aaliyah. But there are also things I have learned from them.” He grabbed Aaliyah and pulled her close. For a moment he gazed into her eyes, then kissed her with tender intimacy.

Gewey smiled, suppressing the urge to laugh.

Aaliyah looked to Gewey and Kaylia, then back to Nehrutu. “Then we shall face the world as they do. Together as one.” She pulled away from Nehrutu and walked up to Kaylia. “Please forgive me. I only acted out of a sense of duty. But Darshan has shown me that I was mistaken. You are his true mate, and I will never doubt that again.”

Kaylia took her hands. “There is nothing to forgive. You were trying to protect your people. I might have done the same.” She cocked her head to the side as a realization struck her. “Darshan?”

“I will tell you all about it,” said Gewey. “There is much we need to talk about. But right now, I need to bathe and change.”

Selena approached from the far end of the hall. “It is good to see the two of you safe. And not a moment too soon.” She hugged Gewey, then turned to Nehrutu. “Please have Ertik gather everyone together in the receiving hall in two hours.” She glanced at Gewey and Kaylia, then smiled. “Make that four hours. You will forgive me, but I have things to attend to. I am excited to hear your tale.” She bounded off.

“That is as happy as I have seen her in some time,” remarked Kaylia. “But all this for later. For now, come…” She led Gewey to her chambers.

The room was simple, yet comfortable. A large oak bed was pushed against the wall in the far left corner, with a small desk opposite that. Just beside the door stood a polished maple wardrobe, and a small round dressing table and mirror. One unique thing Gewey noticed was that the lanterns had been replaced by elf orbs that hung from the ceiling in each corner.

Gewey set his gear next the wardrobe, with the exception of the bow given to him by Gerath, and took a seat on the bed, laying the bow beside him.

“The wash water will take some time,” she said. “You can tell me more about your journey until it comes.”

Gewey grinned happily. The moment Aaliyah had lifted the block on their bond, he had been so elated that he had scarcely told her a thing of their journey during their contacts. He picked up the bow and handed to her.

At once, she looked shocked and stood up, staring at the weapon in awe. “This is what was in the desert.”

“Yes,” he replied. “Along with other things. Now that I've given this to you, only you can use it.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”

“I wanted to give the staff to Theopolou,” said Gewey. “Where is he?”

“Perhaps you can save your tale for when the others have gathered,” she suggested. “Much has happened since you have been away.” She recounted the events of the past several weeks. She had just told him of the poisoning of King Lousis, when two servants arrived carrying a brass basin filled with hot water.

The servants left smiling and giggling impishly at the two. Kaylia stood and offered Gewey her hand. He took it and allowed her to help him to his feet.

“Enough talk for now.” Her voice was soft and seductive. “I have missed my husband.”

Gewey’s heart raced as Kaylia dimmed the lights. No one would disturb them for some time. Gewey felt as he did their first night together. He stripped off his travel worn clothes and tossed them into the corner. Dust flew as they struck the flagstone floor.

Gewey smiled. “I'm filthy.”

Kaylia retrieved a washrag from the wardrobe. “Not for long, my love.”

Chapter 31

As they lay in bed, Gewey felt utterly content. His mind was far from the troubles he was to face, and obstacles he had overcome. Kaylia smiled sweetly as she lay with her arm draped over his chest.

“I never want to leave this room,” said Gewey.

As if the fates had been challenged, there was a knock at the door.

“The High Lady sends word that it is nearly time,” came a shy voice.

Gewey groaned then shouted loud enough so that whoever it was on the other side could hear. “Very well.”

Gewey climbed out of bed and rummaged around his pack for the elf clothes Theopolou had given him. He held them up and frowned. They were wrinkled and stained. In fact, all his clothes were in the same condition.

“I have clothes for you,” said Kaylia. “I would not have you looking like a vagabond.” She went to the wardrobe and pulled out a black, silk shirt and matching trousers.

Gewey held up the shirt and cocked his head. “I'll miss the comfort of my elf clothes.”

Kaylia laughed. “I'm sure we can find you more. But this must suffice for now.” She took out a pair of leather boots and a silver belt. “Do not worry. You will be covered with dirt again soon enough.” She grabbed his arm and had him sit in the chair in front of the dressing table mirror.

He looked at himself in horror. His beard had grown to nearly an inch long, and his hair was a tangled mess. “I can't believe you can bear to look at me.”

“Don't worry,” she said, kissing his neck. “I will see to it that you are presentable. Get dressed and I will return shortly.”

She donned a cotton robe and a pair of silk slippers and left the room. A few minutes later she returned with a young girl dressed in a plain, green tunic and skirt.

“Go with her,” said Kaylia. “She will see to your…grooming.” Her last word came out with a light titter.

Gewey gave himself one last look in the mirror, and sighed. “Not exactly inspiring, am I?”

“We'll change that, my lord,” said the girl, with a perky bounce.

She led him to an unused chamber, and set to work, and soon Gewey was shaved and groomed. A guard came, just as the girl was finishing, to tell Gewey that Kaylia awaited him in the receiving hall.

The guard escorted Gewey to the hall. Just outside the doors he saw Chiron, speaking quietly to Bellisia.

Chiron beamed as Gewey approached. “Ah, now you are a welcome sight.”

Gewey bowed to them both. “When did you arrive?”

“Just now,” he replied. “Both mine and Bellisia's lands are not as far away as others. The other elf nations will be here within the month.”

“Is it true Angraalhas taken the city of Skalhalis?” asked Bellisia.

“It would appear so,” Gewey replied. “It looks like time has run out. War is come.”

“I hear dear Theopolou left Ertik of Valshara to speak for the elves in Althetas,” said Chiron. “How times are changing.”

“For the better, I pray,” added Bellisia. “The idea of elf and human living together is still unsettling to many of my people. But they are coming to accept it as inevitable, as I have.”

“There is much you will hear that will surprise you, Lady Bellisia,” said Gewey. “Aaliyah and I made many discoveries in the eastern desert.”

“What could be discovered in such a barren waste?” she asked, looking doubtful.

“I am sure Gewey will tell us everything once we are inside,” said Chiron. He reached out and opened the door. “Shall we?”

Inside the receiving hall, a large oval table had been placed in the very center of the room. Most of the chairs were already filled with finely, dressed men and women, some with obvious military insignia on their attire, along with several elves Gewey recognized from the Chamber of the Maker. Aaliyah and Nehrutu sat together near the far end. Aaliyah had changed into a deep blue dress, with emerald embroidery, and her black hair was decorated with tiny white flowers. Gewey smiled when he saw her.

At the far end sat Selena, dressed in the ceremonial robes of Amon Dahl. Ertik was seated to her left, and Maybell to her right. Maybell smiled when she saw Gewey. He waved and smiled in return. Kaylia sat at the other end next to an empty chair opposite Selena.

The room went silent as Gewey made his way to his seat. Kaylia touched his hand gently. Chiron and Bellisia found a seat near Ertik. Chiron whispered something into Ertik’s ear that brought a pleased look to his face.

Selena stood and addressed the room. “We all know why we are here. War has come sooner than expected. Angraalhas landed ships in the city of Skalhalis, and will march on Althetas any day. We must decide how to act. I know that most of our force is still gathering, but we have already gathered soldiers from Queen Lilian of Farthing, Prince Loniel of Sieren Bay, along with ten-thousand elves. King Lousis will have more men here by morning.” She sat back down.

A tall, grizzled-looking man, with silver hair and rough features stood. “I am General Keise Halman, of Farthing. Do we know the numbers we will face, or shall we march blindly into battle?”

“We are trying to find out how many Angraal has sent,” Selena replied. “But we do not know as of this moment their exact number.”

Prince Loniel spoke. “I think it is more important to know if they march on Valshara, or do they look to Althetas.”

“We do not know,” said Selena.

“What, if anything, do we know?” asked General Halman.

Gewey stood. “We know that if we don't move quickly, this war will be over before it begins.” His large frame loomed tall and commanding over the gathering. “On my way back from the eastern desert, we spotted fifty ships bound for Skalhalis. Angraalis moving to end this war here and now. It doesn't matter what we do not know. What we know is that we must attack now or all is lost.”

General Halman sneered. “From the looks of you, boy, I wouldn't think you know much of battle and strategy. Perhaps you should join the rank and file, and leave the planning to the soldiers.”

Kaylia nearly jumped from her chair, but Gewey held her in place with a quick glance.

“And what experience do you have, General Halman?” asked Chiron. “Border disputes? Roving bandits? Before you embarrass yourself further, perhaps Gewey should take a moment to tell us of what he found in the desert. Those of us who know him would like to hear it. And those that do not…well, they may benefit as also.”

Gewey nodded, then recounted his adventure in the eastern desert. When he finished some of the generals and captains in attendance snickered and laughed. Only the elves nodded their heads with understanding.

“And what proof do you have of these outlandish claims?” asked General Halman, looking amused. “I mean, if you can kill fifty men, and are truly a God, then surely you can offer up some sort of proof.”

“Gewey is what he says he is,” said Bellisia. “And I do not doubt his tale. He need not prove himself to you.”

“Clearly this boy has made fools of you all,” said Halman. “Can't you see that? What does a God need with armies? Could he not vanquish our foes with a wave of his hand?”

Flames shot out of Gewey's hands and ran along the walls of the hall until they met just behind the general and exploded with a thunderous boom. Halman lurched forward crying out in fear, and scurried onto the table.

Gewey met the general’s eyes. “Do you need further demonstration? We do not have time for debate and bickering. So tell me, General Halman, is there more I can do to ease your mind?”

General Halman crawled down from the table and took his seat. His hands trembled as he shook his head.

“We will crush Angraalregardless of how many soldiers they have sent,” said Gewey. His voice thundered and echoed off the walls. “I will lay waste to the forces of the Dark Knight. I shall march with you to Skalhalis and burn them to cinders. And now we have new allies in the east.” Anger and hatred swelled inside him. His power grew. Kaylia reached out and touched his mind and he could feel her concern. He looked down at her and whispered, “I'm fine.”

“And what would you have us do?” asked Prince Loniel.

“Gather your soldiers,” said Gewey. “In two days we march on Skalhalis. And when we arrive, Angraalwill know firsthand what it means to face a God.” The ground shook for a moment then subsided. The flow of the spirit raged through him, then burst forth, spreading everywhere at once. He could see it touch the entire gathering. It passed into them, washing over the group like a torrent.

Everyone at the table jumped to their feet. The name Darshan was spoken. First, by a few, then more and more, until all but Kaylia and Selena, who looked warily at him, shouted his name.

Gewey spun around and left the room, Kaylia following close behind. She stopped him a few feet outside the door.

She took his face in her hands. “What happened just now? I have never felt such rage in you before.”

“I am changing,” Gewey replied. “Becoming more powerful. I have run so far. I have lived in fear for so long. It is time for that to stop. That has ended. In two days I will show the Dark Knight the true meaning of fear.”

“Am I speaking to Gewey….or Darshan?” She looked deep into his eyes.

Gewey took her hands and press them to his heart. He kissed her gently, and watched as a single tear spilled down her cheek. “Now…I am both.”

Content

Brian D. Anderson
Shadow of the Gods

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31