The Reborn King (Book Six) (10 page)

“Tell me!” Gewey commanded.

“Dust. You will find nothing but dust here. Yet you
must
press on. That is what he told me to say…nothing more.”

Gewey cast an eye over the area. The room had now returned, and on the far side stood two pedestals that he had not previously noticed. Without releasing his hold on Tyrin, he approached these. They were made from the purest gold and adorned with rubies, diamonds, and various other precious gems. Both were crowned with a delicate hand, palm held skyward. But where he'd expected to see the
stones,
there
was only dust – just as the message had said.

“What is this?” Gewey demanded, rubbing the dust between his fingers.

“Your father,” Tyrin replied. “He came here and destroyed the stones long ago.”

Gewey scooped up more of the debris. Why would Gerath do such a thing? Surely he must have known that the stones would be needed. With a flick of the hand, he cast the dust aside.

“I have done as you asked,” said Tyrin. “Will you now fulfill the promise your father made and free me?”

“I will do exactly what Gerath intended to be done,” Gewey told him.

He reached deep within Tyrin’s spiritual mind. Dark and sinister thoughts coursed through the spirit as naturally as blood through veins. Gewey strengthened his connection to the
flow
and focused, methodically stripping away the darkness until every single one of the spirit's memories had been eradicated. By the time he was finished, all that remained was an empty shell of a mind, devoid of both recollection and ill-intent.

Only then did he release his hold.

“Where am I?” asked Tyrin timidly. “What is this place?”

“You are safe,” Gewey reassured him. “But you must remain here until I come back for you.”

Tyrin’s form was no longer cohesive. It drifted randomly for a moment or two until settling into a ball of ghostly light that reminded Gewey of his own form in heaven before Gerath had given him true life.

“Who are you?” it asked.

Gewey felt a deep sense of pity for the spirit. He had not been able to bring himself to destroy it, yet at the same time, he could not allow it to escape this place. And with the seal now broken completely, it most certainly would have.

“I am Darshan. And there is no reason to be afraid. Do as I say and remain here until I return.”

“How long must I wait?” The voice had changed to an almost childlike whine.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I promise to come back when I can.”

Turning quickly away, Gewey strode back to the entrance. As he closed the door behind him, he thought he could hear the spirit weeping.

Nehrutu and Felsafell they were talking quietly some distance away from the fallen Vrykol.

“Do you have the stones?” Felsafell asked anxiously.

Gewey shook his head. “They have been destroyed…by Gerath.”

Felsafell cocked his head and furled his brow. “Gerath? Why would he do this?”

Gewey shrugged. “I was hoping
you
could tell
me
.”

He went on to recount his experience with Tyrin, and told them of his father’s message.

“So this is where they disposed of him,” remarked Felsafell. “I had often wondered after Tyrin, but never dared ask my kin.” He shook his head slowly. “I suppose I was afraid to learn his fate.”

“He can no longer harm anyone,” said Gewey. “I stripped him of his memories.”

Felsafell looked horrified for a moment, then his features relaxed and he nodded with sorrowful acceptance. “It had to be done, I suppose. Though I wish it were not so.”

“But what are we to do now?” Nehrutu asked. “If the stones are gone....”

“We do as Gerath instructed,” Gewey cut in, his voice filled with resolve. “What else
can
we do?”

After a long moment of silence, Felsafell took a deep breath. “Then let us leave this vile place. We have a long way to go from here.”

They followed the
first born
from the fortress at a pace no human could match and continued down the ancient road east.

Dust
, thought Gewey.
Nothing but dust. What if the rest of the stones had suffered the same fate? What if Gerath had destroyed them all? How could he ever hope to defeat the Reborn King without them?

Pushing these negative thoughts away, he allowed the road ahead to numb his mind.

With or without the stone's power, the end was coming soon.

For six days the Vrykol led Kaylia east through the forest, carefully avoiding any roads or frequently used trails. It was clear that they did not wish their presence to be known. Though they had not bound her hands, the half-men were ever at her side, ready to catch her should she make any attempt to escape. But in her present situation, cut off from the
flow
and
with no weapon to aid her
,
there was little chance of that happening.

Her thoughts wandered to Jayden and Gewey during their short respites. She did her best not to focus on all the terrible things that could have happened…or could be happening. If an opportunity to get away did arise, her head must be clear of distractions.

As evening fell on the sixth day she spotted the flickering light of a campfire through the trees some way ahead. Moments later she could hear the crackle and pop of sap filled twigs burning. She also caught the scent of roasting meat, making her mouth instantly water. She had not eaten since they'd departed, and had been sparing with the water skin she had brought with her.

She assumed that the Vrykol would change direction to avoid the camp, as they had done on several other occasions. This time, however, they headed straight at it.

A short while later they came to a small clearing. Ten more Vrykol were standing at irregular distances from the fire, over which a rabbit was roasting on a spit. Crouching down low and staring into the flames was what at first appeared to be a young human female. She was clad in a plain yet clean blue blouse and black, loose fitting trousers. Her straight, dark brown hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail, revealing smooth olive skin. To Kaylia’s eyes she looked to be little more than an adolescent, though she had always found it difficult to gauge the age of humans with any degree of accuracy. It was only when the girl looked up that she realized this was
not
a human at all. She was a Vrykol.

The Vrykol gave her a broad toothy grin. “Most people don’t see me for what I am so quickly. But then, you have some experience with my kind, do you not?” Her voice was richly
feminine. Not the raspy wheezing of the others. She motioned to a spot near the fire. “Sit. The meal is nearly ready.”

Kaylia did not move or say anything.

“Come,” she insisted. “I know you haven’t eaten for days.” She cast a quick glance around. “I’m sure my kinsmen - I guess you would call them that – did not take such needs into account during your journey.” Her eyes fixed on Kaylia unblinkingly, her pleasant demeanor never wavering.

After a lengthy hesitation, during which the rest of the Vrykol and the four half-men spread out to join the others, Kaylia eventually complied.  She took a seat opposite the
girl
but remained silent. The Vrykol that had sent Gewey to Shagharath was much like this one, she considered – unblemished and looking very much alive, though its elf body had been, to her mind, far more unsettling than this human form.

“I am Jillian,” the
girl
announced, bowing her head slightly.

Kaylia raised an eyebrow and spoke at last. “I didn’t know that your kind
had
names. But I suppose I was always too busy taking their heads to ask.”

Jillian laughed. “If you think to anger me, you’ll find it very difficult. But you’re right. I am the only one who has taken a name. The others don’t see the sense in it.”

“Why name the dead?” scoffed Kaylia.

Ignoring the jibe, Jillian removed the rabbit from the spit and tossed it over. The heat burned Kaylia’s hands, but she refused to show any pain. She wanted to throw the food back, but hunger was making her weak and she needed to stay strong. Her face twisted in disgust at the prospect of eating food prepared by this foul creature. Regardless of what the girl looked like, she was no better than her cloaked brethren. Forcing down her first mouthful of the meat, Kaylia struggled not to vomit.

Jillian allowed Kaylia to finish her meal in silence, though her eyes never strayed from her face throughout.

Once done eating, Kaylia tossed the bones into the night and drained what little was left of her water.  “Why are you keeping me alive?” she demanded.

“Ah. This is the part where you hope to learn of our plans.” Jillian leaned back on her elbows. “I cannot tell you that, I’m afraid. There is every chance I shall not succeed. And should that happen, I will not jeopardize my people’s future with a loose tongue.”

Kaylia let out a sarcastic laugh. “Your people? You can’t be serious.”

“And why not? Why should the Vrykol not have kinship? We may not share human or elf motives or morality, but we are just as unique to this world as any other creature.”

Kaylia spat on the ground. “You are an abomination spawned by evil. And soon the world will be done with you forever. How you can speak of motives and morality is beyond reason. Your motives are to obey your master, and you are utterly lacking in any morality.”

Jillian frowned. “You don’t know just how wrong you are. We do have motives beyond our master’s will. And is not our desire to continue surviving a form of morality?”

Kaylia was taken aback. The look in Jillian’s eyes was close to pained and desperate.

“As of now, we are cut off from our master’s voice,” Jillian continued. “He has abandoned us. So we must fight for our very existence.”

“I don’t understand,” said Kaylia. “What do you mean, he has abandoned you?”

Jillian paused to sit up straighter. “The Vrykol walk the earth due to the grace of our master. He made us, and his voice speaks to us from the moment we are created. But now that voice has gone silent.”

Kaylia was baffled by what she was hearing. “So why have you taken me? If your master did not order it....”

“We took you so we could show him that we are worthy of survival,” she said, cutting her off. “We will aid his victory in the hope that, in his mercy, he will grant us a place in his new world.”

“But you are not making sense,” Kaylia countered. “If he is done with you, why has he not just killed you all?”

Jillian lowered her eyes. “Even the Reborn King has limits. To kill us all would take much time and effort. At least, that is our guess. And as the time of his battle with Darshan approaches, his attention is focused elsewhere.”

Kaylia thought on this for a moment. “So you intend to use me as a weapon against Gewey?”

“There is no use for me to deny something so obvious,” she replied.

“Then why leave our son? Why not try to take us both?”

“We allowed your son to stay behind so that you could be captured unharmed. I feared you would fight to the death should we try to take you both. And from the look on your face, I think I was right. We need you intact…for now.” Her last few words bore a hint of menace. She then stood up and waved a dismissive hand. “That is all you need to know.”

Kaylia scrutinized Jillian as she walked away. She could almost forget that she was speaking to a Vrykol. She wanted to know more, but thought it best not to press the issue at this time. She was certain there would be many days of travel ahead, and if she had learned anything from Lord Theopolou, it was that patience is often a powerful ally.

Jillian disappeared into the night, followed by three other Vrykol. Kaylia took the opportunity to try and get some sleep, but found it impossible to remain so for more than a few minutes at a time.

The sun was still below the horizon when they headed out. Their pace was quick, though not overly so. Just before midday, Kaylia was allowed to fill her water skin from a tiny stream they had come across. Jillian also provided a few wild berries to sustain her.

They continued traveling due east for most of the day, but turned slightly south late in the afternoon. From time to time Kaylia could hear the sounds of human travelers to the south and guessed they were not far away from the road that ran north of the Spirit Hills – though precisely where they were she couldn’t be certain.

Just as the sun was setting, Jillian called for a halt and then vanished into the brush. Less than an hour later she returned carrying a large sack. From this she removed a loaf of bread and a few strips of jerky.

“You must do without a fire tonight,” she said, handing Kaylia the repast. “There are humans nearby, and I would prefer not to have to dispose of their bodies should they discover us.”

Kaylia looked at the food with the same revulsion as before.

“Come now,” Jillian chided. “It was given to me by a group of human merchants and prepared by their own hands. Be grateful they were not elves. They would have known at once that I am not human. Then we would have been forced to kill them.”

“And why did you leave the humans alive?”

Jillian sat down on a fallen tree a few yards away. “My master has a love for humans. You may find this difficult to fathom, but Vrykol only kill humans when we must. Not that we would hesitate when it is needed. Nor do we feel guilt when doing so. I suppose he must have made us that way.”

Kaylia plopped down on the ground and tore off a piece of bread. “And what of elves?”

She smiled wickedly. “That is another matter. He does not hold them in high regard. But for now, they are not our concern. So long as they do not have the misfortune to encounter us, we will spare them. Not that it will do them much good eventually. Once our master is victorious, he will deal with all of your people in his own way.”

The Vrykol’s words and callous smile brought Kaylia’s anger to the fore, but she managed to conceal it well. “You are assuming he will win,” she said evenly.

“Of course I am,” Jillian responded. “Darshan cannot defeat him. He lacks both the strength and the will.”

Kaylia sneered. “Actually, from what I see, your master is a coward. He hides behind his walls and sends his minions to do what he cannot. He has tried many times to kill Gewey…tried and failed. Soon he will wish he had never laid his hands on the Sword of Truth. And when this war is over it will be the Vrykol, not the elves, who are dealt with.”

Jillian regarded Kaylia and nodded. “You truly believe that, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes. Your faith in Darshan is absolute.” She laughed softly. “But faith will not save him. Or you for that matter.”

Kaylia glanced over at the half-men. “And what of
your
faith? Do you think the Reborn King will reward you for corrupting half-men and hatching small-minded schemes?”

“I think we are left with little choice,” she countered. This time it was her turn to feel a flash of anger. But unlike Kaylia, she was unable to hide it.

Kaylia smiled, pleased to have elicited the reaction. But she did not want to press Jillian too far, not knowing what she might do should she completely lose control. Instead, Kaylia turned her attention to her meal.

Jillian glared at her for a full minute before standing up and stalking off into the forest.

The following day they had only walked for a short time when Jillian called for a halt. She and four other Vrykol sped away west. They returned more than an hour later.

“We are followed,” she announced. “It would seem that your elf friend intends to rescue you.”

“Aaliyah,” Kaylia whispered. “You fool.”

“That she is,” agreed Jillian. “And a not-very-stealthy fool at that. Though granted, she moves more swiftly than I would have thought possible.” She flashed a sinister grin. “But that won’t save her, of course.”

Kaylia’s stomach knotted. Aaliyah wouldn’t stand a chance alone…or even with a dozen others to help. “Please, let me speak to her,” she pleaded. “I’ll make her turn back.”

Jillian sniffed. “It’s too late for that.

* * * * *

“I think I have their attention,” said Aaliyah. “They chased me for a while, but I was able to outrun them easily enough.”

Basanti nodded sharply. “Good. Now we will see if they are as dim-witted as I am hoping they are.”

She reached for the hilt of the sword hanging at her side, but recoiled the moment her flesh touched it. This would be the first time she had ever wielded a blade. And though she was certain that her lack of experience would not be a hindrance, she knew that she must be able to at least grip it. So far, she had nearly broken into tears each time she tried.

“Are you sure you can go through with this?” asked Aaliyah.

Basanti squeezed her eyes tightly shut, then, with sheer willpower, forced her hand to grip the weapon. Slowly the steel slid free of its scabbard and she was able to hold it up in front of her face. It was more than a minute before she opened her eyes. The revulsion she felt was clearly visible on her face as she examined the weapon from hilt to tip.

“I am certain,” she answered weakly. “It’s just hard.”

“What will happen to you?” Aaliyah had tried to talk to Basanti on several occasions previously about her intentions, but each time she had merely given a fragile smile and ignored the question.

The Oracle sheathed the blade and wiped her hand on her blouse, as if the sword had actually sullied it. “I will become as my brother was – corrupted and vulnerable. A stain will be upon my spirit that I will never be able to wash clean.”