The Reborn King (Book Six) (3 page)

Just as they were ready to retire, an elderly elf woman named Therisa beckoned for Kaylia to follow her outside. Kaylia had known the woman her entire life. She had been head of the household staff for more than three-hundred years, and had a stern and unbending nature about her.  She went after the old woman, accompanied by Aaliyah.

The night was comfortably mild, with stars dotted about a cloudless and moonless sky. Even so, the statue at the front of the house still managed to glow with an almost spiritual light.

Therisa was
kneeling at the statue’s base, and gestured for Kaylia to come do the same. “I can feel that your ability with the
flow
is strong,” she said. “Stronger even than Lord Theopolou. This is good. It will ease the transition.”

After handing Jayden to Aaliyah, Kaylia joined the woman. “What is this?” she asked.

Her stoic expression softened into a sweet smile. “You are master of this house, just as Theopolou was before you, and his father before him. Now that Theopolou has died, the land is without a companion. You must take his place.”

Though not nearly as strong as her own skill, Kaylia could feel the
flow
emanating from Therisa and entering the crystal. The light transformed into a deep blue as the power was amplified. Kaylia knew instinctively what to do. Closing her eyes, she placed her hands on its base. A warm sensation washed over her. Instantly, she could feel the flow coursing from the earth and seeking to combine with her spirit.

The moment she joined with it, she could feel everything around her coming to life. It was as if the manor, the grounds, and everything within it had a consciousness…and
it
knew
her
. She allowed it to wrap itself around her in a warm embrace. When she was a child she had thought that Theopolou was in command within his borders. But that was only partly true. Now she truly understood. Just as he had been, she was a part of this place, and it was a part of her.

Just then her eyes snapped open and she sprang to her feet.

“What is it?” asked Therisa.

“Get inside and alert the staff,” she ordered. “Enemies are coming.”

The flow burst forth from Aaliyah as she hurried over, reaching out to the surrounding area. “I feel nothing,” she said, frowning.

“They are there,” Kaylia insisted. “They are clever. And they are elves.”

Gewey mounted his horse and made his way to the vanguard of the massive army. Even at a gallop it took him ten minutes to reach King Lousis and Nehrutu, who were waiting patiently. Nehrutu looked uncomfortable atop his mount. Much like the desert elves, he preferred traveling on foot. Lousis, on the other hand, looked tall and proud – every inch a warrior king.

“It’s about time,” called Lousis. “I thought you might have lost your nerve.”

Gewey laughed. “I did. But being as how you are refusing to leave me behind…”

“And where is Felsafell?” asked the king.

“I suspect that he’s not far away,” said Gewey. He took a long look back at their force, which measured one-hundred and fifty thousand swords. “I’m still amazed at how many soldiers you were able to muster in just two months.”

“And when you join with the desert elves,” added Nehrutu, “your enemy will truly have cause to fear.”

“I hope to gain even more support along the way,” said Lousis. “Baltria has managed to recruit men from the Eastland, and I hope to do the same.”

“And if those you hope will become allies turn out to be enemies?” asked Gewey.

“I do not intend to engage in battle until I must,” Lousis replied. “If we are allowed to pass unhindered, we will. The journey will be difficult enough without the added hardship of battle.”

“If you are resisted,” said Nehrutu, “Mohanisi and the others from my land should be able to swing the advantage to your favor. It’s unlikely they will know what he and my kin are capable of.”

Gewey hoped that such a display of power would also make them think that Darshan was leading the army. This was a hope shared by the king, though it was left unspoken. Lousis was already in poor spirits that King Victis would not be with him. His friend had returned home to assist the southern kingdoms in rebuilding their shattered lands. Being that many of their sovereigns had perished, his leadership was desperately needed there. The
remaining northern rulers had also gone with Victis in a show of solidarity. Of all the remaining monarchs, only King Lousis would be going to war.

This was a fact that had not gone unnoticed by the former High Lady, and now
Queen
Selena. It was all Lousis could do to keep her from coming along too. It was only when Lousis named Jacob as his heir that she finally relented. Lord Ganflin would be there to instruct Jacob as to his duties, but Jacob insisted that his grandmother stay too. And though the former High Lady knew this was likely a conspiracy to keep her from harm, she could not refuse her grandson.

Lord Chiron arrived, his normally cheerful countenance grave and showing the signs of age.

“All is ready?” asked Lousis.

“It is,” Chiron confirmed.

“Then why so glum?”

“I have been on such a march before,” he replied. “During the Great War, the remainder of the elf nations gathered in a desperate effort to stave off defeat. I cannot help but be reminded of what happened then.”

“What did happen?” asked Gewey.

Chiron looked sideways at him. “We failed.”

“Ah,” said Lousis. “But today elf and human fight together, and it is our foe who now stares at defeat.”

Chiron nodded slowly, albeit unconvincingly. “Of course. Please forgive my melancholy. The eve of
our
final march was filled with such hope as well. Needless to say, that hope was destroyed. I do not enjoy such reminders.”

“I understand,” said Lousis. He turned to face the herald. “Sound the advance.”

A silver trumpet rang out, its call taken up by others scattered about the ranks until they combined into a single harmonious note that pieced the air and called all to attention. For a moment there was quiet and the air was still. Then, like some massive behemoth from ancient legend, the army slowly lurched forward.

The pace was little more than a slow walk. So many men and elves, together with wagons and horses, were not capable of moving with any great speed. And the roads beyond Althetan borders would be sure to bottleneck their ranks and slow them even further.

Most of the morning had passed before the last wagon of provisions eventually pulled away. Spirits were high and songs of anticipated victory were sung as the vast army tramped off to meet its destiny. Gewey, on the other hand, was anxious. He was to wait at least two weeks before breaking off with Nehrutu and Felsafell and go his own way.

Felsafell had warned him against using the flow, or even using his bond with Kaylia. The Dark Knight
must
believe he was with the army, and there was the possibility he would be able to sense Gewey’s location if he used his power. This restriction did not sit well and spawned several heated arguments.

“The Dark Knight has never been able to know where I am before,” Gewey had insisted.

“Perhaps,” said Felsafell. “But you cannot be certain. Melek knew where you were the moment he left Shagharath. He could feel your power. There is no reason to think the Dark Knight does not possess the same ability. There is too much at stake to risk discovery.”

Eventually, Gewey was forced to relent. His last moments with Kaylia and Jayden before they left for Theopolou’s manor had brought him to the brink of collapse. Up until then he had kept in almost constant contact. And in the end it was Kaylia, not he, who insisted that it be done. They had both allowed Aaliyah to impede their bond. Though he could still feel her, it was dull and distant. Kaylia said that they must trust in the wisdom of Felsafell, for she feared that he was right. If Gewey failed, the world would burn. And, even more importantly in her eyes, the fate of their son rested firmly on his shoulders.

Nehrutu leaned over in the saddle and whispered to Gewey. “I understand. I too feel the absence.”

Clearly, Aaliyah had taken similar precautions with her own bond. At first Gewey had found it unnerving that Nehrutu could tell what he was thinking. Likely, the bond he had shared with Aaliyah gave him a keener understanding of Gewey’s mind. But as the days passed and he got to know the elf better, their connection was now becoming a welcome feeling of kinship to fill the void left by his parting with Kaylia.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Mohanisi came forward twice to speak with King Lousis, then returned to the rear to march with his kin. By the time the sun started sinking beneath the horizon, the road was beginning to narrow. A few wagons on their way to Althetas had been forced to yield the road, and Gewey smiled inwardly at the traveler's dumbfounded expressions as they watched one-hundred and fifty thousand armed warriors go marching by.

When they finally halted, Gewey and Nehrutu sought out Felsafell in the forest south of the road. It didn’t take them long before they ran across his camp. He had apparently anticipated their company by catching three rabbits and picking some wild onions. After the meal they relaxed by the fire while Felsafell regaled them with stories of the rise of elf and human. There was no need to turn conversation to serious matters. They knew where they were going, and there was no point in speculating about the perils they might face.

Gewey settled by the fire and allowed himself to drift into an uneasy sleep. The world of dreams would be a lonely place without Kaylia there beside him.

* * * * *

Gewey found himself standing atop a tall dune and staring out at jagged peaks to the north.

“Don’t go there. You will not return,” whispered a voice in his mind, but he wasn’t certain if the voice was his own…or
was it someone else.

He ignored the warning and willed himself closer to the mountains, secure in the knowledge that, in this place, he could come to no harm. At the base of the tallest peak, a tunnel had been carved into the living rock. As he approached, a blast of searing hot air sent him hurtling back. He touched his face. It burned. And the pain…it felt real. Many times before in his dreams he had been cut, bruised or otherwise damaged, but never once had he experienced actual pain.

Fear knotted his stomach, but he was compelled to continue walking toward the entrance. A deep rumbling growl echoed from the depths just as he reached the threshold. Desperately he tried to stop, but his body would not obey his will. Once inside, all light vanished and he could feel a menacing presence watching him. Waiting for him to come to his doom.

He tried to force himself awake, but it was useless. Something had trapped him. His fear increased as he kept moving deeper into the mountain.

“Who’s there?” he shouted.

The only reply was another feral growl. Then, peering at him from out of the pitch black, he saw two burning yellow eyes. He tried to reach for a weapon, but his arms were paralyzed.

I’ll not die in a bloody dream
, he thought, fighting back his terror.

The eyes were drawing steadily closer. A sinister hissing sound raked at his ears. Gewey made one final frantic effort to wake himself, and this time the world of dreams began to fade. As if realizing that it was about to be denied its victim,
the creature surged forward. Gewey caught a fleeting glimpse of a claw with scaly flesh and razor sharp talons reaching out to mutilate him. Then, in a swirl of color, the vision faded and he found himself back in the camp.

Nehrutu was sleeping a few feet away. Felsafell was sitting close to the flames staring blankly into the night. “Your dreams were troubled?” he asked, without looking up.

Gewey's shirt was soaked in sweat. He sat upright and recounted what had happened.

“Perhaps you are having visions of the future,” Felsafell mused.

“I hope not,” Gewey responded. “Whatever I saw inside that tunnel, it is not something I ever want to encounter again.”

“I have heard stories of the beasts that dwell in the mountains north of the desert. Elves ventured there long ago, and only a very few returned. My people feared to go there, and I have never had the need to do so until now.”

His words only fueled Gewey’s anxiety. He could still see the beast's yellow eyes in his mind, staring at him as if he were its helpless prey. The hideous claw reaching out for him in order to feed its ravenous hunger caused him to shiver.

“There is no need to burden your mind,” Felsafell said. “Perhaps your dreams will reveal more before we arrive.”

“I’m not sure I want to dream anymore,” said Gewey. “Not after that.”

Felsafell smiled and tossed Gewey a skin of water. It was nearly dawn and they could hear the army beginning to stir. Gewey took
a drink, then shook Nehrutu awake. After a quick meal of bread and fruit, they returned in time to greet King Lousis as he rode toward the vanguard of the ranks.

The moment the sun broke the horizon, trumpets sounded and the march continued. Quietly, Gewey told Nehrutu and Lousis of his dream.

“We have all heard stories of the fire lizards,” Lousis said dismissively. “That’s probably what spawned the dream. Old stories, nothing more.”

Gewey nodded and forced a smile. “You’re right, of course.” At that moment he regretted telling the old king what he had seen. Lousis was marching into the heart of death and had more than enough to trouble his mind.

Nehrutu, on the other hand, was unable to hide his concern. However, he remained silent.

“My scouts tell me that the road ahead is clear,” Lousis told them, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Let us hope is remains so. At least until we turn north.”

“Let us hope so,” agreed Gewey.