Do the Gods Give Us Hope?

by Jeff Henrikson

  “But how?”

  “There is no time to explain. As we speak, hundreds of our brothers are dying in defense of this doomed city. Hundreds of our brothers that we are going to need if we are to defend our capital.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Invis said, “We must provide cover while the army and civilians retreat. We must hold the line long enough for the army to escape into the woods.”

  “Why doesn’t General Holidor rally his troops and cover the retreat?”

  “General Holidor is dead. He withered away on the battlefield along with most of his officers.” More gasps went up among the Philosophers as they realized how dire the situation was. “You Philosopher agents will line up just to the north of town. My fellow wizards and I are going to set the forest in front of you ablaze. We will leave one corridor through the fire for any of our countrymen who fall behind to make it through. You will cover the opening and buy the army time to escape.”

  “You mean to set the forest ablaze. You can’t do that. Invictus himself created us to protect and care for the trees. To kill a live tree is to …”

  Invis cut off the Philosopher with a voice that broached no argument. “It is the only way! Our elven brothers are more important than the trees. The trees were made for the elves, not the elves for the trees.” Invis paused for a moment before continuing. “I am afraid it gets worse. By leaving a corridor through the fire for our brothers to escape, and using you to hold the line, many of the Philosopher agents in this room will likely lose their lives.” The leader of the Philosophers waited for a response. “Are there any questions?”

  There were none, so Invis ended the gathering by saying, “Then make peace with your god, and find your station. From now on, each moment we wait hastens Armena’s downfall.”

  There was nothing more to be said. Calim used his mind to create his energy scimitar and ran out of the building to the north.

  When the battle for Ash was over, the Army of Armena had lost well over half its strength, most of them withering to death on the battlefield. All the Philosopher agents except two were killed covering the army’s retreat. Huge swaths of live forest were burned to the ground, and the army of Kentar sustained staggering casualties. The army of Kentar occupied Ash for some days before pressing on to other areas of Armena, continuing to seek revenge for a small logging town destroyed half a year earlier, under the guise of seeking answers about how that small town met its demise. Neither side understood the truth – that they were being played against each other by the conniving genius of the world’s most powerful thieves’ guild.

  Chapter 116: Change in Leadership

  Venal continued to fight as the Krone closed in all around him. Arrows leapt from Black Vengeance at a rate mere mortals could not comprehend, but it was not enough. All but ten of the followers who had gone into the Underworld with him were dead. There was no way any of them were getting out of the Underworld alive. Some unknown magic had decimated more than half of his mortal Black Legion, and those who perished had been the strong, leaving the weak to continue the fight. Those who remained fought on against impossible odds, and fought well, but there was no way it would be enough. As he fought on, Venal realized in the back of his mind that this would be his final resting place. His six-and-a-half millennia war against Evona and her dark creatures was at an end. It was funny that in all of that time he never once considered the possibility that he might lose the war, that Evona would outlive him. Venal had found it to be true on Tellus as in the heavens, that when two people set their wills against each other, the one who wanted to win the most, was usually the one standing at the end. This was not to be true of him.

  Two more of his followers were struck down. The eight that remained were warriors of epic proportion. They were the stalwart guard for his fight against the Krone; each of them more valuable than a hundred warriors. Each one that fell was lost forever, for they would not be pulled out of Purgatory and taken to their god’s kingdom, for their god would be dead. Forever dead. Killed on Tellus, his consciousness scattered across the cosmos for all time. This was the choice and the chance he took when he left the safety of his kingdom in the heavens in order to return to Tellus.

  He felt something tug at his soul, and as the enemy closed in around him for the death blow, something yanked him away from the hopeless battle in the Underworld. His consciousness flew across mountains and plains and soared into the sky. His soul moved through the heavens as it had done countless times before over the past six thousand years, but instead of entering his godly kingdom, he landed outside the massive granite temple that marked the heart of Invictus’s kingdom. Somehow Venal had been pulled away from Tellus, something he did not think was possible, and brought to the very gates of his pantheon, to the door of the one who first created the elves.

  Venal looked up the steps, something he had done many times before, knowing without counting that there were one hundred forty-four steps he needed to climb before any answers would be given. Then he looked to his right and saw Martel staring at him from fifty feet away.

  Venal said, “How did I get here? I should be dead.”

  “Yes, I know. I watched from my kingdom as you broke into the Underworld with your Black Legion and tried to finish off the Krone on your own.”

  “I should have known you would be watching and not lift a finger to help. If you had combined your strength with my own, we could have ended this once and for all. Now here we are at Invictus’s doorstep, with the Krone severely weakened but not destroyed.”

  “I am not foolish enough to give up most of my divine power to exist on Tellus, where I might fall and die forever.”

  “You never did have my level of conviction.”

  “You mean I never had your stupidity. Your arrogance. I have always been more powerful than you, but even I know I cannot destroy the Krone in their Underworld fortress.”

  “I had them, Martel. I had them by the throat and was about to slice it open with my knife, when half my army withered and died.”

  Martel softened just a bit. “I know. My forces were pressing them from the other entrances to the Underworld. I was trying to buy you enough time to finish the job, but half of my force was wiped out as well.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “I do not. I felt a cataclysmic release of magical energy, but I do not know from where, or to what purpose.”

  “Are you the one that pulled me out of the Underworld?”

  “No. I do not have that kind of power. As far as I know, only Nu has the power to do such a thing. I was asked by Invictus to be in this place at this time, so here I stand.”

  Venal snarled ever so slightly. “There you stand.” Then he softened his stance. “Well, I imagine some of the answers wait for us at the top of these stairs. Shall we?”

  Martel motioned with one hand. “After you. I insist.”

  _____________________________________

  Martel ascended the long staircase with Venal in the lead. As he reached the top and approached the doors to the inner sanctum, Martel took note of several things. First, there were no guards securing the outer doors. Second, looking out over Invictus’s kingdom from the top of the temple, it looked much smaller and bleaker than it ever had before. Third, the temple did not seem as polished and grand as it had in the past. Normally Invictus’s kingdom stretched as far as his golden eyes could see, but now there were mountains and ominous clouds on the horizon. Beyond the clouds was the blackness of space that made up the huge distances that separated godly domains. Martel could not be sure, but it seemed that Invictus’s kingdom was closing in on itself.

  Martel said, “Does this seem odd to you?”

  Venal turned to him with a worried look and said, “Very.”

  “Open the door and see if our lord is home.”

  Venal turned to him as serious as ever and nodded his head. The animosity that had torn their friendship to ribbons seemed to be forgotten for the moment, as w
as Venal’s near-death experience from a short time ago. Martel marveled at how his longtime friend was able to concentrate on the here and now, when only a short time before he had almost been destroyed for all time. Perhaps having once being mortal gave Venal an advantage in this instance. He wondered in what other ways he might have underestimated his friend. His mortal existence had clearly given him reservoirs of strength other gods did not possess. Martel had existed since the dawn of time and was quite certain that if he almost met his end, he would be paralyzed with quivering indecision for quite some time after. Perhaps it was wrong of the entire elven pantheon to look down on Venal as they so often did.

  Venal moved to the thirty-foot-tall marble doors that led to the inner sanctum and leaned in to give them a good shove, knowing that in ordinary times it took god-like strength to force them open. Instead, the doors flew open at Venal’s touch and slammed against the walls with such force that the door on the left cracked all the way through in two places. The two gods walked in, wary of what they might find, only to discover a room empty but for the throne in the middle, with Invictus seated in its center. Normally, Invictus was larger than life, having created the most wondrous race ever to inhabit Tellus, but he just sat on his throne, lethargic and small. The throne now dwarfed the father of the elven pantheon. The banners that ordinarily hung on the wall in vivid splendor looked worn and tattered. The marble that once glistened with a polished shine now looked dusty and dull. The god who created everything the elves were, had ever been, and would ever be, looked withered and old.

  Invictus greeted them both with a low, tired voice. “Thank you for heeding my call.”

  Both gods bowed their heads submissively. Venal said, “Of course, my lord. I am sorry, but I must ask a question. Are you the one who pulled me out of the Underworld as my existence was about to end?”

  Invictus nodded slightly. “I used what was left of my heavenly power to save your life and bring you before me now.”

  “I did not think anyone besides Nu could pull a god’s spirit away from Tellus.”

  Invictus smiled. “As the head of a pantheon, I can compel those beneath me to appear inside my kingdom. It is a power I have never had to exercise until now.”

  Martel stepped forward and Invictus turned his head slightly in his direction. “What has happened to you, my lord?”

  If it was possible, Invictus seemed to grow more tired after he heard the question. “I underestimated Evona, that is what has happened. I know the two of you have done the same in the recent and distant past.” Martel hung his head in shame for a moment and noticed Venal doing the same. “But this is not the time for such remembrances. The entire elven race is at stake. I wanted to make peace with Evona; I was ordered by Nu to make peace with Evona, but now, if we are not careful she will take control of the entire elven race and not just the Krone.”

  Venal spoke up almost immediately. “Death to the Krone!”

  Martel chimed in by saying, “Loneliness and despair abound.”

  “I know you both detest the Krone, which is why you are here. As you can see, I no longer have the power to oppose Evona. I have done all I can to stop a war between the elves from starting, or at least end it in its infancy, but Evona was wily enough to see through my plans. She planted seeds of doubt among my faithful – even among my pantheon.”

  Martel saw Venal visibly flinch at his lord’s words. “What has Evona done?”

  “Evona has decimated Armena.”

  “How?”

  “She had one of her followers, perhaps the most powerful wizard alive on Tellus today, cast a spell that used the royal blood of the First Heir and the power of more than a hundred magic-users to kill one in three elves inside of Glenmyr Forest. Not only that, the elves slain were those with the greatest ability to fight the Krone.”

  Martel said, “So that is why you are so weak now?”

  Invictus nodded his head. “My power is waning because so many of my followers were killed.”

  Martel continued, “This is a terrible tragedy for all of us, my lord, but I do not understand why your power is in such decline. You are worshiped by many beings across Tellus, not just the elves of Armena. And what of the elves that left the Old Elf Empire during the Retreat? They still worship you.”

  Venal spoke up. “I have brought the Krone to their knees. Has Evona lost much of her power as well?”

  “I do not know. Perhaps Evona is just as powerless as I. Perhaps it is the will of Nu that my fate be tied to the fate of Armena. I do not know for sure. All I know is that my power is waning. Every day I grow weaker. Soon I will not be able to defend Armena from the onslaught of attacks from the humans of Kentar, the Krone from the Underworld, and the other beasts that wish to gain dominion over Glenmyr Forest.”

  Venal asked, “How is the Army of Armena fairing against the invasion from Kentar?”

  Martel answered for his lord. “The defense of Ash was going well, even with the defection of your followers into the Underworld, thanks to the brilliant tactics of the Philosophers. Once the Cataclysm spell was cast, and more than a third of the army died on the field, the battle turned in favor of the humans. Our army fled through the city of Ash, where their retreat was covered by Philosopher agents. Most of the Philosopher agents died selflessly in defense of their fellow elves.”

  Invictus nodded his head. “And while Armena has faced the largest army from Kentar, the human kingdom has two other, smaller armies close behind. My fear is that the Krone, sensing weakness, may venture out of the Underworld once again and join the fight against Armena.”

  Martel said, “What would you have us do, my lord?”

  “I cannot continue the fight for our people. I may be dying, or I may be severely weakened. I have summoned you here to say that the fate of the elven race is now in your hands. You must put aside your differences and work together, or Evona may triumph in this conflict and kill every elf on Tellus.”

  Chapter 117: Hail to the King

  Nero slept soundly through the chaos until the guards came for him. They barged into his room without knocking and threw him forcibly out of bed and onto the floor. They seemed agitated to the boiling point, made doubly angry by the fact that he had been sound asleep when they entered. Nero was not well-rested, but he was far better off than the rest of the castle. No doubt everyone else had been up the entire night, running around trying to figure out what had happened. Nero gained some satisfaction from their torment as he was hurled to the floor.

  The guards threw him out into the hallway with the rest of the companions. He had no idea what time it was, but it felt like early morning. He turned to Evisar and said, “What is going on?”

  In response to his question, the fifty-guard escort dragged him to his feet and marched down the hallway. All of them had their weapons drawn. Men dressed in white and purple robes were scattered in the front and rear of the column.

  Evisar said, “I have no idea. All I know is I woke up last night to the sound of Mestel and Austen being beaten. When I tried to help, I was forced back into my room where I waited until morning.” Evisar turned his head to look at his brother. “Mestel, do you want to tell us what in the name of Invictus is going on?”

  Nero could see the guards were leading them back to the throne room. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that they were to be presented before whoever was sitting on the throne, presumably the Prince, instead of being summarily executed.

  Mestel hung his head in shame and when he answered he could barely be heard above the rhythmic foot falls of the soldiers. “The King of Kentar was killed last night.”

  Valihorn blurted out in quick surprise. “What? How do you know?”

  Mestel looked down in silence. Austen responded in a calm voice that was out of place for the situation. “Somehow, late last night, Mestel knew the King was in danger of being killed for a second time. He convinced me that we should go and see for ourselves, but we arrived too late. We arrived just in time to fi
nd the King freshly murdered.”

  One of the guards shoved Austen in the back and told him to shut up and keep moving. The guards marched them through the large oak doors marking the entrance to the throne room. Nero noticed immediately that the room was lined with nobility. They had all heard the news and come to watch what was sure to be a good show.

  Xander said, “The King can’t be dead. You and Mestel saved him from the Sorcerer assassination earlier in the day.”

  Mestel blurted out. “He is dead! He is as dead as my King and my father! I saw it with my own eyes.”

  That seemed to end the conversation as the companions approached the dais. Sitting on the throne was someone who looked like the King, but twenty or so years his junior. Obviously, this was the Prince Lidea had been with last night after she led him through the Mistress Passageway. The Prince was now the King of Kentar, in practice if not yet in name.

  The new King did not waste any time. “My father is dead. I don’t know who killed him, but your presence is the only difference between yesterday and the day before. My guards tell me two members of your party, Mestel and Austen, were there when it happened. I have called all of you here to explain yourselves before I pass judgment.”

  The threat was obvious. Like it or not, they were on trial for their lives. Evisar stepped forward to speak for the group. “We had nothing to do with your father’s murder. If you want to know what happened, then I suggest you question the Sorcerers. My brother and Austen saved your father from a Sorcerers assassination attempt last night. As I understand it, the Sorcerers haven’t betrayed the Crown since their founding more than a thousand years ago. I am no expert, but I would say that qualifies as something different. How do you know it wasn’t them?”