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

by Anderson, Brian D.

  The other creatures behind him were charging in, but his power made them seem like fumbling children. Without even looking back he reached into all of them, the flow spreading like fingers on a gruesome hand, each one piercing a Vrykol and annihilating its spirit.

  He turned, and with righteous fury shouted, “I am Darshan!”

  Those he had not destroyed immediately turned and fled. He could sense everything within the citadel. Hundreds of Vrykol were streaming out, hearing the dying cries of their brothers and realizing the doom that was upon them.

  But Darshan would not allow them to escape. The flow shot forth like a bolt of lightning, striking at the Vrykol and sending them into oblivion. The power was no longer within him…it was him. He could see the caged humans cowering and felt disgusted by their weakness. He was tempted to reach into them in order to make them see, but some small part of his mind resisted.

  Many of the Vrykol had fled to the forest, but Darshan had no intention of allowing them to escape. His wrath was absolute and unbending. His gaze fell upon their wretched fortress, and he knew it was built from the labor of human slaves.

  “This must fall!” His voice boomed, shaking the very foundations of the earth.

  The west wall exploded, sending huge chunks of stone flying in every direction.

  Come back to me. A tiny voice in the corner of his mind was calling to him. Please, my love. Come back to me.

  He realized it was Kaylia. She was standing behind him, calling out through their bond. She wanted him to surrender the power. She wanted him to be human. But he was not human. Not any longer.

  Come back to me. Her love for him stabbed at his heart and flowed freely into his spirit. Come back to our child.

  He felt the ground touch his feet and the power inside him waning. Visions of Kaylia weeping as he was forced to abandon them flashed through his mind. He was dangerous – far too dangerous and powerful to remain in such a fragile world. If he stayed, he would be no better than the Dark Knight. The human side of him would be gone forever and a vengeful god all that remained.

  “This need not be,” cried out Kaylia. “Come back to me.”

  He looked into her eyes. Her fear had now been replaced with terrible sorrow. This is what she had seen in her vision when visiting the Oracle. He would be dragged from this world…and she would be glad. His heart ached at the thought. Yet, no matter how deep and painful the ache was now, he knew this would be as nothing compared to the pain he would suffer for an eternity should he ever allow this vision to become a reality.

  Slowly, the flow of the spirit dissipated completely. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll never let that come true.”

  He could feel the relief flooding through Kaylia as she touched his cheek and kissed him lightly. “I know. I will never allow it either.”

  He took her in his arms and held her tight. The Vrykol were all but forgotten. Only the persistent sobbing of the slaves snapped him back to reality. He released Kaylia and walked to the cage. They pressed themselves into the far corner as he drew near, terror-stricken.

  “Please,” said Gewey, holding up his hand. “There is nothing to fear. I am here to help you.”

  The slaves simply stared at him, too traumatized to respond. Gewey sighed. With a mighty pull he ripped the cage door from its hinges, but this only terrified those inside even more.

  “You are free,” he announced. “Run home and tell your people that help is coming. Those that enslaved you will not go unpunished.”

  Stepping away, he returned to Kaylia. Together they watched as the slaves gradually summoned up sufficient courage to creep toward the enticingly open door. But even when on the very brink of freedom they hesitated, as if fearful of a trap. Then one found the will to make a break for it. Another quickly followed. In an instant, the stampede began. More than fifty men and women surged forward in the desperate rush for freedom.

  Gewey could not sense any Vrykol lurking nearby. Apparently those that had survived his wrath were still fleeing.

  Once all the slaves were away into the night, he and Kaylia walked to the citadel gate. The ground was covered in the gray ash of destroyed Vrykol and chunks of the shattered wall.

  “I know we should go inside,” said Gewey. “But after what I did just now…”

  “What you did saved my life, and that of our child,” she replied.

  “I can never let something like that happen again.” He lowered his eyes and took a deep breath. “I nearly lost myself.”

  Kaylia nodded. “I know. I could feel it. But what matters is that you held on to who you are and came back to me...to us.”

  He turned and took her hands. “But next time I may not be able to do so. You are the only reason I am not completely Darshan already. You brought me back from…I don’t know what. And I don’t want to know. The price of victory cannot be the unleashing of such terrible power on the world.”

  She leaned in and kissed him with deep love and passion. “Together we will see to it that the world is truly free. Free from the Dark Knight…and free from Darshan.” She looked at the citadel and frowned. “Let us leave this place. The stench of death is too much for me.”

  Though Gewey’s heart was still troubled, he managed a tight smile. As one, they broke into a rapid run, heading due east toward the ancient road. Kaylia sent him feelings of love and comfort, and soon dark thoughts gave way to the quest at hand.

  They had to reach the desert elves in time.

  Chapter 24

  Lousis sat tall in his saddle and looked out over his army with pride and optimism. The gleam of steel caught his eye, while the scent of oil and leather filled his nostrils. Thousands of multi-colored banners fluttered on a chill east wind, and the call of war could be heard in the ringing of smith’s hammers reverberating off the cliff walls that encased the passage to Valshara.

  More elves had come up from the south ready to fight. Although aware of Angrääl’s army landing in Tarvansia, they had brought no news of the battles, or details about the extent of destruction. Lousis had heard that the enemy was still being held in check, but feared the remnants of the force that attacked Althetas would tip the balance once they arrived. He could understand Nehrutu’s decision to allow their retreat, but he wasn’t sure it was the right one. The lives saved in Althetas may well be lost in Tarvansia.

  The repair of Althetas’ city gates was already near completion, as were the new outer defenses suggested by Nehrutu. The fleet was also gathered and ready to sail. Led by Nehrutu and Aaliyah, they hoped to land on the south-east tip of the peninsula and attack the Angrääl rear just as Lousis was engaging them from the north. It would take his army at least three weeks to reach King Victis unless he was being forced north - an eternity to resist when faced with such a superior force. Lousis prayed that his fellow monarch could hold out until he arrived.

  Since the siege, his personal guard had grown to a ridiculous number. Twenty-five men and elves on horseback were lined up behind him. Though they were certainly worthy warriors, he couldn’t help but be irritated by their constant attention and caution. He was accustomed to moving about freely, but that was currently out of the question.

  A runner approached and bowed low. “Your majesty, High Lady Selena wishes to speak with you before the army departs.”

  Lousis scowled. “I am no emperor. Your highness is how I am to be addressed.”

  Under the king’s sharp eye, the runner instantly became flushed and nervous, unable to speak. After a moment’s silence he lowered his head and ran off.

  This added level of deference to Lousis had become increasingly common during the past few days. At first he thought it was simple fatigue and stress from the invasion making him imagine things, but then he began hearing the stories circulating. People were saying that he slew a hundred men while defending the manor, and that he single-handedly repelled the final Angrääl charge before driving them from the city. It didn’t matter how many times he told the true account
, his legend continued to grow. Some people even wanted to turn the Stone of the Tower into a statue of him. Of course, he ordered it not to be touched. But talk of a monument in his honor still continued.

  He spurred his horse on toward Valshara. His guard quickly surrounded him, and cheers rose as he made his way through the ranks. He did his best not to look displeased.

  As he approached the passage he could see that a large white tent had been erected a few yards off to the side of the entrance. Resplendent in her robes, Selena was standing just in front of it, smiling broadly.

  Lousis dismounted and bowed, a grin on his face. “You are a welcome sight indeed, high lady.”

  “I’m flattered to hear such kind words from a living legend,” she teased.

  Lousis sighed and frowned. “It does me no honor to have such nonsense spread. Many good men died that night, and I was fortunate to have fought by their side.”

  “It gives the people hope,” she countered. “Now more than ever they need heroes, and who better than their king?” She motioned toward the tent. “But rest assured, in here you can just be Lousis.”

  Lousis looked at his guard who had already begun to surround the tent. “You lot stay out here,” he instructed.

  Two chairs and a small table had been set up, and two glasses of brandy had already been poured. Lousis took a seat, then held one of the glasses under his nose, savoring the aroma.

  “I suppose you won’t be enjoying very much of that for a while,” said Selena.

  “I’m afraid not,” he replied, taking a sip. “The comforts of home will be in short supply. But I imagine you didn’t call me here to discuss brandy.”

  “Actually, I did,” she replied. “You have defended both of our homes, and I would not have you march to war without a proper farewell.”

  Lousis visibly relaxed. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that. I was afraid you were going to ask me to take Ertik along with me, or some other such nonsense.”

  “I think your mind is burdened quite enough,” said Selena. “And while Ertik may not complain about going to Althetas, to have him go as far away from Valshara as you intend would surely send him into a panic.”

  “Have you enough men and supplies?” asked the king.

  Selena frowned. “Valshara is well defended and supplied. But in truth, it now feels more like a fortress than a temple.”

  “It will be as it was once again,” Lousis assured her. “You have my word.”

  She forced a weak smile. “Perhaps. But I think when that day comes, my usefulness will be at an end. When this war is over I intend to return to my childhood home and retire. Hopefully I’ll be able to visit my grandson from time to time.”

  Lousis sat his glass on the table and stroked his beard while thinking. “Perhaps you would consider living in Althetas?”

  Selena laughed merrily. “And what would I do there?”

  “Be my queen,” he replied, almost without hesitation. His eyes fixed on hers and his lips formed a sly grin.

  This brought forth even more laughter from Selena, but her amusement faded when Lousis’ expression did not change.

  “Stop teasing me,” she chided.

  “I am not teasing you, high lady,” he said. “Nothing would honor me more, and I can think of no better way to spend the rest of my days than with you.”

  “We are far too old for such things,” she replied with an uncharacteristic blush. “Besides, I think you would be in need of a queen capable of bearing you an heir. I am well beyond that.”

  Lousis reached over to touch Selena’s hand. “And I am well beyond caring about such petty matters. I will leave Althetas with a capable leader when the time comes. There are many who could take up the mantle. But I have no desire to spend the rest of my time in this world alone.”

  Selena lowered her eyes and smiled sweetly. “Neither do I. But if I agree - and I’m not saying that I do - you must promise me one thing.”

  “I am at your command,” said Lousis.

  She looked into his eyes and squeezed his hand tightly. “You must survive.”

  Leaning down, he kissed the tips of her delicate fingers. “You have my word.” He gave a playful smirk. “At least my guards will be happy.”

  “And more numerous,” she added. “I’ll be sending three knights of Amon Dähl to accompany you.”

  One look at her face told Lousis that it was useless to argue. “As you wish,” he said.

  They spent the next hour in pleasant conversation, leaving behind troubled thoughts and dark dreams. But it was not to last. A messenger arrived to inform Lousis that the army was ready to depart.

  “You never gave me your reply,” he said, rising from his chair.

  “Keep your word by returning alive and you will have it then,” she replied. “Until that time, know that you will remain in my thoughts and prayers.”

  “And you in mine, high lady.” Bowing low, he left the tent.

  The army had formed lines, awaiting only Lousis’ command. As promised, three knights showed up to join his guard. Lousis smiled inwardly, picturing the sweet face of High Lady Selena.

  “Lads,” he shouted, turning to the guards. “I have a great need to return home alive. Don’t let me down.”

  He nodded to the herald, who sounded a mighty blast from a silver trumpet. This was met with a thunderous cry as the army slowly moved forward.

  With a new hope for love and companionship beating in his heart, Lousis prayed for peace to come soon.

  Chapter 25

  Yanti sat admiring the décor in the living room of Lee Starfinder’s former home. It saddened him to think that he was soon to return to the barren halls of Angrääl, though he would certainly be taking a few select books along with him.

  A young girl was dusting the mantel, making a point of avoiding eye contact with him. The people of Sharpstone were far more accommodating than he’d expected. Likely they had been told not to resist: an intelligent move, if they were to have any hope of survival. The master would not tolerate resistance from this lot. Not from Darshan’s hometown. They were lucky the village was still standing after what had happened to the faithful. Fifty men from Baltria had come to burn it to the ground in retaliation. Yanti took another look around and crossed his legs. He was glad he’d stopped them. Certainly this house would have suffered the same fate as the rest of the village, and the treasures here were far too beautiful to be destroyed at the hands of that rabble.

  “Did you know Gewey Stedding?” he asked the maid.

  She stopped and turned, but did not look up. “I did, my lord. Everyone here knew him. It’s a small village.”

  Yanti nodded. “Of course. Tell me, what was he like?”

  She shrugged awkwardly. “He was nice - like his father - and he worked hard. Most people thought well of him. He used to help my grandmother when something needed fixing. Oh yes, and most of the girls thought he was handsome.”

  Yanti chuckled. “I’m sure they did.” He pulled a copper from his pocket and tossed it to her. “That will be all for today.”

  The maid curtsied and hurried away.

  The moment the door closed, Yanti felt the foul presence of a Vrykol approaching the house from the east. Grumbling at this intrusion, he poured himself a glass of wine and sat down to wait. Within minutes, a black-cloaked figure entered and took a seat opposite to him.

  “Deliver your message and leave,” ordered Yanti. “Your company offends me.”

  The Vrykol pushed back his hood, revealing his elf features. “I had heard you were a pretentious snob.”

  Yanti sneered. “Just because you look less disgusting, that doesn’t mean you are any different from the rest of your kind.”

  The Vrykol laughed mockingly. “And because you were created by the gods and not our master, that doesn’t make you any better than me…or the rest of our kind.”

  Yanti waved his hand dismissively. “Just tell me why you’re here.”

  The
Vrykol sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Your sister has been found.”

  “I know,” he replied. “I can sense her. Please say you didn’t come here to tell me that.”

  “You are to find her and bring her to the master,” he continued. “At once.”

  “Me?” said Yanti. “She’s harmless. Why send me? Certainly you or one of the others could do it just as easily.”

  “She is protected by the hermit,” he explained.

  “Felsafell,” Yanti growled. “Yes. Then I am certainly the only one who could do this. I hope you will not be joining me.”

  “I have my own duties to perform,” he replied, his tone boastful. “I am to kill Darshan.”

  Yanti doubled over in laughter. “The master is sending you? Other than he, I am the only one who can stand against the son of Gerath. Is this some kind of joke?”

  The Vrykol reached inside his cloak and pulled out a small gold box with the symbol of Angrääl engraved on the lid. He sat it on the low table positioned between them and pushed it forward. “I will not fail to kill him as you did.”

  Yanti glared angrily. “I beat him. Only the elves prevented my total victory. Besides, the master merely wanted him incapacitated, not killed.”

  “That has changed,” said the Vrykol with an air of smugness. “And you could no longer defeat him. The master is certain that Darshan has discovered our weakness. He would rip your spirit from your body before you could lift your sword.”

  Yanti thought on this for a moment. “I still fail to see why he has sent you. If we are no longer a threat, then only the master himself can defeat him now.”

  The Vrykol motioned to the box. “The answer to that is inside.”