The Godling Chronicles

by Brian D. Anderson

  He could see that she doubted him. Nonetheless, after few seconds she shrugged and reached for her pack.

  “I suppose it will have to remain a mystery…for the time being,” she said. “At least the Vrykol will not trouble us for a while. Whatever it was that happened to you, for that I am grateful.”

  Jayden was indignant. A sharp response saying that she should be grateful to him for saving her life rose up. Only the invading memory of something his mother used to say prevented it from actually coming out. He could almost hear her reprimanding him.

  We do things because they are right. Not for praise or gratitude.

  Sure, he thought. Even so, the woman could still show a bit of appreciation.

  He could feel the small portion of strength her healing had given to him rapidly fading. Sayia must have noticed this too.

  “We have a few hours until dawn,” she said. “You should sleep while you can.”

  He was loath to follow any suggestion that she might give. All the same, she was right. The power he’d used had completely drained him. His body was spent.

  Rolling onto his back, he shut his eyes. The power of heaven. These four words continued to resonate in his mind, along with an image of the Vrykol and Sayia both frozen in time like two fleshy statues. What did it mean? Sayia clearly wasn’t able to tell him.

  Father would be certain to know, he finally decided. There was going to be much for them to discuss. And this time, he would not accept anything other than the truth. The full truth.

  *****

  The following morning he was awakened by the tempting aroma of fried bacon. At first he imagined he was still dreaming. Then, as a shaft of sunlight found its way through the trees and struck his face, he realized he was not. He pushed himself up into a seated position. Resting on the ground beside him was a plate of bacon and three slices of bread. Sayia was sitting cross-legged nearby, her back against a pine sapling and an empty plate by her feet.

  Jayden looked around, but could see no fire. “How did you cook this?” he asked.

  “The flow is not only for warfare and violence,” she explained. “It has many practical uses as well.”

  To him, the idea of cooking bacon with the flow seemed somehow comical. And in a vague way, a misuse of its power. Not that such misgivings diminished his hunger. The rumbling in his stomach quickly overcame all other considerations, and he quickly devoured the offering.

  Sayia was now moving about more easily, her limp less pronounced than the previous night. His own strength was still low, but at least he was able to stand up. After a few minutes of stretching and gentle exercise to get the blood flowing, he felt reasonably confident he could manage a decent pace – though for how long was uncertain.

  After gathering their belongings, they set out at what would have been no more than a leisurely stroll had they both been fully fit. Even so, they covered a fair amount of ground before fatigue eventually forced Jayden to halt. Sayia looked displeased when he insisted they stop for a break, but had little choice other than to accept the situation.

  “Tonight, we begin your training,” she told him while changing her bandages and spreading a thick blue salve over the wounds.

  The prospect was exciting. “What will you teach me?”

  “To hide.”

  “Hide?”

  Sayia winced as she tightened the bandage around her leg. “Yes. We’re likely to run across elves that will not be accepting of what you are. To a human you might appear to be a full-blooded elf, albeit one with a thicker build than most. An elf, however, will know the difference right away.”

  This was puzzling to Jayden. “Linis’s wife is a newbreed too, and the elves in Sharpstone can’t sense what she is. Why would they know what I am?”

  “Your elf features will give you away,” she replied. “The desert elves do not use the flow, but you do not resemble one of them. So that means those hostile to newbreeds will naturally assume you’re half-human.”

  “Other than chopping off the tips of my ears, what can I do about it?”

  “You will see. The flow can do remarkable things.”

  “So you’ve taught this skill to others?”

  “No, but your sister Maybell has. And I was a witness.” She shouldered her pack. “At the time, I didn’t agree with the practice. I felt no one should be forced to hide who they are. Now, though, I can see that it has its uses.”

  Hearing these words assuaged some of his dislike. In her place, he would have probably reacted similarly. Hiding what you were was wrong. However, as he was discovering of late, being faced with the realities of the world often led a person to places they never imagined they would go. Back home, if he had been offered a way to be perceived as anything other than what he actually was, he would have been furious. As would his mother and father. But here, far from the life he knew, survival meant that pride and integrity had to suffer.

  They set off again and continued until the sunlight was nearly spent, pausing briefly only twice for a meal and to rest tired muscles. Sayia stayed in the lead, all the time listening out for any sounds of pursuit and making sure they did not run into anything...or anyone...unexpected. A few of the well beaten paths they crossed might have seemed out of place so deep in the wilderness, but it was well known that this was an area frequented by elves traveling east - the kind of elves they certainly did not have any wish to encounter.

  By the time they found a decent place to camp for the night, the muscles in Jayden’s legs felt as if they were on fire. Sayia looked to be in no better condition, although she was doing her best to mask the discomfort.

  After a quick meal of jerky and a small portion of bread and cheese, Sayia built a fire. She then told Jayden to sit on one side while she took a seat directly opposite.

  “To conceal your heritage, you will use the flow of the spirit,” she said. “This is not a thing I would prefer you to learn first, but our situation dictates it. I am afraid we must teach you to fly before you have learned to walk.”

  “Exactly what is the flow of the spirit?” Jayden asked, frowning.

  She smiled. “A good question. Unfortunately, as I am not entirely sure what the flow really is in any of its forms, I do not have a good answer for you.”

  “Linis described it to me as being the energy of the world. What do you think of that?”

  “I suppose that is one way to see it. I tend to think of it more as drawing power directly from the Creator. Each of the flow’s aspects possesses its own unique qualities. The most powerful of these is the spirit.”

  “But wouldn’t fire or earth or even water be stronger? What can the spirit do? It can’t stop an army.”

  Sayia laughed softly. “You sound like Penelope. She too did not grasp the power of spirit. Not until she saw it for herself.” She folded her hands in her lap. “The strength of an army is not forged in steel. It is the will of those who fight that gives it power. The will of those who lead. Take that away and you crush it without a single blow being struck.”

  “And the flow of the spirit can do this?”

  “How do you think the Reborn King was able to command such blind obedience from his followers?”

  Jayden thought on this for a moment. “My father. He has this power as well?”

  “He does,” she affirmed.

  “Then why not use it to force people into peace? If saving lives is the point, wouldn’t it make more sense to just change the way everyone thinks?”

  She shook her head. “That isn’t peace; that’s is slavery. And what of the generations to follow? Do you continue to alter the minds of the children and grandchildren until the end of time? No. The change must come willingly from within the people.”

  Jayden sniffed. “I guess you’ve never been to a farming town. People don’t change. Not really. They like things to stay the same. It makes them feel safe.” Even as the words escaped his lips, he knew that he had heard them from someone else. Millet, perhaps? Whenever the old man had c
onsumed a bit too much wine, his mood often became dark and cynical.

  “And yet here you sit before me,” she pointed out. “In your village, are you not known to be the son of an elf and a human?”

  “My family is rich compared to the rest,” he countered. “We employ half of Sharpstone. And most of the other half owes us something. They don’t accept me. They tolerate me.”

  “Tolerance is a start,” she said. “It is a foundation from which understanding can be built.”

  “But how is tolerance based on the fear of my father’s wealth and influence any different from using the flow of the spirit?”

  “Because they still have a choice. They can choose to risk the wrath of your father. Should he alter their minds with the flow, the choice is taken away.”

  Jayden considered this. In truth, it would not be his father that Sharpstone needed to fear. It was his mother. More than once, in his early youth, she had lashed out at someone for making a derogatory comment about him or his sisters. It didn’t take long before it was well understood that such behavior would provoke swift retribution. Jayden felt certain she would never become seriously violent. Regardless of this, elves were still feared, and the people of Sharpstone were far less convinced of his mother’s restraint. As for his father, he would shrug such nonsense off as ignorant banter.

  Sayia breathed a heavy sigh. “You make me wary of teaching you this power. Unlocking the mysteries of the spirit is a tremendous responsibility. The damage you can do should you decide to abuse it is incalculable.”

  A flash of irritation shot through him. “I thought you were showing me how to conceal my heritage, not alter minds.”

  “I am showing you how to manipulate the flow of the spirit so as to alter the perceptions of others. Were you an elf child, I would not be as concerned. As it is, you are the son of a god. You are also young. Perhaps too young to use your gifts wisely.”

  Once again, his anger flared. “You don’t know me. I don’t care what that damned prophecy says. I’m not going to try to rule the bloody world.”

  “It was a vision, not a prophecy. Or to be more accurate, a warning. At least, that’s how I interpret it...a warning that should not go unheeded.” She regarded him closely. “Look at yourself, Jayden. Even now the rage is boiling in your veins.”

  “You act like being angry is some strange thing.”

  “For you, anger is dangerous. Perhaps not now. But one day, when you’ve learned to use your powers, it could be.”

  He wondered if this was what his parents thought about him too. Still, this woman was infuriating in a way that seemed to bring out the worst in him. “Either teach me or don’t,” he snapped. “I’m tired of all your lectures and accusations.”

  After a long moment of thought, she nodded. “Indeed. I have no choice, do I? Events will unfold as they must. Right now, seeing that you are safely delivered has to be my priority.”

  “Then why don’t we get started?”

  Although his gruff tone might have disguised it, Jayden was caught off guard by her apparent concession. There was also something about her tone and the way she gazed at him that he found unsettling.

  Sayia’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer. She then closed them and folded her hands in her lap. “Let us begin by breathing,” she said. “Slow, steady breaths.”

  He shut his eyes and did as instructed. For more than ten minutes this continued without pause. Soon, he became restless.

  “You’re not concentrating,” Sayia scolded. “Focus.”

  “On what?”

  “The rhythm of your heart and the sound of the air as it enters your lungs. You must shut out everything else.”

  Unwilling to appear an impatient youth, Jayden suppressed his irritation and set about fully focusing his mind. After several minutes of this he was finally able to do as instructed, successfully blocking out all but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and breathing. He had seen Linis do this a number of times while they were on hunting excursions. On a few occasions he had even tried to imitate the elf, but youthful restlessness soon had him distracted.

  He was on the verge of giving up when a rush of warm air passed over him, and for the briefest of moments, he felt himself become completely weightless. His eyes shot open. Sayia was nowhere to be seen. Scrambling to his feet, he searched for his sword. He knew full well that he had placed it alongside his pack. That too was no longer there.

  Jayden’s heart pounded loudly in his ears. The campsite had not changed. The fire still crackled brightly, and all the rest of their gear was exactly where they had placed it. Even the surrounding trees and shrubs appeared the same.

  “There is nothing to fear, son of Darshan.”

  The voice was deep and commanding, and came from all directions.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded. “Who are you?”

  A single coin-sized point of light flickered into existence a few feet in front of him, followed quickly by a second light a short distance further away. Gradually, these expanded to take on human forms. The one nearest to Jayden was clearly male, though its facial features were undefined. The other remained only loosely human in shape, without any distinguishing characteristics whatsoever.

  “I am impressed that you were able to reach this place,” the man said. “Only a few mortal souls have ever seen it. Of course, I should have known you would come eventually.”

  The figure was tall: a full head taller than himself. As the light radiating from him began to dim, Jayden could make out silver hair and piercing green eyes. His aspect, though still clearly male, bore an almost feminine beauty. He was dressed simply in an open neck blue shirt and black trousers, and a silver horn hung from his belt.

  With the man’s gaze remaining fixed on him, Jayden felt a surge of panic. The penetrating eyes seemed to peer into his very essence. He wanted to run and hide himself away. But try as he might, his legs would not move and he could not look away.

  “Enough,” called another voice that came from the second figure. This one was soft and definitely feminine. “You will abide by our agreement, Saraf.”

  The man looked over his shoulder, his expression twisted into a deep scowl. “I have no intention of breaking our agreement, sister. I was only trying to prevent him from fleeing.”

  “You were trying to frighten him,” she countered, her tone hardening.

  The man shrugged. “I never agreed to be gentle.”

  “Saraf?” Jayden’s voice was barely a whisper. His thoughts instantly turned to Sayia.

  “The elf woman is unharmed,” Saraf assured him, reading his thoughts. “Her spirit is merely delayed so that we can have this opportunity to speak.”

  With a great effort, Jayden forced his nerves to calm. He would not cower to this…thing. This god who supposedly wanted him dead. “Where am I?” he demanded.

  “Exactly where you were before,” Saraf replied. “At least, your body is. As for the rest of you – that is another matter. If my dear sister would allow it, I could show you. The trouble is, she fears it might be more than your mind could handle.”

  “So it’s the spirit realm.”

  Saraf raised an eyebrow. “Very good. Your father has told you more than I would have thought.”

  “My father told me nothing. It was my mother.”

  “Oh, yes. The elf who fancies herself a goddess,” he sneered.

  “Do not speak ill of my mother.”

  Saraf chuckled. “Such courage to speak thusly to a god. Then again, I suppose you are practically one of us.”

  Jayden could hear the sarcasm bleeding into his tone. His anger flared. “I’m nothing like you. And would I never want to be.”

  “Oh, but you are. In fact, I am surprised your father has not explained to you just how powerful you really are. You could have even rivaled the Reborn King had your true nature been revealed to you sooner. Alas, Darshan chose to keep you blind…and mortal. Such a waste.”

  “What have you done to
my father?” he demanded.

  Saraf flicked his wrist, causing a wooden chair to appear on either side of the fire. “Please, sit. We need to talk.”

  Jayden stood firm. “Tell me where he is. Then we can talk.”

  Saraf sat anyway. Leaning casually back, he said: “All you need know is that your father is beyond your reach. But seeing as how your mother’s life is at stake, you would be wise to listen to what I have to say.”

  Reluctantly, knowing that he had no real choice in the matter, Jayden complied. He had heard tales of people falling to their knees and weeping at the mere sight of a god; all he wanted to do was lash out. The awe and wonder he would have expected to feel were totally absent.

  “If you have hurt either one of them,” he growled in his most threatening tone.

  Saraf laughed boisterously, slapping his thigh several times in amusement. “What will you do? Kill me? I am afraid not even Darshan himself could have done that. And though you have potential, Jayden, your threats are empty. You would do best to save them.”

  His anger was close to full-blown rage. “Say what you’ve come to say and be done with it.”

  “I can see the hatred inside you,” Saraf remarked. “It festers like an open wound. Not that I blame you. You have been denied your destiny for no other reason than fear. Even one such as I would find myself embittered over this blatant deception. You are undeserving of this.”

  His expression softened, becoming kind and almost fatherly. “I can help you. I can undo what has been done. Through me, you can become what you were always meant to be.”

  Jayden sniffed. “So you would make me a god? Is that it?”

  “You are a god already. At least in part. But you are tainted by the blood of mortal beings. I can cleanse you and make you whole. Through me, death and disease will never touch you.”

  “And what must I do to receive this generous offer. Bow, scrape, and pray to you?”

  Saraf frowned. “Do not mock me, boy. Should you reject me, you will not achieve victory. In the end, you will die…as will your mother. Your spirit will dwell here, in this place, for all eternity. Heaven will be denied you. And I can promise, the gentle forest you see now will be replaced by a never-ending landscape of fire and dust.”