The Godling Chronicles (Shadow of the Gods, Book #3) (6 page)

“
All is ready,” said Barty, as he, Dina
and Randson entered.

Millet was sitting in a leather chair by the
fire, staring intently at the dancing flames. He glanced up and
smiled. “Good.” He stood up from his chair and looked at each of
them for a moment. “If you want to go to the Stedding farm, now is
the time.” No one replied. “Then I suppose it's time for bed.”

Chapter 4

The lanterns burned brightly in the front of
Starfinder manor that night, as they did every night. The sound of
restless horses in the nearby stables carried on the chill night
air, masking the rustle of the approaching footfalls of two cloaked
figures. One was tall and thin, the other shorter and portly. They
made their way around the edge of the yard, then to the back of the
house.

“
Are you certain he's inside?”
whispered the short man.

The other brought his finger to the side of
his nose and scanned the area. He pointed to the second window from
the corner of the house. The short man nodded, then slowly pushed
it open. The soft sound of the well-crafted window sliding upward
caused both men to wince. They paused and waited to see if they had
been heard, but to their relief, no one inside stirred.

The tall man peered inside. Blackness stared
back at him. After a minute his eyes began to adjust and he could
see that the window led to a small pantry. Shelves filled with cans
and jars lined the walls; herbs and dried meats hung from small
hooks on the ceiling. He looked back to his companion and nodded
sharply. Carefully, he pulled himself inside and gently placed his
moccasin-covered feet on the floor. The slight squeak of wood
against wood was like a thunderclap, but he ignored it and went
on.

He crept to the door at the far end and
cracked it open. He could see no one. He glanced behind him to make
sure his companion was following, but to his dismay, he was still
alone. The tall man hissed, but there was no response.

“
Devon,” he whispered, angrily. “Get in
here.” But Devon was silent. His lip curled with anger. He drew his
knife and crept to the window. Devon was nowhere to be seen.
Coward, he thought. I'll have his hide for this. Devon had been far
from his first choice to go with him on this mission. He was fat,
clumsy, and not very bright. But his father was rich, and had
largely funded the efforts of the faithful in Sharpstone. However,
rich or not, the faithful would not tolerate a coward.

He tip-toed back to the door. Going on alone
was a risk, even if Starfinder wasn't in the house, but there was
no backing out now. He knew what would happen to him if he failed.
He pushed the door open wider and ever so slowly stepped silently
into the kitchen. The room was still warm from an earlier meal, and
the air bore the scent of roast meat and bread. Beads of sweat
quickly formed on his brow.

At the far end of the room was a door that he
assumed led to the dining hall. From there he needed to make his
way to the other end of the house to the sleeping chambers. One of
Starfinder's less-than-loyal servants had given them a good
description of the layout, and he had been over it several times.
Still, there was always the chance that it was inaccurate. He
shifted his knife into his left hand, dried his palm on his
trousers, and took a slow, deep breath.

He heard movement behind him coming from the
pantry. The coward regained his nerve. He was almost at the kitchen
door when it burst open. A dark figure stood in the doorway, the
glint of steel shining through the darkness. He instinctively
raised his knife. Then there was a thud and sharp pain to the back
of his head. He fell to his knees, his knife falling from his
grasp.

“
I surrender!” he cried.

The figure in the doorway stepped forward,
his face still obscure by darkness. “Again.”

Another blow came from behind; this one sent
him into unconsciousness.

Chapter 5

Millet paced the floor in the main hall while
Dina was seated in a chair by the fire reading calmly. Her
honey-blond hair was pushed back, revealing her delicate features.
Her lips were twisted into a tiny smile, as she fingered through
the pages of a Baltrian comedy. He stopped to look at the two
bound, unconscious men in the corner. Their hoods had been thrown
back from their black cloaks. The tall one was dark-haired and tan,
with long features and narrow-set eyes. The short plump one, had
the look of a true aristocrat. Soft pale skin and well-oiled black
hair. Millet wondered why they would send someone like this to kill
him. Clearly they didn't think the task would be difficult. Barty
was kneeling next to them, a short sword in hand; his son on the
other side holding a thick herding club.

“
Do you know them?” asked
Millet.

Barty nodded. “The fat one is called Devon.
The other fellow goes by Sherone. Both are from Baltria, I think.
At least that’s what they sound like when they talk, and Devon does
most of that. He's a bit of a braggart.” He cupped Devon's chin in
his hand. “Goes 'round telling tales of his adventures. Not that
anyone believes a word of it, but he's free with his gold, so no
one seems to mind.”

“
Do you recognize them?” Dina asked
Millet, without looking up from her book.

“
No,” he replied. “But it has been many
years since I associated with the nobles of Baltria. These two
don't look to be old enough for me to have known them, when Lee and
I lived there.”

“
What do you intend to do with them?”
asked Barty.

Millet's eyes shot to Dina, who gave him a
knowing look.

“
I cannot ask you or your son to
participate in what is about to happen,” said Millet.

Barty rose to his feet. His face flushed. “I
see.” He turned to his son. “Go to the Stedding farm.”

Randson glared at his father defiantly, and
squared his shoulders.

Barty heaved a sigh. “Not this time, boy.” He
placed his hand on Randson's arm.

“
I will not leave you,” said Randson.
His voice was deep and powerful.

Dina looked up with raised eyebrows,
realizing this was the first time she had heard Randson speak.

Barty looked at Millet then back to his son.
“If Lord Millet is going to do what I think he's going to do, then
I will not have you a part of this.”

“
And if you think I am blind to what
these people are up to, then you think me stupid,” said Randson.
“They have practically enslaved Sharpstone. People are afraid to
speak against the faithful out of fear they'll lose all they own.
They curse the Gods openly, and mock those who refuse to do the
same.” His knuckles turned white wrapped around the club. “And now
they come here to do murder. If Lord Millet decides they should
die, then it's no less than they deserve. You taught me right from
wrong, father. And we are in the right.”

Barty nodded slowly, pride glimmering in his
eyes.

“
Actually, I need him to do something
for me,” said Millet. “And he would need to leave soon.”

“
If you think to send me away?” began
Randson.

“
I do indeed,” said Millet, cutting him
off. “I need you to protect Dina.”

“
Protect me from what?” asked
Dina.

“
I intend to start fighting Angrääl
here,” explained Millet. “If am to do that, I'll need more than
just the four of us.” He turned to Barty. “I assume that there are
still people in town that want to stand up to the
faithful?”

“
A few,” said Barty. “But they're
afraid of losing what they have. Practically the whole town is in
debt to them. It's all legal, too. Signed by the mayor, then sent
to Helenia. If anyone gets out of line, they threaten to go to the
king.”

“
Smart,” Millet muttered, rubbing his
chin. “In the morning, go to those who you think you can still
trust. Tell them that all their debts will be paid tomorrow. Then
have them join me here.” He looked decisively at Dina. “I need you
to go to Helenia, to hire men at arms. By the morning the faithful
will likely send for more people. And unless I miss my guess, the
next group that arrives in Sharpstone won't be nobles and
merchants. We'll need muscle and steel to rid us of this
lot.”

“
I can do better than sell-swords and
thugs,” said Dina. “If I am to go to Helenia, then I can bring back
Knights of Amon Dähl.”

Millet's eyes widened. “Really? How
many?”

“
I can send word for them to come from
the temples,” said Dina. “How many I don't know, but if only but a
few are able, Angrääl would have to send an army to match them. And
I wager they can be here faster than the faithful will be able to
reinforce.”

“
Then it will be up to us to keep them
busy until these fellows get here,” said Barty. “You can count on
me, and a few others at the Stedding farm, too.”

Just then, Devon stirred, groaning.

Millet looked at Barty grimly “For now I need
you and Randson to go out back and get a wagon ready. Don't come
back inside until I call for you.”

Barty hesitated, then nodded sharply. “Of
course.”

After Barty and Randson had left, Millet
knelt down in front of Devon, who had only just opened his eyes. In
his right hand he held a small dagger. Dina stood just behind him,
expressionless.

Devon turned his head and saw that Sherone
was still unconscious. “What do you want with me?”

“
First, I want you to see something,”
said Millet. “Then I'll let you decide what I want with
you.”

Before Devon could respond, Millet reach out
and slit Sherone's throat. Blood spewed forth then poured down the
man's cloak. Sherone's eyes opened for a moment as he gasped for
breath, then slowly closed.

“
Gods protect me!” cried Devon. Tears
streamed down his plump cheeks as he struggled against his
bonds.

Millet laughed mockingly. “Gods? The faithful
invoking the Gods?” He wiped the bloody dagger on Sherone's cloak.
“What would your master say if he heard that, I wonder?”

“
I renounce the faithful,” said Devon,
through his sobs. “Please, spare me.”

Millet stood and turned his back to Devon.
“Did you come here to spare me?”

“
My father is rich,” cried Devon. “If
you let me live, he’ll pay you whatever you want.”

“
And who is your father?” asked
Millet.

“
Lord Devon Drevaldon II, of
Baltria.”

“
I know your father,” said Millet. “At
least I know of him through Lee Starfinder. It doesn't surprise me
that he has fallen in with Angrääl. But you should know that I am
lord of this manor now. And as a Baltrian noble, you know well what
it means to attack a lord in his own home.”

Devon began to shake uncontrollably. ”I swear
I didn't know. I only came to...to...”

Millet spun around and held up his hand,
silencing him. “You came to prove to the rest that you're good for
more than just your father’s gold.” He knelt down. “Now you can
prove your worth to me. Would you like that?”

“
Yes!” Devon blurted out. “I swear to
it!”

“
I've asked no oath from you,” said
Millet. “Nor would I believe any that you could give. So I will
swear an oath to you.” He leaned in. “You tell me everything you
know, and flee Sharpstone this very night, without a word to the
rest of the faithful, and I swear that you will not die this night.
Should I find out that you have lied, that you have spoken to your
friends, or should the sun find you still in this town in the
morning, regardless of what happens to me you will die. Do not
think you can find safety in Baltria. Or that your father can
protect you. And should I die, your death will come more swiftly
than you can imagine.” He stood and turned to Dina. “Please explain
to Lord Devon Drevaldon II, who you are, so that he knows what I
say is true.”

Dina flashed a shocked glance at Millet, then
nodded. “I am a member of the Order of Amon Dähl. Does that name
hold any meaning for you?”

“
I have heard of it,” said Devon. “The
faithful speak of it often.”

“
Then you should know that we have
people in cities in every kingdom,” Her face was stone. “If you do
not do as Lord Millet says, then I will send word to every member
of my order, that your death is of the greatest importance. There
will be nowhere to hide. Do you understand?”

Devon nodded slowly.

“
Then tell me everything you know about
the plans of the faithful,” said Millet. “And if anyone in town has
joined your cause. And I don't mean people who owe you money. I
mean those who are really with you.”

For the next hour Devon told them what he
knew. But as it turned out, it wasn't much they didn't already
know. Angrääl didn't seem to hold the faithful in high regard;
relegating them to petty espionage and assassinations. They
received most of their orders from agents traveling up and down the
Goodbranch River, and sent reports of their progress the same way.
Their orders were to take control of Sharpstone, and find any
information on Lee Starfinder and Gewey Stedding. The king had been
resisting their effort to place an ambassador in his court, but had
been more than willing to accept their gold. Devon said that if the
king didn't relent soon, it was likely he would be killed. When
exactly this would happen, he didn't know. But he knew they had
people in place in Helenia.

Once Millet was satisfied, he called for
Barty and Randson. They paused at the sight of the bloody corpse of
Sherone. Randson smiled and nodded, approvingly.