by Todd, E. L.
“Yes,” Aleco said as he sheathed his blade. The anger coursed through Aleco’s body underneath his cloak. Displaying his obvious anger toward his uncle’s rejection, he clenched his fists and his shoulders tensed. Aleco was irritated by the resignation in his uncle’s voice. “You have no hope of winning, do you?”
Father Giloth did not answer. He looked away into the trees of the forest, savoring the sight of the open glade before his home. He spent many years of happiness in this forest, especially when his wife was alive. Even after all these years, he still missed her. He returned his look to the shadow of Aleco’s hood.
Aleco crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his uncle. He didn’t understand why his uncle wouldn’t accept his aid. He needed it. Aleco wanted nothing more than to kill his brother for the crimes he committed. He felt entitled to unleash the killing blow. Even if Father Giloth failed to prevail over the soldiers or stop the spread of the tainted fire, it wouldn’t matter as long as the king was killed. “At least bring Drake down with you,” he said. “Nothing else matters.”
Father Giloth smiled. “I will attempt to pull my nephew from the shadow of darkness and from the evil that confounds his mind.” The Nature Priest sighed at the thought. He knew it was a lost cause. “Make him come to his senses.”
Aleco grabbed Father Giloth by the front of his robe. He never threatened the old man in such a way, but he had never been more offended by his words. “He raped your daughter. He tortured her, beat her, and made her want to kill herself. What the hell is wrong with you? You are seriously delusional.” Aleco shook his head, furious that his uncle was being so idiotic. Aleco couldn’t imagine a father being so calm towards his daughter’s tormentor. “You’re wasting your time, Uncle. You’re an even bigger idiot than I gave you credit for—you are a complete imbecile. He deserves no mercy, old man.” Father Giloth tore Aleco’s grip from his clothing. “He is marching to these lands with two hundred thousand soldiers. Do you think he is just going to realize his mistakes, order his army down and leave the forest in peace? After everything he has done to Accacia, to me, and everyone on the Continent, how can you even think about granting him mercy?”
Father Giloth dropped his smile and looked into the blackness of Aleco’s hood. He understood his nephew’s hostility. He didn’t blame Aleco for the unbridled rage that shook his body as he spoke. He wished he could make his nephew understand the situation, understand that he did care about the criminal acts of Drake, but there was more to the story—there always was. “Aleco—”
“You deserve to die.” There was so much hatred and hostility in his voice that Father Giloth flinched. Even though Father Giloth couldn’t see his face, he knew his nephew’s blue eyes were black with rage. Without another word, Aleco walked away. His uncle was the only family Aleco had left, and he was throwing his life away. Father Giloth was doing nothing to avenge the death of Aleco’s parents, the abuse of Accacia, or the source of Aleco’s all-consuming depression. Drake was the reason Aleco wouldn’t have the one thing he wanted more than anything—Accacia.
Aleco returned to the house without looking back. Father Giloth gripped the rim of his scepter and lowered his gaze to the forest floor, feeling the sting of his final words. He knew his nephew didn’t mean them. At least he hoped he didn’t. He loved his nephew just as much as Accacia. In fact, he loved him more. Aleco wasn’t just a nephew to him, but the son he always wanted. Aleco may have committed unforgivable acts, but he was still the greatest person Father Giloth ever knew. His final words were heartbreaking. He knew their last conversation would be emotional and trying, but he never expected it to be so painful. Father Giloth swallowed the lump in his throat then looked at the Naturalists of Orgoom Forest one last time.
“Hurry back, Father,” Ryan said.
Father Giloth forced a smile to his lips, trying to hide the true pain that gripped his strangled heart. He stood in the clearing without saying another word, staring at the house Aleco entered and waiting for him to return. He hoped—prayed—that his nephew would return to him. He appraised the trees of the forest and marveled at their beauty. The blossoms were beginning to open at spring’s arrival, and the forest was awakening with life. It was his favorite season. He continued to stand in silence as the Naturalists watched him, waiting for him to either speak or depart from the glade. Father Giloth realized he was waiting for a ship that would never come to shore, so he finally nodded to the Naturalists then disappeared into the forest.
Father Giloth walked across the clearing and passed through the wide trunks that encompassed the trees of the forest, hiding him from view. The branches of the trees formed a barrier between the Nature Priest and the glade. He disappeared into the forest, becoming camouflaged into the wood. After he passed the first line of trees, he pointed his scepter into the ground and closed his eyes. A red spark flashed from the tip of the staff and formed a thin line in the dirt, which stretched into a straight line and expanded in opposite directions. The red line faded into the soil and disappeared altogether. It was as if it had never been there.
Father Giloth brushed the dirt from his beloved scepter and stood tall like the trees of his adored forest. The Nature Priest looked up into the canopy above, gazing at nothing in particular, and absorbed the entire forest and its astounding beauty. A single word forced from his mouth left as a soft whisper. Even if someone stood next to the priest, they wouldn’t have heard his gentle voice. “Goodbye.”
The wind brushed the stands of his white hair from his eyes and flapped his cloak in the breeze. Father Giloth smiled as he felt the air stretch across his body, taking away the anxiety that filled his heart and comforting him in a silent way. The leaves rustled in the treetops above and a pink blossom was shaken loose from the branch. It floated down toward the forest floor, landing on Father Giloth’s shoulder. He grasped the flower and stared at the blossom in his hand, stroking the smooth texture of the petals with his fingertips. It was soft like a feather from a glorious bird. He placed the flower in his pocket. “Thank you,” he whispered into the wind. The breeze swirled around him then disappeared altogether. The forest was still.
Father Giloth advanced to the edge of his lands where the tallest trees of the forest formed the border of his realm. The only tree that surpassed their height was the Lorunien Tree, which resided in the heart of the forest. He felt the beating of his heart pound in his chest with every step he took. Each footfall reminding him these heartbeats would be his last. Soon he would be a corpse, nothing more than a stiff body in the paralysis of death. His soul would unite with the nature god and he would find peace, but that knowledge did nothing to ease his anxiety. Dying was still dying. He hoped that his psychotic nephew would come to his senses and stop his violent behavior, but he knew Drake would never cease his advance. He foresaw it. And now, he regretted the promise he made to his brother all those years ago.
Father Giloth stopped when he reached the outskirts of the land. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the forest once more before he stepped through the trees that hid him from view. Father Giloth heard the horses on the opposite side of the trees as they fidgeted in their stagnant formations, impatient to pass through into his lands. The footfalls of their magnificent steeds pounded against the earth and shook the ground beneath their feet. Even the Lorunien Tree cringed at the force. The King of the Continent shouted orders to his men, forcing them to remain in their ranks. Father Giloth felt his heart accelerate at the sound of his nephew’s words. You could hear the taint of evil in his voice alone. But the king and his soldiers would not breach the forest. The Chief Nature Priest, the guardian of Orgoom Forest, wouldn’t let them.
Father Giloth opened his eyes and walked forward.
Orgoom Forest
4
The king dismounted his battle horse and tossed the reigns to his man-at-arms, Shane, who held the beast in place while Drake approached the robed figure that emerged from the trees. The Sole Sovereign of the United Co
ntinent withdrew his blade from its scabbard and held it at the ready while the cavalry behind him steadied their flaming torches, waiting for Lord Aleutian’s command to unleash the inferno. Drake smiled at Father Giloth. “You face me alone?”
Father Giloth staked his scepter into the ground and dropped his arms to his side. “Aid is unnecessary. I have no need of it. ”
Drake stepped towards Father Giloth. “You are wiser than I gave you credit for. Why waste the deaths of innocents when you have no hope to prevail?”
“That is where you are wrong, m’lord. I will be the victor in this battle.”
The Lord Aleutian dropped his smile. “Your death can only be avoided in one way. Tell me where Accacia is and I will spare your precious forest and your pathetic life. I am a merciful king. Take advantage of my generosity.” Drake stared at Father Giloth’s passive face. “You know exactly where she is. Now tell me.”
Father Giloth grabbed his scepter and whispered something under his breath. The king watched his lips move but heard no audible words. Drake spun his blade in his grasp, irritated by his uncle’s lack of response. “What say you?”
Father Giloth released his hold on his staff. He stared at Drake, but did not answer his question, leaving it hanging unanswered in the forest air. Drake gripped his sword with a crushing force, and his palms burned as they contracted around the hilt. His uncle’s lack of cooperation was dissolving his patience. Drake’s calm demeanor was replaced by a flash of hatred in his crystal blue eyes. “ANSWER ME!” The veins in his forearms were throbbing with increased circulation. Accacia’s absence drove him to the point of insanity. Despite his overwhelming success in conquering the land, the months that transgressed without her were the worst in his existence. All he wanted was Accacia. He would have her. He needed her by his side, in his palace, and in his bed. He would take nothing less. Her time of freedom had expired. The king made false promises to the Nature Priest, that he would spare his life and leave the forest unscathed if Accacia was returned to him, but they were all lies. He would kill his uncle himself.
Father Giloth met his gaze. “End this now, Drake. It isn’t too late. You can still make amends for the crimes you have committed.” Drake’s countenance was glued with a look of fury. His eyebrows raised and his jaw clenched tight. “Nephew, come back to me.” Drake continued to stare at him, his anger still bubbling. “Please.”
“Tell me where she is.” It was as if Drake hadn’t heard a word he said.
Father Giloth closed his eyes and fought against the anger inside his chest. His nephew’s perverted infatuation with his daughter was despicable. Drake’s obsession with Accacia consumed him and his grip on sanity. For the second time, he wanted to kill his own family. Drake murdered his parents in cold blood, framed his own brother for that heinous crime, then took and imprisoned an innocent woman against her will. Now he sought to conquer the entire Continent, forcing it under his command. Father Giloth remembered Drake as a boy and wondered what corrupted him. “What has made you this way?” he asked. Father Giloth felt the disappointment flood through his body. He knew Drake’s parents were just as ashamed of him as he was. “What happened to you? You were as good as a son to me.”
Drake looked down at the sword he held. He remained silent as he stared at the contours of the blade and the sharp point at the end. He remembered how he jabbed Aleco’s blade into the hearts of his parents. He felt no remorse when it happened. He felt none now. “You can thank my parents for my upbringing. They are responsible for my success.” His eyes shined in demonic fire. He was unrecognizable. He and Aleco were twins, but they looked nothing alike. Father Giloth never understood how Accacia had fallen in love with Aleco. How she was able to look past their similarities, he would never know.
“How can you say that? You killed them, Drake.”
“And for good reason,” he said as he pointed his blade at his uncle. “They got what they deserved. And so will you.”
“My brother and his wife did not deserve that.” Father Giloth shook his head. His nephew was a maniac. He was too far gone. Whatever deeds his parents committed against their son were accidental, but Drake would never understand.
“I have answered your question, so now it is your turn to answer mine.” He brought his sword to his side. “You can answer it voluntarily and secure your life, or I can torture it out of you. Personally, I prefer the latter. What’s it going to be, Uncle?”
Father Giloth dropped his gaze to the floor and sighed. Accacia was not safe on the island. Drake would sail there eventually, destroy that island along with this one, and bring her back to the Continent where he would enslave her until she died. Father Giloth failed to protect his daughter once. He would not do it again. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, m’lord, but bad news is all I have. Accacia’s soul has passed from this life. She is no more.” Father Giloth heard an audible snap in his ear. He felt the soul of the Lorunien Tree distance itself from his heart. The voice was pulling away from him and his powers were leaving his body. Father Giloth broke his oath to the Lorunien Tree. He lied.
Drake dropped his sword to the ground. The menace in his eyes turned to one of panic. “WHAT?” The king strolled over to him and grabbed him by his robes. “What did you say?”
Father Giloth met his gaze. “She is dead.”
The signature blue eyes of his royal lineage turned to gray and the skin underneath his eyes began to redden with unspent tears. His hands were shaking. “Who was it? Who killed her?” He shook his uncle by the collar. “TELL ME WHO KILLED HER!”
Father Giloth remained idle while Drake shook his elderly frame. Drake waited for him to reveal the identity of the assassin, one that he would torture to death, no doubt. “No one killed her, Nephew.”
“Then how did it happen?” His chest was expanding with heavy breaths. His eyes had a maniacal gleam to them and his body was tense with shock.
“She came to my woods in the icy depth of winter. When she approached the border, she was poorly attired and malnourished. Her body was covered in frost bite, causing her extremities to turn black.” Father Giloth felt the continued draining of his powers. They fled his body as he continued to speak lies, one after another. Drake lowered his hand and rubbed his own neck. “I tried everything I could to save her, but it was little use. She died in my arms.”
Drake looked away into the trees of the forest. He said nothing for several minutes. Father Giloth could assess his emotions by watching the rapid rate of his breathing. Despite the mild temperature of the spring morning, sweat was trickling from his forehead. Drake covered his face with his palms and steadied the rise and fall of his armored chest. When he removed his hands, Father Giloth saw his devastated countenance. He looked like a man who had lost everything.
“I can’t believe it,” he whispered to himself. His eyes watered and a tear ran down his cheek. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Father Giloth was surprised by his intense emotion. If Drake hadn’t been so brutal with Accacia, Father Giloth would assume that he loved her. His heavy breathing continued and his hands shook. “I lost her.” Drake wiped the tear away. In a few seconds, his visage completely changed. His somber sadness changed into an inferno of anger. “I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS!” He grabbed his hair and ripped a clump of strands from the scalp. Drake walked back to his sword and grabbed it from the grass. He turned to his cavalry of soldiers, two hundred thousand strong, and held his sword in the air. “Burn it to the ground,” he yelled. “Burn it!”
“Drake!” Father Giloth called. “Stop your attack on a defenseless forest. Do not take your anger out on the trees.”
“Then who do you suggest I vent my anger to?” Drake’s gray eyes were filled with unbridled rage. The lines of his face were absent due to the strain of his underlying muscles. His arms shook with uncontrolled fury. He was almost unrecognizable.
Father Giloth took a step towards the king. “I’m the one who couldn’t save her, Nephew. I am the one responsible for
her death. Take your anger out on me.” Drake looked at Father Giloth, and the Nature Priest knew the former duke was taking the bait. Father Giloth feared it was already too late, however. The soldiers already lit the bordering trees. He could hear the flames lick the wood of the forest, destroying the leaves and the wildlife. He needed to stop them now if he wanted to save the woodland. The last act he made as the Nature Priest of Orgoom Forest, when he still had his powers, was a reflection spell that would protect the next line of trees from the destructive fire. But it wouldn’t last long. “Spare the forest of your wrath. I am the one who deserves your vengeance. Punish me for her death. I am the one at fault,” he said. “I killed her, Drake.”
Drake turned to his cavalry. “Stop!” he commanded. Father Giloth breathed a sigh of relief. He fulfilled his destiny. Now he had to face the more difficult part. The king looked at him with an expression that was ignited with fury. “What did you say?”
“I killed her, Drake.” Father Giloth saw the orange flames from the burning forest reflect in the sclera of Drake’s eyes. He saw the dancing flames along with the smoke that rose to the sky. It matched the fire already burning in his soul. Father Giloth knew the end was near. After Drake took his revenge and quenched his anger, he would leave the forest in peace. Now came the hard part. Father Giloth just had to die.
Drake aimed his sword at Father Giloth’s neck, and the Nature Priest closed his eyes. He had no weapon to defend himself. The staff of his order was lodged into the ground, stagnant by the power of the tree, and fueled the last spell Father Giloth cast. He brought no weapon or sword since he didn’t know how to use either. He breathed his last breath as he waited for the edge of the knife to sever his head from his body. He hoped that his nephew wouldn’t always hate him, but would understand his actions one day. He smiled as he thought of Accacia, who was now free of the terror this fiend caused her for so many years. He hoped his last act would vindicate his previous mistake. Father Giloth heard the slight intake of breath from the duke as he pulled back his sword. The metal blade whistled through the air and sliced through his neck, a clean swipe that severed his head from his body. Father Giloth’s head fell to the grass at Drake’s feet. The eyes were still wide open and the mouth held a smile. The king kicked the head with his thick boot then turned away.