Nero raised his arms above his head in a stretch. “I feel great. I feel like I just had a mid-afternoon nap.”
Evisar turned away as the conversation continued and nearly fell off the raft in surprise as he saw something come flying at him. He reached out reflexively with his right arm just in time to catch the long pole Mestel had thrown at him. Mestel smiled at him sincerely as he threw his own pole onto the raft and bent down to heave the raft away from the shore. The raft was immensely heavy, especially with four elves on it. Evisar looked on with some amusement as his brother pushed with all his might, only to have the raft barely move.
“Can I give you a hand?”
“No. I’ll manage.”
Evisar chuckled and shook his head. His brother had worshipped Martel since he was very young, and one of the dogmas of his god was that self-reliance was the path to self-sufficiency. His brother needed his help, but he would never ask for it. Evisar dropped his pole on the deck and stepped ashore to help his brother push. Together, the two elves maneuvered the raft out into the river and jumped back aboard.
Mestel looked at him in good cheer and said, “I don’t seem to be as strong as I used to be.”
Evisar slapped him on the shoulder. “Give yourself some time. I’m sure you will be your old self in a few days.”
“I hope not. I need to be more cunning and wise if I am to serve my god well. I can’t expect to find Devin by bludgeoning my way through every situation.”
Evisar nodded his head and looked away to the shoreline on the other side of the river. Seeing nothing but trees, grassland, and water, he took up his pole and watched his brother do the same. Together they pushed the raft toward the middle of the river. Once the water got too deep, they started using the poles as makeshift oars. It was slow going, especially with the mass of the raft, but luckily, they just needed to float the raft to the middle of the river and let the current do the rest. The companions were bound for Wessex, or whatever remained of Wessex after the destruction of the Old Shetley Fortress and the creation of the twin portals, in order to gain Austen’s advice. The blue portal that had been contained inside Austen’s wizard tower now loomed high above the trees like a beacon.
As the raft floated lazily along, Evisar’s thoughts turned unbidden to his brother. He still didn’t know what to make of Mestel. Jefon had died at the hands of Gram five days ago, but miraculously came back to life as Mestel three days later. It was the stuff of legend, but Evisar had seen it happen and could not deny Mestel’s power. He had saved all of their lives in the dungeon and he had the gift of prophecy. In addition, while Jefon had charitably been a fair shot with the bow, Mestel was lethally accurate with a speed that spoke of godly influence.
Yet things were not right between the two of them. Mestel no longer wanted to avenge their father’s death, and his interest in finding the First Heir of Armena arose from his holy duty to free the wrongly imprisoned, not because he wanted to see Devin rightfully restored to the throne. Mestel also would have been perfectly content to leave Evisar behind if he had proceeded into the Underworld, whereas Jefon would never have considered leaving his side.
Not wanting to think too deeply about this unpleasant subject, Evisar looked around the raft to see what everyone else was doing. Nero and Valihorn stood at the other end scanning the countryside for signs of trouble. Evisar’s eyes wandered to the middle of the raft where he nearly missed Xander down on his knees praying. Xander was a half-elf full of secrets and always a constant surprise to Evisar. He had seen Xander pray every morning to gain Fortuna’s favor, but he had never seen Xander pray in the middle of the day, or in such an open way. Evisar thought of asking about his renewed faith but knew better than to interrupt a priest while he was praying. The only thing Evisar could think of was that perhaps Xander’s near death experience had changed him.
Evisar was jolted back to reality when Mestel softly said, “There is a man in black on the north side of the river.”
Evisar was constantly amazed at Mestel’s keen senses. His eyes quickly scanned the north side of the river and settled on a figure wearing nothing but black. Since the stranger was stone still, he was barely visible against the shadows of the trees more than a hundred feet away. The figure’s head was down, concealing his face. Time seemed to slow, the wind grew silent, and the river was uncannily flat.
“I can feel its power, and I will have it. Give it to me and you may live.” It was as though the world went quiet so the stranger’s words could be clearly heard from so far away.
Mestel spoke first. “He’s talking about the ring. He has traveled through the portal in order to bring the ring back to his master.”
Evisar was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he had completely forgotten the cursed ring Valihorn had placed on his own finger. Freeing the ring from the Krone witch’s tomb had opened two portals between Tellus and the Plane of Chaos, completely obliterating the Old Shetley Fortress and Austen’s tower.
Evisar yelled across the water, “Sir, you are well met, but we don’t know what you are talking about.”
In response, the stranger slowly lifted his head so that everyone on the boat could see his ruby-red eyes. So terrible was his half-decayed skeleton face that Evisar took a step backward and nearly slipped off the raft. The red eyes blazed into his thoughts and consumed him.
Mestel spoke quickly, “He is a lich servant of Seker, God of the Dead. His is the face I saw when Gram cast a death spell on me.”
Xander, who had been kneeling in the middle of the boat praying, jumped to his feet and yelled out in despair. “No. No! Not again. Never again. You won’t take me.”
Xander stepped backward trying to get away. Evisar did not understand his hysteria. Xander took another step, and then another. Evisar moved to stop him at the last moment, but it was too late. With terror in his eyes, Xander fell off the back end of the raft with a loud splash.
Evisar reached down to pull Xander out of the water when his brother yelled, “Look out!”
Evisar snapped his head around and saw the cloaked figure flying across the open water. The man did not fly as a bird does, but rather he mystically glided from there to here as quickly as sound travels through the air. No one but Mestel had time react. To Evisar’s continuing amazement, Mestel managed to nock an arrow on his bow and launch it at the stranger. Evisar watched Mestel’s arrow, accurate as ever, leap across the water in that instant, pierce the stranger’s robe through the chest, and emerge out the other side.
The phantom was completely unaffected. He crashed into Nero with the force of a bull and sent him flying thirty feet out into the water. As Evisar drew Neverlost and Mestel nocked another arrow, the stranger grabbed Valihorn by the hair and kicked his legs out from underneath him. Valihorn went down on his knees with the stranger still holding him by the hair. The phantom pulled Valihorn’s head back, leaving the young wizard completely at his mercy. Only then did the skeleton look up at the elven brothers and only then did Evisar notice the short sword around the stranger’s waist. The ruby-red eyes, difficult to behold on the shore, were utterly terrifying up close. Evisar had to make a conscious effort not to take another step back and end up like Xander.
“My master requires the ring and he will have it. Give it to me freely and the wizard lives. Give it to me not, and you will all perish.”
“What does Seker want with the ring?” asked Mestel.
“My master didn’t say, but what do all gods want – power. The ring’s power was hidden, but now it is felt across all of Tellus and into the heavens. Where do you think you can go that the gods cannot follow? I am merely the first of many, but I arrived before the others, and I will claim the prize.”
Evisar took a moment to look around. Xander was busy swimming back to the raft, and Nero was gone; possibly for good if the skeleton’s punch knocked him unconscious.
Evisar’s mind raced as he tried to come up with options to save Valihorn’s life. In actuality, he was surprise
d the skeleton was even talking with them. It was obvious his power was immense. Why didn’t he just kill Valihorn and take the ring? Fear, pain, or death were obviously of little concern to him.
Mestel seemed to reach the same conclusion. “You can’t kill him, can you?” The skeleton turned his eyes to Mestel. “You can’t kill Valihorn. A creature as evil as you would have killed Valihorn the instant you landed on the raft. What are you standing there for?”
The skeleton looked at Mestel, “You are a chosen of the gods. How odd that we should meet like this. Do not test me, elf, or it will mean your life.”
Mestel pressed on, appearing more sure of himself. “You are a servant of Seker, God of the Dead. You are bound by his creed. I have been dead myself. I have been before your god’s throne and received his judgment. I heard him say, ‘I am the death of all things. All who die must come before me.’ You can’t kill anyone on Tellus before their time, can you?”
“You are wise to know so much, young one. Death is exquisite, and while I yearn for your blood, I am bound by the covenant. I cannot kill you, but I can cause you pain. You would be surprised what you can live through.”
With his head pulled back so hard Evisar was afraid his neck would break, Valihorn gasped, “I cannot give you the ring. It is cursed. I am unable to take it off.”
The ruby eyes turned back to Valihorn. “That is most unfortunate for you and your friends. If your hand is removed from your body the ring will come free.” The skeletal lich reached with his other hand for the short sword tied around his belt. As the blade came out of its scabbard, Evisar took two steps forward and swung Neverlost at the weapon meant to sever Valihorn’s hand. Evisar’s mighty strength proved true even against this supernatural being. Neverlost collided with the short sword, throwing sparks through the air and sending the opponent’s blade twirling into the river waters. Evisar took another step forward and swung for the skeleton’s head. The lich ducked the magic sword and bellowed with rage. He came up swinging as he backhanded Evisar in the face so hard that he staggered backward and fell into the river. The gods were good as Neverlost fell to the deck of the raft rather than in the murky water.
One of Mestel’s arrows thrummed through the air and went through the skeleton’s shoulder. The lich ignored the threat and drew a dagger from his belt. He held Valihorn’s arm high in the air like a butcher ready to cut off a leg with a cleaver.
There was no way to stop the lich. Evisar was in the river and Mestel was too far away. Suddenly, behind the skeleton, a mass of water shot out of the river and sprayed through the air. Nero emerged from the geyser to nimbly land with two feet on the raft and a rapier in his hand. In one fluid swing, whose majesty was matched only by the spray of the water around him, Nero decapitated the lich. He finished the cut and went down on one knee as the skeleton’s head fell to the timbers below. As soon as the skeleton’s head came away from his body, the body itself collapsed to the deck like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Mestel came tentatively forward to make sure the being was dead. He gingerly put his foot on the skeleton’s body, but nothing remained except for the black cloak. The cloak lay in a pile with the empty hood a few feet away.
Valihorn shakily climbed to his feet and asked, “Is it dead?”
“No,” Mestel answered, “it is not dead. Nero merely killed the body that was here.”
“You’re welcome,” Nero said sarcastically as he slid his rapier back into its sheath.
Valihorn said, “Whoever he was, he has returned to Seker’s kingdom to continue fighting by his side. We may even face him again.”
“There’s a joyful thought. Thank you for that,” Nero grumbled.
Mestel heard splashing from behind and a cry for help. He turned around to see Xander flailing about in the water, weighed down by his heavy gear. Evisar, equally encumbered, was strong enough to tread water and make his way back to the raft. Mestel stretched out his hand toward Xander and saw Nero come up beside him to help. Xander reached up from the water and took both their hands, and together they hoisted Xander onto the raft. Once Xander was safely aboard Mestel let go, but Nero continued to clasp Xander around the waist, making sure he did not fall back into the river. Mestel reached down again and pulled his brother onboard.
The companions remained silent as they collectively struggled to catch their breath. Nero eventually stood up with a forced smile on his face. “What happened to you back there, Xander? A creature shows up and you cower in fear. That isn’t like you. Did he put you under a spell or something?”
Xander shook his head and looked up at everyone. “Yes, that must have been it. When I saw his eyes, all I wanted to do was run as far away as possible. Valihorn, I apologize for abandoning you in your time of need. It won’t happen again.”
“Magic is often impossible to resist. I am certainly no stranger to its affects,” Valihorn assured his companion, but the words rang somewhat hollow. Everyone aboard the raft had questions but also had the good sense not to discuss it further. They allowed Xander to look sheepishly away while the four of them got back to the task of navigating the raft downriver.
Chapter 81: News of the War
Jalid sat on the throne of Armena just as his father had done before him. Every day he heard petitions, just as his father had done before him. Half the time all he did was sit and listen. What do I know of the politics between nations? What do I know about the war with the Krone, or the Philosophers? He didn’t even know the Philosophers existed until a few moons ago. He never knew what to say. Day after day his citizens brought him their troubles expecting the King’s wisdom and justice. What is the King’s justice? Am I supposed to know?
This day, his chief bodyguard and General of the Army, Holidor, stood before the throne, flanked on either side by a soldier under his command. Jalid didn’t recognize their ranks. Were they captains or sergeants? Or were they lieutenants? He always had trouble remembering. It was one of the many things he meant to learn, but never did. Luckily, he had numerous nobles in the throne room as well as his mother sitting on his right with Shane standing behind her to answer such questions.
Holidor bowed his head out of respect. “Your Majesty, we have the Krone on the run. Ever since we defeated them on the surface a moon’s turn ago, we have enjoyed success after success. With the followers of Venal as our vanguard, we have pushed deep into the Underworld. Every day we kill more of their warriors as they continue to retreat.”
King Jalid looked on with mild interest. “Then we still hold the entrance to the Underworld near the ruins of Coria?”
Holidor brought his head up with a skeptical look. “Hold the entrance? Your Majesty, we have thrust deep into the Underworld and destroyed two of the Krone’s most important cities. Our armies have pressed farther into the darkness than ever before. We have achieved more than anyone ever dreamed. Even General Lacrue would have been most impressed by our progress.” Holidor looked at each of his subordinates before reluctantly continuing. “I have kept Shane apprised of the army’s progress. Has he not kept you informed?”
“Yes, of course he has,” Jalid lied. “I have just forgotten, that’s all.”
Holidor looked unconvinced. “Of course, your Majesty.”
“Please continue.”
“We have done so well, in fact, that I must advise caution.”
Shane spoke up for the first time. “Caution hasn’t gotten us this far, General. We are taking the war to the Krone. They started this conflict by reopening the entrance to the Underworld near Coria, but we are going to finish it. Think of all the chaos we are creating in their underground domain! As long as we fight them in the Underworld, they can’t cause any more damage to Armena. It would be the very definition of stupidity if we stopped our advance and let them regroup.”
Holidor took a step forward, emphasizing his point. “But that is exactly the problem, my Lord Shane. The farther we push, the longer our supply line becomes. We are in unknown territory. The forces of Armena ha
ve never gone this deep into the Underworld. We could be falling into a trap.”
Shane spoke up loudly, pressing home his argument. “Nonsense. You need to be bold, General. We have the opportunity to wipe out the Krone forever. Or at the very least, we have the opportunity to keep them bottled up in their dark abyss for the next hundred years.”
Holidor turned to Jalid, seeking leadership. “Your Majesty, I spoke with Shane this morning about the army’s progress. In fact, just this morning I heard word from our messengers that the followers of Venal captured the Krone city of Infern’s End. This marks the second city we have sacked in a moon’s turn. Your leadership is to be commended. No one has ever dealt the Krone such a savage blow.” Holidor slowed down and chose his next words carefully. “When I spoke with Shane this morning, he ordered the army to push deeper into the Underworld, but I advise caution. I insisted on coming before you today, because we need to decide on a course of action. Our troops have fought valiantly in search of your brother, the First Heir. They have fought valiantly in honor of General Lacrue’s memory and that of your father, but mindless aggression will only take us so far. We need a course of action. We need to plan our campaign. We need your leadership.”
Jalid wanted to be anywhere but sitting on the throne. Devin should be stuck with these burdens, not me. Devin would know what to do. Devin had always been their father’s favorite. Everyone knew this to be true and Jalid understood the reasons why. Devin was the first-born, brought into this world with a destiny to be the First Heir of Armena. He had been raised to rule. Devin had watched and learned from father since he was very young, while Jalid had been given to servants and ignored at every turn.
Jalid turned to his mother who sat next to him on his right and asked, “What do you think, mother? What should the army do?” Jalid noticed a look of dismay cross General Holidor’s face as he turned to confer with her.
Do the Gods Give Us Hope? Page 2