“Yes,” Theopolou laughed sardonically. “But are we so much better? We have lost, while the humans continue to gain. They build, while we gaze at our former glories.” His hand shot out, pointing to the Chamber of the Maker silhouetted against the fading light. “Can we claim to be the same people who built this? Look at us. Are we so different than they?”
“Do you see hope for us?” Eftichis asked, sorrow in his eyes.
“I don't know,” Theopolou replied. “I hope so. But whatever hope we have will arise from us, not from Gewey. He may be the instrument of our survival, but in the end, we must determine our own fate. If we live through the coming storm it will be up to us.” He forced a smile. “However, I do have faith in our people. I believe there is still a spark of grace within us.”
Just then, Bellisia approached, dressed in a soft, cream linen robe. Her eyes showed fatigue, yet she managed to walk straight and tall with graceful strides. Eftichis and the others rose to their feet and bowed.
“You have been tending the wounded,” said Theopolou. “You should rest. Our debate can continue tomorrow.”
“I am in no mood for debate,” said Bellisia. “I am weary, as you have noticed. I only wish to join you by the fire.”
Theopolou offered her a place beside him, which she gratefully accepted.
“Have you eaten?” asked Eftichis.
“I am not hungry,” she replied. “Just tired. My heart breaks when I look at what our own kind has done.”
“I understand,” said Theopolou. “I hoped I would never see such a thing happen again. I have already seen far too much elf blood spilt in my life.”
“Do you really believe Angrääl is responsible?” she asked, closing her eyes while contemplating the truth. “Do you think his power is that great?”
“I cannot say for sure,” Theopolou admitted. “But I see no other way for this to have happened. Long have our brothers and sisters on the Steppes lived alongside Angrääl. If the Reborn King has the key to heaven, and I believe he does, then it is very possible he could have bent our kin to his will.”
“The elves of the Steppes are a strong people,” said Eftichis. “If they have indeed been corrupted, then what resistance can we hope to offer? Already we have been betrayed from within our own ranks.”
“I do not know what hope there is,” said Theopolou. “Only that there is hope. And the elves of the Steppes have been close to the influence of Angrääl from the moment the Reborn King seized power. We have been far removed by comparison. If things had been different, who knows what would have become of us.”
“I agree,” said Bellisia. “And they are still our kin, regardless of what they have done. I, for one, will not abandon the idea that they can be redeemed. So, if we are to follow the example that you have set before us Theopolou, forgiveness must be in our hearts.” Her eyes drifted over the camp. “Though I admit, it will be difficult. I have not seen so many elves slain since the Great War. I was only twenty-five during the First Split, but the memories are still fresh in my mind.”
“It is so for all of us who lived through it,” said Theopolou. “And we have passed that memory to our children - along with our hatred and fear. It is a cycle that must end.”
A sudden disturbance near to the healing pavilion drew everyone’s attention. Theopolou and all the others gathered around the fire immediately reached for their weapons. From the direction of the commotion, Marinos appeared. He came half running toward them.
“What is it?” asked Theopolou, as soon as Marinos was within earshot.
“Red sails,” he replied. His voice cracked. “Red sails on the horizon.”
Theopolou stiffened. “Are you certain?”
“There is no question,” he replied.
The others looked confused.
“Red sails? What does that mean?” asked Eftichis
Theopolou lowered his head and took a deep breath. “It means the elves are coming.”
Chapter 1
Kaylia drifted in and out of consciousness. She knew she had been bound and slung, face down, across the back of a horse. But each time her thoughts came into focus, an unseen force pressed against her and the world would go black again. Finally, she was able to resist long enough to hear voices. Elven voices.
“This does not sit well with me,” said a deep male voice. “It is one thing to bring traitors to justice. But I was not told that these creatures would be among us.”
“Nor was I,” replied another. “Though it is far too late to turn back. Once we are home, then we can consult the elders. Until that time we must endure their company.”
Kaylia felt a hand grab her hair and lift her head. Though she was not blindfolded, she dared not open her eyes.
“Is she awake?” asked the first voice.
“I can’t tell,” replied the second. “The beast has blocked all connection to the flow. I cannot sense anything.”
The first voice grumbled and cursed, but made no other response.
Hours passed before they came to a halt. Kaylia was still feigning unconsciousness when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Suddenly, the air carried the foul stench of death and she sensed the approach of....of something?
“She is not asleep,” came a rasping voice. “Are you elf?”
Kaylia felt her bonds being cut. As she slid down from the horse her legs nearly gave out, but strong arms in rough leathers steadied her. She jerked herself free for a moment while her eyes focused. It was well after nightfall, and a small campfire was being built in a clearing a few yards away. She could make out about twenty elves, but that was not what caught her attention. It was the thing standing in front of her: a Vrykol, tall and slender, adorned in a sleek, hooded black robe and carrying a long, vicious looking curved blade. It reeked of decay, and its foul breath wheezed and gurgled.
Kaylia glared at the creature. “So this is what our people have become? Murderers of their own kind, and slaves to the darkness of this world?” Her tone has proud and defiant.
“Mind your tongue,” warned the elf holding her. “We are the bringers of justice. It is you who have betrayed our people.”
Kaylia threw her head back in harsh laughter. “You travel with the Vrykol. You attack elves on sacred ground. How dare you name me traitor?”
“Enough of this,” screeched the Vrykol. The sound pierced the air, causing Kaylia to wince. “You are to remain silent unless spoken to.” He turned to the elf at her back. “As for you - your comrades grow restless. Calm them.” His black hands reached out and grasped Kaylia's arm in an iron grip. “I can manage this one.”
The elf grunted and strode off in the direction of the others.
“I will make you pay for what you have done to my people,” seethed Kaylia. “And I will make your master pay as well.”
Before she could measure the moment, the Vrykol's fist crashed into Kaylia’s jaw, sending her sprawling to the ground.
“I told you to be silent.” The Vrykol lowered his blade, pressing the tip against Kaylia's throat. “My master has insisted that you be kept alive. But he said nothing about your condition.”
Even though Kaylia’s face throbbed from the impact, she glared unflinchingly.
“That's better,” growled the Vrykol. “Remain still and silent.”
A few minutes had passed when the tall elf returned. He looked down at Kaylia, then back at the Vrykol.
“She was to be left unharmed,” he grumbled angrily. “That was the agreement. No elf is to be injured by your hands.” He looked back at the group of elves gathering around the crackling fire. “If you do not uphold your end of the bargain you will find yourself quickly surrounded by enemies.”
The Vrykol let out a vile laugh. “As you wish.” He removed the blade from Kaylia's throat. “But see to it that she is well tended. Should she escape, it will be you who pays the price.” With that, he spun around and disappeared into the darkness.
The tall elf held out his hand. “I
am Freistal. Do not try to escape. The elves you see here are not the only ones I have with me. The forest is filled with my kin. I would hate to see you harmed before you can be brought to justice.”
Kaylia sneered and struggled to her feet. “We will see who is brought to justice.”
Freistal pulled her roughly to his side. “Perhaps you think your human mate will save you? Or perhaps Linis and his seekers? Let me assure you that they have been dealt with. And even if they have somehow survived, they will not be able save you.”
Kaylia forced a malicious laugh. “Let me assure you that Gewey and Linis would not fall to the likes of you or your rabble. And when they find you, you will wish you had never left your lands. If you think to look to the Vrykol for safety, you will find that they can be slain just as easily as you.”
Freistal shrugged. “Perhaps. But for now you will remain with us, and you will not escape. I will allow you to stay unbound. Do not make me regret it, or you certainly will.” He motioned for her to go to the fire. “We rest for only a short time. Unless you wish me to strap you back onto the horse, you should eat so that you will have the strength to travel.”
Kaylia rubbed her jaw, then made her way to the fire. Freistal followed close behind. Though he held no weapon, she was certain that if she made a wrong move, her body would be filled with arrows before she could take more than a few steps. As she approached the group by the fire, she could feel everyone’s eyes upon her. She stiffened her back while choosing an empty space a moderate distance away from the others. Freistal knelt beside her and handed her a flask of water and handful of jerky.
“I suggest you hold your tongue,” he whispered. “Things are a bit tense. And your comments will not be welcome.”
“I take it they are not pleased with your traveling companion,” she mocked. “I cannot say that I blame them.”
“That is putting it mildly,” Freistal replied. “But your presence is just as unwelcome to us. So mind that you give them no excuse to take their frustrations out on you.”
“So I am to be beaten if I speak?” Kaylia sneered. “You will behave as the Vrykol?”
“I would not have you harmed,” Freistal retorted. “We are not animals. Speak as you will, but be warned. There are those among us that have a deep hatred for your kin - and you in particular.”
“Why?” asked Kaylia. “Where does this hatred come from?”
Freistal looked at her sideways. “We know who your kin have allied themselves with. They would make us allies of the very people that destroyed us in the first place. And you...”
He paused. “You bond yourself to a human, seeking to doom us all. Your crimes are beyond forgiveness.” He rose to his feet and glared down at her. “I, for one, will not stand idly by while you and your people annihilate what is left of our kind.”
“How can you accuse me or my kin of betrayal?” shot back Kaylia. “You have been deceived by the evil that dwells in Angrääl.”
“Then you deny that elves and humans are allowed to befriend each other?” he said angrily. “You deny that your elders do nothing to stop it? You deny that you have bonded yourself to a human?”
She glared at him defiantly. “Who I choose to love is my own affair, not yours. And if you are so foolish as to think it shall be the end of our people, then your stupidity knows no bounds.”
He met her gaze. “Because of you and others like you, our people will disappear and become nothing more than a distant memory. A mere shadow of what we once were.”
“So that is why you have done this?” said Kaylia, loud enough for all to hear. “Because of half-truths and fear?”
“You deny it then?” Freistal asked. “You deny that your kin intend to join with the humans?”
“I do not deny that I have bonded myself to a human,” she replied defiantly. “And I do not deny that many of my kin have formed friendships with humans. But we are not destroying our people. We are saving them.” She stood to address the entire group, but Freistal caught her arm.
“Do not do this,” he warned. “You will not sway us. You will only anger them and put yourself in further danger.”
“It seems to me that I can be in no more danger than I am already,” said Kaylia, jerking her arm free. “And if you intend to take me back to your people on the Steppes, then you will not harm me until then.” She stood straight and proud. And though disheveled from being captured, her fierce gaze gave her a regal appearance.
“Let her speak,” came a voice from the crowd. “Her lies will do nothing but strengthen our resolve.”
“Very well,” sighed Freistal.
Kaylia squared her shoulders and took a step forward. “I know you think me a traitor. I know you believe that your actions are justified.” Her tone was imposing. “But ask yourself this - who is it that you serve? Is this the will of the elders? Or is this the will of the King in Angrääl? You are pawns in his game of conquest. Surely, at least some of you sense this.”
A few elves stirred, but none said anything as Kaylia continued.
“If this is not so, then why are you traveling with a Vrykol? Do you really believe that this creature will allow you to take me to your elders? It will never let that happen. I am to be used as leverage against the one being who can challenge the power of Angrääl.” Tears began to well in her eyes, but her voice remained steady. “You have killed your own kin based on a lie. You have led your brothers and sisters to their death in the process. How many of you died in your attack? Twenty? Thirty?”
Angry murmurs and tearful stares told her that it was far more.
“Fifty-seven,” whispered Freistal. “And your deceptions will not make us believe that they died for nothing. You accuse us of being weak. But we are the pawns of no one. Not the Reborn King - and not you. While you and your kin have made alliances with the humans and the gods, we have remained true to our traditions and ways. We have not diluted our blood with that of lesser beings, and we will never do so. The armies you gather against us will fall.”
“Armies?” Kaylia cried. “We have raised no armies. It is Angrääl that raises armies. It is this ‘Reborn King’ who threatens to march. Not us.”
“You lie!” shouted Freistal. “I have seen them. Your ships have been spotted many times by my own eyes. And your war council we attacked will no doubt hasten plans now that they know we are aware of their treachery.”
“You speak nonsense,” said Kaylia. “Your mind has been twisted by the power of the Dark One. Can you not see this? I did not accuse you of weakness before, but I do so now. You have been touched by the power he wields. The Sword of Truth has bent you to his will. But surely some of your own will remains?”
“I told you to keep her silent,” hissed the voice of the Vrykol as it appeared from behind the outlying brush. “Her words are poison. She seeks to deceive you.”
The Vrykol moved to grab Kaylia, but Freistal stepped between them.
“She is our responsibility now,” he said. “You need not concern yourself with her any longer.”
“Fool,” said the Vrykol. “If I were not here, her mate would have already found you and slaughtered you all like sheep.” It took a step forward. “She will remain with me until I am certain we are no longer being pursued.”
“You are not master here,” said Freistal. “And she remains with me. I have no fear of any human.”
Freistal and the Vrykol stood mere inches from each other, but neither made a move to draw a weapon. Though his features were hidden, Kaylia knew that the creature was scowling with fury.
“Very well,” relented the Vrykol after a very long moment. “She will remain with you - for now.” It spun around and vanished into the forest.
Freistal called two elves to him and commanded them to watch over Kaylia.
“Do not mistake my defense of you as a sign that your words have swayed me,” said Freistal. “But I will not see you brought to Angrääl, and I believe you are right about one thing. That creature out t
here has no intention of allowing you to be delivered to our elders.”
As soon as the party had finished their meal, they packed and set out again at an even more desperate pace than before. Kaylia repeatedly tried to reach out to Gewey, but found that her bond with him was somehow being blocked - by the Vrykol, she assumed. She could only hope for a chance to escape.
By midday Kaylia began to sense further unrest among her captors. The Vrykol made occasional appearances, each time its foul gaze lingering on her before disappearing once again into the forest. She could feel the tension rising with each encounter. Clearly the elves were finding the presence of such an evil creature increasingly difficult to bear. Several were becoming more vocal in their displeasure.
“Why tolerate this?” Kaylia asked Freistal, who was running just behind her. “Nothing good can come from such a being.”
“We are commanded to allow its presence,” grumbled Freistal. “And so long as it makes no move against us, we shall obey that command.” He shoved her roughly. “So keep moving and mind your tongue.”
Just then the Vrykol appeared a little ahead of the band, motioning for them to halt.
“What is it?” asked Freistal, clearly annoyed. “Why are we stopping?”
“The elf woman's mate is drawing near. She must come with me,” the Vrykol hissed. His black hand reached out to grab Kaylia.
Freistal jerked Kaylia behind him, at the same time drawing his long knife. The ringing of elven steel sliding free could be heard from all directions.
The Vrykol let loose a harsh rasping laugh. “You think to stop me?” It took a step forward, then let out a high, piercing cry. So harsh was the sound, the elves were forced to cover their ears. “Alone I could take her,” he said. “But did you really think my master would send only one servant to guard his prize? You are a pitiful fool.”
Just then, six more Vrykol stepped into view, each holding a long blade.
“You will not be taking her anywhere, demon,” Freistal roared.
Kaylia heard the snap of a bowstring and the whiz of an arrow. The Vrykol hardly had time to react as the arrow buried itself deep into its chest. But the creature merely stepped back, pulling the arrow free and tossing it carelessly to the ground. The air grew cold and still as the Vrykol turned to its comrades and gave a curt nod. With astounding swiftness, it then spun back around and charged at Kaylia. The elves erupted in response, some rushing at the other six Vrykol, others to aid Freistal.
The Godling Chronicles : Bundle - Books 1-3 Page 65