Valanis felt his focus being physically moved by the gods, an intoxicating feeling. The elf drew back his hood and removed the mask to look up at a wall of very long spears draped in cobwebs.
Krayt, the god of war, spoke softly into his ear, Silvyr…
Valanis reached out and wiped the cobwebs away, revealing the pointed tips of the silvyr spears. He soon realised they were not spears at all, but giant bolts designed to be fired from ballista. The tips were as long as his arm and decorated with runes, engraved on the metal to increase their proficiency. These were dragon killers...
His connection with the gods evaporated when the diviner on his belt released a light hum. The sudden disconnection irritated the elf and he removed the small orb with a curse on his lips. The ethereal world gave way to the shadowy form of Thallan.
“Master…” Thallan’s features blew in the wind of the other world, distorting his pale face.
“If I find your next words of little importance, you will suffer.”
Thallan hesitated before speaking again. “It’s Alidyr, Master. He has failed you again…”
Locating his servants wasn't hard after sharing a portion of his power with them. Valanis had only to reach out and he could see in his mind where any of the Hand might be. Samandriel Zathya was already marching south with the armies of King Merkaris Tion, ready to lay siege to Velia. Thallan and Alidyr were in the south still, on the border of The Arid Lands and Alborn. With a wave of the hand, Valanis opened a portal and stepped into Calmardra.
Thallan saw him first and immediately bowed on one knee, but Alidyr slowly turned around to face his master. The elf’s face dropped, telling his understanding of the situation. The head of the Hand finally took the knee and kept his eyes on the floor, though the venom he shot at Thallan didn't go unseen.
They were in what the humans would call an opulent room, however, much of its grand design was hidden behind the splatter of blood and the dead bodies of eight Arakesh. Beyond the room, Valanis could hear the Darkakin hordes, desperate to move on and destroy the next city.
Valanis circled the two elves as if he were one of the Mer-folk circling its prey. The iron mask concealed his glowing visage, but it added a menacing tone to his voice that was sure to put his servants on edge.
“The gem was in this very room,” he hissed. “With an army outside and the legendary Arakesh under your command, a human escaped your grasp. He came in here with but a few allies and took your prisoner, stripped you of your loyal assassins and walked out.” Valanis came to stand in front of Alidyr and sighed. “You showed such promise. I gave you everything. I blame myself for your failures. My time in the Amber Spell left you to grow weak.”
“Master…” Alidyr looked up at Valanis. “I live to serve you.”
“And so you have,” Valanis cupped the elf’s strong jaw like a loving father. “But your sin is not failing to serve me, but serving only to fail me.” The herald of the gods brought up his other hand with a destructive spell taking shape in his palm. The magic glowed hot-white and swirled around, until the spell was powerful enough reduce Alidyr to dust.
With a steely gaze, Alidyr met his master’s purple eyes and said, “I have power over the ranger’s ally.” The elf said it with such confidence that Valanis closed his fist and ended the spell.
“Explain as if your life depended on it…”
Alidyr cleared his throat. “I have mastered the spells left to us by Atarae.”
Valanis scrutinised every inch of Alidyr’s expression, searching for any trace of a lie. The head of the Hand was deadly with his tongue and had won many victories without ever lifting a blade.
“The Goddess of destiny…” Valanis had absorbed every piece of text and manuscript left by the gods before their ascension. Atarae had only left one spell of any interest to the herald and his cause, though it had been over a thousand years since he had used it. “Rise,” he commanded.
Both of the elves stood up, a contrast side-by-side with Alidyr in white robes and flowing black hair and Thallan atired in the usual black and gold armour, his pale scalp and tattoos exposed.
Valanis spoke evenly. “Until you return to me with the gem, Alidyr, you are exiled from the Hand. Should the spells of the Goddess fail you, your fate will join that of Illian’s.” The herald turned from the elf’s face of shock and looked at Thallan. “Take the army north and don't stop until you reach Velia. Should you come across your brother on the march and he is not in possession of Paldora’s gem… remove his head.”
Thallan couldn't hide his smile. “As you wish, Master.”
Alidyr’s lips parted but no words escaped his mouth. Valanis hated to see it, but the elf had reached the lowest of the low in his expectations and deserved no better. Mastering the spells of Atarae, however, was a worthy test of his power and offered him his only chance at redemption.
All thought was cast from Valanis’ mind when the magic of Naius overcame him. The herald dropped to his knees in blinding agony and clenched his fists so hard he was afraid he might shatter the ring holding a slither of Paldora’s gem. When he opened his eyes again, Thallan was crouched over him with grave concern etched across his face. Alidyr rushed over to help, but Thallan raised his hand and forcefully pushed the elf away.
“Do not touch my master!” he shouted.
To Valanis, the words sounded distant and the light from outside was blinding. He could feel exhaustion setting in as his muscles trembled after the fit. It had been a while since the power of Naius had him on his knees, but it always served to remind Valanis that he wasn't invincible… not yet.
Rest, the gods purred in his ears. The battle is yet to come.
“I must return to the pools,” Valanis said. “I must be ready for the attack on Velia.” The herald locked eyes with Alidyr. “I must have the gem by then... or all is lost.”
20
Together again
As with every situation in which the ranger faced death, Asher’s mind found a state of calm that allowed him to assess his surroundings without panicking. The leather of his fingerless gloves stretched over his knuckles as he squeezed the hilts of his blades. Alidyr stalked into the room, followed by Thailand and over a dozen Arakesh. They were surrounded.
“To think of the lengths I was willing to go to…” Alidyr flashed his perfect teeth between his wicked grin. “And here you are coming to me! If you had any sense you would be across the border into Alborn by now.”
The four companions naturally came back together in the middle of the room. This wasn’t a fight they could win, but with Faylen’s tortured form hanging between them, death was certain.
“The gem, Ranger…” Alidyr held out his hand expectantly.
Asher hefted the two blades in his hands, weighing up his current strength and stamina. Could he create such a mess as to give his companions time to escape? He had faced more Arakesh than stood before him now, but Thallan and Alidyr were variables he couldn't calculate.
The tense silence was broken by a man clearing his throat, beyond the mass of dark-armoured assassins. Startled by this new appearance, the Arakesh turned about to face the potential threat who had somehow crept up on all of them. It was only after every assassin dropped to one knee that the companions could see Nasta Nal-Aket. The old man was standing in front of the balcony with his hand resting casually on Reaver’s hilt.
“You?” Alidyr’s face crumpled into displeasure.
“You may call me Father, Alidyr.” Nasta’s lidless eye sockets settled on the elf.
Alidyr looked around at the assassins bending the knee. “What are you doing? I am the Father of Nightfall! You bow only to me!”
“You challenged me, yes,” Nasta slowly walked into the room, “but as they can now see, you did not kill me.”
“Then I will kill you now and be done with it,” Alidyr spat.
“You know the rules of Nightfall better than most, elf. You faced me and failed to strike true. There can be no second chall
enge.”
Thallan snorted and reached for his emerald blade. “Enough of this.”
Every Arakesh jumped up and turned on the general with their swords pointed at his throat. At that same moment, more assassins poured into the room from the open balcony and nocked arrows. Asher could see the odds tipping in their favour, but he couldn't quite believe it. What he could believe, however, was that Nasta Nal-Aket had used them to draw all of his Arakesh to one place, where he could take back control.
Alidyr placed a calming hand on Thallan’s chest. “What now, Nasta? You have this one chance to take yours and leave, or Thallan and I will simply lay waste to your order and move on. You know there isn't enough of you.”
“Unlike you, Alidyr, I do not underestimate my enemy.” Natsa tilted his head towards Reyna, who retrieved her bow and nocked an arrow in the blink of an eye. “Could you really fight us all and avoid an arrow from that bow?”
Alidyr was a master at hiding his true feelings, but Asher could see the truth of their situation dawn on the elf’s face. The general sighed and dropped his hand onto Thallan’s, preventing him from drawing his magnificent scimitar.
Nasta bowed his head and turned to the Arakesh beside him. “Find Asher and his companions some horses and escort them to the northern gates.” The old assassin looked back at the ranger. “You assisted me in the pit. Consider my debt settled.”
Alidyr stepped forward. “The moment they leave, Nasta, I will see to your end.”
The Father smiled. “I think not, Alidyr. We will leave you to your war. Illian has its heroes and I am content not to be among them.”
“When this war is over,” Alidyr threatened, “I will bring an army to Nightfall and route you out myself.”
“And we will be ready for you…” Nasta countered. “You should be leaving, Ranger.”
Asher didn't need prompting twice. With half a dozen Arakesh between him and the generals, the ranger met Alidyr’s eyes. He conveyed a silent message that told of their inevitable collision. They would meet again, and soon.
The path to the northern gates had been cleared and, after several minutes of scurrying through alleys and abandoned streets, the companions were presented with two horses. By the time Asher had mounted his horse and Faylen had been lifted up to him, the accompanying assassins had melted back into the shadows. Before they set off into the night, they were again surprised by the sight of Nasta Nal-Aket. The Father stepped over the two dead Darkakin, lying in the entrance to the city, and walked over to Asher’s horse.
“You don't have long,” Nasta warned. “They killed eight before we could get out of the room. They will be coming for you.”
“You could still be of use in this war,” Nathaniel said, though Asher could tell he hated saying it.
“The Arakesh were never meant for war, Mr. Galfrey. We will remain in the shadows.” Nasta looked up at Asher under the pale glow of the moon. “You and I will never cross paths again, I feel. I wish you luck in this life you have… found yourself in. Should you ever see sense, you know where to find me.”
He was torn between cursing the old man and thanking him. In the end, the most amicable thing he could do was turn his horse to the north and set off at a gallop. Asher might never see his old mentor again, but Nasta’s teachings would echo through the halls of his life until death finally claimed the ranger. The irony wasn't lost on him, however, that death’s claim had been forever out of reach because of Nasta’s teachings…
Nathaniel felt at ease in the tight embrace of The Willows. They had strayed from The Selk Road, which cut through the forest, and headed east, towards The Shining Coast. Still, the salty air was far from reaching them amid the thick wood. The knight had always preferred to take refuge in the shelter of a forest over camping under the stars in some field; it was a lesson he had learned early on in his career as a Graycoat. In a field, one could be set upon from all sides without a word of warning, but sneaking up on someone with twigs and fallen branches underfoot was far more difficult.
Unless you’ve been trained in Nightfall, Nathaniel thought.
Proving his point, Asher appeared behind him having made no sound at all on his approach.
“I’ve already checked the perimeter,” the ranger said. “We are alone.”
“It was too easy,” Nathaniel replied, “and it doesn’t feel right. My gut tells me the Arakesh are about to ambush us. We’ve spent too long fighting them to feel anything else.”
Asher glanced back at the elves, who were just visible between the trees. “Normally I would agree, but Nasta Nal-Aket is done with this war. The Arakesh will hide away until it all blows over.”
“Are you done with him?” Nathaniel asked pointedly.
“I’m likely to kill him if we ever meet again…”
Nathaniel was surprised to look upon Asher’s face and see something other than the ranger’s usual expressionless features. The Graycoat could see now the pain that meeting Nasta again had inflicted on him. The ranger was torn when it came to the Father of Nightfall and the man who had taken him in as a small boy. Nathaniel wasn't sure Asher had it in him to kill Nasta if it ever came to it.
Nathaniel’s scrutiny was too obvious and Asher straightened his shoulders and resumed his stoic expression.
“Careful, Ranger, you might just prove to be human after all.” Nathaniel waited for the smile to reach Asher’s face before joining him in the moment.
“Indeed, perhaps I should abandon you all and return to my life of brooding?” The ranger’s reply had them both stifling their laughs.
“He makes fun of himself too now?” Nathaniel quipped. “I barely recognise you.”
Asher nodded along with a smile on his face. A glance back at the elves, however, betrayed his thoughts.
“You feel it too, don't you?” Nathaniel pushed. “Elves… They have a strange effect on us. The more time I spend around them the more I feel myself, my real self, not just a knight but something more. I don't think we were meant to live with an ocean between us.”
“There seems to be something between the two of you at the moment,” Asher commented casually.
Nathaniel drew on his years as a Graycoat to stop himself from floundering with his reply. “I suppose there is.”
Asher turned to leave what was quickly becoming an awkward conversation. “If you don’t want to talk about it…”
“No, no,” Nathaniel held out his hand before leaning against a tree. “It’s just not something that can be fixed through talk, or anything for that matter.”
Asher narrowed his eyes before replying, “You haven't even got a wrinkle to your face yet and the two of you are thinking about immortality?”
“Or lack thereof on my behalf,” Nathaniel added with a sombre tone.
The ranger quietly laughed to himself. “I don't think love cares whether you’ll both live forever or not.”
Nathaniel quite agreed, but he could also see it from Reyna’s point of view. Who would want to be so vulnerable knowing that it could only lead to heartbreak? He didn't want that for the princess.
“At least she’s talking to you again,” Nathaniel offered, happy to shift the conversation away from him.
Asher nodded his head with a look of contemplation. After another moment it seemed the ranger wouldn't be offering any more words. There was only so much personality that could be teased out of him. Instead, the two men turned back and headed into the clearing where Reyna had set up a makeshift camp for Faylen. It wasn't much by any stretch of the imagination, but Nasta Nal-Aket had seen to it that their horses were carrying supplies.
The sun was on its way down, casting long shadows across the ground, and a cool chill had set in. In all the chaos of their lives, Nathaniel hadn't taken much notice of the seasons, but winter was almost upon them now. It was times like this that he really missed his leather-hide coat.
Faylen was lying down on a pile of blankets beside a collection of hot rocks, each glowing a bright orange. It
had been an idea of Asher’s to keep warm without the smoke of a fire giving them away, and Reyna’s gift with magic saw it easily done. The princess was sitting beside Faylen, on the moss-covered ground, wiping the dirt from her mentor’s skin with a wet cloth. Nathaniel stopped himself from saying anything about using the waterskins for such a thing since he knew that to an elf, cleanliness was just as important as drinking.
Reyna put a slender finger to her lips when the knight stepped on a twig. “She’s resting.”
“I have rested enough,” Faylen said suddenly, her eyes fluttering open.
Reyna became very animated, treating Faylen as if the elf was made of glass. The princess helped her to sit up and offered a mouthful of water before draping a blanket over her shoulders.
“You have been through a lot, you should rest,” Reyna argued. “We can stay here tonight.”
Nathaniel caught the questioning look Faylen gave Asher and the responding nod of the head. The ranger’s opinion on their safety had become gospel to the elf; something the Graycoat thought he would never see. After Asher’s seal of approval on their camp, Faylen visibly relaxed and pulled Reyna into a tight embrace. It brought a smile to Nathaniel’s face to see them reunited, mother and daughter as it were.
Reyna had tears in her eyes when the elves finally let go of each other. “I didn't think I would ever see you again,” the princess said.
With tears of her own, Faylen gripped Reyna’s face and kissed her on the head. “I knew I would see you again. It kept me going…”
Nathaniel sat down beside the elves and squeezed Faylen’s hand. “We were hopeless without you.” The Graycoat expected a stiff reply from Faylen, but instead, she squeezed his hand in return and offered a warm smile.
“You have kept each other safe,” she replied. “That’s all that matters.”
“How did you survive down there?” Asher asked from the other side of the heated rocks.
“Alidyr…” Faylen replied with a distant look. “He kept the cavern from crushing us. I was about to kill him and see to the end of us both, but he offered another path, one I hoped would see me returned to your side.” The elf gazed intently at Reyna. “Together we fought our way out and back into Nightfall, but not before he gave me some useful information.” Faylen stopped talking to place a hand on her left shoulder. It was clear to see she was in pain.
Relic of the Gods: (Echoes of Fate Book 3) Page 17