The Reborn King (Book Six) (6 page)

She had only been back in her chambers for a few minutes when her mother came to see her. The fire in her eyes told Dina that Ertik had already relayed the details of what had happened.

Nahali embraced Dina tightly for a full minute before speaking. “I am on my way to see the animal who tried to kill you.” Her voice was hard and totally lacking in emotion.

“Thank you, mother,” she replied, suddenly feeling awkward about her request. Could she live with this? The voice of temperance in the back of her mind was beginning to grow louder.

“Don’t worry,” said Nahali. “He will talk. Then he will die.”

“Mother…I’m not sure...”

Nahali held up her hand. “There is no reason to question your decision. Your reaction was emotional but correct. We must discover who sent the assassin, and there is no better agent to send than me. I will have no pity or compassion.” Her lips trembled with barely contained rage. “They tried to kill my daughter, so I would have insisted on this regardless of your instructions. And from what Ertik tells me, this is part of a much larger plot. One that puts your
unorem
in grave danger along with Kaylia and her child.” She placed her hands on Dina’s shoulders. “Time is short, and there is no other way. I will get the answers we need.”

Dina lowered her head, closed her eyes, and nodded almost imperceptibly. She felt the loving kiss of her mother’s lips on her
forehead, then listened to her leaving the room. Her eyes remained shut for several minutes longer before she retrieved a bottle of wine from the cupboard and poured herself a glass.

She considered trying to sleep, but knew it would be useless. As the minutes turned into hours, her mind turned to thoughts of Linis. She could feel him through their bond, yet it was different from how Kaylia or Aaliyah had described it. She could only sense that he lived…and that he loved her. The human blood that ran through her veins dulled the raw power that the elves experienced. There were times when she wondered if Linis longed for a deeper connection, but whenever she tried to mention this to him he'd only laugh and tell her that what they had was far more than he'd ever imagined possible.

It was dawn before Ertik returned to her room. He appeared shaken and exhausted.

“What happened?” she asked, trying not to imagine what he had just witnessed. “Did he talk?”

Ertik nodded. “He talked.” He found a chair near Dina’s bed and sat down heavily.

She poured him some wine. He took it without looking up and drained the glass before continuing. “He was sent by a group of elf separatists led by a seeker named Tallio. They are planning to kill you, Jayden and Kaylia.”

A heavy frown creased Dina's forehead. “But why? Why risk the wrath of Darshan? Surely they know he would kill them all if they hurt his wife and child.”

“They are attempting to sway the elves from across the sea to their cause,” Ertik explained. “With their help they hope to defeat Darshan…or the Reborn King. Whoever arises
victorious.”

Dina's anger began to swell. To kill a half-breed or an elf they considered to have betrayed their people was one thing. But
to plot the death of an infant…

She looked up at Ertik, who appeared still shaken by the interrogation. She leaned forward and took his hand. “I’m sorry you had to see what my mother did.”

He forced a smile. “I’ll be fine. She only did what she had to do.”

“Do these elves intend another attack on me?”

“No. You are safe for now. Their primary target is Kaylia and Jayden. They have fifty elves poised to attack Theopolou’s manor as we speak.”

Dina jumped up from her chair. “We must send word there at once.”

“I already have,” he replied. “But it will likely arrive too late.”

“Then we need to send help.” Her mind raced as thoughts of Linis threatened to shake loose her composure.

Ertik stood. “There is none to send, I’m afraid. The few knights we have here are needed to defend Valshara. In fact, I am hoping you will consider temporarily making all new visitors leave. At least until this matter is resolved.”

Dina shook her head. “No. But I do want everyone to be questioned. If these separatists have anyone else amongst us, I want to know.”

The door opened and Nahali stepped in. Her face was flushed and her eyes somber. “There is no one else in the temple that you need to fear. Were that so, the assassin would have told me. Of that I am confident.”

Dina embraced her mother and offered her some wine. She shook her head with a polite smile. The spots of blood dotted across Nahali's tan blouse were hard to miss, but Dina pretended not to see them.

“The fools actually believe that by killing Darshan’s family they can undo the truth revealed in the Book of Souls,” Nahali told them. “And this Tallio… he is clearly mad if he thinks anything will come of this other than the spilling of more elf blood.” She could see the fear in her daughter’s eyes. “But you should not worry about Linis. The home of Theopolou is defended by great power. Every elf knows this. And with Aaliyah at his side, they would need ten times their numbers to succeed.”

Dina knew that she was right, but still her anxiety remained. She took a deep breath in an attempt to steel her wits. She had a duty to Amon Dähl, and must overcome her emotions if she was to be of any use.

“There is nothing left for you to do tonight, High Lady,” said Ertik. “The gates have been sealed, and I will begin questioning the people within the temple in the morning.”

After a few moments, Dina nodded with acceptance.

“I will stay with you tonight,” said Nahali. “Even the High Lady needs her mother from time to time.”

Dina smiled. “Yes. I certainly do.”

Ertik excused himself, after which Dina and her mother made ready for bed.

As they lay there, Dina thought that sleep would be reluctant to come. But the warm loving embrace of Nahali soon had her dozing. And, much as she was repulsed by what her mother had done to their captive, she could not help but feel comforted that Nahali would go to such lengths to protect her. There was truly nothing fiercer than a mother’s love.

Her final thoughts before sleep completely overcame her were of hope - hope that the war would soon be over and she could experience a comparable love with a child of her own.

Gewey, Felsafell, and Nehrutu watched as the last wagon disappeared into the far distance. The chill morning air made the trio’s breath billow out in steamy clouds. Though the snow had melted and the days were now pleasant, the nights remained miserably cold, made more so by a constant north wind. Gewey was fearful for the fate of the king and his army,
and more than a little guilty that he would not be there to help them. But he knew that their destiny was out of his hands for the time being.

Word had come that Kaltinor was readying for a siege, though it was unclear whether this was merely a cautious reaction to an approaching army by the locals, or a more disciplined response by Angrääl troops still stationed there. King Lousis was fervently hoping that it would turn out to be the former. If not, then they would need to take the city. They could ill afford to have a large enemy force at their back.

“Come,” said Felsafell. “We have much distance to cover today.”

Without waiting for a response, he burst into a dead run, quickly vanishing into the forest south of the road. Even with only a few seconds head start, it still took Gewey and Nehrutu several minutes before they were able to catch him up.

They ran without halting until well after nightfall. Gewey, currently unable to use the
flow,
was close to exhaustion when they did eventually stop. He collapsed in a heap onto the forest floor and immediately began massaging his burning muscles.

Nehrutu looked to be in far better shape and helped Felsafell gather wood for a fire.

“Your strength is impressive,” said Felsafell, after settling down on his blanket. “Even without the
flow
you are quite strong.”

Gewey shrugged. “It’s been a while since I ran so far and fast without it.”

His thoughts turned to the time when he and Kaylia were running through the Spirit Hills. He had just learned that she was with child. He found himself yearning to reach out to her, and only resisted with great effort.

He dozed for a few hours against a nearby oak, then was shaken awake my Nehrutu. Dawn was near, and time was their enemy. This became their regular routine until reaching the forest just west of the Spirit Hills several days later.

They had stayed away from the roads throughout, and encountered no one other than a few elves traveling east. Gewey guessed that these were from the Steppes, just like the ones he and Kaylia had seen near the ruins south of the Old Santismal Road. They did their best to avoid these travelers, and if they
had
been spotted, the elves had clearly chosen to ignore them.

The journey through the Spirit Hills was uneventful, though Felsafell stopped occasionally to listen for signs of pursuit. It seemed to bother him that there was no indication of the enemy anywhere. The rough terrain was especially hard on Gewey, and by the time they reached the road he was forced to halt long before sunset. His human frailties were clearly taking a toll.

They built a fire just out of sight of the road and Felsafell vanished into the forest, returning some time later with three rabbits and a bunch of wild berries.

“The ruins along the ancient road…” Gewey began, while munching his way through a mouthful of roasted rabbit. “Did your people build them?”

Felsafell nodded. “It is all that remains of their time here.” His voice became distant. “The ruins that you see now - once they were magnificent. Streets of polished stone, fountains of silver and gold, and spires that reached so high they rivaled the mountains.”

“What you describe sounds very much like my homeland,” remarked Nehrutu. “Tell me, how did they fall into such decay?”

A sigh fell from Felsafell's mouth. “Those that weren’t destroyed by Melek, we managed to destroy ourselves. Ceaseless war and hate had decimated our once proud civilization. Fortunately, I did not witness much of this. My people had journeyed to the spirit world long before I returned from where I had withdrawn. I later learned that, after the wars were over, they simply didn’t bother to rebuild. Most chose instead to live in small farming communities scattered about what is now the Eastland and Middle kingdoms. Others wandered aimlessly until the gods finally released their spirits.”

“What of the elves?” asked
Nehrutu. “I see evidence that some of their works have endured after the great barrier appeared, but not as many as I would have thought.”

“Your kind used the
flow
to construct their cities and many of your structures,” Felsafell replied. “Over time, the elves here began to reject complexity in favor of a simpler existence. The places they abandoned returned to the earth and became but dust as the powers that bound them dissipated. Only those still in use such as the Chamber of the Maker still stand.” He cocked his head. “I’m surprised you didn’t know this.”

Nehrutu smiled. “In my land, our structures never fall into disrepair. And we only use the
flow
to build within our cities. Like our kin here, many choose to live far removed from others and build with the skill in their hands.”

Felsafell nodded. “Your people were always marvelous craftsmen and artists. Even during your more barbaric times you created things of elegant beauty. In fact, that is what gave me hope for your kind.”

“I still find it difficult to believe my ancestors were such brutes,” Nehrutu replied, showing a hint of embarrassment.

Following the defeat of Melek, Felsafell had told him about Yanti and Basanti's background. Also the story of how they were hunted by the elves and Yanti's subsequent fall from grace.

Felsafell laughed. “All people can be so. And all
have
been in the past. But it is the present and future you must attend to. There are three distinct elf cultures now. How they unite will determine your fate. Not all will welcome the reunion any more than all welcome the humans.”

“This is true,” Nehrutu admitted. “But I must have faith.”

“Indeed you must,” he agreed, smiling warmly. “We all must have faith.”

For the next few hours Felsafell told them both of his travels, and of the ages he'd witnessed arrive then fade into legend. Many of his tales involved Basanti and his time with her. Gewey found it comforting to see that he was capable of such love. The
first born
had often seemed to him like some ancient myth that had taken on a fleshy form. That Felsafell's heart was not dissimilar to his own made Gewey feel a kinship with him.

During their time in Althetas while the army was mustering, Felsafell had often been forced to speak in the common tongue. The sight of his powerful frame and piercing eyes speaking in broken and often cryptic sentences never failed to bring Gewey to laughter. Though Basanti was not amused by her love being the object of humor, Felsafell took it all in stride and even joined in by deliberately speaking ever more outlandishly.

The next day, as they were winding through a patch of thick brush, Felsafell came to a sudden halt. He sniffed the air and frowned.

“What is it?” asked Gewey. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword.

“Vrykol are near,” he whispered before sniffing again. “But they are not alone.”

Gewey scanned the forest, but without the
flow
he was finding it difficult to separate the shadows. “What do you mean?”

“Someone…something is with them,” he answered. “Something I am unfamiliar with. And whatever it is, it knows we are here.”

Gewey and Nehrutu drew their blades and set themselves on either side of the
first born
.

“What should we do?” asked Nehrutu.

“We cannot allow them to report our presence to their master,” Felsafell said. “If they discover that Gewey is here, they will certainly send word of this.”

But the Vrykol did not advance. Instead, it seemed as if they were trying to remain unnoticed themselves, and fell back the moment Felsafell and the others moved toward them.

“Strange,” Felsafell muttered. “Very strange.” He burst into a run. Gewey and Nehrutu followed, though they struggled to keep pace.

At first the Vrykol attempted to escape, but on realizing that their pursuers would not relent, they turned to fight. Gewey caught sight of them in a small clearing. There were three of them, together with a tall figure that looked human…at least, almost human. Its skin was deathly pale and its eyes as black as coal. Clad in a loose fitting leather jerkin and pants, the creature's fists were clenched tight. Other than that, it appeared to be unarmed.

Something Lee had told him flashed through Gewey's mind. His friend had encountered a possessed half-man while journeying to the desert, and his description of pale skin and black vacant eyes closely matched what he was seeing before him now.

He was about yell out for Felsafell and Nehrutu to stop when darkness wrapped itself around the pale figure. In the blink of an eye, it completely vanished. Seemingly oblivious of this, the three Vrykol suddenly charged forward to meet them, swords drawn.

Concerned by the creature's sudden disappearance, Felsafell skidded to a halt. Ignoring the onrushing Vrykol, he cast his eyes rapidly from side to side, seeking it out. As he stood there, Gewey and Nehrutu flew past him, and in a ringing clash of steel, began engaging the enemy.

Considerably weaker and slower now than when using the
flow
, Gewey at first struggled to fend off the vicious strikes coming at him from all angles. Being far less disadvantaged, Nehrutu moved into position so as to take on two Vrykol at once, leaving Gewey to deal with just one.

Felsafell was on the point of joining them in the fight when, from nowhere, a cloud of darkness covered his eyes. A massive blow then struck his jaw, sending him reeling back.

Quickly recovering, he crouched low, but his foe was nowhere to be seen. He shot a glance across at Gewey and Nehrutu. Despite his lack of the
flow,
Gewey was now slowly and surely pushing his adversary back. He still had the brute strength of several men, and was using this to overwhelm the Vrykol with sheer force. Nehrutu, meanwhile, was moving back and forth with superb skill and experience, his blade a blur as he found weaknesses in the enemy’s defenses. He was gaining no ground, but neither was he giving any away.

The
first born
closed his eyes and took a breath. This time, he heard the creature coming a moment before it attacked. Just in time he rocked back on his heels, causing a flying fist to miss his jaw by barely a hair’s width. In the same motion, Felsafell raised his knee sharply, burying it deep into the creature’s midsection and forcing it to double over. It cried out in an unbridled rage, its black eyes demonic with fury. But before it could raise itself up again, Felsafell smashed his fist with terrifying force into its temple. The power of this blow would have killed any normal man, but this was no man like he had ever encountered before.

Felsafell moved in to finish things, but to his astonishment, the creature nimbly jumped aside and threw a series of savage punches back at him. Never before had the
first born
been matched in speed and agility by a mere mortal. Three times his head was snapped back as bony knuckles found his chin. Once... twice...three times, he tried to get close enough to grapple, but on each occasion it anticipated his move and stepped sharply away.

But something had to give. As fast and strong as his foe was, Felsafell had spent thousands of years gaining experience in such situations, and his skill was beyond reckoning. He allowed his opponent to press him back until they were at the edge of the clearing. A bone-cracking strike then landed on the bridge of his nose, sending him stumbling back into a young oak. Felsafell's legs appeared to wobble. Grinning triumphantly, the creature charged in for the kill.

This was exactly what Felsafell was waiting for. With perfect timing, he leaned in and wrapped his powerful arms around his enemy’s waist. In a single motion he lifted him off the ground and slammed him with bone-shattering force down onto his back. Before the creature could recover from this, he pinned its arms with his knees and rained down a storm of vicious blows.

Incredibly, even
through this, the beast continued to struggle and fight back. As its broken and gashed face began to ooze a thick, acrid smoke, its bestial growls lent savage accompaniment to the incessant ringing of steel on steel from the nearby fight.

No matter how many times Felsafell hit the creature, it appeared to show no signs of weakening. Amazingly, it even managed to free one of its arms. Only the
first born's
massive strength and great height was now keeping him atop his foe. But, with the creature's endless punching and clawing in an attempt to free itself, his own injuries were beginning to mount.

Just then, Felsafell's eyes caught the gleam of metal through a tear in the beast's tattered jerkin. It was no larger than the head of a nail, and appeared to be buried within its flesh just above its heart. He thrust the tips of his fingers around the protrusion, digging hard until he could feel it firmly in his grip. Satisfied, he yanked upwards with vicious force.

The creature’s eyes shot wide as the spike jerked free. It flailed about wildly for a few seconds, all the time letting out a series of ear-splitting shrieks. Then it went completely limp.