“They had no information about their masters,” she told Gewey once they were underway. “Only a few personal letters and mementos. But even these can tell us something. Those men were from Gath.”
Gewey looked at her, eyes wide. “That could mean the armies of Angrääl have already begun to march west.”
“At minimum, the Reborn King must have some sort of hold there,” she offered. “We may have even less time than we thought.”
From that moment on, the slow pace of the caravan was painful to bear. At night, Gewey tried desperately to reach Felsafell, but to no avail. By the end of the second week they were well down the Old Santismal Road and he was in a constant state of anxiety. Kaylia was faring no better. She was having repeated outbursts of rage that grew ever more frequent. Though mostly directed at Gewey, on a few occasions she had loosed her anger at the refugees. Soon none cared to speak to her at all, and avoided her whenever possible.
Gewey began to notice the ruined pillars and broken statues of the ancient kingdoms along the roadside. He recalled the stories Dina had told him when they had first left the Spirit Hills. The Book of Souls had mentioned the cities of the first born, and he now wondered if these were in fact ruins from that time. If so, he marveled at the construction. For something to stand for so long, even as a ruin, spoke of skill beyond his imaginings.
Midway through the third week the weather became increasingly cold, with snow falling briefly a few times. The towns they passed, though unwilling to allow the caravan to stay within their borders overnight, at least provided them with a place to purchase blankets and warm clothes. Gewey had given his fellow travelers a few extra coins to add to those Kaylia had taken from the soldiers. That evening, after finding a clear spot to camp, the refugees huddled together around their fire, sipping on cups of hot soup.
Kaylia was unpacking their blankets when Gewey felt a flash of keen awareness through their bond.
“Elves are near,” she said, before he could ask.
Gewey allowed the flow to fill him and reached out. In moments, he heard them. Six elves were camped in the woods a half mile from the road. They were aware of the caravan, but showed no signs of aggression.
“Whoever they are, it seems they wish to stay unnoticed,” said Kaylia in Gewey’s ear.
“Still, we should find out who they are,” he said. “If they’re from the Steppes, we need to know.”
Kaylia nodded in agreement. “If they are, we should try to avoid conflict. At present they are not interested in the caravan, and I would not want that to change.” She reached in the wagon and grabbed her weapon. “I should speak to them alone.”
“I don’t like it,” said Gewey. “Your last encounter with the elves of the Steppes didn’t exactly go well.”
“I don’t think they will attack me,” she said. “If I can sense them, they can certainly sense me, and they have still shown no sign of interest. I have the feeling they are not those who attacked the Chamber of the Maker.”
“Even so,” said Gewey, his tone hard and unyielding, “I will be nearby.”
Kaylia nodded in agreement and handed Gewey his sword. The eyes of the camp followed them as they made their way into the forest, but none dared to question them. As they drew near, Gewey could sense that the elves, nervous of their approach, had begun to prepare themselves for an attack. One look at Kaylia told him she had sensed the same thing. In spite of his promise to her, he felt a strong temptation to ease their minds with the flow, but fought against it. Should they show aggression, he would use air and earth. When they were one hundred yards away, Gewey halted and allowed Kaylia to continue on alone.
Through their bond he could feel her apprehension. Flashes of her capture and time in captivity shot into his mind. He reached out and touched her, sending comforting thoughts, but this was met coldly. Something was troubling her. Her harsh reactions and ill-temper had no source that he could understand. Whenever he asked about it, she insisted that nothing was wrong.
He allowed the flow to surge through him, all the time concentrating hard. At first he could hear the birds flitting through the trees and brush, their sounds mixing easily with the rustle of windswept leaves in a perfect chorus of life and harmony. But slowly he filtered all of these things out until the only sounds to reach him were the breathing of the elves and the nimble footfalls of Kaylia.
“What do you want with us?” asked a rich, powerful female voice.
“You are from the Steppes,” said Kaylia. “I would know why you are so far from your lands?”
“Do not feign ignorance,” said the woman calmly. “You know as well as I that there is a second split. We simply do not wish to be a part of it.”
“So you venture east?” remarked Kaylia.
“As do you,” she countered. “Though we do not disguise ourselves as human. Nor would we travel among them.”
“Then you share the same feelings as the rest of your kin?” Her voice showed sudden signs of irritation.
“We do not choose to live as you or your people,” she replied. “Nor will we bend to the will of the Reborn King, believing as many do, his false promises of a return to our past glory.”
“So you have fled?” asked Kaylia.
“We seek peace and a return to our old ways.” Her voice was now sad but determined. “Though I do not hold much hope for this. Many who have tried to leave the Steppes have been pursued by foul beasts and slain. I fear that, no matter where we go, they will find us. Some have taken refuge among the ancient ruins south of here. As I understand, the humans believe them to be possessed by spirits and rarely go there. But I doubt such rumors will keep the Vrykol at bay.”
The word stuck in Gewey’s mind. He had hoped not to encounter the Vrykol this far from the sea. It would surely mean that the armies would soon follow, and that time had run out.
“Do they pursue you now?” asked Kaylia.
“No,” she replied. “Though I know they have spent much of their time preventing the elves from leaving the Steppes. We were fortunate. Our elders would have us believe it was the humans who ambushed our people. But we know the truth. Large numbers of those exiled, and those like us who simply chose to leave, have been set upon by the Vrykol and had their bodies desecrated. Many of them decided to join your kin in the south. I think the fact that we went east instead may have saved us.”
Gewey could feel Kaylia’s fury.
“Your elders know this is happening?” Her voice was steel.
“Their minds are trapped by the Reborn King,” she replied in obvious anguish. “As are the minds of many of our people. A dark curtain has fallen over the Steppes. Those who are not overcome by it are forced to leave.”
There was a long pause before the elf continued. “Your human companion moves well to hide himself from us. But I hear him now. It was wise not to bring him into our camp with you.”
“He worries for my safety,” said Kaylia. “And considering what has happened, for good reason.”
“He needn’t worry,” she said, amused. “Our intent is to avoid bloodshed if possible. But still, it was unwise to come at all considering you are…”
There was another pause, during which Gewey could feel Kaylia’s confusion.
“Come,” the elf woman continued. “Walk with me. We should speak alone.”
He heard their gentle steps fade, and to his relief the other elves made no move to follow. Soon they were beyond his ability to hear their words. He was tempted to move closer but did not want to provoke them. Though he didn’t know what was being said, he could feel Kaylia’s confusion turning to panic and fear. He clenched his fist, trembling with the desire to find her and keep her safe. Finally, after several agonizingly long minutes, they returned.
Without another word Kaylia came back to him and they made their way back to the caravan.
“What did she say to you?” he asked.
“Nothing I care to speak about,” she snapped. “And do not try to pry the infor
mation from me through our bond.”
“I would never do that,” he protested.
She looked at him sideways. “The important thing is that these elves do not mean us, or anyone else, any harm. We will leave them be.”
That night, when Gewey tried to reach out with his spirit as they slept, she held him at bay. Though not forcefully, she made it quite clear to him that she intended to keep whatever secret the elf from the Steppes had given to her.
As they neared Vine Run, Gewey told the others that he and Kaylia would be staying there for some time, and would therefore no longer be traveling with them. This caused great sadness and anxiety. He gave them what provisions he had remaining, and most of his gold, but this did little to soften the blow. Several of the mothers begged them to stay, even going so far as to send their children over in an attempt to sway them. By the time the dilapidated vineyards came into view, Gewey and Kaylia were cringing every time someone spoke to them.
When the caravan reached the outskirts of Vine Run they said their goodbyes and turned their wagon into the heart of the town. They could feel the tear-filled eyes watching them as they left, and the sound of called out farewells followed them far down the street.
Vine Run looked much the same as it had the last time Gewey was there. None of the burned buildings had been repaired, and the streets were in even worse condition than before. Only a few villagers were about - their tattered clothes telling him all too clearly that times had become even harder. A few flakes of snow were beginning to fall, and a bleak grey sky promised a great deal more to come.
“How do these people survive?” muttered Kaylia.
“Not easily,” said Gewey.
The inn was the only building in town that looked sturdy enough to keep out the cold. He could see Minnie, the sweet old innkeeper, standing just outside. She and her husband were hanging pumpkin vines on the front door. Her chubby round face lit up as she spotted Gewey.
“Well I’ll be,” she called out merrily. “It’s so wonderful to see you again.” She tilted her head to look behind him. “I see your friends aren’t with you this time. Such a pity.” She shot her husband a stern glance, and he immediately guided the wagon to within a few feet of the inn’s door. Minnie’s eyes then fell on Kaylia. “And who is this lovely creature? It’s none of my business, but I’m surprised your wife isn’t with you.”
Gewey could feel Kaylia’s irritation.
“This is my wife,” he replied. “The woman you met before was a friend. We posed as a couple so as to pass through unnoticed. I apologize for the deception.”
She burst into laughter. “No apologies necessary, young man. With all the strange happenings, I understand you not wanting to draw attention.” She held out her plump hand to Kaylia as she stepped down off the wagon. “And you are the vision of loveliness, my dear. You will light up the inn tonight.”
The pumpkin vines made Gewey think of the festival of Gerath. “Is there a celebration?”
“Indeed there is,” she replied. “Our reserve stores of wine have been purchased for ten times what they are worth. That’ll be enough gold to see the town through the winter.”
“That is good news,” said Gewey. “Who bought them?”
“The Reborn King, of course,” she said, smiling.
Gewey and Kaylia stiffened.
“Are his soldiers here now?” asked Gewey.
“Certainly not,” replied Minnie. “Why would they want to stay here? They just came to purchase our wine. In fact, you missed them by only a day. They left here with ten full wagons. Almost everyone in the village was bought completely out.” A stiff breeze carried a flurry of snowflakes. “And not a moment too soon, I’d say. I was afraid we’d starve this year.” She stepped over to the door and opened it. “Now come along. My old goat of a husband will see to your wagon and horses.”
After retrieving their personal packs and weapons, Gewey and Kaylia stepped inside. The common room was warmed by a fire burning brightly in the hearth, and dozen or so women were decorating the rafters and tables with pumpkin vines, various berries and flowers. Some of them quickly recognized Gewey from his last stay and called out warm greetings.
Minnie showed them to their room. Once inside, she took a long appraising look at Kaylia. “If you would permit me, I have a dress that would suit you very well.” She glanced down at her own round figure and laughed. “Long ago it fit me. But I think I would enjoy seeing it on you. That is, assuming you’ll be joining us tonight.” She reached out and grabbed hold of Kaylia’s hands. “Please tell me you will.”
Kaylia forced a smile. “Of course.”
Minnie flashed a satisfied grin and left them.
Gewey and Kaylia tossed their packs in the corner and leaned their weapons against the wall next to the bed. A few minutes later Minnie returned holding a square cloth bundle. She was accompanied by two young women carrying a brass basin of hot water and two towels.
“I’m sorry I don’t have shoes for you,” said Minnie. “But you’ll look gorgeous anyway.”
After they left, Gewey and Kaylia washed up. Minnie’s husband brought them a plate of roast beef with boiled potatoes, along with a bottle of sweet wine. When he had gone, Kaylia looked at the food and curled her lip.
“I think I will pass on this fare,” she said. “And I am in no mood for wine.”
Gewey looked at her with concern. Her feelings were erratic and confused. “I’ll fetch you some tea and bread,” he said.
Before she could protest, he opened the door and hurried to the dining hall where Minnie was still hard at work preparing for the feast. Musicians had arrived and were gathered around the fireplace tuning their instruments. Minnie happily made tea and gave him a small loaf of flat bread.
When he returned to the room, Kaylia was frowning at the dress Minnie had given to her. It was made from deep blue satin, and decorated with a white orchid print that spiraled up its length.
“Not to my taste,” she remarked.
“I think you’ll look beautiful,” said Gewey. He put the bread and tea on the table. “Of course, you always look beautiful to me.”
Kaylia laid the dress on the bed and gave him a warm smile. “Then I suppose I will be satisfied with Minnie’s gift.”
After a short rest, they changed clothes and ventured into the main hall. Gewey had donned a simple green cotton shirt and brown trousers. He’d also made a passable attempt at polishing his belt and boots. Minnie’s dress fitted Kaylia surprisingly well, the smooth fabric shifting around her curves as she moved. She continued to wear the red headscarf to cover her elf ears, though there was little to be done about concealing her striking eyes and obvious superior grace. In light of the recent visit by the Angrääl soldiers, Gewey felt uneasy about leaving his sword behind, but knew the sight of an armed stranger may well cause more problems than he cared to deal with.
The hall was already filled with cheerful townsfolk. The musicians were playing a jaunty melody and the center of the hall was alive with people dancing and singing. Minnie spotted them right away. Throwing up her hands and beaming with delight, she pushed her way through the crowd to give Kaylia a warm embrace.
“I just knew you would look wonderful in that dress,” she said. She winked at Gewey with a playful smile. “Though your husband could use a bit of refinement.” She took Kaylia’s hand and led her to a group of women talking on the far side of the room. Gewey did his best to follow them without knocking people over.
“This is Malorie, Bellia, and Cheriel,” said Minnie. “Good friends of mine, and probably the only people here who you will be able to have a decent conversation with.” The women smiled politely. “As for you,” Minnie continued while turning to Gewey, her plump cheeks rosy and her eyes filling with mirth, “you can stand quietly and listen.”
Kaylia looked at the women awkwardly before introducing both herself and Gewey.
“What a lovely dress,” said Malorie, a woman of about forty with wavy black
hair gathered in a loose ponytail that was tied in place by a silver ribbon. She was wearing a long blue cotton dress with tiny white beads sewn in a crisscrossing pattern from the shoulder to her waist. “One of Minnie’s perhaps?”
Kaylia nodded. “She was kind enough to allow me to wear it for the celebration.”
“Kind?” Malorie laughed. “The woman has more clothes than a princess. Most of which she hasn’t been able to wear in years. Every time a cloth merchant comes to town she gets the tailor to make her another one. And it’s not like she has them made to fit.” She leaned in and whispered. “The poor dear still thinks she’s going to regain her youthful figure.”
Gewey could tell that Kaylia did not like this woman.
The other two women were dressed in a similar fashion, though their dresses lacked the intricate beading. They looked to be younger than Malorie by a few years, and were far less talkative. The conversation centered mainly on petty gossips and rumors about the townsfolk. Kaylia kept silent and nodded politely. She was just about to excuse herself when Malorie grabbed her arm and motioned for the others to come closer.
“Have you heard,” she said in a half whisper. “Elves have been spotted in the woods south of the Spirit Hills.”
“I heard that too,” said Bellia. “I even heard they’re planning to settle there.”
“Well, you know that they live right next to humans out west,” said Malorie. “Someone told me that they’re even taking wives.”
The other two women gasped.
“Have you been out west?” Cheriel asked Kaylia.
“Yes,” she replied. Her voice was cold and steady.
Gewey didn’t like where this was going. He could feel Kaylia’s temper rising.
“Is it true?” asked Malorie. “Are elves and humans living together?”
“It is,” Kaylia affirmed.
“Well, I would be terrified if an elf lived next to me,” said Bellia.
“And why is that?” Kaylia asked, tilting her head slightly.
“You know how much they hate us,” she replied. “I’d worry that they would kill me as I slept. And the gods help me if my daughter were to take one as a husband.”
The Godling Chronicles: A Trial of Souls (Book 4) Page 13