Emeline pointed at something struggling against some branches in a tree.
Garrick reached for his sword and took a closer look. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he recognized the familiar shape.
“Acorn!” Garrick shouted. His face lit up as he ran over to the terrified horse. “I’ve never been happier to see you.”
Acorn’s eyes were wild with fear and she jerked her head away from Garrick’s touch. The horse struggled against her tangled reins against branches and leaves, shaking them wildly.
Garrick backed away, trying not to provoke her further. If those branches broke, she would bolt.
Acorn’s demeanor seemed to soften as Emeline approached. She stroked the animal’s neck and whispered with such tenderness that, despite being unable to hear, even made Garrick feel calmer. She reached up and slowly undid the tangled reins while she continued to soothe.
“Well done,” Garrick said with an impressed look. He lifted Emeline onto the saddle and hopped on behind her, kicking the horse into a full gallop.
6
Seelios sat upright in a flurry of motion that sent waves of pain through his whole body. He shut his eyes and let himself fall to his back, grimacing as he felt the throb of every bruise on his ribs and the fiery pain of his leg. The gentle sounds of water were all around him as he bobbed up and down.
“You should be still, boy. You can’t heal if you’re thrashing about,” a voice said behind him.
Seelios craned his neck and saw Gregory, the Disciple of Light. Seelios’s muscles were unable to hold the awkward position and he let his body flop back down onto the hard wood, sending the boat into a gentle rock.
The Daylight Star twinkled above as he stared into the sky. Since Garrick had mentioned it, it did appear a bit unusual.
“Where are we?” Seelios asked.
“The Brascella River, west of Fembleton. You’ve been unconscious for nearly two hours,” the disciple said.
Seelios looked around and recognized the boat he’d tried to save for Mr. Wallman earlier that day.
“That light earlier . . . you saved me?” Seelios asked.
“I did,” Gregory said.
“Did anyone else survive?”
Silence filled the air. Seelios’s thoughts drifted to Garrick lying in the wheat field.
“My friend, did he make it?”
“I don’t know the fate of your friend, but I fear once the god unleashed his golems there was little chance of survival.”
Seelios went quiet. The lapping of the water against the boat was soothing, yet the anxiety of what had happened moments before was just beginning to set in. Seelios’s breath grew heavy as he thought about all of those people getting crushed and stomped by the stone monstrosities. Gods weren’t supposed to do such terrible things.
Tears began to fill Seelios’s eyes as emotions swelled inside him.
“Why would a god do something like that?” Seelios asked, trying his best not to scream. “We didn't do anything. Those people didn't deserve to die like that!”
“You must calm down. We can’t let ourselves be discovered,” Gregory said. He turned his head to look behind him, then slowly scanned the surrounding trees.
“I know not what provoked Gameus to attack your village. It’s unlike him, or any god, to massacre mortals,” Gregory said.
Seelios had never heard that name before, but had seen it written down plenty of times in the books chronicling the gods. Gameus was the true name of the God of Earth. He realized that he’d been pronouncing it wrong this entire time.
“What did he want with you?” Gregory asked.
Seelios hesitated for a moment, wondering how much he should reveal. He figured since Gregory was a Disciple of Light that he must be trustworthy. He did save his life after all.
Seelios lifted his hand up. “He asked me about my ring. It’s . . . a bit unique.”
“That it is. A very precious piece of jewelry you have there,” Gregory said.
Seelios craned his neck to look at the disciple, who smiled back at him.
“How do you know?” Seelios asked.
“I know quite a bit about that ring, there are several like it,” Gregory said. “But tell me, what else did the God of Earth say?
“That was all,” Seelios said. He thought for a moment and then widened his eyes with realization. “He was also looking for my father, just as you were. What has everyone got to do with him? Is this about the gate?”
Gregory let a short moment of silence pass before he answered. “Yes, and things may be worse than I thought,” Gregory said.
“Did you find my father? Is he safe?” Seelios asked.
“I’m afraid I didn’t, which only complicates matters,” Gregory said. “The news I meant to deliver will have to wait,” Gregory said in a lowered whisper, as if he were trying to hide even the notion that he kept the information that he did. “He’d already made his way deep into the Southern Mountains. When I felt the God of Earth drawing near, we had to return to Fembleton. We’ll contact your father once we’ve reached Paloise. I’m sure he’ll be eager to know you’re safe.”
“Why did you risk your life to come back? Those soldiers, they gave their lives for us to escape.”
“It’s my sworn duty. In Ophanim’s absence it’s the job of the disciples to protect those within his realm. Just as it is the duty of the other gods to protect those within their realms.”
“Yet the God of Earth attacked us.”
Silence came as the water lapped against Gregory’s oar. If the God of Earth was attacking people, there was a possibility that other gods may be doing the same. Seelios thought of his father being attacked in the mountains by the Goddess of Wind. He tried his best to push the thought out of his head.
“We need to find somewhere to rest,” Gregory said. “We’ve no provisions, and you’re in no shape to make the journey all the way to Paloise. However, I’m afraid I don’t know the lands as well by river as I do by road.”
Seelios slowly lifted himself onto one shaking arm and scanned for familiar landmarks. Although he rarely traveled far beyond the foothills of Fembleton, he had a strong knowledge of the geography of the continent of Inf. The countless hours Seelios spent in Garrick’s library led him to stumble on a great many of useful tomes, some of which were detailed atlases.
Seelios thought for a moment as he considered the towns closest to Fembleton, particularly those near the river. There was a town called Alnerwick nestled deeper into the woods that would take some effort to reach, but still a better option than trying to float downriver for days without food.
“If we stop at the first bend there’s another village to the northeast. We’d have to trek on foot for some time.” Seelios thought about his leg and realized how difficult it would prove. He wasn’t even sure he could manage.
“We passed that bend some time ago, perhaps a quarter or half-hour before you woke,” Gregory said.
Seelios’s heart sank. The river must have been running faster than usual.
“Are there no more towns?” Gregory asked. “The closest one I know is Pinewood. The God of Water has a life-giving monolith there, perhaps we could use it to summon his aid. Still, it’s doubtful you’d survive that long. We need something closer. ”
Pinewood the Forest Water Village was a place that Seelios had always wanted to see some day, but Gregory was right; it was quite far. There was no other alternative.
Seelios shook his head. “No other village is near unless we go back.”
The water whooshed at the forceful push of Gregory’s paddle. He dug into the river with surprising strength, turning the boat toward the bank.
Trudging out from the water was the first time Seelios saw Gregory with his hood down. Beneath the white hair, he noticed a network of thick scars that ran along his neck. Similar scars appeared on his arms when the sleeves of his robes were pushed back to pull the boat ashore. Seelios blushed when Gregory caught him staring. “Sorry, I didn
’t mean to—”
“Worry not, boy, I wear these scars proudly. They remind me of a sacrifice I made for Ophanim. One that all the disciples had to make, and did so without hesitation,” he said.
They pulled the boat through the river shallows and up into the tree line. After they’d covered it in leaves and branches, Seelios pointed out the general direction of Alnerwick.
The amount of time it took to move through the forest was vastly overestimated. Seelios’s leg was splinted and padded with thick cloth, making it difficult for him to move. In the little ground they were able to cover, Seelios needed frequent breaks for rest. He found himself lacking in strength even more than his normal self.
“Here,” Gregory said as he reached inside his robes. He pulled out a smooth river stone.
“What is it?” Seelios asked between gulps of water from a skin.
“Something that can ease the pain. And possibly more.” Gregory placed the stone in Seelios’s palm
Seelios regarded it, turning it over a few times in his hand. He looked up at Gregory expectantly.
“Am I supposed to do something with it?” Seelios asked.
Gregory looked down at Seelios with an arched eyebrow. “You feel nothing?”
Seelios shook his head.
Gregory held an expression of slight disappointment. “What you hold in your hand is a runic artifact of certain healing properties, called a rejuvenation stone. This particular artifact has been innate for some time, much like your ring was until you came into possession of it.”
Seelios suspected that the ring his father had given him was a runic artifact, but with all the secrecy that surrounded it, he never dared bring up the subject. Now he was holding another in his palm. It was a dream come true for someone who was hardly allowed outside of the limits of their small hometown.
Seelios looked at the artifact with wonder. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on it in the same manner he’d done with his ring, but felt nothing. He saw the stone in his mind, but it was nothing but an empty shell, like trying to draw a bucket of water from a well long dried up.
Seelios opened his eyes and frowned.
“Here,” Seelios said as he lifted it back up to Gregory. “It doesn’t seem to be working.”
Gregory held up a hand. “I suspect you just need time with it. I’m curious, how long was it before you could use that ring of yours?” He gestured toward the stone band on Seelios’s finger.
Seelios looked down at his hand. “I had it for the span of a few days, maybe a week, before the runes appeared.”
Gregory stroked his short beard thoughtfully. “I see. Fascinating.”
“What?” Seelios asked.
“It’s just, you’ve managed to accomplish something that would require the combined focus of many disciples at once. That ring lost its runic luster many a year ago, rendered inert through over use. Yet, somehow you’ve managed to reawaken it without assistance.” He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t have assistance, correct?”
Seelios shook his head. “I was alone.” He looked down at his ring again. He hadn’t realized it was such an accomplishment to activate it. He’d wondered if his father knew what he had done, if maybe that was why his use of the artifact had to be kept such a secret.
Gregory pulled out another object from his robes and held it up. It looked like a miniature stone tower with a glass marble cradled at the top. It reminded Seelios of a piece that belonged to a game set of some kind, the type a child lordling might play with.
“Tell me, Seelios. What do you know of the abilities of the God of Light?”
Seelios thought for a moment, turning his gaze up and to the side as he thought back to what he read in books and heard from stories. “He wields a burning light to smite his opponents. His eyes could see the hidden truth. His touch could heal even the most grievous of wounds.” He drifted off into silence as he struggled to remember more.
The traits of the gods were native to their natural element. Books were inconsistent on many accounts of what specific powers the gods possessed, but nearly all of them agreed that the God of Light was among the most powerful.
“Among those, and other powers, he could also traverse the land as if he were light itself,” Gregory added as he held the object up in his hand. “Behold, a teleportation totem.”
The stone carved figure had lines that crisscrossed and patterned along its sides. Great detail was taken into account in the design of the runic artifact.
“It, too, has been inert for some time. Not that it would do me any good if it were energized. Mastery of such complex uses of mana is better suited to greater minds and more skilled disciples.” Gregory gave a small smile.
So it was true what was written in the books of mana. Seelios was skeptical about the concept of a flowing energy in all things, living and non, but fascinated nonetheless. It was said that mana grants vitality, and being able to harbor such enormous amounts of it and manipulate it by will is what gives the gods their power. To hear Gregory speak of artifacts using mana seems to confirm the writings. Runic artifacts, after all, contained the power of the gods.
“Perhaps you will make better use of this than I.” Gregory extended the teleportation totem out to Seelios and he slowly took it, marveling at the generous gift. A third runic artifact. His head was spinning. If his leg wasn’t broken, he would’ve been jumping with excitement.
“Gods be good, I don’t know what to say. Thank you,” Seelios said as he looked at the intricate detail.
“I impart these gifts to you, but you should know that such wonderful things can be deadly. If you call upon their power when you are too weak, they will end you.”
Gregory pointed to Seelios’s ring. “Even prolonged use of a truth ring can leave you feeble. If you go too far, it can kill you, leaving you with so little vitality that your heart won’t have the strength to keep you alive.”
Seelios looked down at the band on his finger. So that was its true name. He remembered being winded the few times he’d used the ring but always thought it was from the exhilaration and excitement. He swallowed nervously and nodded. “I understand.”
Gregory nodded, seeming satisfied of his short lesson. He looked around the forest. “We best be going. The longer we stay in one spot, the more vulnerable we are.”
When the night came, they reluctantly set up camp within the cover of thick brush to try to conceal themselves as much as they could. Bugs and ticks would be the least of their worries if they were found by minions of the God of Earth. A campfire would’ve stood out in the surrounding darkness, so they braved the night shivering under what little blankets and cloth they brought with them.
Dawn broke and Seelios expected to wake rested and energized. That hope was gone when his lids lifted as if the weight of the world were trying to hold them down. When he moved, his leg pained him even more than the previous day. It felt hot as a furnace, and a burning sensation spread from the center of his shin. Even through the thick bandages a smell of death came from the wound. His head was cloudy with strange thoughts, a hallucinatory state that seemed to be something more than just sleep deprivation.
His hand clutched the stone that the disciple had given him, as if he were clinging onto hope that a mere object might restore him overnight. He released his grip and saw sweat marks on it, despite feeling like he was frozen.
Gregory was already up and packing the few materials they had.
“My leg . . . it’s worse than just a break, isn’t it?” Seelios asked Gregory.
Gregory pursed his lips. “I’m no healer.” He hesitated for a moment, as if considering whether or not he should continue. “Your bone punctured your skin. I dressed it as best I could, but if there’s any hope for your survival we must reach town as soon as possible.”
Seelios knew of such wounds before. Once the fever took from such an injury, there was little hope. Men had died in Fembleton with wounds less severe than Seelios’s. Gregory eyed him, as if to judge
how Seelios would react.
Seelios pushed himself up with arms that barely had strength within them. He tried his best to ignore the pain that told him to stop moving and lie there, collapsed on the forest floor. When he got to one knee, he was out of breath and drenched in sweat.
Seelios faced Gregory with a look of pain and determination. “Let’s go.”
7
The remainder of the hike to Alnerwick required the assistance of Gregory and a sturdy branch as a walking stick.
Trails of smoke were beginning to appear in the distance, a sign of civilization on the horizon. By the time the Alnerwick farmhouses came into view, Seelios was beginning to see bright spots of light. He smiled listlessly into the air as he chased them with his hands, oblivious to the arrival at their destination. He didn’t even flinch at the heavy scent of manure as he plodded through the thick of it, spread over top the farmland.
Gregory asked something, but Seelios couldn’t find the focus to respond. An overwhelming fog overtook his mind and he couldn’t manage a single coherent thought. Seelios clutched at his chest as he felt his heart rate surge. He dropped his arm from around Gregory’s shoulders and pulled at his shirt, trying to take it off in a flurry of madness as if the cloth were ablaze.
Gregory said something in reply. The world spun, and Seelios lost all function in his legs. He would’ve fallen hard had it not been for Gregory, who eased Seelios gently to the ground. He stared up at the blue sky with its wispy clouds and couldn’t tell if the lights in his vision were part of the sky or not, but everything seemed to swirl around the Daylight Star. His eyes struggled to focus as he gazed, and he drifted toward a deep and heavy sleep. Muffled shouts came from a distance, and the dark shapes of heads appeared around him.
Just as Seelios closed his eyes, his hand found its way into his pocket and seized the rejuvenation stone. In the midst of hallucination and pain, something inside told him to clutch the artifact for dear life.
As the Earthen Stag Walks (The Simulacrum Book 1) Page 6