Relic of the Gods: (Echoes of Fate Book 3)

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Reyna sat against the wall, staring at the ranger for hours in the dark, trying to understand the man. Her sympathy was becoming harder to ignore as a more rational mind took over, allowing her to see Faylen’s death from his point of view. Asher had been trying to save lives for the last fourteen years, atoning for his life as an Arakesh. Faylen’s sacrifice must weigh heavy on him too, she thought. His inability to use the gem and save them still clouded her empathy, stopping the princess from forgiving him.

  After a while, the glow of the moon crossed the window and illuminated the room. Reyna decided she could no longer sit there and allow her thoughts to fester. It had been Faylen who instructed her to use words where the rest of their kin would give in to emotion, often preferring violence.

  Keeping the blanket wrapped around her, Reyna walked out onto the balcony. “Crossing paths with you has changed my life forever, Ranger.”

  Asher stopped twirling the dagger between his fingers. “I suppose you have forever to decide whether that’s true or not.”

  Reyna leaned against the solid, clay railing and looked out over the desert, beyond Calmardra’s walls. “I don't… I don't know what to say.”

  “You don't have to say anything, Princess. You have the luxury of time. In a thousand years, I’ll be a memory you can barely recall. Hopefully, so will this war.”

  “I don't…” Reyna swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don't want to forget you, just as I don't wish to forget Faylen.”

  Asher buried the small dagger into the wooden railing and sighed. “We’ve gone too far to give in to sentiment now, especially when there’s still more blood to be paid.”

  The ranger’s guarded response irritated the elf. She was trying to build a bridge between them again, yet Asher seemed determined to keep her at arm’s length.

  “Being around Nasta Nal-Aket has done you no favours,” Reyna said with venom.

  “At least he always sees the big picture,” Asher was quick to argue. “You’re going to let Faylen’s death, her sacrifice, hold you back. She died so you might live. Why do you think that is? It wasn't so you could enjoy life as a princess, Princess. Faylen saw the bigger picture as you should. I can see that all your hope has fled, but you’re the only thing that stands a chance of preventing a war between Illian and Ayda. You don't need hope to do that, just will.”

  The ranger’s tone was enough to have Reyna argue back, let alone using Faylen against her. “Since when did you care about either of our people, Outlander?” The princess regretted calling him that immediately, but the fire in her veins could not be denied.

  Asher’s eyes were glassy in the light of the moon. “Since you.” His answer was barely a whisper, but it knocked Reyna back against the wall.

  The princess wanted to swallow her hate whole and ask the gods to take it back. She saw it now, plain as day; they were Asher’s family, the family he had never had. Was it possible he saw her as a daughter? As strange a thought as that was, Reyna knew he would have made a better father than her own.

  “I’m sorry,” the ranger offered softly. “I shouldn't have -”

  Nasta dropped without a sound onto the balcony with his stick in one hand and a sack in the other. “Am I interrupting?”

  “No,” Asher replied.

  “Yes,” Reyna said with more force, though it was clear to see that the ranger struggled with such a conversation.

  Caring little for their response, Nasta dropped the sack on the small table. “I found water and supplies.”

  Asher examined the blood on top of Nasta’s new stick. “Found or took?”

  The old assassin shrugged. “We negotiated for a while, but they found my offer quite suitable.”

  “I trust you covered your tracks,” Reyna said harshly.

  Nasta smiled. “I would worry more about the volume of your fair voice, Princess, than my tracks. I could hear you halfway across the city…”

  Reyna balled her fist under the concealment of the blanket, but Asher stood up, becoming a human barrier between the two.

  “Alright, enough showing off,” the ranger said. “We all need rest.”

  “I shall take the watch,” Nasta announced.

  Reyna folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “What good is a watchman without eyes?”

  Nasta pursed his lips. “Eyes aren't everything, even pretty green ones such as yours, Princess.” The old assassin continued before Reyna could offer a retort. “The army which pursues us is considerable. They will kick up sand which will be carried in the breeze with their foul odor, an odor that will find my nose before your elven eyes can spot a single Darkakin head.”

  Reyna scrutinised the old man. “Your senses aren't that good.”

  “No? I can tell from your sweat that you’ve haven't eaten for eight hours. And that you've had sex in the last week…” Nasta glanced over his shoulder at Nathaniel’s sleeping form and sniffed the air. “With the knight.”

  Reyna’s eyes lit up with enough rage to halt a dragon, but once again Asher took a step to come between them.

  “I said stop showing off,” the ranger warned the old man. When it became clear that the princess wasn't going to attack, he continued, “You wake us at the first whiff of trouble; Darkakin or otherwise. Understood?”

  “Crystal…” With that, Nasta climbed onto the roof and sat facing the southern horizon with his legs crossed and his stick over his lap.

  There was more to be said between Reyna and Asher; that much the princess could feel, but Nasta’s untimely entrance had spoiled the moment. Resigned to have found some peace between them, Reyna found the comfiest spot she could and dwelled on happier times with Faylen, until her tears dried out and sleep finally found her.

  10

  Heavy is the head…

  Valanis pushed up from the glowing pool of Naius, enjoying the feeling of the liquid as it ran down his bare torso and transformed into solid crystals, before returning to a liquid state again as it hit the luminous surface, leaving his skin dry. As marvelous as the pools were to watch, they were even greater to reside within. For forty years the dark elf had been trapped inside them, always fearing death beyond the magical spring, but now he simply enjoyed them as he had millennia ago.

  Stepping out of the pool and into the cavern of stalagmites, his naked body hummed with the power flowing through his veins, giving his pale skin a golden aura. As always, the magic of Naius threatened to consume him from the inside out, but his time in the pool had re-energised him after his display at Karath. Bringing down Paldora’s star was a god-like feat, but following it up by tearing down Karath’s walls had drained him. Still, he had enjoyed every moment of it. To finally be free to unleash his gifted power and raze Illian to the ground!

  Valanis lifted his left hand and examined the ring thereon. The shard of Paldora’s gem offered him enough strength to keep Naius’ magic under control, staving off the inevitable seizures. For a time, at least. The dark elf was free to roam the world once again, but the shard could not sustain him; he needed the whole gem…

  Samandriel Zathya quickly appeared from behind one of the rocky pillars with her master’s black robes. Valanis took note of her limp, the remnants of a recent battle with an elven vanguard, sent by King Elym from Ayda.

  “You haven't healed,” he stated flatly, his words echoing off the cavern walls.

  “Not fully, Master. I have come to believe that the elf I met was an elder.” Samandriel navigated the pool, careful not to step into it while dressing Valanis. “His spells were stronger than I anticipated. An error on my behalf.”

  Valanis was willing to allow her injuries be consequence enough. “I haven't heard from Alidyr,” he said, eyeing Samandriel’s diviner orb on her belt.

  “Thallan contacted me while you were resting, Master. The Darkakin horde is moving north, towards Velia. There was no mention of Alidyr…”

  Valanis clenched his left hand and drew on the power of the shard until his golden aura died away and his bo
dy ceased its incessant hum. “My patience is wearing thin with your brother.” Alidyr had last been seen by the dark elf on the edge of Karath, riding east with the claim that he would soon return with the gem in its entirety.

  Samandriel adjusted her master’s long, blond hair to flow over his robes. “Send me instead. I will retrieve the gem and bring back the ranger’s head.”

  Valanis had always enjoyed Samandriel’s excitement when it came to the hunt. “I have no doubt in your abilities,” the dark elf offered with a warm smile, “but Alidyr has his errand as you have yours.”

  “Master?”

  Valanis flicked his finger and a single crystal flew from the pool and landed in his hand. “Thallan leads the Darkakin from the south, but you will lead the armies of the north and ensure our success at Velia.” He handed the crystal to her and delicately closed Samandriel’s fingers around it.

  “King Tion is leading them himself, Master,” Samandriel explained. “I think he is trying to prove his worth.”

  “King Tion of Namdhor…” Valanis mused. “Merkaris is a capable king and his grasp of magic is commendable... for a human.” The dark elf had watched his generals train the young man years ago in this very cavern, an asset to be nurtured. “But he has never seen war as you have. I trust only you to keep his forces marching south. When they fall upon Velia beside the Darkakin it will take both you and Thallan to ensure an alliance is found. I can't have my armies pitted against each other; not until all of the kingdoms are dust at least.”

  Samandriel’s golden eyes pleaded with him. “I should be by your side, Master. With only a shard of the gem you are…”

  “Vulnerable,” he finished what Samandriel couldn't bring herself to say.

  With a gentle touch, Valanis stroked the smooth skin of Samandriel’s shaved head, taking in the ancient glyphs tattooed on her scalp. It was the simplest of things to send a tendril of his power into her body, probing for any injury. He quickly found internal wounds as well as a plethora of cuts and burns to her skin. One light tap on her head shot bolts of agonising energy through her body, amplifying the pain in her wounds. Samandriel screamed and fell back, where she scrunched into a ball as the pain took over. As quickly as the spell attacked the elf, the magic altered its course and filled her with soothing relief. Not only did Valanis cease his attack, but he healed her of all ailments.

  The dark elf looked down at Samandriel, who was slowly unfurling in surprise. “My sway over life and death is ever strong. Do not doubt my power again.”

  Samandriel bowed her head and kneeled before her master. Her silence was submission enough.

  “Meet up with Merkaris’ forces,” Valanis ordered. “Bring Velia to its knees…”

  “As you wish, Master.” Samandriel stood up on her newly healed leg and threw her crystal into the cavern.

  Valanis didn’t even watch as she disappeared into the portal. Instead, he worked his way through the pools, walking up the pillars in the gravity-defying hollow, until he came across the dead spring. The only pool in the cavern which had lost its glow and was now filled with rocks instead of crystals. In this pool, not so long ago, he had been visited by Atilan, the king of the gods. Just recalling the memory had goosebumps crawling up Valanis’ arms.

  The dark elf picked up a handful of dead crystals and let them fall from his hand. Inside this pool, Atilan had gifted him more power than he had thought imaginable, but he could no longer feel it pulsing in his ears. Bringing down Paldora’s star had spent his new found magic and worse still, he had yet to hear the gods since. When he reached out to them, as he often did, their attention felt distracted, as if something else was more worthy of their time.

  The Veil…

  It had to be the ancient relic. It was the only thing the gods had ever desired and tirelessly searched for. The device had been hidden by the dragons and remained ever elusive, but Atilan himself had told Valanis that The Veil would make itself known and that he should focus on reclaiming Illian in their name. Had the relic re-surfaced after all this time? The idea of it excited Valanis, but the gods’ abandonment left him feeling hollow and unsure of himself.

  The dark elf lifted his gaze to the glowing pool overhead, wondering if the gods were still listening to him. “What are you looking at?”

  11

  No limits

  Gideon had enjoyed watching the sun set over the land more times than he could count, but nothing compared to witnessing its majesty from the heavens. Ilargo had flown on the currents, soaring low over the land for hours without any hint of fatigue, with his incredible wings spread out under the blue sky. The stars had begun to reveal themselves, however, forcing Gideon to rely more and more on magic to keep him warm, where usually Ilargo’s aura was enough.

  The sky’s colour slowly bled away until an ocean of stars formed a canopy above, and the desert below finally faded into lush greens. The Dragorn had loved watching the land change just as much as the sky, with The Q’ol desert giving way to Ayda’s northern lands of forestry.

  It’s beautiful! Ilargo exclaimed.

  Their intimate connection instantly reminded Gideon why the sight was so new to the dragon.

  The world is a big place outside of Dragons’ Reach.

  It goes on and on! Can we explore it all? The wonder in Ilargo’s voice filled Gideon with a sense of adventure.

  Of course! The mage smiled and rubbed the scales on the side of Ilargo’s thick neck, enjoying the moment they shared together.

  They flew for several more miles before Adriel and Galandavax came back into sight. The elf and ebony dragon had chosen to fly even higher, putting some space between them all.

  I think Adriel is angry with me…

  That is not the reason they fly so high, Ilargo replied. Galandavax is capable of greater speed than I; he is reserving his energy. They have been gliding in circles since we left Malaysai.

  Gideon hadn’t taken their difference in size into account. One day you will be just as big as Galandavax, if not bigger. The mage still believed that the elf wasn't happy with him.

  You did the right thing, Gideon. Of all people, the queen of elves couldn't be allowed to continue worshipping Atilan and his lot.

  I did the one thing the Dragorn aren't supposed to do, Ilargo. Keep The Veil a secret and keep it safe. Now we risk it falling into Valanis’ hands.

  Ilargo shared his irritation with a short burst of emotion. Do not think I am so helpless, or yourself for that matter. You wield Elandril’s sword and sit astride a dragon! We can protect The Veil from the likes of Valanis.

  Gideon welcomed the bolster of conviction and allowed himself to feel irritated with his own feelings and doubts. He had come along way since his days at Korkanath, proving to himself again and again that he was capable of the most daring feats.

  Galandavax dipped in front of them and took the lead, though his flight path was clearly heading towards the forest below. Gideon felt Adriel’s presence on the periphery of his mind as if the elf was waiting to be invited into the bond he shared with Ilargo. It was comforting to know that they could have private discussions without the ancient Dragorn listening in.

  We should rest for the night, Adriel said after being invited.

  What forest is that below us?

  Adriel replied, The Elmeer. We are just south of Mount Garganafan.

  The two dragons dropped low until the tips of the great pine trees were skimming the scales on their chests. It was dark, with only the light of the moon to guide them, but Gideon could feel the confidence with which Ilargo flew.

  I wish I could see as you do!

  You will never see as I do, but if you open yourself up, you will sense all that I do.

  Gideon didn't entirely understand, but he knew there was more to their bond that he was deliberately resisting.

  It’s okay, Ilargo reassured, I know you’re holding back.

  I’m sorry. I’m just not… I mean I’m…

  You’re worried about lo
sing yourself, Ilargo finished, as he always did.

  I know there’s more, so much more. I can feel it just waiting to… well, it feels like it’s waiting to take over. I still feel like we’re two, but I know that if I give into it we will be one, and then what will be...?

  Left of you? Ilargo poured soothing feelings into their bond. We would become more than the sum of our two parts. We would be Dragorn.

  Gideon rested his head on Ilargo’s green scales and closed his eyes. With some effort, he lowered his guard and allowed their bond to deepen until their physical senses began to blend and the mage could feel Ilargo’s wings as if they were extensions of himself. The magnitude of senses quickly became overwhelming, as they had in the past, but this time Gideon submerged himself in the flow, succumbing to this new sense of self.

  The night exploded with life, but Gideon wasn't sure if he had yet to open his eyes. The dark sky was painted in fluorescent purples and pinks of the heavens beyond, with the stars burning so much brighter in between. The Dragorn felt so close to them all that he was sure he could reach out and pluck them from the sky. The wind flowing over Ilargo’s body carried so many smells that Gideon was able to distinguish individual animals in the forest below. Twigs snapping under hooves reached his ears, alerting them both to deer scrambling through the trees. There was even a hint of salt in the air, though Gideon could actually taste it, and suddenly he realised they were only a few miles east of The Adean.

  Incredible…

  There is more, but it will take time to learn everything.

  Gideon thought about their errand and the state of Illian, wondering if time was something Ilargo and he really had. There were perils ahead before either would see peace.