Champions of the Gods (30 page)

Whill did as he had promised. In the first village he came across, he found the local pigeon post and had one sent with the message to Roakore about the battle for Brinn. He stopped at two more villages on the way south to Devandes and sent other birds just in case. Whill didn’t want something to happen that left Raene alone among the decaying bodies of her kin for days on end. He felt bad enough leaving her there like he did.

Gretzen went with him, for she needed to be present when Whill repaid Dirk for helping to free Teera. He had promised the rogue that he would heal him when Gretzen restored him to his body, and Dirk Blackthorn had succeeded.

They arrived in Devandes that night just before sundown. Whill immediately told the rushing guards to send out yet another message to Roakore, and allowed himself to be led to his friends.

Krentz and Teera along with Ella and Elzabeth had been given quarters in the residing lord’s castle. The man of the house greeted Whill when he arrived at the door, shaking his hand repeatedly and stumbling over his words.

“Sire, I hear that you stopped the necromancer just south of Brinn.”

Whill nodded to the man, whose mustache curled out ridiculously wide and whose gleaming eyes never seemed to sit still for long.

“It is true, Lord Berkshire,” said Whill. “The necromancer has been defeated. There is nothing to fear from the north. But it came at a great cost. Lower the flags throughout the city. Later I will tell you the names and their deeds, for they must live on in song. They gave everything to protect cities like yours. They must be remembered.”

“Of course, sire, I will have scribes report to you immediately.”

“Soon,” said Whill. “For now, lead me to my kin.”

Lord Berkshire led him to the quarters where the women were being kept and bowed beside the door. Whill opened it and first laid eyes on Ella. She saw him and froze. Tears grew quickly upon her lids, and she ran across the room with open arms.

Whill took up his adopted sister and held her tight. “I’m so sorry I didn’t find you all sooner,” said Whill.

“It is really you?” she asked through tears of joy.

“It’s me, Ella. It’s all over now. Zander has been dealt with.”

“Oh, Whill, tell me that this is not a dream. For we have traveled through the hells to be with you.”

“This is not a dream,” said Whill, glancing over her shoulder and seeing Teera gingerly making her way across the room with Krentz’s help.

“My boy,” she said and hugged him.

Whill couldn’t help but notice her bandaged wrist and remembered the disembodied hand.

“Aunt Teera, I…”

“No need for apologies. This here is a happy time. Let it be.”

Whill hugged Teera and Ella and glanced to the bed of Elzabeth. He was gladdened to see Abram standing beside it.

“Is she sleeping?” he asked, leaving them to go to the bedside.

“She is catatonic. Has been for weeks now. She was violated…by the necromancer. She spoke in tongues before she turned inward,” said Abram.

Whill caressed Elzabeth’s forehead with a shaking hand, wishing he could heal her, but knowing that such trauma to the mind was beyond his skills.

He noticed Krentz looking on. “Where is Dirk?”

“He is resting. The battle of Brinn nearly killed him. Chief is yet too weak to cross over for more than a few minutes. Dirk remained with me yesterday for an hour, but I could tell that it taxed him.”

“You can summon him soon. I must repay my debt to you both.”

Krentz began to speak but stopped herself abruptly. She bowed her head and hurried out of the room. “We shall await you in our quarters,” she said as she went.

Whill turned to Teera and hugged her and Ella once more.

“I think that my friend might be able to help Elzabeth. And if you will let me, Teera, I believe that I can help you too.”

Teera looked to him, mystified. She knew the reputation of her adopted son and had seen his miracles firsthand. “But…but I thought that elven magic was no more.”

Whill smiled and led her to sit on one of the cots. “There is a magic all our own. And I have been blessed with it.” He gently unwrapped the bandages around her wrist and gingerly held the stitched and swollen stump. The injury was painful to look at, but he did so, pouring his power into her, the power of Zalenlia, the golden dragon of creation. The wound glowed brightly, and living fibers snaked out of the tearing stitch work. The fibers became veins, ligaments, and bone. A skeletal hand flexed as Teera looked on in awe. Ella clutched her chest and sat on the cot, staring wide-eyed at the miracle.

Abram stood off to the side, his smile swelling with pride.

The pulsing light subsided, and Teera stared teary-eyed at her newly grown hand. “My boy,” she said, crying with joy.

Whill hugged her.

“Everything is going to be alright from now on,” he said over her sobbing.

Gretzen joined them shortly. She looked over Elzabeth with a pensive, furled brow of concentration.

“Her mind has been violated as well as her body. Zander was preparing her to be a vessel for denizens of darkness.”

“Can you help her?” Teera asked hopefully.

“I believe that I can,” said Gretzen. “I must warn you that it will be violent.”

“You don’t have to watch this,” Whill told Teera. “Let us wait outside while Gretzen does her work.”

“No, she is my daughter. Can’t I help?”

“You and Ella would help to calm her mind and welcome her back to reality more easily,” said Gretzen.

“Then we will bear witness to your miracles.”

“Very well,” said Gretzen. She turned to Abram. “Find her in the world of dreams. Help her to hear my words.”

“I will do what I can,” said Abram before disappearing.

“Whill,” said Gretzen. “Be prepared to aid me if Elzabeth becomes violent.”

Whill nodded and watched as Gretzen moved to the head of the bed and began to whisper to Elzabeth. She glanced at Teera and Ella and motioned them over.

“You should kneel beside her. It is alright if you hold her hands.”

The two women did so, taking Elzabeth’s hands in theirs.

Gretzen placed her hands on either side of the woman’s head and began whispering a blessing in her native tongue. She then switched to the common tongue and addressed Elzabeth directly.

“Child of light, come, take my hand through the darkness. Turn from the shadows, see the light behind you,” said Gretzen.

Elzabeth continued to stare unblinking at the ceiling.

“Her soul has fled from her body in fear. It cannot depart because her body yet lives. Now she lingers between worlds. I will summon her soul back to her body if I can.” Gretzen eyed the two women. “But you must understand, I will not force her. If she chooses to move on to the next world, you must let her go.”

Teera nodded grimly. Ella shuddered but agreed as well.

“Whill,” said Gretzen. “Give her a gentle blessing of creation if you can. It will help her to not be afraid, and may help to heal her mind.”

Whill walked around the bed to stand beside Teera. He placed his hand over Elzabeth’s chest and focused his energy on her.

Gretzen placed her hands on either side of Elzabeth’s head once more and began to chant. The four remained huddled around the bed for an hour before anything happened. Then suddenly Gretzen opened her eyes.

“Her soul approaches. Let her know that it is alright, invite her back to the land of the living.”

Teera, Ella, and Whill began to speak softly to Elzabeth.

“The necromancer is dead,” said Whill. “You are safe now.”

“We love you, Elzabeth. Come back to us,” said Teera.

Whill saw the speck of shimmering light enter the room through the wall. It glided across the room and stopped at the foot of the bed.

“I see her,” said Whill. He sent a surge of life-giving power through Elzabeth’s body.

“Easy,” said Gretzen.

“Elza, my sweet girl. Come back to us,” said Teera.

Whill steadied the energy flowing into Elzabeth.

Her soul hovered a few feet away. It twinkled like a winter star and began to expand. The form of a woman in a flowing dress appeared.

“Elzabeth,” said Whill.

She glanced at him, looking confused. Then her gaze moved over her body, and she looked upon herself with pity.

“You are in a safe place. It is over,” said Whill.

Elzabeth looked to her mother and sister lovingly. She took a step forward but then stopped and turned back, as though remembering something that she had forgotten.

Through the door came the ghosts of four children—they had their mother’s eyes.

“Children,” said Gretzen. “Tell your mother that she can return now. You do not need her any longer. You can move on now as well. Light and love and peace await you.”

Teera looked from Gretzen to Whill with hopeful eyes. “The children are here with us?”

Whill offered her a warm smile and nodded.

“I cannot leave the children,” said Elzabeth’s spirit, turning away from her own body.

“They are free,” said Gretzen. “Your soul keeps them tethered to this plain. You left your body so that you could protect them, and you have done well. Zander is no longer a threat. If you would only let them go, they will move on.”

Elzabeth looked solemnly to her children. The youngest clung to her leg suddenly and the others hugged her as well. She kissed them on the cheeks and cried.

“Children,” said Teera, looking to the place that Whill stared at. “Tell your mother that it is alright. Grampa and Abram will welcome you on the other side. We will all be together soon. But now is not your mother’s time. Let her go.”

Just then Abram appeared beside the children, and they brightened at the sight of their uncle. He gestured for them to come to him, and they ran joyfully to his side.

“Momma, it is alright,” said the tallest girl, glancing back at her mother.

“We will wait for you,” said a young boy.

Elzabeth burst with tears of joy at the sight of Abram standing with the children. She bent to hug her children and wept, dotting their cheeks with more kisses. Behind Abram, a sliver of light split the room. She clung to them, turning her children away from it.

“It is the portal into the next world. Let them go,” said Gretzen.

“They will be safe with me,” said Abram. He turned to Whill and offered a deep nod. “Goodbye, Whill. I will see you again one day.”

Whill walked into the light and hugged Abram. He held firm, never wanting to let go.

“I will miss you, lad,” said Abram.

Whill could hardly talk, but forced himself to say goodbye and let go.

“Goodbye, Mommy,” said Elzabeth’s youngest daughter.

“Goodbye, my sweet baby girl. I will be with you soon.” Elzabeth kissed the child and let go of her children.

They took each other’s and Abram’s hands and turned toward the light. Through the portal they went. The little girl waved behind her happily as they faded into the light. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the sliver of light was gone.

Elzabeth turned to her own body and hesitated.

“Come back to us,” said Teera.

She strode bravely toward the bed and became a wisp that flew up toward the ceiling and then dove into Elzabeth’s chest.

Her body heaved, and she cried out.

“Elzabeth!” Teera cried.

The woman blinked her eyes and glanced around wildly.

“Sister,” Ella gasped, crying with joy.

Slowly a confused Elzabeth settled and looked to each of them. Then she glanced longingly toward the center of the room where her children had moved on. “Will they be alright?”

“Nothing in this world can harm them now,” said Gretzen.

Whill stared after it as well, smiling and feeling gratitude that he had been given one last chance to see Abram.

Whill knocked on the door and was greeted by a slightly distressed-looking Krentz.

“Please, come in,” she said to Whill and Gretzen.

Krentz paced the room as they walked in. Whill noticed that her eyes appeared red and puffy—she had been crying.

“Where is Dirk?” he asked.

“I have not summoned him. First, I have something to say,” she said, glancing at Gretzen. “I wish to speak to Whill alone.”

Gretzen offered a respectful nod and shuffled out of the room.

Whill closed the door behind them and turned to the dark elf.

“What is it?” he asked with concern.

Krentz continued pacing. She was shaking and busying her hands by wringing them together. “Please, have a seat,” she said.

“Given your mannerisms, I feel like I may not be seated for long. What is it?” he asked, remaining standing.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back, knowing that she deserved no sympathy.

“To free Dirk I swore fealty to my father, Eadon. I escaped him many years ago, and though I was subsequently captured, I never gave in. But then Eadon ordered Dirk to assassinate your entire family. I knew that the guilt would tear him apart. You see? I couldn’t let him do it.”

Whill’s eyes had become hard. He stared at her, waiting for the words he knew would come.

“So I swore fealty to my father to spare Dirk the horrible task. And…and instead, I did it,” said Krentz, unable to look him in the eye. She forced herself to face him. “I killed King Mathus and the rest of the royal family. Before that, I traveled across Eldalon, killing anyone with an ounce of your blood in their veins.”

Whill’s face was unreadable. He stood before her, but his eyes had fallen across her body and now lingered on the floor. Krentz thought that he looked tired. She was surprised to see no anger in him.

The silence was worse than his anger could have been. She didn’t know much of the enigmatic young man, though he had a reputation for being rash, quick to anger, and extremely violent.

“Won’t you say something?” she blurted out, unable to stand it any longer.

His head jerked up and his eyes flashed. He stared at her with a mix of anger and sorrow, but visibly pushed it back. “There are many things I could say. I could call you a murderer, have you hung in the town square…But what would be the point? You are not guilty of the murder of my family any more than the sword is guilty. You were but a tool of Eadon’s. We all were. I too was forced to do horrible things by that tyrant.”

Whill reached out and wiped the tears from Krentz’s cheek with his thumb. “I will forgive you, as I have forgiven myself, Lady Krentz. You must now do the same.”

Krentz hugged him, crying into his shoulder. “I am so sorry,” she sobbed.

“I know, that is what makes you unlike your people. You may have thought that you could bear the guilt of the murders because of your lineage, you may have tried to embrace that side of yourself. But that is not who you are.”

“Thank you,” said Krentz, finally letting him go.

“You should summon Dirk. It is time for him to rejoin the living. But not here. Gretzen says that the spell must be performed outside. Come.”

Krentz followed Whill out to the hall where Gretzen stood waiting. She led them into the city and past the gates of Devandes. To the right was an apple orchard, beside it, on a hill overlooking the fruit trees, was a cemetery with a single weeping willow at its center.

Gretzen stopped below the tree and began to build the makings of a fire. She went about her work slowly, purposefully. She had laid out many small boxes on a flat stone from the walkway, which had been twisted and turned jagged by the stretching roots of the old tree.

Whill and Krentz sat nearby, watching silently as she worked. The sun went down and the moon rose as her fire grew. She tossed in handfuls of powder that caused the fires to flare blue, green, yellow, and even silver. All the while she conversed with the spirits and spoke to the gods, asking for their blessing in her work.

When she was prepared, she turned to Krentz and nodded.

Krentz summoned Dirk for what she hoped was the last time. He appeared before the three and looked quickly from one to the other.

“She has confessed her crimes,” said Whill. “And she has been forgiven. Do not let it trouble your mind. I still owe you for helping to free my kin, and I intend to repay my debt.”

“Thank you,” said Dirk with a bow.

“Are you ready?” Gretzen asked.

“I believe so,” said Dirk. He turned to Krentz. “I told Fyrfrost goodbye for you.”

“Thank you.”

Gretzen looked to Whill with one wide eye. “When I have freed him from the figurine, I suspect that he will retain the injuries that he received just before he was pulled into it,” said Gretzen. “You must be quick, Whill.”

“How bad where your injuries?” Whill asked Dirk.

“Eadon hit me with a spell that took a chunk out of my side. I would have died in minutes.”

“I will do my best,” said Whill.

Dirk gave a small, nervous laugh and looked to Gretzen. “Let’s get this over with.”

The old woman threw a handful of sparkling dust into the fire, and it leapt high to lick the bottoms of the hanging willow branches. She spoke in the ancient language of the Vald, speaking not to the spirits, but to the figurine she had made from Chief’s bone long ago.

The figurine began to glow softly, its light reaching out like wispy tendrils and surrounding Dirk. He became translucent then and was lifted a foot off the ground.

Krentz watched on nervously, knowing the pain that he would soon have to endure. She glanced at Whill, wondering if he had lied to her; wondering if he would get his revenge by letting Dirk die of his past wounds once he was whole.

Gretzen chanted louder now. She shook bones and tossed them into the fire. Blood went in as well, along with earth, water, and stone. The wind picked up and poured itself into the fire, which glowed bright blue and rose high, though it did not burn the low-hanging branches.

Dirk began to flicker in and out of existence. His face turned to a grimace. He shone as brightly as the figurine one moment and became solid another. Blood began to fall to the grass below his feet.

Krentz held the figurine in her shaking hand, feeling the power coursing through it.

Whill stood still, focused, ready.

A flash of light met the crescendo of Gretzen’s primal chanting. Dirk cried out and fell to the ground, holding his side and bleeding profusely. With his other hand he reached for Whill, who hesitated and looked to Krentz.

She held her breath in anticipation as the pool of blood widened beneath Dirk.

Whill finally took Dirk’s hand in a firm grip and sent a pulse of healing light through the connection. The two men began to glow, and a hum of energy vibrated through the ground. The power of creation washed through Dirk and made him anew.

Whill pulled him up when the light subsided, and Dirk stared at his body. There was still a large hole in his clothes, but the flesh beneath was new.

Still gripping Whill’s hand, Dirk shook it, clasping his left over both their hands as well. “Thank you, Whill.”

“We are even,” said Whill, releasing him.

Dirk gave him a deep nod and addressed Gretzen.

“Thank you, Gretzen. Together with the king you have saved my life. I am forever in your debt.”

Whill turned away from the fire, and Krentz put a hand on his shoulder. “My king, thank you. I do not know how I can ever repay you for all you have done, for all you have forgiven.”

Whill regarded both she and Dirk for a silent moment. “What will you do, now that you have your lives back?”

Dirk and Krentz shared a glance, and he looked down to the sword at his side. He pulled it from its sheath and spoke the phrase. To his delight, it glowed brightly, becoming a spirit blade. He grinned at Gretzen, whom he suspected intentionally kept the blade as it was. “There are still undead to hunt down, are there not?”

Whill looked to Gretzen.

“There are many who were outside of my influence, this is true,” she said.

“There you have it,” said Dirk, putting his sword away. “We’ll be ridding Agora of undead. It is high time this country knew peace once more.”

“I agree,” said Whill. “And I am glad to have you two on the right side once more.”

“So are we,” said Krentz with a smile.