The Godling Chronicles 02 - Of Gods And Elves (10 page)

About halfway through their meal, Gerald excused himself
and left them alone at the table. Malstisos informed Maybell and
Jacob of his dream experience.

“
Amazing,” remarked Maybell. “Well,
I'm happy that you'll be met in Baltria.”

“
I'm not,” Jacob growled. “I have no
need of my father, and have no intention of seeing him.”

“
If you intend to go to Baltria, you won't have
much of a choice,” stated Millet.

“
According to Malstisos he will
certainly
be there, so you had better get used to the idea.”

Jacob folded his arms. “He had better stay out of
my way.”

“
Calm yourself,” said Malstisos. “First
you must arrive at your destination, and that may not be easy.”

“
We'll get there,” said Jacob. “If I
have to kill every soldier I see on the way.”

“
Young man, you would do well to take Millet's
lead,” said Maybell. “He has seen much more of the world
than you. If getting to Baltria means saving your mother, then you'd
do well to keep your mouth shut, and your eyes and ears open.”

Jacob glared at Maybell but could find no words to
reply.

“
I do not think you should take time to speak to
the Oracle when we arrive in Manisalia,” said Malstisos.

Millet nodded. “I agree. In fact, I would have you
avoid the city entirely if it's possible.”

“
I'm sure I can find a way around if need be,”
said Malstisos. “But, I intend to leave you with the remainder
of the provisions. Sister Maybell and I will need to resupply once
you're away. There is no way we can avoid the city, at least for a
few hours.”

“
Good,” said Maybell. “And I
would
like to consult the Oracle--if she's still there.”

The front door opened and Gerald entered, smiling. “I
see you've nearly finished. I hope you enjoyed it.”

“
Very much.” Maybell returned the smile. The
rest nodded in agreement.

“
I've readied your horses,” said the boy.
“I'll bring them 'round front whenever you'd like.”

“
We'll be leaving shortly,” said Millet.
“You can bring them now.” Gerald nodded and dashed off.

They gathered their belongings and filed out the front
door. As promised, Gerald had saddled their horses and had them lined
up a few feet away. Gerald bowed to each in turn, handing them a
cloth wrapped around a piece of roast lamb and a loaf of bread,
thanking them for their kind donation. Maybell embraced the lad
tightly and whispered into his ear. Gerald smiled sadly, turned and
entered the hospice.

Travel that day was slow and miserable. By noon, the
wind howled through the trees and the sky filled with clouds that
promised snow.

Malstisos stopped periodically to check for signs of
pursuit but found none.

“
I think perhaps whatever that creature was, he
must have been alone,” said Malstisos during one of their
stops. “That is not to say that more are not waiting for us
ahead.”

Millet shivered at the thought. The monster’s
distorted features still burned in his mind.

“
Let them come,” boasted Jacob, “I
don't fear them.”

Malstisos snorted loudly. “Then you're a fool.
Fear may keep you alive. You are no warrior. That I can clearly see.
If you encounter one of them, you should run if you can.”

Jacob leaped from his horse and drew his sword. “I
have had enough of your insults,
elf
.”

Malstisos stared down at the boy for a moment, then
casually slipped out of the saddle. “Come then,” he said.
“Let us see what you're made of.” He didn't bother to
draw his blade.

Jacob's mouth grew into a malevolent grin. In an
instant, he lashed out at the elf, his blade seeking flesh, but it
found only cold, winter air. Though Jacob moved with uncanny speed,
he was no match for Malstisos.

“
Come now, boy,” Malstisos taunted.
“Certainly you can do better.”

This infuriated Jacob and he ran headlong at the elf,
slashing maniacally. Malstisos ducked quickly, spun around, and
brought his heel into the back of the boy’s knee. Jacob’s
leg collapsed, and he fell hard on his back. Malstisos stepped on
Jacob's blade, trapping it. Jacob struggled to pull the blade free,
but Malstisos bent down, pressing his knee on Jacob’s throat.

“
You have passion,” said Malstisos. “But
no discipline.”

Jacob bucked and twisted, but Malstisos only pressed
harder. Slowly, Jacob stopped struggling and relaxed. After a moment,
Malstisos released him and held out his hand, but Jacob only glared,
his eyes filled with hate and anger.

“
Take my hand, young one,” said the elf.
“The fight is done. You have lost, but there is no shame. You
did well considering your lack of training.”

Jacob reached up, took Malstisos' hand, and allowed the
elf to pull him to his feet. He brushed himself off and retrieved his
sword.

“
Now if we are done with all this foolishness,”
said Maybell. “We have distance to cover.”

“
That we do,” agreed Millet. “If we
quicken our pace, you and Malstisos should be able to reach Manisalia
in three days.”

“
As we are no longer followed, that should be
easy,” added Malstisos. He took another look at Jacob, who was
mounting his horse. “It appears you are uninjured.”

“
I'm fine,” Jacob grumbled. “It takes
more than that to hurt me.”

“
I do not doubt your toughness,” said
Malstisos. “But mind your pride and your anger. It will be your
undoing if you are not careful.”

“
That comes from his father,” said Millet.
“He was the same way.”

“
I'm nothing like him,” said Jacob.

Millet shook his head sadly. “I know you must
think he abandoned you and your mother. But he only left to protect
you. One day you'll understand.”

“
Then explain it to me,” said Jacob in
disgust.

“
It is not my place,” said Millet. “Your
father is the only one who can reveal his motives. For me, to do so
would be a betrayal.”

Jacob sniffed and turned his horse. The others followed
close behind.

The rest of the day the group traveled without speaking,
and when they made camp, Jacob slept far away from the others. Millet
tried to convince him to come closer to the fire, but he was met with
cold silence.

The next morning snow began to fall. Gently, at first,
but by midday it was well on its way to becoming a full-blown
blizzard.

Millet shivered. “If this gets much worse, I'm
afraid we will freeze to death long before we reach Manisalia.”

Malstisos nodded in agreement and glanced back at
Maybell, who was slumped in her saddle with her coat and a blanket
wrapped tightly around her.

They trudged on for several hours, until they were
virtually frozen. About an hour before dark Malstisos motioned for
everyone to stop.

“
There is a large group of humans ahead,”
said Malstisos. “They have many horses and wagons.”

“
Could be a merchant caravan,” suggested
Millet.

“
Or soldiers,” said Jacob.

Malstisos slid out of his saddle. “Wait here.”
With that, he disappeared into the brush.

“
I'm hoping for merchants,” said Maybell,
rubbing her arms. “We can barter for a place by a fire.”

Millet nodded in agreement.

By the time Malstisos returned, the snow was coming down
in earnest. “Merchants,” he announced. “Ten wagons
strong. And something else...” His face wore a strange
expression.

“
What is it?” asked Millet.

“
There are elves among them. I didn't notice their
presence until I was nearly upon them, but there is no mistake.”

“
What difference does that make?” asked
Jacob. “At least you don't have to hide.”

“
You don't understand,” said Malstisos. “In
the west, there are places we have dealings with humans. But as far
as I know, no such alliances exist here.”

“
Did they know you were there?” asked
Millet.

“
I don't think so. But I cannot be certain.”

“
What should we do?” asked Maybell.

Malstisos shrugged. “What choice do we have?
Winter has come early, and we are not prepared for this type of
weather. If we don't seek shelter we will freeze to death.”

Millet sighed heavily and urged his horse forward. The
caravan was camped a quarter of a mile away in a large clearing on
the north side of the road. Several large canvas tents stood in a
semi-circle, and a half dozen cooking fires flickered in the center.
At least three dozen men and women, wrapped in thick coats, were busy
preparing the evening meal. As they came closer, two cloaked figures
walked towards them. They were tall, lean, and wrapped in heavy wool
blankets.

“
Elves,” said Malstisos under his breath,
and looked to Jacob. “Do not speak until we know why they are
here.”

Jacob scowled. “I'm not stupid.”

“
I did not say you were.” The elf turned his
attention to his approaching kin. He jumped down from his horse and
raised his right hand in greeting. The other two elves returned the
gesture.

“
Greetings brother,” said the elf on the
left. His voice was deep and rough, unlike the elf voices Millet and
Maybell had heard before. “I am Grentos and this is Vadnaltis.”

Malstisos took a step forward. “Greetings.”

The two pushed back the blankets from her heads,
revealing their features. Both had honey blond hair, pulled tight in
a long braid that disappeared into the folds of the wool. Their skin
was ivory pale and flawless.

“
I see you are from the Northwestern Steppes,”
remarked Malstisos. “I have not seen those of your tribe in
many years. I am Malstisos of the Finsoulos clan. What brings you
here?”

“
It has been long since we have had dealings with
our southern kin,” said Grentos. “What brings us to this
frozen land is a discussion to be had over a hot meal and good wine.
You must be near death in this frigid cold.”

“
We were hoping to take shelter with the caravan,”
admitted Malstisos. “But I did not expect to find elves among
humans.”

“
Nor did we expect to see the same.” Grentos
smiled broadly. “But you need not fear. The humans here are
from the shores of the Abyss. Elves are not unknown to them, nor do
they fear us. A tent has been erected to shelter the horses near the
tree line. Vadnaltis will show you the way. I'll prepare a meal and a
place for you and your friends to rest.”

Malstisos bowed low. “I thank you.” He
motioned for the others to dismount. They followed Vadnaltis around
the outskirts of the camp to the horse tent. Two boys sat next to a
fire near the entrance. They sprang to their feet and took their
mounts. Millet gave both boys a copper and their eyes lit up.

“
I promise they'll be well tended sir,” said
the older boy, a dark haired, scraggly youth, barely eleven years
old.

Once they removed their packs, Vadnaltis led them
through the heart of the camp to the far end of a large, red tent.
Smoke rose from a small opening at the top. A few people had turned
to see the newcomers, but most ignored them. Vadnaltis held open the
tent flap and allowed Malstisos and the others to enter.

The interior of the tent was simple. Six bedrolls
surrounded a small fire in the center. A small lantern in each corner
combined with the firelight to give the tent a cheery glow. Grentos
was at the far end, pouring hot stew from a large pot into six bowls.

“
Please, choose a place to sleep,” said
Vadnaltis. His voice was rough compared to his comrade, though just
as deep. “It matters not where.”

Grentos passed out the bowls and retrieved a large jug
of wine and cups from his pack. “First we eat,” announced
Grentos. “Then we talk.”

Malstisos and the others gratefully accepted the food
and wine, but as Grentos and Vadnaltis did not speak, the others kept
silent while they ate. The stew was unlike anything Millet, Maybell,
or Jacob had ever tasted. Each smiled with delight after their first
bite. Malstisos seemed to be more accustomed to the taste and gave no
reaction other than a slight nod of approval. Once their meal was
complete, Vadnaltis collected the dishes and left the tent. The cold
air chilled them when the flap opened, and a wisp of snow blew inside
to remind them how close to death they had come.

“
I hope you are satisfied with our poor fare,”
said Grentos.

“
It was the best stew I've ever tasted,”
said Millet.

Maybell and Jacob agreed enthusiastically.

Grentos smiled and bowed his head. “You are too
kind. But now that we have eaten, I believe you have questions... as
do we.”

“
Should we wait for Vadnaltis?” asked
Maybell.