The Godling Chronicles: A Trial of Souls (Book 4)

by Anderson, Brian D.

  Gewey tried to imagine what it must be like to live for so long, but the thought was too much for him to comprehend. He changed the subject. “Do you think I can defeat the Dark Knight?”

  Felsafell held up his hands. “I know not the extent of your power. But you have weapons your enemy has not.” He cocked his head and smiled. “You do not fight alone.”

  Gewey asked the old hermit what the world was like before elves and humans came, but his answers were confusing and disjointed, leaving Gewey even more confused. After less than half an hour Kaylia emerged. Her face was grave and Gewey could feel that she was upset.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Kaylia nodded. “I am fine.”

  He took her hands. “What did you see?”

  “Only what I needed to see,” she replied.

  “Do not ask an elf to reveal her secrets,” warned Felsafell lightheartedly.

  Kaylia shook her head smiling. “What I saw was private and had nothing to do with the task at hand.” She kissed Gewey’s cheek. “I will tell you once I have had some time to think. Until then, please allow me to keep my secrets to myself.”

  Gewey took her in his arms and hugged her tightly. “Of course. I was just afraid for you. The visions I saw nearly broke my spirit. I hated the idea of you enduring the same.”

  Kaylia looked at Felsafell. “The Oracle sends her greetings and reminds you of your promise.”

  Felsafell suddenly looked sad and careworn. “I need no reminder.” He turned and looked up at the stars. “Come. My house is not far away. We shall rest in warmth and comfort, at least for a time.”

  He led them down the trail and back to the snow covered paths of the Spirit Hills. About an hour before dawn they caught sight of Felsafell’s home. It was just as Gewey remembered, though the thatched roof was in need of repair and the wicker chairs on the front porch were overturned and scattered. Felsafell bounded up to the door and disappeared inside. Before Gewey and Kaylia could catch up, he reappeared in the doorway.

  “Go inside,” he said. “Take your ease. Food we need, and none is left.” With that, the old hermit skipped away and vanished into the forest.

  Inside, Gewey found a cord of wood wrapped neatly beside the hearth and started a fire. The house had the empty feel of being long abandoned - he could see from the scattered clothes and hides on the floor that Felsafell must have left in a hurry. He and Kaylia unwrapped their blankets in front of the fire to enjoy the warmth, though even in the winter and with a damaged roof, the house still managed to keep out the cold rather well. By the time Felsafell returned it was more than cozy, and Gewey could feel an overwhelming desire to sleep.

  “Eyes open,” called Felsafell. In his right hand he held three rabbits, and in his left a handful of wild onions. “Food first, then sleep you can.”

  Gewey struggled to his feet and helped to prepare the rabbits. Soon the house was filled with the scent of roasting meat and the sharp smell of wild onions. Kaylia crinkled her nose and walked out onto the porch, saying that the smell was too much for her. Gewey joined her just before it was time to eat. She was gazing into the depths of the forest, still wrapped in her blanket.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Kaylia smiled. “I am fine. Onions never bothered me before, but I suppose being pregnant will have some disadvantages.”

  He stood behind her, holding her in his arms. “I imagine we will both need to learn quite a bit.” He kissed the top of her head. “Are you afraid?”

  “I would be a fool not to be,” she replied. “But together we will face it.”

  Felsafell came outside and handed Kaylia a cup of thick purple liquid. “This should serve you well, my dear.”

  Kaylia put the cup to her nose. It smelled like wine turned vinegar. She looked at Felsafell doubtfully, but the old hermit nodded. In a single gulp she drained the cup. Her mouth immediately twisted in disgust.

  “It tastes like…” she began. A moment later, a smile crept over her face. “I think I am ready for our food now.”

  They sat on the floor to eat while Felsafell rummaged through his pantries and found a bottle of honeyed wine. The rabbit was bland and simple, but Gewey and Kaylia devoured it as if they hadn’t eaten in days.

  “Now that you have learned so much,” said Felsafell as he gathered up the dishes, “What will you do?”

  Gewey thought for a moment. “In one of my visions I was able to use the flow of the spirit to separate the soul of a Vrykol from its body.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it was Kaylia’s body he spoke of. “If this is possible, then I have a weapon against Angrääl that they cannot account for.” He looked up at Felsafell. “But to use this power otherwise is too dangerous. I have seen what happens when I try to change people with it.”

  “Then restraint you will use,” said Felsafell. “As did your kin. Servants and madness was all they could create. Your choice is wise, yet I fear it may not help you. When pressed to defeat, your heart will grow desperate, and you cannot forget that his armies are vast. Should those you love face death, the temptation will be great to save them.”

  “I saved Aaliyah when she was poisoned in the desert,” said Gewey. “But in my vision I was unable to save Lee.”

  “Every spirit is different,” explained Felsafell. “If an elf she is, then her spirit is free. Easy to save compared to a half-man. A gift left by the gods for them. A gift from your father and from my kin.”

  Gewey could feel fatigue in his mind, and knew that Kaylia was feeling the same. He lay back on his blanket, his arm beneath his head. “Tomorrow I will return to Valshara. After what I witnessed, one thing is certain. The Reborn King intends to bring the hammer down hardest in Althetas, and I should be there to help.”

  Kaylia rested beside him, her heart troubled. Gewey pulled her close and listened as Felsafell sang a sweet melody.

  It wasn’t long before sleep took them both.

  * * *

  Kaylia awoke at midday and carefully slipped from Gewey’s arms. She looked down at her unorem. His face was tense, constantly twitching from the nightmare she could feel he was wrapped within. She longed to comfort him, but knew she must leave him to rest. Felsafell was sitting at the table humming softly to himself.

  “Back to speak to the Oracle?” he asked, without even looking at her.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I was afraid to do so before. But I know now that I must, or be driven mad by what I saw.”

  “Afraid to speak?” Felsafell laughed softly. “Dread indeed it must have been. Your fire blazes like the sun, and your courage steadfast as a mountain. What sights and sounds could make you falter I wonder?”

  “I am afraid that what I saw could come true.” Her voice was a whisper. “And the fear is too much.”

  “Then the Oracle is the one who can help,” he said. “If help can be found. Her eyes see much. More than an old man’s can.”

  She walked to the door and looked back at Gewey’s sleeping form.

  “Worry not,” said Felsafell. “He shall sleep far into the day. And you travel swiftly, with knowledge of the way.”

  Kaylia left the house and headed back to the path leading to the Oracle. This time the distance seemed much less, as did the depth of the snow. Still, the cold bit hard, and she was grateful for the warmth that surrounded the path. As the house appeared she could see that the door was again ajar, almost as if she was expected. For a moment she considered turning back, but quickly dismissed the thought, angered by her own fear. She silently cursed her weakness before entering.

  The Oracle was still sitting on the rug, sipping on a cup of wine. She smiled at Kaylia and offered her a seat.

  “I will speak to you now,” said Kaylia.

  “I thought you might return,” she replied. “Your vision disturbed you, did it not?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “As with anyone, even the young god, what you have seen reveals your heart. You cannot think of it as a window to the future.”
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  “But it seemed as real as me sitting here now,” Kaylia retorted.

  “In a sense it was,” said the Oracle. “The choices you made were real. The possibilities were real. But you must try to understand that time is not what you imagine it to be, and our lives are not as simple as the result of a single decision.”

  Kaylia looked at her, confused. “Then what is this place? If what I witnessed cannot, or should not be, what is the point?”

  The Oracle laughed. “The point? I’ve never been sure there is one. This place is as old as the world itself, and served a time and people long since turned to dust. Gewey needed it to see himself and the impact of his choices. You, on the other hand - if I were to guess - I think you saw the sadness he may be faced with, and that is breaking your heart.”

  Kaylia lowered her eyes. “I stood at the Temple of the Far Sky and watched him being dragged from this world by the gods. The war was won, our child was born, but he could not stay. The pain I felt through our bond was without measure. He fought to remain with us, but the danger to the world was too great. I have never felt such despair. But that was not what disturbed me most.”

  “You knew it was for the best,” said the Oracle, completing Kaylia’s thought.

  Kaylia nodded. “And more! I was glad. He had killed so many, and would kill thousands more if he remained. The only thing I could think about was protecting our child…from him.”

  The Oracle reached forward and took her hand. “The path you saw was what your heart fears most. You know better than anyone how powerful he is, and will become. Other than the betrayer, he is the most dangerous being that has ever walked the earth. Even more so than the gods themselves. To bring about the end of the world with love and good intent is no better than ending it with fire. You were not given your vision as a punishment, nor to blacken your heart. You were given it so that you may know yourself and to prepare for what may come.”

  “But I never thought I would take joy from our separation,” said Kaylia. “Yet I did – I felt joy and relief. I was terrified of him. As I sit here now I can feel his mind within me. It gives me strength. To think that this could be turned to fear is unbearable.” She met the Oracle’s eyes. “It is said that you have the gift of prophecy. What do you see for us?”

  The Oracle sighed sadly. “The door to heaven is sealed, and with it the substance of my power. But I can tell you this. You have the power within you to keep your love bound to this earth. You can keep his heart human. What you saw need not be. Many times I have been asked to foresee the destiny of the love between two people, and many times I have given to them words of tragedy. Yet I am faced with the unknown when I look at you and Gewey Stedding. Not because he is a god, and not that he is bound to an elf. When I see the two of you in my mind, I see a strength that only the Creator can fathom. So take courage. For never before have I encountered two people who could reshape the very meaning of the world through love and will alone.”

  Kaylia thought on this for a minute, then stood. Her anxiety was turning to relief and determination, and she was now grateful to have seen her vision. For now she knew it was not a fate set in stone, nor was her heart unable to endure. “I thank you, Oracle.”

  She bowed. “Perhaps we shall meet again.”

  Kaylia bowed in return and left.

  It was early afternoon when she arrived back at Felsafell’s house, and she could feel that Gewey was still sleeping. Felsafell was sitting on the porch in a wicker chair with eyes closed and a sly grin on his lips.

  “You look more at ease,” he said.

  “You see with eyes closed?” remarked Kaylia.

  “I see more than you can guess,” he replied. “I see that we will not leave these hills without incident.” His eyes popped open. “The Vrykol are near.”

  Kaylia spun around, her hand flying to her blade.

  Felsafell rose and moved beside her. “They will not attack us here, oh no. They wait. They watch. Tomorrow we face them. Oh yes. To arms we go.” He placed his withered hand on Kaylia’s shoulder. “Worry not. Old Felsafell will keep the watch. Rest and be calm. Join your mate and ease his dreams. Torment is no way to spend your short moment of peace.”

  “Can you tell where they are?” asked Kaylia.

  Felsafell nodded. “Even the powers that have corrupted my kin cannot hide them from my sight.” He motioned for her to go inside. “Now go. Leave me to worry.”

  She took another full minute to scan the forest before finally doing as instructed. Gewey’s face was still twitching from his nightmares, so she lay beside him and called out, bringing him from his terror into her loving embrace. Soon they were both enraptured with the desire they shared.

  All else was forgotten - at least for a time.

  Chapter 17

  King Lousis stared out over the expanse of the Western Abyss, half expecting to see enemy ships on the horizon. It had taken him most of the morning to ride from the city gates to the harbor, but he needed to see the blue water and taste the salty air. Two elf ships had been diligently patrolling the waters between Skalhalis and Althetas, but the Abyss was unfathomably massive, and in spite of elf reassurances, he still feared a surprise attack.

  Althetas’s own ships were now ready to sail for Baltria. With soldiers already starting to board their vessels, one hundred warships, led by elf power and skill, would soon be bearing down on the enemy. Lousis longed to join them, but his principal duty was to the city - the council had at least convinced him of that. Nehrutu was a capable leader and had been made admiral of the fleet. He had immediately assigned elf seekers to every ship, and through these they were able to communicate without flags or smoke. Lousis smiled at the thought of Angrääl soldiers trying to match their maneuvers.

  Ground preparations had also gone well. Lord Ganflin and other nobles had practically emptied their treasuries in order to strengthen the city’s defenses, and the muster of both elf and human armies was complete. Nearly one-hundred thousand troops were camped near Valshara. It had taken immense resources to keep them supplied, but Ertik had shown himself to be masterful at logistics and organization, so things had run smoothly thus far.

  It had been suggested that they send the army south. Winter was sweeping through the lands north and west, and no invasion was generally expected until spring. Lousis, however, was not convinced of this. Knowing that the forces of Angrääl were from a harsh and frozen land, he felt that the comparatively meager snows that fell south of their home were unlikely to be much of an obstacle to them.

  Seeing as how no word had yet come from Theopolou or Mohanisi, there was still concern regarding the elves of the Steppes. But there was little that could be done. If they had failed in their mission, Lousis would know soon enough. In the meantime, the northernmost kingdoms were keeping a watchful eye for any signs of attack.

  Lousis’ guard stood at his back. The elf elders, Lord Chiron in particular, had insisted that he double his protection by including elf fighters. The morale of the city hung in the balance. Should the Reborn King send assassins and the Althetan monarch be killed, fear and panic would grip the people like a vise, and that they could ill-afford. This rankled Lousis. He was a warrior and hated being coddled, but in his heart he knew they were right.

  “Your highness,” called the voice of Eftichis.

  The elf lord had become a welcome companion during the past few weeks. He seldom spoke of the coming war, or of anything else that would likely cast a shadow over the spirit. Lousis had heard about his fight with Gewey at the Chamber of the Maker, and marveled at his deep sense of honor.

  The king turned to see the elf’s face darkened by worry. “What is it?”

  “We have just received word that Angrääl has landed on the Tarvansia Peninsula and is already marching north,” he replied.

  A cold chill shot into his stomach. “How many? And how far have they gotten?”

  “We think at least sixty-thousand. But there may be more. It is unclear how far th
ey have penetrated. I imagine it will depend on how stiff resistance is.”

  “King Victis will not be easily defeated,” said Lousis. He began walking swiftly toward his horse. His guard instantly surrounded him and kept pace. “What of the elf lands to the east?”

  “Should they march east they will find it well protected,” said Eftichis. “Even with the bulk of our forces here, we are not undefended. But as of this moment we have not heard anything that suggests their attention is focused on the elves.”

  “No,” mused Lousis. “They’ll take the port of Althetas first. Then your people will be unable to stop them.”

  “We cannot sail for Baltria until this attack is dealt with,” said Eftichis. “If we do, we leave the city and harbor undefended.”

  King Lousis stopped short. A sly smile crept upon his face. “Yes. Indeed it would.” He continued with renewed vigor and speed.

  The moment Lousis and Eftichis reached the manor, the king ordered his generals and admirals to gather in the council chambers. By the time they arrived, he was already poring over maps and charts laid out on the table.

  Lord Chiron and Lady Bellisia were attended by several elf seekers. Lord Maynard Windcomber, Lord Brasley Amnadon and Lord Jeffos Windermere arrived with a few other human commanders, while Nehrutu was accompanied, as always, by Aaliyah.

  “By now you all know that Angrääl has landed on the Tarvansia Peninsula,” announced the king. Everyone nodded. “Conventional wisdom will tell us to keep our ships here and surround the harbor, while we march south from Valshara to meet them.”

  “That would be my recommendation,” said Maynard. “If we sail south and they meet us on the open sea, or worse, somehow get by us, Althetas will be defenseless other than the city guard.”

  Nehrutu stepped forward. “They would have to sail very far from shore to avoid detection. If we spotted them, the navigators would be able to keep them from landing ahead of us.”