Relic of the God

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  The two enjoyed their short reprieve, laughing and playing in the river until the cold was too much for Gideon to stand. Creating a small fire was easy when your companion was a dragon, and so the pair sat in the field, under the stars and the moon. Ilargo’s body was enough to keep him warm while most of his clothes dried by the fire, and his wings kept the breeze at bay.

  We will leave at dawn, Ilargo said, his voice barely a whisper as sleep crept up on him.

  We might even get there before the others, Gideon offered.

  Ilargo had no reply, but for a gentle snore. Gideon smiled; he would remind the dragon of that fact in the morning. He closed his eyes and nestled into the Ilargo’s warm scales, his thoughts drifting through memories of Adriel.

  “I am not the last Dragorn,” Adriel had said to Krayt before he died. Gideon fell asleep, believing with all his heart that he would not be the last Dragorn. That, he would make certain of…

  33

  Knock, knock

  Asher rose from his slumber with a start, as he often did these days. One hand dropped to his side, feeling for Paldora’s gem, while the other gripped around the hilt of his double-handed broadsword, but the ranger stopped himself from pulling the blade free, stunned as he was by the beautiful face in front of him.

  “Faylen…” he whispered.

  The elf was kneeling before him with her hand cupping his stubbly cheek, while her eyes looked over every inch of his face. It was dark now, though when Asher had sat against the tree to rest it had been midday. How long had he slept?

  Any questions he might ask were interrupted by the sound of a distant booming that resounded across the city. Judging by the direction and sound, he guessed it to be the main gates that fell under attack. The ranger made to move and Faylen placed a firm but gentle hand on his chest.

  “Shh…” the elf assured. “It started some time ago.”

  Asher couldn't believe her words. How could that sound pass him by and not wake him? The ranger turned to look around the tree, where he saw Tai’garn and the other two elves standing by the edge of the garden in the manner of sentinels. Reyna was still asleep, sat with her back to Nathaniel’s legs, who had fallen asleep on the bench, and her head resting against his leg. Tauren and the rangers were notably absent, disorientating Asher all the more.

  “You were exhausted,” Faylen continued. “You needed rest, as I did.”

  Asher returned his attention to the elf and took the hand on his chest in his own, gripping it tightly. “You don't have a scratch on you…” he said in disbelief.

  Faylen smiled, glancing at Tai’garn. “The magic of an elder should not be underestimated.” The elf looked down at her left shoulder with a furrowed brow. “Though it seems I will be left with some scars. The spell Alidyr inflicted on me cannot be entirely removed.”

  Asher didn’t like the sound of that. “He can't possess you though…”

  Faylen smiled again and the ranger couldn't help but mimic her. “That wretch holds no sway over me, you all took care of that in Barrosh. I am merely scarred for the experience.” The elf pulled her hand free and turned Asher’s jaw to the side. “As are you, it seems. I did this…”

  The ranger couldn't bear to see her face fall as it did. “You are not to blame for my wounds or even Reyna’s. There is only one who will pay.”

  Faylen nodded in agreement, even if her eyes didn’t. “I have spoken with Tai’garn. He says you don't know where Alidyr is.”

  “He’s probably out there,” Asher nodded his chin over his shoulder, “with the rest of the Darkakin, looking for a way in.”

  “Still no luck with the gem?” she asked quietly.

  Asher sighed. “Not yet. I am immune to magic again, though. So that’s progress,” he added sarcastically.

  “We’ll find a way,” Faylen promised.

  Her words took a hold of him and settled his emotions. The ranger cupped her face in his rough hand. “I thought we were going to lose you again.”

  Faylen held her hand over his and offered a reassuring smile. “I am made of stronger stuff, Outlander.” The two stifled their laughs, enjoying the moment. They shared a moment of silence, meeting each other’s eyes under the canopy of the old tree. “Thank you,” the elf finally said. “Besides all that you have done for me, you stayed by Reyna’s side and did what I could not.”

  Asher let his hand drop from her face. “If you’re talking about protecting her…”

  “No,” Faylen cut in. “You were just there, both of you.” The elf turned to regard Nathaniel as well. “The two of you have been a constant reminder that Illian is to be shared, not fought over. When this is over, Reyna will see to peace between our people because of the world you have shown her… because of the love you have shown her.”

  Asher took in the sight of the young lovers. “Do you think it’s possible?” he asked. “Can there ever be more than just an accord between our kin?”

  Faylen met his eyes again, holding him in place. “Perhaps when this war is over, we’ll find out.”

  Her words released a new spring of hope inside Asher. The ranger felt as if he had come up for air and found a new world beyond the one he had been living in, a world of promise and new beginnings.

  “Suddenly I feel as if I could end this war all by myself…” he said with a cocky smile.

  The elf pulled away. “Come on,” Faylen bade with an overweening smile of her own. She held a finger to her lips, gesturing to Reyna. “It took some time to get her to rest after she found me well again. I would have her sleep a little longer.”

  The ranger stood up, careful not to make too much noise and disturb the younger pair. The distant booming continued with steady intervals; there was no way anyone else in Velia was sleeping tonight.

  “What the hell is that?” he asked.

  Faylen joined him by the edge of the balcony, though the ranger noticed that their presence didn't turn a single head among the other elves. Asher followed their intense gaze down over the city, to the main gates. Despite the distance from the elevated gardens, the solid wood didn't appear to move under the constant barrage of flaming projectiles. Beyond the gates, the fields of Velia were blanketed by Darkakin, whose details were highlighted by the giant catapults being fitted with fresh boulders and set alight. Every catapult was aimed at the gate, but the silence between each impact was punctuated by the monotonous cheering of the savages.

  “They’ve been at it for some time,” Faylen said. “Still the gate holds.”

  Asher turned to Tai’garn. “How long will your shield hold?”

  “Under that strain?” Tai’garn replied. “Not long enough. I was only a child when we exiled the Darkakin, but I thought they were an unruly mob of savages. This is too… coordinated.”

  Asher’s memories were something of a blur from the last couple of days and he couldn't remember all the details they had given the elder. “When they caught up with us in Calmardra,” the ranger explained, “we came across Thallan Tassariӧn.”

  “The master of the sword...” Tai’garn said, settling Asher’s lapse in memory.

  Asher could still remember fighting the dark elf after meeting Reyna and Faylen, though it felt a lifetime ago now. “I had the impression he was in charge of the army.”

  “He is a powerful foe,” the elder leaned against the stone railing. “It is said he cannot be beaten with his sword in his hand.”

  “As powerful as he is,” Faylen said, “his blade cannot open those gates or bring down the walls. We have Adellum’s bow and Nakir Galvӧrd is buried under the rubble of Syla’s Gate.”

  Another fireball lit up the sky and came crashing down on the gate. The flare from Tai’garn’s shield flashed over the high walls and the orange glare from the fire below created an aura above the gate.

  The elder turned away from the barrage. “Valanis has lost two of his generals, a feat that would have all of you recorded in history, but it is the remaining three who concern me. You believe tha
t Alidyr is with Thallan out there somewhere, but where is Samandriel Zathya? We faced her in Darkwell,” Tai’garn explained. “She led the forces of King Tion, from the north.”

  “The king of the north is yet to show himself,” Asher said, his eyes scanning the vast army spread out before them. “We may have your answer when he does.” The ranger kept his true feelings from spilling out. He had wanted to speak of the hopelessness when faced with another army besides the ten-thousand chanting in front of them.

  “Why is nobody talking about it?” Reyna asked suddenly from behind the group. Nathaniel was by her side appearing slightly disoriented. “We’re faced with overwhelming odds from not one but two armies. The Lirian forces won't reach us in time, but you say our own kin are closer to these shores than that of Ayda’s. Why are we not contacting my father and talking about an alliance?”

  Tai’garn was the last to face the princess. “King Elym is already aware of the Darkakin. He was informed before your arrival.” The elder glanced at the other elves, a look the ranger didn't miss. “The invasion is still to go ahead as planned.”

  Asher definitely didn't miss the looks exchanged between the elven warriors. Talking about the invasion in front of those they planned on slaughtering was not strategically correct. The ranger subtly shifted his hand so that the hilt of his broadsword was only inches away.

  “Then…” Reyna swallowed hard before continuing, “give me your diviner and I will speak to him.”

  Tai’garn made to speak but the tallest of the warriors interrupted. “This is not something we should discuss so openly.”

  Tai’garn held up his hand, silencing the elf. “Are you so blind, Ezeric, that you cannot see what is front of you. This is no longer a fight for land or birthright. This battle will finish a war that started before you were born, a war started by Valanis, not man.” The elder looked at Reyna and Faylen. “There are only two among our kin who have seen humanity for what it has become. They see peace where we see violence. I remember those days…”

  Ezeric pressed on. “These savages are no match -”

  The elder whipped his head around, silencing the warrior with a look this time. “Disobey me and suffer my disappointment. Disobey our princess and suffer the punishment. You forget your place, Ezeric.”

  The warrior averted his eyes and bowed without another word. The elder appeared far too young to command such respect and authority, though, for just a moment, Asher wondered if he had ever seen the elf as a boy, during his days under Nalana’s tutelage.

  “Alas, Princess Reyna,” Tai’garn continued, “I have already tried to reach King Elym. The diviners are failing to make any connection.” Reyna’s shoulders sagged in dismay.

  “How is that possible?” Faylen asked.

  Tai’garn replied, “I have seen magic such as this in the past, during the Dark War. Valanis would ensure that aid could never be called upon.”

  Nathaniel walked over to the rail and narrowed his vision, searching the centre mass of the Darkakin. “We would know if Valanis was here. It must be Alidyr or Thallan.”

  Another explosion rattled through the city, only this time it was accompanied by screams. Asher dashed to the rail and peered out across the night, fearing the worst. The gates were still intact, but the last fireball had missed the mark and struck the top of the wall, blasting a handful of Velian soldiers into oblivion. Red cloaks ran about with buckets of water, but the ranger’s attention was pulled to the shouting that echoed from different parts of the city.

  “It seems King Rengar has had enough,” Nathaniel commented.

  Asher agreed as he watched the first salvo from the Velian catapults take flight. There weren't nearly as many as the Darkakin possessed and the Velians had the harder task of aiming every shot between the four massive statues.

  “Attacking them might see their strategy shifted,” Reyna observed. “The city itself may now be targeted...”

  They watched in silence, waiting for any break in the Darkakins’ routine, but still the fireballs collided with Tai’garn’s shield. The Velians never failed to wreak havoc among the savages, who were all tightly packed together on the field. Those who narrowly avoided being killed by the fireballs were sent running through the bulk of the army, their bodies set alight.

  “Thallan keeps them on a tight leash,” Tai’garn said. “We are safe, for now.”

  The clangour of Doran’s heavy armour couldn't be mistaken, as the dwarf came up behind them with Glaide by his side. Asher noted the general weariness that Glaide wore, reminding the ranger that his old friend was just that, old. This was not the kind of battle a man in his mid-sixties should take part in, but being on this side of the walls left them all with very few options.

  “Is it time for the fightin’ yet?” Doran spat between mouthfuls of pork he tore from the bone in his hand.

  “Not quite, master dwarf,” Reyna replied with the slightest curl of a smile. “I hope that isn't your warhog…”

  Doran examined his pork bone with a furrowed brow, an expression that had the dwarf’s bushy eyebrows concealing his eyes. “Bah!” he waved the notion away. “I’d like to see anyone try and eat that old piece of leather. Even in death, he’d choke ye until ye joined him!”

  “Where’s Tauren?” Asher asked.

  Glaide looked beyond them, to the battlements below. “He went to help coordinate the Karathan soldiers so that they might be of better help to the Velians.”

  Doran waved his pork in the air. “He’s a good lad that one!”

  Asher couldn't disagree, especially having seen him in battle. He was definitely the son of Salim Al-Anan, there was no question there. The ranger could see a little of himself in the younger man, though that wasn't a good thing. Asher worried that Tauren would throw himself into the battle to come. The southerner was not a casualty his people could afford.

  “What about Hadavad?” Nathaniel inquired.

  Asher had learned long ago not to ask about the mage, Hadavad had a tendency to do as he pleased in the most mysterious of manners and without explanation.

  “I think she’s with Tauren,” Glaide replied.

  “I take it Kaleb Jordain is passed out somewhere?” Tai’garn asked.

  “It seems ye’ve got the measure of him.” Doran laughed between mouthfuls.

  Glaide explained, “He mentioned something about finding an open tavern…”

  His was a sword Asher had never come to depend upon. The disgraced knight knew nothing but drinking and making easy coin, something he wouldn't find in a city under siege.

  “Perhaps we should follow his example,” Tai’garn said unexpectedly, “and seek out sustenance for ourselves. This battle will not be fought in a single day or night. We must be ready for it.”

  Asher had avoided battles such as this his entire life, just as every Arakesh had. He wasn't trained for prolonged fighting. His days in Nightfall had been about honing his skills to that of a surgical blade, to be precise and deliver a strike that only needed one blow. Fighting at Syla’s Gate and West Fellion had taken it out of him, though Paldora’s gem had healed him after fighting alongside the Graycoats. If it weren't for Reyna’s magic he would still be suffering from his injuries in The Arid Lands. It felt out of place to seek food and drink when the city was under attack, but the elder was right, they had to be ready.

  “What do we do when my father arrives?” Reyna asked pointedly.

  The ranger had been around Faylen long enough now to see the subtle changes in her expression, changes that gave away her feelings. It appeared the arrival of Reyna’s father was something the elf had given consideration, but Faylen offered no solution.

  Tai’garn looked out at their foe. “One problem at a time, Princess Reyna. One problem at a time...”

  Asher could see that the elder’s answer would not sit well with Reyna, but it was hard to argue from such a dire situation as theirs. The ranger, however, did disagree with Tai’garn’s choice of words. He saw not one prob
lem, but ten-thousand…

  34

  A death in the family

  Valanis clenched his fist, squeezing every ounce of power from the shard of Paldora’s gem. Above him, the elf had conjured a storm to consume all storms, filling the black clouds with lightning, each a bolt of his rage lashing down on Verda. Sleet and rain swirled about Kaliban in a hailstorm strong enough to rip entire villages from the ground. Slabs, the size of houses, exploded from the mountainside under the bombardment of lightning.

  There was more, he could feel it. Under the surface lay a vast font of magic just waiting to be tapped and unleashed upon the world. Valanis gritted his teeth, relying more and more on the shard to offer him some semblance of control and allow him to reach his full potential. The elf’s hands shook and his veins glowed under his skin. An animalistic roar erupted from his lips and drowned out the thunder before he fell to his knees.

  The shard offered him more control than he had ever claimed during The Dark War, but it wasn't enough. Naius’ magic demanded a stronger vessel, though Valanis knew there was none more worthy of it than he, for why else would the gods have chosen him? He could only tap into the god’s magic from inside the pools, but the crystal pools were no place for the herald of life’s creators. Valanis needed to be out there, leading the realm into a new era.

  The dark elf stared at the sky, watching nature resume control of the storm he had mustered. The rain slowly died away and the lightning danced through the clouds rather than strike the mountain. Valanis had tested himself and found nothing but failure. The last time he had fought against dragons he had the advantage of an elven army fighting under his banner. The Darkakin had proven efficient at capturing and killing individual dragons, but they were no match for what he felt had emerged in the east. The armies of the north, under King Tion, were no better. The men of Namdhor would crumple under the shadow of a single dragon, let alone dozens. No, he thought, he would be the one to deal with them.