The Gaellean Prophecy Series Box Set

by C S Vass

  “I don’t need your permission, Captain,” Logun sneered. “I can return to Black Wolf when I please.”

  “You don’t,” Brett agreed. “I’m asking you, Logun. One warrior to another. I need your help. Please. Help me get Benjiko to Frost.”

  Logun turned his gaze back towards the fire. Brett knew that he had pushed the Shigata close to the brink. He needed to bite his tongue and let the man think. They sipped their beer together for several minutes without saying a word.

  “I’ll help,” Logun said after a time.

  “Thank you,” Brett said. “Truly Logun. I appreciate it.”

  The Shigata smirked. “I don’t need your thanks. Just remember the first rule of my order.”

  Brett furrowed his brow. “Which of course is…?”

  “The Shigata don’t work for free.”

  Chapter 25

  “Is this how we die?”

  Godwin bristled at hearing the question again. “I should be so lucky after all of your whining.”

  “All of my whining!” Robert scoffed. “I have two black eyes, bound hands, and we’re being led off into the middle of this frozen hellscape to who knows where.”

  “You need your eyes as much as I do right now,” Godwin said. “Unless you can see through a burlap sack.”

  “I can—ah shit.”

  “What?” Godwin asked as he heard the elves around them laugh.

  “Fell in a damn ditch. Just my luck.”

  “I’d count myself fortunate if I were you,” one of the elves said with a dark chuckle. “Your luck could get a lot worse before this day ends.”

  Godwin ignored the laughter that rang out all around them. They had been marching bound, blinded, and beset with insults for several hours. The snow had picked up, and the temperature dropped, but the elves continued to move without stopping for food or fire.

  Still, despite the circumstances Godwin found himself glad to be out of Saebyl. The older he got, the more cities made him feel claustrophobic and out of place. He would take the crunch of snow and leaves under his boots and the feeling of pine sap on his fingers if he had to.

  After what felt like many hours, the elves came to a stop. “Here,” one of them said. “Remove their sacks. Keep the ropes for now.”

  Bright moonlight made Godwin blink after hours of blackness. The view was stunning. How could such a place come to be? Before them stood a large grove in the middle of the woods ringed by massive blue-trunked trees with bark so pure and smooth Godwin was certain they were shaped by magic. Many of the trees had steps that glowed like polished glass leading in wide circles upwards from their base, but the tops were blocked from view by swirling clouds that floated like ghostly auras around the forest. Only above the grove was open sky plain before them. A low-hanging full moon shone like a glowing gemstone over their heads.

  “These trees,” Robert said in a half-whisper. “They radiate magic.”

  “Do you like it, human?” the elf they had first met sneered. “Up above is Gal-Deraelic, but that is not for your filthy eyes to see.”

  “What do you have against my eyes, forest boy?” Robert asked.

  Godwin smiled at Robert’s sudden braveness. The elf was also amused. “You can call me Cerulio, human. And if I were you, I would watch my tone. You can’t see them, but hundreds of our allies up above that mist are looking down on you. Many of them have arrows aimed for your ugly head. If you don’t believe me, I’ll be happy to untie you. Either run or fight, you’ll be dead the first step you take.”

  “All right, settle down,” Godwin said, butting in. “I don’t know what we’ve done to offend you, Cerulio, but I think we might still be friends despite your hostility. You obviously think so too. Given the way you greeted the wolves that were here before us, it seems things could have gone worse.”

  The elf smiled. “So you do know about those wolves. As I suspected. And what exactly—”

  Cerulio was interrupted by one of his fellow warrior elves clearing his throat. He nodded. “I’m getting ahead of myself.” Without another word, he moved towards a large slab of stone near the center of the grove. “Sit,” he commanded to Godwin and Robert.

  “Looks comfy,” Godwin said as he eyed the cold granite. “Think I’ll stay on my feet though.”

  “I wasn’t asking,” Cerulio said with an angry look in his eye. “Sit. I won’t tell you a third time.”

  Shrugging, Godwin nodded and sat. The stone was ice cold, and with his hands bound tightly behind his back, it was impossible to get into a comfortable position.

  “Now tell me,” Cerulio demanded. “What are you doing in our woods?”

  Godwin looked at the stony faces around him. Not one held anything other than suspicion and contempt. He sighed. “We’re searching for someone important to me. Our traveling companion who was lost to us in a shipwreck. We were informed that she came to these woods.”

  “And why would she do that?”

  “I intend to ask her when I find her.”

  “But you have no idea?”

  “I don’t.”

  The elves stared at him, then glanced at each other. It was almost as if they were waiting for something, but Godwin had no idea what.

  “And who is this person, exactly?” Cerulio asked.

  “A teenage girl named Lyra.”

  “Where does she come from?”

  “Why does that matter?” Godwin grumbled.

  “Answer the question,” Cerulio snapped.

  “She comes from Meno. Originally she came from the Tarsurian Empire. What of it?”

  “Two easterners and a Shigata traveling together,” Cerulio said. “How interesting. Who exactly is she, Shigata? Is she someone important? How is it that she came here?”

  “She’s no one,” Godwin snapped. “As soon as we find her, we’ll be happy to be on our way.”

  The elves stared at them with angry faces. Godwin shifted where he sat. The chill he felt seemed to have melted away. He actually felt sweat dribbling down his neck. Was he losing his touch in the face of these simple interrogations? A burning sensation swept through his legs and arse. Next to him, Robert yelped.

  “What the hell is going on?” Godwin snapped at them. Pain flooded through his body. It felt like he was sitting in a frying pan, but he was unable to stand up or roll off of it.

  Cerulio smiled wickedly. “The Stone of Til-Denaid. A rather useful magical artifact. It knows your heart, and when you lie, it becomes quite hot. Now, which was the lie, Godwin? That she’s no one, or that when you find her you’ll leave here? Perhaps both were falsehoods.”

  Sweat poured down Godwin’s face as his bottom burned.

  “For hell’s sake just tell him,” Robert yelped. “I’m roasting alive over here.”

  “She’s not no one,” Godwin said. Immediately the burning subsided. “She’s the daughter of Markus Jantos, and a distance nice of Commander Jon Octovos.”

  Cerulio nodded. “Why the need for such secrecy among friends, I wonder?”

  “Sod off!” Godwin snapped. “You want to speak honestly and openly, Cerulio? I would like nothing more. But you can hardly expect that of me with my hands bound while you slowly torture us. Here’s some truth for you. Let us go, and I will speak with one-hundred percent honesty about whatever you ask me. No half-truths. No dodging questions. I come here with the hope of being a friend to the Frost Elves, and I wish you no ill will.”

  Cerulio considered for a few moments. Godwin was just grateful that his words didn’t result in the stone heating up again. The elf spoke a few words to his comrades in a language of their own. Godwin couldn’t quite read their tones, but when they finished two elves came over and cut the ropes that bound their hands.

  “Thank you,” Godwin said.

  Cerulio waved it off. “The stone is all knowing when it comes to matters of the heart. You spoke honestly. We may speak as friends. For now.”

  Godwin nodded. “Then you can trust me when I tell you we want
no trouble. I truly don’t know why Lyra came to these woods. All I want to do is find her and go back to Saebyl.”

  “Yes,” Cerulio said. “You don’t have to tell me that the eastern commander currently sits in Denver Rockhelm’s hall. No doubt he sent you to find his niece. Am I right?”

  Godwin nodded.

  “That’s of no concern to me,” Cerulio said. “We have not seen her, however, I think we might know where she is.”

  “Tell me, please,” Godwin said.

  Cerulio’s eyes darkened. “There would be little point. If she is where I suspect, there is no retrieving her. Go back and tell Octovos that his niece is dead.”

  “Until I have proof absolute, I cannot do that,” Godwin said.

  A gust blew through the grove whipping snow through the air. Straining his ears, Godwin was nearly certain that he heard a rustling among the leaves that was caused by no wind. Cerulio walked back and forth, considering something.

  “I have been paying careful attention, Godwin, to the events outside of this forest. It is no coincidence that we have grown hostile to foreigners in recent months. The demons that plague the Southlands, the Tarsurian attack on Black Wolf, these things trouble me.”

  “And the shifting of the stars?” Godwin asked.

  Cerulio nodded seriously. “I see you’re not one to mince words. Yes, the shifting of the stars. Tell me, do the heavens cause events here on earth, or is the earth responsible for the movement of the heavens?”

  “I’m no philosopher,” Godwin said.

  “The heavens cause events on earth,” Robert said. Cerulio glanced at him. The easterner continued, “Well, everyone knows that. I mean, you’re born under a certain constellation and that sign changes the course of your life. What more proof do you need?”

  The elf grew very quiet as his face tightened. Then he said, “There are those among my people with a different view. They say that the magic is in the one who is born, and the stars feel that magic calling out and come to them so that their potential may be unlocked. I see you disagree, that’s all right. I claim no knowledge absolute. But I do know one thing. The great mines of silver beneath Iryllium, they are nearly depleted. The magic of the Rainbow Wood has long passed into shadow giving way to the hostile Chillway in its stead.”

  “What of it?” Godwin asked.

  “These are patterns, Godwin,” Cerulio said. “Patterns that have played out over centuries. Tell me, what do you think the next part of that pattern is?”

  “I’m a Shigata, Cerulio, not a guardian or sorcerer,” Godwin said. “I don’t know about patterns. I have no ability to see into the future. I deal in the here and now.”

  “A very human answer,” Cerulio responded. “Also, a very foolish one.” The elf again grew silent for a long while, and Godwin knew better than to rush him. “But I think you know more than you realize. After all, surely you’re aware of King Boldfrost’s latest and grandest proclamation? Do you know, Shigata, where the West’s Dragons have gone?”

  Godwin felt his chest tighten as a chill crept up his spine.

  “You don’t. That’s all right, Godwin. I do. The King has called on them to make a song. A great, vatic song that all the world will hear. The Music of Dragons is terrible, Godwin. Soon they will begin singing.”

  “Cerulio, you know what I am,” Godwin replied. “Don’t speak riddles to me. What song are you speaking of? Where are the Dragons? Where is Lyra?”

  “Here and there,” the elf replied. “Taken in chains under false pretenses. Brought to secret camps scattered across the West where unspeakable things are being done to them. It is an orchestra that sets its stage across the entire world. An orchestra that requires many musicians in order to get the song right. You met two of those musicians earlier in these woods.”

  Godwin’s head churned like a boat in a turbulent sea. None of this made any sense. “What are you saying? The elves we encountered earlier, they were…”

  “Singers in Boldfrost’s Dragon orchestra,” Cerulio nodded. “Ones that have since lost their parts. In this death song, Godwin, many will be as the chaff separated from the wheat before the ballad is ready. One of Boldfrost’s camps is here, in this very forest. They are working on this composition very diligently there.”

  Thoughts exploded inside of Godwin’s head like fireworks—too many to keep track of. Missing Dragons. Yegvellen’s uranium. Silver mined to depletion. Lyra. If she had really come to these woods, did that mean that she was somehow caught up in all of this?

  “Lyra,” Godwin said. “You think she’s in this camp? Why? She’s no Dragon. What business would she have there?”

  “I never said any such thing,” Cerulio responded.

  “Then where is she? Please.”

  “Gone. With a fool. South to Iryllium.”

  Godwin shook his head, dumbfounded. “What? You told me she was as good as dead.”

  “She will be in that city of terror.”

  “Who did she go with?”

  “You know him, I think,” Cerulio said. “A strong man with a powerful reputation and a hatred of bloodshed. A man whose sword they begged for, but he would not give. He was here, not long ago. He found her, and together they went.”

  He couldn’t believe it. It was too crazy to be true. After all of these years…to think that he got himself caught up in all of this.

  “AGHHH!” Godwin shouted as he slammed his fists into the cold snow.

  “Godwin…” Robert said. “What’s going on?”

  “He felt the same way about you, I believe,” Cerulio said.

  “Who?” Robert urged.

  “My old master,” Godwin grimaced. “Reinko Assini. He’s taken her to Iryllium. But why?”

  “You promised your honesty, Shigata, and I believe you,” Cerulio said. “The West is undergoing radical changes. Boldfrost will either remake the world or destroy it. The die has been cast. There is no going back. I fear that your master is a fool.”

  Suddenly Cerulio lurched as if he had been struck in the back, and the elf fell to his knees. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and the fingers of his hands contorted into horrible shapes. When his mouth opened, he spoke not in his own voice, but that of something very deep and very vicious.

  “The time of prophecy draws nigh. A time of flames and terror. Of cold biting ice. The stars will not tell you until it is too late. You will know…when enemies become lovers. When brother slaughters brother. When kings kneel to wash the feet of peasants. When the stars are swallowed by the void and vanish from the sky. This is the time of doom. Of the end of all things, when the Gaellean Prophecy will rip the bowels of destiny from eternity. The time of nightmares draws nigh.”

  Godwin and Robert observed silently. The elves around them made no move to help. A dark silence filled the grove. Slowly, Cerulio rose to his feet. “I don’t have to tell you that factional loyalties will mean nothing in the days to come,” the elf said.

  “What can be done?” Godwin asked. “What can stop the time of flames and terror?”

  The elf once more held his silence for a long time. Minutes trickled by as wind swept through the grove. Robert’s teeth chattered while the company stood, reflecting silently.

  Cerulio met Godwin with his crimson-flecked eyes and held the Shigata’s gaze for a long time. He seemed to communicate innumerable feelings with that look. Feelings of loss and loneliness. Feelings of a fading hope, and grim resignation. Feelings that no words could begin to capture. Then he spoke.

  “Kanjo. But only if he has the proper help.”

  The Magic of Elves

  Book Three of The Gaellean Prophecy

  Prologue

  “This bridge reeks of blood.”

  Logun nodded grimly. The Shigata had not left Godwin’s side since the incident with Atusto the previous night. Somehow, with those beady eyes of his, he had seen the Tarsurian slip the bottle into Godwin’s pocket. On the verge of exhaustion, Godwin had relented and told the Shigata
that it contained a message. Now he was determined to be there when the cork came off.

  The Bridge of Salvation was a long path of stonework that connected Saebyl’s commercial district to its working class residential neighborhood. Godwin had become intimately acquainted with the walkway his first week in Saebyl when he was given the task of killing a Tarsurian alchemist trying to discreetly smuggle supplies across the city. That would not be the last target he killed on the bridge. Its strategic location and unavoidable exposure left people sitting targets.

  “I don’t know why Rockhelm couldn’t just see us in his castle,” Logun grumbled. “We’re risking our necks to get to this meeting.”

  “We’re still in a ceasefire,” Godwin said. “As you’ve pointed out yourself several times.”

  “I see,” Logun scoffed. “Somebody should go tell Atusto and all of those dead Tarsurians we left behind.”

  “Still, I can’t blame the man for being discreet. Who knows what kind of prying enemy eyes are waiting inside of the castle?”

  “You have a suspicious mind, Odruri,” Logun said. “That’s good. We could make good use of it in the Shigata.”

  Godwin did not reply. He was tired of Logun’s attempts to get him to join his miscreant band of cut-throats and killers. After the war ended, if he was lucky enough to survive that long, Godwin planned to return to Brentos and never think about swords again.

  A soft mist crept through Saebyl’s winding roads as they left the Bridge of Salvation behind them. Sunlight only just started to creep over the horizon, and the streets were barren. Back among the shops and businesses, a few eager tradesmen were willing to open their stores and try to start earning some coin again, but Saebyl’s residencies were all sealed tight with doors barred and weapons at the ready by bedsides and over fireplaces.

  They ventured through the maze of houses until at last they reached their destination: a simple grey home, utterly indistinguishable except for the two blue candles burning in the window that marked it as their destination. Before they approached the door, a loud, piercing howl echoed from beyond Saebyl’s walls.