The Godling Chronicles (Shadow of the Gods, Book #3)

by Brian D. Anderson

  The door to the keep was unguarded, and still, Lanmore paused and took a deep breath. He flung open the door and Lee followed him in. The gray stone floor and walls were lined with weapon racks and maps. To his left, were three rows of long tables, with a door at the far corner, leading to the kitchens. To his right where he expected there to be an officers’ lounging area, were dozens of desks and small tables. Cotton and linen clad bureaucrats were busy at their duties, not bothering to look up as Lee and Captain Lanmore passed by.

  “Welcome to the heart of the kingdom,” joked Lanmore.

  “This is where we take our meals?” asked Lee.

  Lanmore shook his head, chuckling softly. “No. I'm afraid the keep is reserved for the commander and these fine fellows. We take our meals in the barracks.”

  They entered a door directly ahead that led to a long hall, ending in a flight of stairs leading upward, then left, to the second level. At the top, the hall split off in two directions, each with several doors along the walls.

  “The bureaucrats stay in these rooms,” said Lanmore. “They’re quite comfortable compared to our quarters.”

  “A soldier has no need of comfort,” said Lee.

  They turned left for several yards, then right, until they reached an elaborately carved mahogany door, with a polished silver carving of broken scales, the sigil of Angrääl attached in the center. Lee fought back the urge to smash it to pieces. Captain Lanmore knocked firmly, then pushed the door open.

  Inside was a room with a large oak desk at the far end and a round table on which rested various maps and charts in the center. A long rope hung from a small hole in the ceiling just behind the desk. To his right, a plush, tan suede couch and four matching chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, each with a small brass end table and facing a hearth that burned brightly. Three polished brass lanterns hung from the ceiling center, and two more protruded from each wall at ten-foot intervals. Behind the desk hung a mural depicting a gleaming champion on horseback, leading a charge against an elf army. Between the lanterns stood an oak bookcase that held beautifully leather-bound tomes along with a crystal decanter and glasses.

  A man sat behind the desk dressed in a fine white shirt and a red jacket. His salt and pepper hair was oiled and combed back in regal fashion. His tan skin gleamed in the bright light, offsetting his fragile build and narrow features.

  “Ah, Captain Lanmore,” said the Commander. His voice was tinny and a bit feminine. “I see you have arrived ahead of schedule. And with a new officer.”

  Lanmore bowed his head sharply. “Yes, Commander. The message said to come with all speed.”

  “Indeed, it did,” said Lord Pollus. “And yet you chose to travel with the recruits, rather than on horseback.” He rose to his feet. Though thin, he was quite tall – as tall as Lee – and walked with the effortless grace of a true noble. He sighed. “I suppose there is nothing to be done.” He took notice of Lee, and looked him up and down. “And you are?”

  “I am Barath, my lord,” said Lee, bowing as Lanmore had done.

  “Just Barath?” Pollus shook his head and frowned. “Yet another commoner.” He turned and went back to his deck. “I suppose if Captain Lanmore deems you worthy, you will do.” His eyes fell on the captain. “He is your responsibility and under your command. And please...if you don't have a last name...choose one. People will think you’re one of these native Angrääl barbarians our gracious King has scattered among our ranks. Dreadful people.”

  “You will be pleased to know that Barath fought one before we set out,” said Lanmore.

  Pollus raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? And you survived. Impressive.”

  “He did more than survive,” said Lanmore, puffing out his chest. “He defeated him as if fighting a child.”

  “Impressive, indeed.” Lord Pollus opened his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment and scrawled something on it. He blew the ink dry, then pushed it across the desk. “This is your commission...Barath. If for no other reason that ridding the world of an uncouth beast, I am happy to give it. I left enough room for you to put a proper name.”

  Lee took the parchment, and bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Lord Pollus reached back and pulled the rope. A moment later a thin, blond boy in a dark blue tunic and trousers scurried in.

  “Show this man downstairs,” Pollus ordered. “He is to be given a commission under Captain Lanmore.” He waved off the boy, dismissively. “As for you, captain, I will speak with you now.”

  He looked sideways at Lee. “I will join you as soon as I can.” He then turned to the boy. “If I am not down in time, show him to the barracks when he's done.”

  Lee bowed one last time and followed the boy downstairs. He was shown to a desk where a scrawny wraith of a man was busy scribbling on one of the many pieces of parchment piled high on his desk. Lee handed the man his commission.

  The man didn't look up but only opened the parchment and began writing notes. “What is your surname?”

  “Drakis,” Lee replied. Drakis was the name of a fiend in a story he heard as a child. He almost smirked at the thought, but it was the only thing he could think of at the time.

  “You have an odd sense of humor,” the man said off-handedly. “And before you ask, I know that tale as well. All men of the north do.”

  Lee sat quietly as the man spent the next half hour writing, checking and double-checking, each note. Finally, he handed Lee a small round wooden token with the number one painted on either side.

  “Give this to the quartermaster,” He straightened the pile of papers on his desk. “He’ll give you what equipment you’ll need.”

  Lee stood up and turned to the door. The blond boy was standing just behind him, waiting patiently. Half way to the barracks, Captain Lanmore caught up with them.

  “I'll take it from here, boy,” said Lanmore. Without a word the boy ran back to the keep. “Did you pick a name?”

  “I'll be known as Barath Drakis,” Lee replied.

  “A dire name to be sure,” he said with obvious approval.

  “Will it be possible to see my nephew?” asked Lee.

  “I thought you weren't close,” said Lanmore. “In fact, if I recall you nearly took his head off the last time you spoke.”

  “I would not have it end as such between us,” Lee explained. “Though I have no great affection for him, he is my sister's child.”

  Lanmore nodded. “I'll see what I can do. Until then, we need to get you settled in. We'll be here for three weeks.”

  “A short time for training,” said Lee.

  “Pollus likes you,” said Lanmore. “Mostly because you killed Lars. But I assured him that you understood military discipline, and also that I would train you, personally.” He stopped and faced Lee. “Do not disappoint me, Barath Drakis.”

  “I will not,” said Lee. A tinge of guilt struck him. He knew that he would soon betray the captain’s trust. And even though he was the enemy, he was beginning to respect him.

  “Good.” He slapped Lee on the back. “I enjoy having officers without the arrogance of nobility draped about their shoulders.”

  The barracks was no more than a two-story warehouse, with dozens and dozens of three-man bunks lining the walls and a series of long tables and benches in the center. A brazier, filled with hot coals had been placed between the tables on either side of the entrance. A crude flight of wooden spiral stairs stood dead center. Only a few dozen men were scattered about. Some sleeping, others playing cards and dice at the tables, and a few reading over paperwork or going over maps. All took notice as they entered, but none spoke.

  “Officers of the Reborn King live the same as the common soldier,” said Lanmore as they entered. “We're lucky to have arrived when we did. The day watch is on duty now, so we'll not have to spend the next hour on introductions. The night watch are mostly commoners like us. They don't care much about who comes and goes.” He walked toward the stairs. “We'll be bunking on the s
econd floor.”

  The upper floor was much like the lower, except along the far left wall, several casks of ale were neatly stacked three high. Lanmore removed his pack and threw it on an empty bed, and motioned for Lee to do the same. He then escorted him back outside around the side of the keep to the quartermasters. In exchange for the wooden token, he was given his tunic embroidered with the sigil of Angrääl and on the sleeves one red star, signifying his rank as lieutenant, and studded leather armor. Lee was offered a sword, but told the quartermaster that he would use his own; the quartermaster looked down at it and nodded approvingly. A large, burlap bundle containing an officer’s coat, boots and trousers were the final items to complete his transformation into officer.

  “Anything else you have to buy on your own,” said the quartermaster, grumpily. “There are smiths and armorers in Kratis who can outfit you, if you want something sturdier than plain leather. If you need your sword tended, I’d go there. I don’t trust the garrison smithy.”

  Lee thanked the man and left.

  It was nearly full dark by the time they returned to the barracks, and the day watch was beginning to file in. All took notice of Lee and Lanmore, and immediately hissing whispers could be heard throughout the room. Servants were busy readying the table for the evening meal.

  “We needn't bother with this lot tonight, unless you want to,” said Lanmore. “I intend to take my meal in the bunk, then get a good night’s sleep.”

  Lee knew he should at least try to gather information, but felt it may be better to speak with Lanmore in a more relaxed setting. “I think I will do the same.”

  Lanmore called over a servant and instructed him to have their meals brought up. The meal was a simple beef stew and salted bread, along with a cup of sweet wine. As simple as it was, Lee was grateful for it. After a servant retrieved their plates and cups, Lee stripped off his clothing, and changed into a pair of heavy cotton pants, and thick wool socks. He felt his muscles relax as he eased into his bunk, and had to fight to stay awake.

  “May I asked you a question, sir?” Lee rolled over so he could see Lanmore.

  “Ask,” he replied, yawning.

  “How did you end up in the service of the Reborn King?”

  Lanmore smiled and slid down beneath his blanket. “I was captain of the Kaltinor city guard, once. I was accused of theft and treason by the city temples, and forced to flee or face execution.” He laughed softly “I journeyed north to Hazrah and caught word that Angrääl was seeking soldiers. I heard that a man could remake himself here, no matter what burdens his past carried. It sounded like a good idea at the time, so off I went. The funny thing is, as it turned out, it was Angrääl that controlled the temples in Kaltinor, and probably gave the order to have me accused.”

  “If you know this why not return?”

  Lanmore closed his eyes “I have pledged my fealty to the Reborn King. I couldn't return even if I wished. You'll understand when you're in his presence. When that happens there's no turning back...ever.” He drifted off into a deep sleep.

  ***

  Lee awoke abruptly a short time later, and instinctively reached for his sword.

  “Don't move!” yelled a harsh voice.

  He looked up to see five soldiers, all pointing crossbows at him. He raised his hands.

  “What is the meaning of this?” roared Captain Lanmore. “Answer me at once!”

  From the stairs, Lord Pollus strode toward them, glaring at the captain. “It would seem, my dear captain, you have brought a spy with you.” His gaze fell on Lee. “Don't bother with denials...Lord Nal'Thain.”

  Lanmore leaped from his bunk. “Barath?”

  Lee's eyes never left Lord Pollus. “How did you find me out?”

  Pollus laughed. “Your son, my lord. How else?”

  Chapter 17

  Linis had returned just before dawn, as the armies were readying to march. He and his scouts had found the cliffs unguarded, though they had seen Vrykol lurking.

  “The Vrykol fell back the moment we approached,” Linis told Theopolou.

  Theopolou nodded and left to inform the king. Linis joined Kaylia and Selena, who were made to join the rear guard. Kaylia clearly was unhappy about this.

  “I don't like being treated like I'm some helpless child in need of protection,” complained Kaylia.

  “We can't afford for you to be harmed,” said Linis. “If you are killed or captured, what would happen to Gewey?”

  “Besides,” Selena added, “you may not need protection. But I do. And I feel better with you at my side.” She smiled. “And didn't you promise your husband that you would stay safe until his return?”

  Kaylia grumbled angrily, but said nothing.

  Soon the army began to march. Nehrutu, Mohanisi, the elf bowmen and human shield bearers, led the way. Theopolou led the elf soldiers just behind the front line, along with Chiron. The other elders scattered among the elves serving as captains. The Althetans were just behind Kaylia, Selena, and Linis, led by King Lousis.

  Selena was surrounded by what was left of the Valsharan guard along with a few knights that had arrived after the siege. Ertik had refused to let her out of his sight, and spent most of his time seeing to her every need.

  “How are you faring?” Came a boisterous voice from behind. It was King Lousis, astride a great black warhorse.

  “We are well,” replied Selena. “And you?”

  “I long for battle, High Lady.” He leaped from his horse with the vigor of a much younger man. “I hope that the elves don't win the day before I arrive.”

  “I hope they do,” said Selena. “I would not see you in peril. Your people need you. As do all free people of the world. In these times a stout heart and firm resolve is in short supply.”

  “I think they need you far more than they need me, my lady.” His friendly smile was a welcome respite from the nervous tension of men and elves preparing for war. “Your name will become a battle cry after today, and Valshara, a symbol of hope for victory.”

  “I hope not, your highness,” said Selena. “I would not have men and women going to their death with my name on their lips. Though I fear it may be so.”

  The entrance to the road leading to Valshara was a half-day’s march. Soon the men began singing songs of victory and glory, and though the elves did not join in, it seemed to lift their spirits nonetheless. Theopolou had sent a small advance force to secure the road and paths leading to the cliffs, and reported that the way was clear.

  “Whatever they have planned, it is to wait until we are within the cliff walls,” said Linis. “They know we come, yet refuse to guard an easily defensible road. Our numbers would count for nothing in that narrow passage.”

  “Are you worried?” asked Selena.

  “I am,” he replied. “You should stay near me at all times.” He tapped Kaylia's shoulder. “You, too. I will not explain to Gewey why I allowed you to be hurt.”

  “He knows full well that I can look after myself,” Kaylia shot back. “If something happens to me, the fault will be mine.”

  “That will not matter to him.” He looked up and saw the Stone of the Tower come into view. His face grew solemn. “Frankly, at this moment, I wish he were here with us.”

  All nodded in agreement.

  Word came back that the advance force had secured all access points to the cliffs and that the road was abandoned. The temple, however was not. From the cliffs they spotted dozens of archers lining the battlements, and smoke billowed up from within.

  Slowly, the army funneled into the narrow valley, guarded from above on each side by fifty elf archers. It took a full hour before the Althetan soldiers began to creep forward.

  The king rode up, face hard, with sword in hand. “I'd ask you to halt here and allow my men to pass.”

  Kaylia opened her mouth to protest, but Selena held out her hand and bowed to signal her compliance. She and the others made their way to the cliff-face, so that the army could pass. Nearly half
the Althetans had entered the passage when a low horn blast sounded in the distance. Not from the temple, but from the north, behind the human lines. Another blast rang out.

  “What is that?” asked Selena.

  Linis drew his weapon. “I believe we are flanked, high lady.”

  Orders were shouted by commanders as the army slowly turned. Another horn echoed against the cliffs, followed by a low rumble. Kaylia, Linis, and the Valsharan guard stepped in front of Selena. The rumble grew to the roar of hundreds of frenzied voices. The king rode up, fury in his eyes.

  “We were out-maneuvered,” yelled the king. “Linis. Inform Theopolou.”

  Linis nodded and pushed his way through the soldiers into the narrow passage. Althetans were still trying to turn and exit. Linis had to knock several to the ground to get through. Once he cleared the lines, he ran full speed to the elves who were less than a quarter mile ahead. He grabbed the first elf he reached and ordered him to relate to Theopolou what had happened, then raced back to Selena and Kaylia. By the time he reached them he could hear that the battle had begun.

  The king was shouting orders and waving his sword wildly. He tried to spur his horse forward, but a dozen men surrounded him, and wouldn't allow him to move. Selena was still against the cliff face clinging to Kaylia's sleeve.

  “Are you all right?” asked Linis.

  Selena nodded. “I'm—“