Relic of the God

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Valanis stretched out his hand and examined the crude ring, forged by the ranger. The black crystal inside was his only ally.

  It will suffice, Paldora’s voice carried from the chamber behind him.

  Valanis left the wet balcony and entered the warmth of his bedchamber. The elf removed his mask and lifted his hood, allowing his blond hair to flow over his dark robes and armour. The rain poured off of him, soaking the rugs under his feet. Valanis cared little, his attention on the gods. He waited, as he always did, for the gods to speak to him again. When last they communed, he had been shown the ancient spears of silvyr, but since then he had been left to instruct himself on the use of Paldora’s gem.

  Then it hit him.

  Valanis cried out in agony, sure that someone had just run a spike through his head. The dark elf dropped his knees once more, unable to hold himself up under the pain. His hands gripped the sides of his head, clawing at his skull to find the cause of his torture, but there was nothing except more pain. The sound of the dying storm disappeared along with his own screams, leaving him in a void filled with the cries of the gods. A dozen or more voices called out from the ether in distress. It was overwhelming for the herald.

  “Stop!” Valanis shouted. “Please, stop!”

  The voices continued to amplify until he could take it no more. The colours of his chamber faded away and the abyss rose up to swallow him. When at last he opened his eyes, the howl of the wind was the only thing that filled his ears. The doors to his balcony bashed against the stone, jarring his acute senses. Valanis found himself on his back in the middle of the bedchamber. There was a thick tension lying over the room, so palpable that he could feel it pressing upon his skin.

  The gods were here…

  Valanis got to his feet and hurried down the stone halls, navigating the maze of tunnels until he found the jagged rock of Vengora and the pools of Naius. Here, the power of the gods was magnified to a point that Valanis felt he could reach out and touch them.

  “What is happening?” he asked the empty cavern.

  The Veil! The scream echoed through his mind but he couldn't tell who had said it.

  The Veil has been found… It was Naius’ voice this time.

  He has been taken from us! Paldora’s cry was one of great distress.

  Valanis continued to turn on the spot, hoping to glimpse a shade of the gods. “Who has been taken?” He didn't understand.

  He isn't powerful enough! another god argued.

  He has the gem! Paldora protested.

  A shard! It isn't enough, a deep, male voice replied.

  Valanis was starting to feel dizzy again. No one, mortal or immortal, was meant to hear the gods contest each other.

  Krayt is gone! a female voice cried.

  Valanis looked up, stunned to hear such a proclamation. He must have heard it wrong, he thought. How could the god of war be gone?

  Valanis… Atilan’s distinguishable voice called to him from the nearest pools of glowing crystals. Valanis… The crystals rippled in response to the king of the gods.

  The herald cautiously looked over the edge of the pool, his purple eyes fixed on the shifting crystals. Atilan called to him again and he hesitantly dipped one hand into the pool. After a moment, Valanis felt another hand beneath the surface grasp onto his own. It was beyond strong, a vice would better describe the hold it had over him. Instinctively, Valanis pulled away but his hand would not follow. Instead, the other hand pulled him down until his entire body was dragged beneath the crystals.

  Atilan’s power consumed him. Valanis felt two hands grip both sides of his jaw and wrench his entire being open from the head down. The power and magic that filled his body took the herald’s consciousness to another place, a place where physical beings had no meaning. Flashes of light filled his vision, though he knew he wasn't looking through eyes anymore. There was no sense of self but, instead, an awareness of places, parts of the world where the well of magic was strong enough to pull his gaze.

  You see now… Atilan’s voice came from everywhere in the void.

  The flashes of colour and various landscapes changed to that of an enormous mountain Valanis had never seen before. Another flash of light had his newfound sight penetrating the rock and peering inside. An explosion rocked a cavern inside and Valanis discovered a sense of what had happened rather than witnessing the events. He knew a battle had taken place inside the mountain and that a tremendous amount of magic had been expelled. The Veil had been inside…

  This form of sight was unfamiliar and disorientating. Atilan’s presence enveloped him and guided his vision, giving him knowledge of a body that now lay charred and left to rot under the mountain.

  Lord Krayt…

  Valanis knew he should be shocked to learn of this, but in this place, he felt as if he already knew the god was lying dead. The more he thought about it, he just knew that the mountain was in Ayda and named after the king of dragons, Garganafan. The only revelation that Valanis kept to himself was that the gods could be killed after finding their physical form.

  Krayt was weak! Atilan pressed upon him in such a way that Valanis feared he would be unmade. The herald knew it to be foolish to think that his thoughts weren't laid out for Atilan like the pages of a book.

  In this new place, between Verda and the heavens, Valanis had only to think it and the answer would find him. He wanted to know what could kill a god and the knowledge brought with it a sight he had not seen for millennia. The dark elf was now looking down, through the roof of the world, over The Adean, where a green dragon glided on the wind. Atop the dragon was a rider.

  A man, Atilan confirmed. A new generation of Dragorn has risen to oppose us.

  Without any physical lips, mouth or voice box, Valanis didn't have the ability to scoff at such a thing. How could a man become a Dragorn? he thought.

  Do not underestimate humanity, Atilan continued. They are more powerful than you know, especially this one. He is more than just a man now. He is immortal. He is a godkiller…

  Valanis wanted to gain more knowledge about the rider, but everything became more distorted as he focused on the dragon.

  You have seen all that we can show you, the king of the gods said. Kill the Dragorn and retrieve The Veil. Then you will have proven yourself worthy…

  Valanis knew he should have been satisfied with being worthy of the gods and seeing to their return, but there was something to the way Atilan had spoken to him, as if there was something more.

  Do as I have commanded, Valanis, and you will see yourself risen to that of a god… the god of war!

  Valanis burst from the pool of crystals, gasping for breath. He had no idea how long he had been under or if there had been more to his conversation with Atilan. The dark elf heaved himself over the rocks and onto the cold floor, panting as he tried to make sense of what and where he had been. It felt as if centuries had gone by since Atilan offered him a place among the pantheon, and for a moment he doubted the whole experience.

  With a boost of magic, he recovered in seconds and found his feet again. It was strange to have limbs and nerves and senses again. When he closed his eyes he could still see the green dragon and its rider flying over the ocean, flying towards him. The rider had The Veil. As the gods had foretold, the immortal man would bring him his greatest desire, and with it, he would then claim the title of god.

  The god of war… Valanis liked the sound of that.

  35

  Where the world collides

  Reyna did her best to take it all in, to soak up every moment in the hopes of remembering this time of peace with her friends and the ones she loved. Doran and Glaide had shown them to a grotesquely long dining table, apparently favoured by the kings and queens of Illian, and taken advantage of the abandoned kitchens. The princess had sat for some time with her head leaning against Faylen’s shoulder, just watching as the rangers and Nathaniel swapped stories of their separate journeys north. Even Tai’garn spoke up, regaling them
with older stories of Illian.

  For one perfect moment, Reyna was able to pretend Velia wasn't under siege and the world wasn't about to be plunged into a never-ending war. It was only for a moment…

  The distant booming could not be ignored for long. The Darkakin were only hours away from breaking Tai’garn’s shield and reducing the gates to burning splinters. A particularly loud explosion sounded from the open door, leading to the open garden.

  “I’ll take a look,” Nathaniel said, pushing his plate away.

  Reyna watched the knight walk away and she felt the urge to accompany him, as she often did. The princess knew that she needed to speak with Nathaniel before the real fighting begun, though the thought of it made her heart flutter and blood rush to her face. There was no denying how she felt for the Graycoat, and being on the edge of a battle that could easily claim all of their lives made it ridiculous that she would push him away because of his limited lifespan. This should be the time they enjoyed together as perhaps the last great thing they ever experienced.

  The princess squeezed her mentor’s arm before getting up. Faylen was her rock and it lifted Reyna’s spirits to feel her whole again. She could only hope to attain Tai’garn’s healing abilities, though the thought of being more than two-thousand years old was hard to imagine without having even three decades to her name.

  Reyna made for the balcony, expecting to see a warning look from Faylen, but the elf simply smiled. It was a warm smile that she rarely saw on her mentor’s face. With a single expression, Faylen had given Reyna her blessing to pursue Nathaniel, not that the princess required it, but it certainly helped.

  The sun was rising from somewhere behind the palace, setting the sky alight with shades of pink that chased the stars away. The serene vista was stained with the continuous exchange of fireballs and everything below the horizon was tainted by the black mass of Darkakin. Had the princess been in Elandril, in the heart of Ayda’s forests, the dawn would have been accompanied by birdsong and the rustle of ancient trees. Here, nature was drowned out by the chanting of savages. The impacts against Tai’garn’s shield were enough to keep birds away for miles.

  Nathaniel glanced back at her from the railing. “Our northern catapults have already run dry.”

  Reyna joined him by the edge and looked down at the city. The knight was correct; only the southern catapults continued to fire back at the Darkakin. Beyond the walls, the savages had scattered, taking advantage of the four colossal statues that determined the angle of attack available to the Velians. More fireballs came crashing down on the gates’ shield, each one wearing it down. The princess’ elven eyes could see the flare from every impact becoming dimmer.

  “The shield will break soon,” Reyna commented.

  The two stood side-by-side in silence, both aware that they wanted to say something else. How could it be so hard to say something to the one she… That thought led Reyna to the outcome she had been trying so hard to ignore. It needed saying.

  Both turned to each other and said, “There’s something I need to say…”

  They smiled and shared a laugh. Was Nathaniel going to say what he had always wanted to, as Reyna was about to, or was he going to agree with her previous sentiment and tell her it was right that they should stay apart? The princess looked up into his dark eyes and knew that she would always find happiness there, even if it would be brief, it would be happiness.

  Both attempted to speak again, but Nathaniel said, “I think princesses get the first word.”

  Reyna offered a cheeky grin. “And the last.” Reyna swallowed, aware that the next words out of her mouth would be a proclamation she could never take back. The princess only hoped she hadn't pushed him away already.

  “I think I… That is to say, I know I lo…” Her words were drowned out by the blaring of three massive horns, positioned on Velia’s outer walls. They both turned to the vista and observed the red cloaks dashing about the western edge of the wall. The horns continued to blare out from between the giant statues, though the particular message they were relaying was lost on Reyna.

  “They’re here.” Nathaniel was looking to the north-west, where another army was emerging from behind the treeline and over the ridge.

  Reyna’s eyes took in the detail of the newcomers, but even a human could see the golden lion Sigil against the white banners. The men from Namdhor marched over the land in golden armour and flowing white cloaks, each wielding a spear and a sword. Their king, Merkaris Tion, rode in the lead with an entourage of knights on horseback. The individual details were impossible to make out from the balcony, but it could only be the king of the north with such a guard.

  “Oh no…” Reyna caught sight of the war machines that would change the state of Velia’s defences.

  “What do you see?” Nathaniel asked.

  They were visible over the tops of the trees, but they soon came into the open fields for all to see. “They brought siege towers,” Reyna replied.

  The Darkakin were already reacting to the Northmen and making room for the towers to pass through their ranks. Trolls were jabbed by elongated spears and directed towards the towers, where the Darkakin forced the beasts to take over from the knights of Namdhor. Their thick chains were attached to the sides of the towers, keeping the trolls in place. The roars of giants reached a new crescendo and the hulking creatures beat their chests like drums. Some were too far for Reyna to see, but those closest to the walls were adorned in an armour made from a mismatch of Karathan shields, no doubt picked from the battlefield at Syla’s Gate.

  Asher was the first to join them on the balcony. “We have to get to the walls,” the ranger insisted. He turned to Tai’garn. “Can you bring down those towers?”

  The elder looked up at the cloudless sky. “Possibly. But it will take time.”

  “We’ll buy you what we can,” Asher replied, “but time is no longer our ally.”

  Faylen emerged from the palace and threw Reyna’s enchanted bow into the princess’ hand. “The Velians are going to need your aim,” she said quietly.

  There was a lot to take from Faylen’s simple statement, but Reyna didn't have time to dwell on her mentor’s new found confidence in her. The princess shared a silent discussion with Nathaniel, each telling the other that they had to live through this to finish their conversation. A moment later, they were leaving Tai’garn in the garden and sprinting for the wall.

  “Where’s that bloody hog?” Doran shouted down the corridors of the palace. It would be some time before he joined them.

  Navigating the packed streets of Velia was slow work. Reyna periodically looked up at the walls, praying to the gods that the siege towers hadn't arrived yet. Faylen proved that she was back to full health by leading the way. The elf leaped over carts, abandoned barrels, and supply boxes with the grace of a cat. Stray horses made everything more difficult for the rangers and Nathaniel, who lacked the ability to jump over or slide between the narrow gaps as the elves did.

  “Glaide!” a young voice shouted over the din. “Asher!” Tauren came running out of a side-street amid a team of horses who were creating chaos in every direction.

  “Tauren!” Glaide guided the southerner to his voice.

  One of the fleeing horses became distressed between them and reared up on its hind legs. Reyna moved with uncanny speed and scooped the child up who was seconds away from being trampled to death. A manic-looking mother gladly took her daughter back and disappeared into the throng, while Nathaniel jumped in and grabbed the horse by the reins.

  “Easy, boy!” the Graycoat did his best to calm the horse.

  “Where did they all come from?” Glaide asked.

  Tauren wiped the sweat from his brow. “I was making sure they were secure in the stables,” he explained, “when Hector became spooked.”

  “Hector?” Asher echoed in disbelief.

  “Yes. Glaide found him after Syla’s Gate.” Tauren looked over his shoulder at the mess. “He likes to run…” />
  Asher smiled. “Usually away.”

  Reyna’s attention was called by the movement in the corner of her eye. Ezeric and Nalmar were dashing across the rooftops, avoiding the crowds, and heading for the outer walls. Both Faylen and herself were trained to fight with a multitude of weapons, but it had been a while since she had witnessed elven warriors in battle. They would prove quite the sight.

  “We cannot linger,” Faylen reminded them.

  Along with Tauren, the companions ran for the stairs that zig-zagged up the western wall. A battalion of Karathan warriors had taken up stations behind the main gates, easily identified by their black cloaks beside the Velians in red. Most gave Tauren a nod as they ran past, but the young man followed Reyna and the others up the stairs.

  Ezeric and Nalmar were already standing on the battlements, wedged between rows of Velian soldiers. Asher and Nathaniel jogged down the line, searching for a better vantage. Glaide, however, was sitting at the top of the stairs, resting on his knees with a sheen of sweat on his bald head.

  “I’m going to find General Kail,” Tauren said. “Some of his men cannot understand the language these northerners speak.”

  “Be safe,” Reyna offered. “Fight hard.”

  Tauren pulled free the two short-swords sitting upside down on his back. “Is there any other way to fight?”

  Glaide finally stood up and shrugged off his heavy, leather-hide coat. “I’m getting too old for this…” The ranger was wearing light-armour and chainmail. Seeing him now, ready for battle, Reyna couldn't imagine a world in which Glaide had ever been a tailor.

  “Reyna!” Nathaniel shouted down the battlement.

  Faylen joined her in running to their side, just to the right of the main gates below. Be it her regal status or her elven nature, the men of Velia moved aside and allowed the two elves to stand at the front. To their left, above the main gates, the battlements were raised, giving the king of Velia the perfect view of the army that had come to crush his kingdom. Lord Marshal Horvarth of the Graycoats stood beside him with his thumbs hooked into his belt. Surprisingly, Hadavad was among the elite with her staff at the ready. General Falcor stood behind them, pacing as he barked orders across both sides of the wall, sending runners up and down to relay the orders to nock arrows.