Fury Lingers: Book One of The Foreseen Trilogy

by Ethan Spears

  He was still looking over the shield when he heard the scrape of feet across the forest floor nearby. The thick trees had muffled the approach of footsteps until they were nearly on top of him. He turned instinctively for the woods, making it two steps before deciding to go back for the shield—it was too interesting a find to simply leave behind. He spun on his heel, reached down, and was just hauling it from the ground when the brothers broke into the clearing.

  The older brother stopped, the younger colliding with him from behind. “Hey, watch where you’re—” the younger was saying, but the older cut him off.

  “Arin, run!” he said, pushing his younger brother away from him and hauling up his sword. The younger brother stumbled back and stuttered in surprise.

  “Hey, that guy’s got dad’s shield!” he said.

  “Arin, that’s not a guy. That’s an elf.”

  The little boy’s eyes went wide. “Oh no! What do we do, Jon?”

  “Just go get dad!” He pushed his brother away from him again, and this time he took off, vanishing into the woods.

  Aoden grasped the shield awkwardly, wishing he had just left it. This wasn’t good. If he ran now, he could probably catch the younger brother before he got away, but what would he even do with him? Tie the young boy up and leave him in the woods to freeze to death?

  “I can’t believe it,” the boy named Jon was saying, the sword shaking in his hands as he tried to hold it leveled at Aoden. “A real elf. Oh, man, if I kill an elf, I’ll be like a hero or something.”

  “I’d prefer if you didn’t,” Aoden said.

  The boy fumbled the sword. He scrambled to pick it up again and direct it towards the elf. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be able to understand me. You’re supposed to speak Elfy.”

  “You mean ‘Elvish.’ But hey, understanding is good; otherwise, there would be a whole lot of people pointlessly stabbing one another. Why don’t you put the sword down and tell me what you’re doing out here?”

  “What do you mean what I’m doing here? I live here. I should be asking you what you’re doing.”

  “Live here? With who?”

  The boy gave his sword a wobbly and slow swing, something that he must have thought looked intimidating. “I’m not telling you. You’ll just kill them.”

  Aoden raised a brow. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because that’s what elves do! But I’ll stop you. You’re not going to hurt anybody anymore!”

  Jon charged, struggling through the snow. Aoden sighed, taking a quick look at the shield. It was a larger kind meant to run the entire length of his arm and cover a good chunk of his upper body. He ran his arm through the leather strap in the center and took hold of the handgrip, giving it a quick heft to test the weight. The wood was too battered to be reliable so he would rely on the steel edge.

  He was more than ready when the boy reached him. Jon ran in with the sword held overhead and clumsily brought it downwards. Aoden raised his shield into the falling blade, stopping the swing and pushing it upwards. The boy, taken by surprise, tried to push down harder on Aoden’s shield, a contest of strength he had no chance of winning. Aoden reached around with his free hand and grabbed hold of the boy’s wrist, holding him in place while he pulled the sword from the struggling boy’s fingers with his shield hand.

  Jon pulled at the elf’s hand while Aoden examined the blade. It was standard steel, nothing remarkable about it. He looked for the maker’s mark on the pommel. There was an etching with little symbols meant to signify who the creator was, but he never knew who the individual smiths were even during his time in the human military. Instead, he looked for a crown etched over the mark to indicate a military smith—the ones who made arms and armor for guards and soldiers—and found it.

  “Let me go! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the boy cried, fighting Aoden’s grip. Tears were rolling down his puffy cheeks, his thin mask of bravado gone. “I wasn’t going to do anything, honest! Please don’t kill me!”

  “Calm down, kid,” Aoden said. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just settle down and I’ll let go of your hand.”

  Instead, the boy dropped his weight, trying to slip from Aoden’s grasp. When that didn’t work, he put both his feet on Aoden’s leg and pushed off but couldn’t build the strength to break the grip. He wriggled and struggled and kicked and bit at Aoden’s leather gloves, but ultimately began to tire out.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” the boy whimpered.

  Aoden indicated the sword. “You do realize what this is, right? You could’ve killed me with it.”

  “I was just playing around.”

  “No, you weren’t. I don’t even know how you got a hold of this thing, but you shouldn’t be playing with it in the first place. Now, are you ready to explain what you’re doing here, or am I just going to hold you here all day?”

  The boy gave his arm another tug, thinking of how to answer, when a new pair of footsteps approached. “Oh, this keeps getting better,” Aoden said.

  Another child ran into the clearing, this one a bit older. She was wearing a bright red cloak that ran down to her ankles, the hood thrown back to reveal long chestnut hair and blue eyes framed by a soft yet severe face bright pink from the cold. She didn’t wear armor or leather of any sort, garbed instead in a thick blue shirt, long brown skirt, and boots lined with fur.

  She was also holding a bow and reaching for an arrow from the quiver draped over her shoulder.

  “Maddy, what are you doing here?!” the boy cried. “Get out of here!”

  “I ran into Arin,” she said, raising her bow and nocking the arrow. “Don’t move a muscle, Jonny.”

  “Hold your fire,” Aoden said, putting up his sword hand. If she was surprised by his speaking Krik, she didn’t show it. “Look, I don’t mean any harm. I’m just looking for something in these woods. I intended to pass through peacefully.”

  “Then why are you holding Jonny with your sword out?” She was looking down the shaft of her arrow with her eyes narrowed.

  “This is his sword,” said Aoden. “Mine is still in my scabbard, see? I was unarmed, and he attacked me, so here we are.” He readied the shield in case she decided to loose.

  Her eyes flashed over to the boy. “You’re such an idiot, Jonny. You should have run with Arin.”

  “I was just trying to help,” he whined.

  “Liar,” she said, “you were trying to be a hero.” Her eyes swiveled back to Aoden. “If you don’t mean any harm, let him go.”

  “With all due respect,” Aoden said, “I’ve already been attacked once without provocation. How do I know that you won’t fire as soon as I let him go? Put your bow away first.”

  “Or I could put an arrow through your eye right now.”

  “With this boy so close? What if you miss?”

  “I won’t.” She had an icy stare and, while he didn’t know if she could do it, he didn’t doubt she would try.

  “Oh, you’re already that good? How old are you?” She didn’t answer. “Because you look like you’re twelve.”

  “I’m fifteen,” she said. Aoden smiled. Kids always fell for that trick.

  “Fifteen. Alright. That’s good. I’m ninety-one. You may think you’re good with a bow, but I assure you that I’m better at not getting hit by arrows then you are at aiming them.” It was a bluff, but he didn’t have much else. “You put down your bow, and I’ll let Jonny go. I’ll even give him his sword back. If I try anything, it’ll be two against one. Once we’re all settled, we can talk, and I can explain myself, no weapons involved. How does that sound?”

  She sniffed against the cold, considering. Aoden shifted the boy’s sword in his hand, holding it confidently but not threateningly, a subtle reminder that he was still armed.

  She made a noise of disgust. “You better keep your word, on your honor,” she said, then lowered her bow. Her arm swung over her shoulder and deposited the arrow back in its quiver with a precise thrust.

  Aoden rel
eased his grip on Jonny who stepped back, rubbing his wrist. Aoden put the sword on the ground and moved a short distance away, keeping the girl in his sights. Jonny picked up his weapon and walked shame-facedly over to the girl, dragging it behind him. “Thanks, Maddy,” he mumbled.

  “Good,” said Aoden. “Can we talk now?”

  “No,” she said, pulling out an arrow.

  “Hey now,” said Aoden, quickly bringing up his shield, “you agreed to keep weapons out of this. I kept my word on my honor. Now it’s your turn.”

  She ignored him. “Go home, Jonny.”

  “What? But you need me to—”

  “What I need is for you to go home. I can watch him myself. Now get out of here, or I’ll tell your father what you were doing with his sword and shield.”

  “You promised that you wouldn’t.”

  “And I’ll keep that promise if you go now.”

  The boy gave her a sullen look and turned away. He left the clearing, his sword clanging against tree roots as he went.

  “You know, he thought he could take me himself, too,” Aoden said. “You should have let him stay.”

  “Shut up,” she said, lifting her bow.

  “So, what, you’re going to shoot me now?”

  “I might. I doubt when everyone else arrives that they’ll be any more merciful, especially to a half-elf.”

  Aoden raised a brow. “You can tell I’m a half-elf? That’s pretty unusual. If you know I’m a half-elf, then you must also know that I’m not an enemy.”

  “Friends don’t come to your house armed.”

  Aoden tapped his sword, thinking. “What if I give up my sword as well? Maybe you’d feel alright killing me with a sword at my side, but what if I have nothing at all?”

  “Hardly matters,” she said. “You could just as easily choke the life from me as run me through.”

  “You are one dark little girl. What is with you kids and your ridiculous urge to kill me?”

  “Just shut up and sit tight for the others. Try to run and we’ll see how good you really are at dodging arrows.”

  Aoden weighed his options. The girl was young, but he now had no doubt she could use that bow just fine. He could try running, but they were too close to one another, maybe a half-field between them. It would be hard to miss at that distance, even a moving target. Her bow looked simple, but an arrow would easily reach him in half a second, not enough time to react and dodge or get his shield up, and even if he did, the heavily-damaged shield might not stop the arrow, putting his arm at risk of serious injury, perhaps even punching clean through and hitting him in the chest.

  He could try charging at her. In the time it would take to cover that distance, she might get two arrows off, but a hit almost anywhere would hobble him enough that he would be easy to finish off. Even if he reached her, he could bludgeon her with the shield or take her bow, but he wouldn’t kill her. Then what? Just set her free? Take her with him? If he met any humans afterward, he’d be the one who assaulted a child. Good luck finding any understanding after that.

  The only option that made sense was to do as she said.

  For several tense minutes, they waited. Aoden wanted to relax and show how harmless he was, maybe sit down and toss away his shield, but her eyes were so hard-edged and her expression so humorless that he doubted it would matter. If anything, he needed to remain on the defensive in case she decided to fire.

  Finally, footsteps could be heard approaching, and a lot of them this time. Men started pouring into the clearing, the young Arin in their midst. There were easily a dozen, maybe another half after that, and they were wildly armed: a handful carried swords and spears, but most carried hammers, axes, planks of wood, rakes, and one even wielded a crosscut saw. Aoden was surprised by the number. There would be an equal number of women back wherever they lived, meaning at least forty once children were counted.

  One of the newcomers, a stout, dark-skinned man in a blacksmith’s thick leather apron, walked over to the girl and gently pushed the bow down. “That’ll do, Maddy. You did good.”

  “He speaks Krik,” was all she said in return.

  The man nodded. “Good to know.” He turned to the other men behind him. “Bring the rope,” he said.

  Aoden’s hand went for his sword, causing the men to raise their weapons defensively. “If you’re planning on hanging me, I won’t make it easy.”

  “You don’t deserve any better,” the man snarled at him, “but unlike you lot, we got laws and due process. Wouldn’t do to just hang anyone we pleased. The rope is for your hands, not your neck. You’re coming with us.”

  “It’s hard to take your word when I’ve already had the girl there go back on hers.”

  “We have honor, even if you elves don’t,” Maddy said.

  “And yet I kept my part of the deal and you didn’t, so there’s that.”

  “Enough talking,” said the big blacksmith. “Put the sword on the ground and offer up your wrists or there’ll be more trouble than there needs to be.”

  Aoden cursed inwardly but had no choice. He dropped to shield and loosened the buckle on his sword belt, letting his ralat fell to the forest floor. One of the men approached cautiously and scooped up the sword, and then the rest swarmed in.

  ***

  “Where did Aoden go?” Mergau asked.

  “I sent him off to look for the first piece of the puzzle,” Reggy replied. “If he has any luck, he’ll be back within the next day or two. You might not see him since you’ll be busy when he gets back.”

  “Busy how?”

  “You’ll be learning.”

  Cadalei looked over his shoulder as he led the way and said something shortly.

  “He wants me to be more specific.”

  “That would be nice.” She looked at Reggy’s brother. “Can he understand us?”

  Reggy tapped his head. “He’s following along in here.”

  “Of course. So, what do you mean by ‘learning’? Learning what?”

  “Everything there is to know about slaying a god,” said Reggy.

  “Why now? Shouldn’t we wait for Aoden? You’ll have to repeat everything when he gets back.”

  Reggy stopped his walking. “We’re not going to tell Aoden.”

  She paused with him. “Because the gods might do something to him.”

  “Precisely. What I’ve told him already is dangerous enough but giving him the full breadth of knowledge required for the task at hand would certainly mark him for death. Let him remain ignorant for his own safety.”

  Mergau nodded. “So, I’ll know everything, and he’ll only think he knows everything. That makes sense, but what if something happens to me?”

  “If this Ezma of yours has truly had her fingers in everything these past ten years, she must already know I was going to do this and has planned accordingly.” Cadalei made a throaty noise ahead of them, prompting them both to start moving again.

  “That makes sense, I guess. Honestly, this business of peering through time and manipulating events confuses me.”

  “It’s also somewhat comforting.” At a look from her, he continued. “Think about it this way: every choice you make from here until you slay Kenta is bound to be the right choice, no matter how crazy or suicidal it may seem at the time.”

  “That sounds like a dangerous way to think. I could decide to disembowel myself and justify it with that mindset.”

  “Okay, maybe don’t do that.”

  “And that assumes her plans are going as she thought they would. One of the seers from her order was worried that might not be the case.”

  “You met one of them?”

  “He showed up out of the blue. That’s how it was revealed I was trying to kill Aoden.”

  “Huh. Fancy that.”

  They passed below a high plateau, it’s rock face jutting upwards and out, seeming to loom over them. Cadalei stuck close to the plateau, trailing along it with his hand. Midway down the length of it, he stopped. He
placed both his hands on the solid surface and looked up. He cocked his head, judging his position by some landmark above, and shifted several steps to his left. Once he was satisfied, he beckoned Reggy over, pointing for him to place his hands just so. As soon as Reggy touched the rock, he turned to Cadalei and nodded, agreeing with his judgment. They spoke in rhythm, counting together; then, as one, released a small amount of magic into the face of the rock.

  The entire plateau seemed to shiver, causing Mergau to jump back as the whole thing looked ready to topple over. Just as quickly, the shivering ceased. Where Reggy and Cadalei were once facing solid rock, now a door rose before them. It was cast out of reddish stone with hinges of metal that gleamed unnaturally.

  “This is Hetipa’s cave.” Turning to look at a surprised Mergau, Reggy added, “She lived here for hundreds of years. No one has been here since her death.”

  Mergau’s heart fluttered. While she had taken a keen interest in Hetipa’s work while studying under Ezma, it was mostly because she was a woman and an orc. Mergau hadn’t thought terribly much of the influence Hetipa had on the world. Now that she stood before this door, she trembled with almost childish excitement at the prospect of walking in that great sorceress’s footsteps. “How long ago was that?”

  “Thousands of years before I was born,” said Reggy.

  “Why hasn’t anyone been here since?”

  “Because Hetipa sealed this door so long ago, saying that only she or one of her descendants could open it again. That’s where you come in, by the by.”

  “What? Me?”

  “Yes, you. Go ahead and put your hand on the door and it should open right up.”

  “Are you saying I’m one of Hetipa’s descendants? How could you possibly know that?”

  Reggy beamed. “Pure mathematics. See, Hetipa lived twelve thousand years ago, and when she died, she had over three hundred known and who knows how many unknown children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, etcetera. Sure, making a door like this that only opens for blood kin is probably a good idea for a few hundred years, maybe a few thousand, but twelve thousand? At this point, statistically speaking, every Astranese orc is related to her to some degree. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t a descendant, honestly.”