The Godling Chronicles (Shadow of the Gods, Book #3) (25 page)

“
Laugh if you want,” said Gewey. His
eyes narrowed and his legs parted. “But if I were you, I'd be
running.”

The Vrykol smiled. “Excellent advice. But,
we'll meet again, Gewey Stedding. Or should I call you, Darshan?”
With that he turned and disappeared behind the Soufis lines.

The moment he was out of sight, the Soufis
bowmen notched their arrows and fired. Gewey raised his hand and a
blast of wind sent the arrows falling harmlessly to the ground. The
Soufis took a step back, looking confused, and murmuring with doubt
and fear. Before they could decide on their actions, Gewey let
loose a great ball of flame into the heart of the lines. Twenty men
fell instantly, while several others rolled screaming in the sand
trying to put themselves out. This was enough to send the rest
scattering. But Gewey was in no mood to be merciful. He sent
another flame streaking across the ground. The sand crackled and
popped as the flames surrounded the remaining Soufis. He tightened
the circle forcing them together. A few tried to run through the
fire, but were roasted alive before they reached the other
side.

“
Die!” Gewey roared, and closed the
circle.

Cries of pain and desperate pleas for mercy,
went unheard, as the Soufis burned. The flames grew hotter and
taller, until they reached fifty feet in the air. The voices of the
Soufis were silent. Only the roar of Gewey’s anger could be
heard.

As he allowed the flames to subside, Gewey
scanned the area for the Vrykol, but he was already gone. The
burned stumps of the Soufis dotted the sands, and the sickly sweet
smell of charred flesh fill the air. A great circle of pale, green
glass had replaced the desert sand. It glittered in the sun, with
contrasted beauty to the carnage. He turned and ran back to
Aaliyah. When he reached the clearing, she had already dressed her
wound and sheathed her knife. Her face turned grim when she saw
Gewey.

“
They are gone?” she asked.

Gewey relaxed his muscles and nodded. “Yes.
They’re all....gone.” He took her hand and led her from the
clearing.

The image of the flames still remained in his
mind, and as they approached the entrance to the Oasis he halted.
Gewey didn't want her to see what he had done. He almost held her
back as she moved past him and stepped onto the sands. For a moment
she stood silently surveying the carnage. Timidly, he followed her
out.

“
All gone, indeed,” she
remarked.

“
I was just....” Gewey paused. “I was
just so angry.”

“
The wrath of a God is truly not to be
taken lightly.” She turned to him and smiled. Her face was awash
with pity and understanding. “But you did what had to be
done.”

“
I know,” said Gewey. “This is not the
first time I've killed. It’s just I never imagined unleashing such
power.” He held up the medallion around his neck and examined it.
“Only the Gods know what I can do when I learn to use this. I fear
that it may be too much power for me to control.”

“
I doubt it,” said Aaliyah. “The one
you must vanquish wields more power than you can imagine. You will
need this, and more.” She glanced one more time at the smoldering
corpses. “We must go. My time grows short.”

With that they headed off in the direction of
the shore, in hopes that they would make it in time to save
Aaliyah's life. Gewey swore an oath to kill the Vrykol who poisoned
her. He would teach it to fear death.

Chapter 16

Frost covered the bleak landscape as Lee and
Jacob rose from their tent, shivering and rubbing their arms. The
bitter cold of the far north was nothing even a Hazrian Lord could
ignore. Fires already burned around the camp and the scent of bacon
wafted on the frigid air. Darius was already up. Something
uncharacteristic for the fat merchant. He was kneeling down by a
fire, cradling a cup of hot coffee in his gloved hands. Lee and
Jacob joined him.

“
Are you sure about this?” asked
Darius. “It seems foolish to me.”

“
I'm sure,” Lee replied. He grabbed the
tin kettle from the spit and poured himself a cup. “If what I hear
is true, we will gain passage north if we join the army. All new
recruits are brought to Kratis for training and deployment. And
that's where we need to go.”

“
I haven't asked you your true
business,” said Darius. “And I won't. But you seek the palace of
the Reborn King, it would seem. If you do this, you will be caught,
and you will die. You don't want to know the stories I've heard
about what they do to spies.”

“
I can imagine,” Lee said, soberly. The
thought of his son suffering torture caused his stomach to knot.
“Still, we must try.”

“
Well, if I cannot dissuade you,” said
Darius, “at least allow me to help you.” He reached in his coat and
pulled out a piece of folded parchment. “It's a letter of
endorsement stating that you have been in my service for the past
five years. I am known in these parts, so it will pass
scrutiny.”

Lee took it, and smiled gratefully. “Yes.
This will certainly help.”

They ate, and then packed their gear. Fennio
and three others awaited them by the road. Lee knew it was a risk
to travel with the others. Should their cover story be questioned,
any of them could say that Lee and Jacob had only just joined the
caravan. If that happened, the endorsement letter would be a
liability. Darius was there as well, holding five small purses.

“
Alright, lads,” said Darius. “Don't
you ever say I'm not a fair man.” He handed out the purses to the
men. The jingle of coins sounded as they bounced them up and down.
“Don't you go counting it just yet. You've been paid already, so
wait until I'm gone to complain about how little is
there.”

“
Thank you for all your help,” said
Lee. He shook Darius’ hand firmly and smiled.

Darius laugh heartily. “And thank you for
saving my life.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Now go. I have a
business to run, and wine to drink.” He spun on his heels and
strode back to his tent.

The recruiting station was three miles away,
at the Whiterun Pass garrison, just south of the city proper. It
only took them an hour to arrive, but the town could be seen from
more than a mile away. Tall buildings of burgundy stone rose from
behind thick granite walls. Lee was impressed. Cities and towns
this far north were little more than trading posts for the most
part. In fact, Hazrah was by far the largest city north of the
Razor Edge Mountains, and it was small compared to Baltria or
Althetas. Clearly, Angrääl had been hard at work.

The garrison was impressive as well. It
resembled an ancient fortress, similar to those in paintings he had
on his walls back in Sharpstone. The twenty-foot curtain walls were
smooth and seamless, as if carved from a single block, stretching
out two- hundred feet, left to right. In the center, an arched iron
gatehouse door, covered in vicious spikes, was closed shut. At the
corners of the wall, round towers loomed another twenty feet, with
dozens of arrow slits looking outward, and capped with a domed
turret manned by three watches. Atop each turret dome, the now
familiar banner of Angrääl flapped in the strong north wind. The
walls were patrolled by at least two dozen archers and
pike-men.

Just outside the gatehouse door, someone had
set up a long table. Two soldiers stood at both ends, and a
slightly built man in a red linen suit and thick wool coat, sat
taking information from four new recruits. Lee, Jacob and the
others filed in behind them. Each recruit was told to wait a few
feet away from the table after their information had been
taken.

When it was Lee's turn, he handed the
recruiter the letter. The man examined it for a moment, then
sighed.

“
More sell-swords,” he muttered. “Do
you have any military experience?”

“
No, sir,” Lee replied. “But my nephew
and I are both good with a blade. We're from—”

“
I don't care where you're from.” He
glanced up, then shook his head. “I'm sure you are both eager to
join up, so we'll make this quick.”

The man took their names, (the false ones,
naturally), and wrote down what skills they listed. After he
finished, he had them sign a large parchment and instructed them to
wait with the others. After the rest joined them, they huddled
together trying to fight off the cold. For hours they just sat
there as dozens of men came to join. By late afternoon their
numbers had swelled to nearly one-hundred. No offer of food or
drink had been made, so Lee and Jacob shared what little they had
with Fennio and the rest of Darius' former guards, who had clearly
not thought to bring anything for themselves.

An hour before sundown, the recruiter stood
and announced that anyone else who wished to join must return
tomorrow. The two guards picked up the table and followed the man
into the gatehouse. The sun was nearly gone, and the air began to
turn even colder. It wasn't long before the new recruits became
restless, and disgruntled whispers could be heard.

“
Enough of this bloody nonsense,”
yelled a stocky, dark-haired fellow, clad in thick, leather mail.
“I did not come here to freeze and starve.” He strode off
south.

There was a whistle and a thud, as an arrow
pierced the back of the man’s neck. He fell to his knees, grasping
desperately at the arrow, then crumpled to the ground, gurgling his
last breaths.

“
In case you were wondering, you are
not permitted to leave.” A tall, lean man stepped from the
gatehouse. He was wearing a shining metal breast plate with the
broken scales of Angrääl etched in gold across it. His blond hair
was cropped close, and even in the fading light his chiseled
features and square jaw were evident. He was as broad as Lee in the
shoulders and carried himself with supreme confidence. A thick,
heavy broadsword hung from his belt and in his hands a short,
curved bow. He dropped the bow to the ground and walked toward the
men. “I am Captain Faris Lanmore. From the moment you signed your
name, you were in the service of the Reborn King of Angrääl. And as
you can see, we do not tolerate desertion.”

He strolled casually in front of the men.
When he reached Lee he paused. “You have a hard look about you.”
His eyes went to Jacob for a moment. “Is this your son?”

“
No, sir,” replied Lee. “He is my
nephew.”

Captain Lanmore nodded rubbing his chin.
“Then that would make you....Barath. Yes, that’s the name you gave.
I noticed you and your nephew as you approached. You claim to be a
mere sell-sword, here to do some soldiering?”

“
Yes, sir.” Lee tensed.

He pointed to Lee's sword. “That’s quite a
weapon for a sell-sword. Let me see it.”

Lee unsheathed his weapon and handed it to
the captain.

“
Well-balanced,” Lanmore remarked
approvingly. “Superbly crafted. A true master’s sword.” He looked
up at Lee and smiled. “Is that what you are? A sword master
perhaps? By the way you walk I doubt you're a mere sell-sword. I've
been a soldier too long not to notice that.” He handed Lee back his
sword.

Lee returned his sword to his scabbard and
squared his shoulders.

“
And you know when to be silent as
well,” remarked Lanmore. “Good. Very good. Well, whatever you run
from, you need not fear it here. The Reborn King will give you a
new life. Would you like that?”

“
Yes, sir,” Lee replied.

“
I thought as much.” He turned his
attention to the rest of the men. “That goes for everyone. Whoever
you were before, whatever wrongs you have committed, they are, as
of this moment, forgiven. The Reborn King grants you pardon.
Together, we shall forge a new world in his name. We shall sweep
aside the liars and oppressors.” His sword sang as he pulled it
from his scabbard and stepped back. “But be warned. If one of you
seeks to betray us, or fails in his duty, you will find the king’s
justice to be harsh and final.” He turned to the gatehouse and
whistled.

Ten men burst forth carrying sacks of food
and blankets, and distributed them among the recruits. Soon fires
were lit, and the scent of cooked meat permeated the air. Lee and
Jacob gathered with Fennio and ate in silence.

“
What do you think?” asked Fennio.
“Sounds all a bit crazy to me. Not to mention that Captain Lanmore
fellow shooting that poor chap.”

“
If he hadn't, we'd still be sitting
hungry and cold,” said Lee. “The point was to make an
impression.”

“
Exactly,” said a voice, just behind
Lee. It was Lanmore.

Lee and the others leaped to their feet, and
stood at attention.

“
Come with me, Barath,” ordered
Lanmore.

Captain Lanmore led Lee through the gatehouse
door and into the fortress. The flagstone path led to the inner
yard. A few soldiers were here and there, patrolling the area. The
keep at the far end was a single story structure, with a gray slate
roof. Barracks were built just below the curtain walls on either
side, large enough to house two-hundred men each.

Halfway to the keep, Captain Lanmore halted
and turned. “I've brought you here to see if my judgment has failed
me.”

A large man, broader and taller than Lee,
clad in black fur, leather boots, and carrying a long, two-handed
sword, stalked out of the barracks and made his way beside Lanmore.
His head was shaved and scarred, and his dark eyes fixed on
Lee.

“
This is Lars,” said Lanmore. “By far
our strongest warrior, and one of the few we have here native to
Angrääl. I want you to kill him...if you can.”