The Godling Chronicles 02 - Of Gods And Elves (20 page)

“
This will be fine,” said Stintos. “An
elf with a dagger is a thing to be feared.”

The elves struggled to their feet.

“
What was that thing?” asked Selena. “It
called itself Vrykol.”

“
I'm not certain,” Haldrontis replied. “But
they fight like they are possessed. And the only way I know to kill
them is to remove their head.” He looked at the smoking
corpses. “And it would seem they do not like fire either.”

The entire group erupted in uneasy laughter.

“
Let us go,” said Selena, still chuckling.
“It's many miles to Althetas.”

Despite their injuries, the elves easily kept pace. By
the time dawn pierced the darkness, they had traveled many miles. To
everyone’s relief, there was no sign of pursuit.

Chapter Fourteen

Several days had passed since Millet and Jacob parted
with Malstisos, Maybell, and the caravan. In Manisalia, Maybell
discovered that the Oracle had fled more than a year before, and no
one knew where she had gone.

Malstisos had arranged for Maybell to have her own tent,
and they purchased enough provisions to last the journey. It was a
bit more difficult to procure horses and a wagon, but thanks to
Maybell's remarkable bargaining skills, they managed it.

Though it was bitter cold, the blizzard had not reached
far west and the roads were clear after only a few days. The nights
brought cheer and laughter as Maybell and Malstisos made friends
among the merchants. Maybell instructed the men in manners, and the
women in how to keep a man in his place. Soon she became viewed as a
sort of caravan elder, settling disputes and advising the merchant
leaders.

Malstisos spent a great deal of his time with Grentos
and Vadnaltis, exchanging stories and news from their tribes. Maybell
checked in on them from time to time, but her new-found duties kept
her busy.

On the eighth night, Maybell was preparing for bed when
Malstisos came to her tent, looking worried and anxious.

“
What is it?” asked Maybell.

Malstisos' lips pressed tight and his brow furled. “I
fear my kinsmen are not what they seem.”

Maybell's back stiffened. “How do you mean?”

Malstisos knelt near the entrance to the tent and peered
out. “First of all, they are seekers.”

Maybell looked confused. “Why is that odd?”

“
Because seekers do not hide who they are,”
he explained. “And they have attempted to mask what they are
from me.”

“
Is that all?” asked Maybell. “There
could be any number of reasons for that.”

“
Perhaps,” he agreed. “And if it were
only that, I wouldn't be as concerned. Seekers can be an odd bunch,
and the ways of my kin in the steppes are different. But these two
have been probing me for information, the kind that can only be for
one purpose. And they have underestimated me. I am not a seeker, but
I am a worthy diplomat. Much more so than either of them. I know when
I am being manipulated.”

Maybell tensed. She knew how vulnerable they were. “What
do they want to know?” she whispered, suddenly afraid that they
were being spied on.

“
The identity of allies that are hiding their
sympathies, the location of Valshara and its strength... things of
that nature.” He fingered the knife on his belt. “The
thing is, if they had asked me directly, I wouldn't have become
suspicious, but they hid their questions behind other, seemingly
innocent questions. Their poor attempt and subterfuge has made it
clear to me that they are not what they seem.”

“
Should we run?”

Malstisos shook his head. “No. We are better off
remaining with the caravan, for now. I do not think the humans are
aware of their deception, and I doubt they will want to draw
attention to themselves so far from home. If we run, we are
vulnerable. They are seekers. They will hunt us down and kill us
both.”

Maybell's eyes brightened. “I know what to do.”
She stood and began to pace the tent. “We will be near
Farmington in two days. I have friends there that will give us
shelter. We should say that we need to pick up extra supplies, then
take refuge.”

“
Good plan,” said Malstisos, nodding in
agreement. “It is unlikely they will openly attack a human
village. Until then, behave normally. I will quietly gather what we
can carry without being noticed.”

“
Good,” said Maybell, satisfied. “Then
if you'll excuse me. An old woman needs to sleep. Especially if we're
going to run for our lives in two days.”

Malstisos bowed and left the tent. He took a deep breath
and went back to the fire, where the humans were laughing singing
songs. He knew he should join Grentos and Vadnaltis so not to raise
their suspicions, but he needed time before he could face them. The
thought of being deceived by his kin caused his blood to boil, and if
they were to escape he needed them to believe he knew nothing. He
just hoped the place Maybell had in mind would be enough to stop two
seekers.

After a couple of hours of socializing and singing with
the merchants, Malstisos steeled his nerves and joined Grentos and
Vadnaltis in their tent. The talk was light and cheerful, and for
once they didn't try to gather information. Around midnight they all
went to sleep, though Malstisos found it nearly unbearable to stay in
the same tent. He slept light and woke several times. He decided he
would find a reason to stay with Maybell the next night.

Chapter Fifteen

Salmitaya cursed as she slapped a horsefly stinging the
back of her neck. Her plain wool dress was stained with mud and
grime, and her brow was beaded with sweat. She was not accustomed to
humid climates or the way she was now forced to live.

For two weeks they had been in Baltria, and for two
weeks she had worked as a slave. The home they stayed in was a
modest, single story dwelling, though well decorated and comfortable.
Located on the northern outskirts of the city and populated mostly by
merchants and store owners. It had a descent yard and a small flower
garden in the back—well tended by her backbreaking efforts.

The house had had two servants when they arrived, but
Yanti promptly dismissed them.

“
You are all I need, my love,” Yanti had
said, in his melodic tone. “I wouldn't want you to feel
useless.”

He then made a list of her daily duties, though they
changed from moment to moment, on his whim. The first day had nearly
killed her. She was forced to rearrange all the furniture, tend the
garden, prepare the meals, and then go to the market and pick up a
weeks’ worth of food and supplies. After she completed each
task, Yanti would inspect her work.

“
You must do better, my love,” he had said.
“Otherwise you will never leave my service.”

Angrääl had forced her to give up her position
and wealth, and had indentured her to Yanti until he felt she had
earned the right to regain her status. She had gone from a powerful
High Priestess to a lowly servant overnight. At first, she had hoped
it wouldn't be so bad, but it didn't take long for her to realize
that despite Yanti's smooth, cultured demeanor, he was a vicious and
cruel monster.

She had attempted escape the first week, only to be
caught less than an hour into her flight. She cringed at the thought
of the beating he had given her. He promised her that should she try
again, he would most certainly kill her... slowly.

Today, her duties consisted mostly of scrubbing the
house clean from a black mold that seemed to cover everything in
Baltria. Yanti had commanded that she be finished by midday. He said
he had other errands for her to run. She looked up. The sun was high
in the sky, and she was still only halfway done. Her back ached and
her hands were blistered from constant scrubbing.

“
Taya, my love,” called Yanti from behind
her.

She jumped. Yanti moved silently and was constantly
sneaking up on her. “Yes?” She tried to hide her hatred
by averting her eyes.

“
I need you to check the inns again. See if your
friends have arrived.” He turned and strode away. Just as he
reached the corner of the house, he paused. “Later this
evening, we'll discuss the fact that you weren't able to finish your
work on time. Perhaps we can find new ways to motivate you.”

Salmitaya shuddered as she watched him disappear around
the corner. She dusted herself off, put away the bucket and brush,
and headed to the tavern district. The streets of Baltria were filthy
by Kaltinor standards. Though well-paved and maintained, you could
hear the mud and grime crunch beneath your feet. The city was
situated in the very center of the largest delta in the world. The
soil was rich and black, and the humid climate made the ground wet
most of the time. It was nearly impossible not to track mud wherever
you walked. Frequent rain washed away the buildup before it could get
out of hand, but it left a strong musty odor, to which Salmitaya
swore she could never grow accustomed.

The houses where mostly single story, brick and mortar
structures, even those owned by the nobles. However, closer to the
docks you began to notice houses and shops built on tall pylons to
avoid the occasional extreme high tides.

One of the largest cities in the world, Baltria was
known mostly for its massive ports and market places that were as big
as some towns. Goods from everywhere were shipped from the Goodbranch
River. From there they spread to all points near and far.

Salmitaya despised the tavern district. Yanti had her
going every two or three days to check local gossip and pay his
informants. At first, she feared she might be spotted. Word of her
betrayal had certainly traveled this far by now, and if she were
caught she would be spending the rest of her life in a dark temple
prison cell. However, it soon became clear that, in her present state
of filth and dishevelment, no one recognized her. Twice she had seen
sisters and brothers that she had known, but they walked right passed
without so much as a second glance. After that she removed the
mirrors from her room.

This time of year in Kaltinor, snow would be falling,
but here it was unbearably hot. Her heavy clothing made the heat seem
like a torture, and the humidity made the filth cling like leeches.

“
Taya,” called the raspy, uncouth voice of
Saul Milspend.

Salmitaya clinched her jaw and stepped up her pace. Saul
was a fish merchant and one of Yanti's local informants. His bald
head, short round frame, and smile that was missing several teeth,
caused her to recoil every time she saw the man. Worse, he was
constantly trying to touch her on the hand or shoulder, in a clumsy
attempt at flirting.

“
Taya!” he called louder.

Salmitaya dropped her head and stopped. She could hear
Saul's lumbering footsteps running up behind her.

Saul caught her by the shoulder. “I am glad I
caught you.”

Salmitaya recoiled. “What is it Saul?” The
stench of rotten fish caught in her nostrils. “The innkeeper at
the Malt and Mane said you should come by. He said make sure you come
through the back.” He held out his hand and gave her a
toothless smile.

Salmitaya reached into the small pouch that hung from
her belt and gave him a copper. Saul tried to thank her, but she
quickly walked away in the direction of the inn.

The streets were crowded with the many local and foreign
merchants and city dwellers. Fashions from the farthest reach of the
world could be seen everywhere. Salmitaya was particularly fond of
the silk wraps and colorful dresses of the eastern desert. Though
every time she saw one, it reminded her of her own poor appearance.
It took her the better part of an hour to wind her way through the
city to the tavern district.

The Malt and Mane was typical of the many inns in
Baltria. Not particularly nice, but not a flophouse either. Still, as
a lady of culture and dignity, it was not a place she wanted to be.
That she was instructed to enter from the rear was as much of an
insult as she could bear, but she dare not ignore it. Yanti had
intrigues everywhere and was constantly gathering information.
Salmitaya reckoned he had dirt on every influential person in the
city and he made sure they knew it.

As she rounded the corner where the inn was located, she
froze. Not twenty feet away stood Celandine, talking to a fruit
merchant. Immediately she spun around and hurried back around the
corner and put her back flat against the building.

Salmistaya peered around slowly, careful not to be seen.
Celandine wore a tan linen dress, rather than her novice robes, and
her hair flowed loosely about her shoulders, but there was no
mistake... it was Celandine. Salmitaya watched until she entered the
Malt and Mane, then sped off back to the house, unsure what she was
going tell Yanti.

By the time she reached the house she was drenched in
sweat and her legs burned. She paused, composed herself, and entered.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. A small
lamp in the living room to her right was the only source. Yanti sat
cross legged in a plush chair, dressed in a white, cotton shirt and
trousers, reading a small, leather-bound book. How he could see to
read, Salmitaya couldn't imagine.