The Reborn King (Book Six) Page 17

  Nehrutu nodded his acceptance. Gewey’s tension was rising. In spite of what Felsafell had told him, he could not – would not - allow things to end like this. He would find a way out. Even if it meant a fight.

  “Our people have dwelled here since the time of the first born,” Cloya began. “From where we originated, we do not know. My first memories are of these jungles, as are the memories of all of us. It was here we learned of the Creator and of the well-spring.”

  “The well-spring?” Gewey asked.

  “You have seen what the elves call the Waters of Shajir?”

  He nodded.

  “They originate from this land. But here they are far more potent. It is through the well-spring that our life is maintained. Here, we know nothing of sickness and death. It allows us to become one with the land and hear the voice of the trees and earth.”

  “I can understand why you would want to keep such a thing secret,” remarked Felsafell. “Eternal life and perpetual health is a temptation very few mortals could resist.”

  “Which is why Gerath gave us his protection. Without it, we would have been destroyed long ago. Though we had nothing the first born desired, their children, and later the humans, were selfish brutes. They would stop at nothing, commit any atrocity, to extend their short, meaningless lives.”

  “This explains the long life of the desert elves,” Nehrutu said thoughtfully. “It must be extended by the Waters of Shajir.”

  “Yes,” Cloya agreed. “Even diluted and so far removed from its source, the well-spring would still be able to extend mortal life to some measure.”

  “But I don’t understand why you hate the elves,” Gewey said. “If my father has sealed you away like this, what harm could they have done to you?”

  Cloya looked across to Yasir and nodded.

  He took up the story, venom dripping from each word. “Long ago, a group of us decided to venture forth from the mountains. Our brothers and sisters begged us to stay, but we were convinced that the people of the world were not the savages Gerath made them out to be. We had been here on our own for so long and desired to know what the world was like beyond our borders. But we were fools.”

  He paused for a moment. “Humans saw us as monsters and drove us away. But they could do us no harm as long as we didn’t allow them to corner us. In any case, they were still little more than animals, living in grass huts and hunting wild game to survive. They had nothing to offer us as a culture. So we moved west.”

  His eyes bored into Nehrutu. “The elves had yet to cross the great water. We had been told of their existence by Gerath and were anxious to meet them. So we built boats and sought them out. But what we found was not friendship and acceptance. No! The only thing we found was blood.”

  His giant hands were clenched and his voice was quickly becoming a feral growl.

  “They viewed us just as the humans did…as monsters. They hunted us, delighting in our pleas for mercy. And without the well-spring, we could no longer heal ourselves as we once did. We tried to return home, but they cut us off from the sea. In desperation, we fled into the depths of the jungle where they would not follow. Only I managed to escape and make it back home. As for the rest of my people…they remain there, hunted and reviled. From what you have told us, they have long since lost all sense of who they are.”

  Nehrutu bowed his head and shut his eyes. “I am sorry for what my kin have visited upon you. I truly am. And you are right to demand justice. Should my life be the price my people must pay for their crimes, I offer it willingly.”

  “You cannot offer what you no longer possess, elf,” Yasir spat. “Your life belongs to me. And know that I will take as much pleasure in hearing your screams as your kind did when hearing those of my people.”

  His words were followed by a long silence. Gewey’s mind was racing, seeking a way out of their perilous situation. They had not been disarmed, and he was confident that they could fight their way out of the room.

  “I can see your intent, Darshan,” said Grunyal. “But know this. Even should you kill all three of us, there are hundreds more waiting beyond that door. And as you are cut off from the power of heaven here, I doubt you would find escape a viable option.”

  “I cannot allow this,” Gewey protested. “Nehrutu has done nothing to you. These crimes you speak of were committed long before he was born. And by people of whom he has no knowledge.”

  “That is not true,” Nehrutu cut in. “Though I had no knowledge of their origins, to this day my people still hunt the yetulu. And though I have never hunted them myself, I have never objected to it either. But I swear we thought them to be mindless animals who raided our villages simply for the sake of killing. Had we known, we would have done our best to make things right. I swear to you that we are not the same people we once were.”

  Yasir sniffed. “Your words are meaningless. And you will not escape your punishment.”

  “That is not my intent,” Nehrutu told him. “It is clear that you will not be dissuaded. And my reason for our being here far outweighs the value of my own life. I would not jeopardize the fate of the world in a futile attempt to flee. Do as you will. But do so knowing that I am truly sorry.”

  “Would you have your vengeance, even at the cost of your people?” Felsafell suddenly asked.

  Grunyal fixed his gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “Your people are still being hunted in Nehrutu’s land. Without the well-spring, those left behind are likely long dead. But they obviously had offspring. And those offspring are your people too. Would you leave them to continue being hunted and killed?”

  “And how can I stop it?” he challenged.

  “Allow Nehrutu to return to his home,” Felsafell suggested. “Let him tell his kin the truth about your people. He need not reveal anything other than the fact that they are not beasts. He could try to return them to you.”

  Yasir let out a sarcastic laugh. “You expect me to trust an elf?” He shook his head and sneered. “No. I have this one in my grasp, and I will not let him go.”

  “If you will not accept the word of an elf,” Gewey cut in, “then accept the word of Darshan, son of Gerath. Once my task is complete, I will personally see that your people are returned to you. But only if you do not harm Nehrutu. And you must allow Felsafell to leave unhindered.”

  Grunyal sat back and rubbed his furry chin. “An interesting proposal. That is, if you prove yourself to truly be Darshan.”

  “You cannot be considering this!” Yasir shouted furiously. “You cannot let them go! I demand justice! It is my right!”

  “You can have your justice,” Felsafell pointed out. “Or you can have your people home and safe. You cannot have both. You must decide which is more important.”

  Yasir continued to fume as he met Felsafell's eyes. “He will betray us, Grunyal. Even if our people return, he will lead the humans and elves here.”

  “He has a point,” Grunyal said, turning again to Gewey. “What prevents you from telling people of our home?”

  “Nothing...nothing but my word. But I will promise you this: once heaven is opened and your people are safe, I will erase the knowledge from the minds of both Felsafell and Nehrutu. They will never know they were even here. And the protection you have enjoyed from my father will endure through me.”

  After a long pause, Grunyal pushed back his chair and stood. “We need time to consider your offer.”

  Cloya rose as well, but Yasir remained seated, his eyes burning with rage and hands still balled into massive fists.

  “Come, Yasir,” said Grunyal. “We must speak alone.”

  With a hiss of hatred, Yasir got abruptly to his feet, sending his chair slamming against the wall. With a final hard look, he spun around to storm past Grunyal and out of the door.

  “We will return, though I cannot say when,” Grunyal told Gewey. “I will have food and drink sent in shortly.”

  That said, he and Cloya left the chamber.

  “Do you
think they will agree?” Gewey asked.

  Felsafell shrugged. “I hope so. I could think of nothing else to offer them.”

  Nehrutu was staring down at the tabletop, his hands still folded in front of him. “I understand Yasir’s anger. I would feel the same if someone had hunted and killed my people.”

  “What happened to the yetulu was a long time ago,” Gewey told him. “And the poor creatures you know as Morzhash are totally unlike the yetulu here.”

  “I am not so sure.” He looked up at Gewey. “We discovered that they possess a crude language. And we should have guessed that their attacks had a purpose. But we could not see beyond their appearance. To us they were animals. And we hunted them as such.”

  “There is no use in dwelling on that,” Felsafell said. “If they agree, you can only do what you can to help them now.”

  A few minutes later the door opened and a yetulu entered carrying a large bottle and a bowl of fruits – none of which were familiar to Gewey. Without a word, he or she unceremoniously tossed both onto the table and departed.

  Gewey picked up a round purple fruit and took a small bite. Thick juice squirted to the back of his throat, filling his mouth with a tart flavor that reminded him of a lemon, though with a slightly sweeter taste. The bottle was filled with cool water, but with no cups, they were soon passing it from hand to hand like wine around a campfire.

  After they had eaten, Felsafell carried his chair back to its original position against the wall. Once settled there, he reached into his pack and retrieved a pipe. Soon the room was filled with an earthy smell that completely overwhelmed the pungent aroma from the leftover juices of their meal that, in spite of their efforts to be neat, had utterly soaked the tabletop.

  Gewey searched through his own pack and found a rag. While attempting to clean the mess, he began to laugh inwardly. Lessons of my father, he thought. Never leave a mess when you’re a guest in someone's home.

  More than two hours passed before the door opened once again. Cloya entered alone and took a seat at the table, frowning when her eyes fell on the stains left behind from the meal. Gewey gave her a crooked, embarrassed smile. But this quickly vanished when Grunyal came in a moment later and sat down.

  “Yasir will not be joining us,” he said. “But he has agreed to your terms and will forgo justice.”

  “That is, assuming you can prove yourself to be the son of Gerath,” added Cloya.

  Nehrutu's relief was clearly visible. “Thank you.”

  “Do not thank me,” said Grunyal. “It was Cloya who swayed Yasir, not I.”

  Nehrutu bowed his head to Cloya.

  “You say I must prove myself,” Gewey remarked. “How do you propose I do that?”

  “Easily.” Grunyal's lips crept up into a vicious smile. “You must tame the Ajagara.”

  “The Ajagara? What is that?” Gewey frowned, sensing a trap. Whatever they had in mind, it would almost certainly be deadly.

  Grunyal chuckled. “I believe you encountered its children inside the mountain.”

  “Its children? You mean those lizards we fought were just…”

  “They are but adolescents,” Cloya said, mirroring Grunyal’s malicious grin. “The parent is much larger.”

  “How large exactly?”

  “What does it matter?” she replied. “If you are indeed the son of Gerath, its size should not be a problem for you. And if you intend to attain the god stones, you will need to pass through the Ajagara’s feeding grounds anyway. So now you can save your friends, and complete your task at the same time.”

  Grunyal and Cloya rose, both still smiling. Just before they reached the door, Grunyal glanced over his shoulder. “You have until morning to prepare. And you will go alone.”

  Before anyone could protest, they were gone.

  Nehrutu was the first to speak. “This is madness. You cannot undertake this alone.”

  “What choice is there?” Gewey countered.

  “None,” stated Felsafell. “And you will prevail.”

  “How can you know this?” Nehrutu demanded. “It took both me and Gewey together to hold off the last Ajagara we faced. And still you had to help us. You heard what Cloya said. That was just one of its young. Without the flow, what chance does he have on his own?”

  “I know this because I have faith,” Felsafell replied. “Gewey has not come this far to fail now. He will conquer all that is set before him. This he has proven time and time again. I will not begin to doubt him now.” He turned to the young godling and smiled. “But that is not to say I think you should be reckless. If you find yourself over-matched, you must run.”

  A nervous laugh slipped from Gewey's mouth. He steepled his hands under his chin. “If the adult is anything like the offspring, I don’t think I’ll have any other choice but to run.”

  “There is one other thing you should remember,” Felsafell told him. “Grunyal said that you are to tame this creature, not kill it. This may be important, or maybe not, but do keep it in mind all the same.”

  “I will,” he promised.

  He did his best to calm his nerves and clear his mind. I will not fail, he thought repeatedly while setting out a bedroll from his pack. Even after laying down, these same four words still continued to echo in his head. Eventually, he could feel his body relaxing. Soon sleep would come as a welcome respite from his worries.

  At least in the world of dreams he would be able to find peace, if only for a short time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It had been many years since King Lousis had traveled so far east. The demands of ruling had kept him a virtual prisoner in his own city. Often he had desired to take time out to revisit the people of distant lands – to taste their food, sing their songs, and to drink their wine. But never had he imagined that his visit would take the form of a siege.

  The walls of Kaltinor loomed high in the distance: the ramparts heavily manned, the gates shut, and the portcullis down. A thousand soldiers all bearing the crest of Angrääl were standing at the base of the curtain wall looking as lambs to the slaughter. Whoever defended the city was a fool. The elves could massacre every man outside the gates without even drawing a sword. Mohanisi alone could scatter them like leaves in a storm with balls of fire.

  Still, caution must rule the day, Lousis warned himself. In the past, the enemy had proved to be both cunning and ruthless. Sacrificing a thousand men might easily be a ploy to gain a later advantage. Or perhaps they simply wanted to test the power of Darshan. They would certainly have heard the rumors deliberately sent ahead that it was the son of Gerath, not King Lousis of Althetas, who was leading the approaching army.

  “What are your orders, Your Highness?” asked a young lieutenant that Lousis had assigned as his personal messenger.

  “Send word to Kaltinor that I wish a parlay with the enemy commander,” he replied.

  The man bowed and sped away. Lousis drew a deep breath. With luck, the sight of well over a hundred-thousand men and elves would be enough to convince them to surrender immediately.

  The pounding of approaching hoofs had him looking over his shoulder. He spotted Lord Chiron, his face beaming with confidence. The king raised a hand in greeting.

  Chiron returned the gesture, together with a bow. “Do you think they’ll see reason, Your Highness?”

  “I think we’re in for a fight,” he replied darkly. “Have you seen Mohanisi?”

  “He is with Lady Bellisia. She and the other healers are preparing tents and beds.”

  “Let us hope they will not be needed.”

  Mohanisi arrived a short time later on horseback, causing Lousis to raise an eyebrow. Normally, the elf much preferred to walk or ride in the supply wagons. More than once the king had teased him, saying that he feared horses. This invariably produced a look of irritation.

  “As you can see, Your Highness,” Mohanisi said after halting his mount, “I am quite comfortable atop this animal. I trust this will end your remarks.”

&nb
sp; “I am impressed,” Lousis responded, smiling broadly. “It is not easy to conquer one’s fears.”

  Mohanisi frowned at the light-hearted jab. “Do you have orders for the elves?”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Their greatest power is in controlling the winds,” he replied. “Should the city choose to resist, they can ensure that enemy missiles are deflected. Even the heavy explosive bolts will not be able to fall through once they combine their strength.”

  “And you?” asked the king.

  Mohanisi surveyed the enemy lines. “I should be able to deal with the majority of those outside the wall. Archers can take care of any who flee.”

  “No,” said Lousis. “Any who flee will be left alone. Darshan allowed those who surrendered in Baltria to live. We will learn from his example.”

  “As you wish. I will gather my people.” Turning his horse with surprising ease, Mohanisi trotted away.

  “Do you intend to surround the city?” asked Chiron.

  “No,” Lousis replied. “I will allow an avenue of escape. If the enemy sees a way out they may well break ranks and shorten the battle. If we trap them, they have no choice but to fight on.”

  Chiron nodded. “A wise strategy. And one in keeping with Darshan’s own actions.”

  “I’m not sure I would have done the same in Baltria,” Lousis admitted. “I have watched those who serve the Reborn King ravage my home and slaughter my people. Mercy is a lesson I am forced to constantly teach myself.”

  “And yet you spared so many when we fought in Skalhalis. And I have seen you give many pardons since then.”

  “Yes. I have been merciful. But what I do as king, and what the ire in my heart wishes me to do, are often very different.”

  “I understand that all too well,” said Chiron. His smile had vanished.

  “Tell me,” asked Lousis. “When the war ends, do you think peace between elf and human will last? Or will we return to our baser instincts and fall prey once again to hatred and vengeance?”

  Chiron thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. But lately I have often thought it might be best if the fears that I and the other elders once held do actually come to pass.”