Of Gods and Elves

chapter Twenty-Eight


Yanti lounged in his cabin aboard the Moon Shadow. It was sturdy, as river vessels go, though not as lavish as he would have liked, but the wine was good and the food passable. It had taken them quite some time to navigate the delta and enter the Goodbranch River. Pushing against the wind and current with oars made for slow progress.

Fortunately, he was in no hurry. Plans were already in motion, and his direct intervention was no longer necessary... as least for now. There was a soft rap at the door. He took a sip of brandy and got to his feet.

“Enter.”

The door opened and Braydon, the first mate, timidly stepped inside. “Beg your pardon, my lord.”

“What is it?” Yanti asked, irritably. He did not care much for midday interruptions.

“A small craft has pulled alongside.” A bead of perspiration appeared on Braydon’s brow. “Says he has a message for you.”

Yanti furled his brow. “Did he give his name?”

“No, my lord,” Braydon replied. “But I don't like the looks of 'im....all covered in black, and all. He smells foul too. Like death. And his voice, he hisses more than speaks, he does.”

“Let him board and bring him to me. And be quick.”

Braydon bowed awkwardly and hurried off.

A few minutes later, the door swung open and there stood the figure of a man, covered in a long black cloak. His face was hidden and Yanti could hear a slow growl coming from beneath the hood. Braydon stood just behind, his face pale and fearful.

“You may go,” said Yanti to the first mate, who eagerly obliged. The door slammed shut and Yanti took a seat, crossing his legs in his usual aristocratic fashion. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the Vrykol? I assume our Lord knows you are here.”

“He knows,” the Vrykol hissed. “He knows much. He knows of your plans and is unhappy. They will not succeed.”

Yanti cracked a smile. “Unhappy you say... I see. Well, my pungent friend, we shall see how unhappy he is when I deliver the godling to him, as well as his elf mate.” He picked up his brandy and held it under his nose for a moment. “All is in order, I assure you. Oh, and he can look to have Lee Starfinder among the converted, as well.”

“The Great Lord is not so optimistic,” said the Vrykol. “He foresees... problems.”

“What kind of problems?” Yanti tried to conceal his concerns.

The Vrykol reached inside his robes and withdrew a sealed letter. Yanti took it, doing his best not to touch the Vrykol.

“By the by,” Yanti remarked. “A bit bold of you to be out in the open, don't you think?”

The Vrykol gurgled with grotesque laughter. “The Master has perfected us. Only a few mindless beasts still roam. Humans fear us and choose what they see or don't see.”

“Then I can look forward to more visits, I take it,” said Yanti.

“No,” replied the Vrykol. “I will stay with you... until the end.”

Yanti scowled. “Then I hope your kind can bathe.” He opened the letter, reading it carefully. “Wait here.” He stuffed the letter inside his jacket and threw open the door. Yanti made his way on deck and found the captain busy navigating the river. The sun was high in the sky and there was a winter chill in the air, despite the fact that they were still far south. His master’s doing.

“Pull along the bank and retrieve my horse from the hold,” Yanti ordered as he strode up. “I'll be getting off here.”

Captain Tarn, a stout, broad-shouldered man, didn't take his eyes off the river. Unlike the first mate, he was clearly not intimidated by Yanti. “Not here,” he said gruffly. Too dangerous.”

“Here,” Yanti demanded. “Now.” Tarn ignored him.

Yanti turned and sought out the first mate. He found him in the galley, eating a bowl of fish stew.

“Can you pilot this vessel?” asked Yanti.

“Aye,” Braydon replied. “As well as the skipper, I'd say.”

“Good,” said Yanti. “Come with me.”

Confused, the first mate pushed his bowl away and chased after Yanti, who was already on his way back on deck. The moment the captain came into view, Yanti drew a small dagger. Before Braydon could utter a protest, Yanti hurled the blade. The captain's eye shot wide as the knife stuck in his throat. He grabbed at the knife, falling to his knees. He let out a gurgling groan as blood poured from his throat and mouth. Yanti slowly walked over and with one strong kick, sent the man crashing through the railing and into the river. Three sailors stepped forward, but backed away when Yanti drew his sword.

“You are promoted.” Yanti smiled as if nothing had happened. “Now land on the bank and retrieve my horse from the hold.”

Braydon gaped in stunned silence. Yanti snapped his fingers, bringing the first mate out of his stupor.

“Get to it,” Yanti ordered.

Braydon grabbed the wheel and carefully guided the boat to the western bank, while one of the deck hands retrieved Yanti's horse from below.

Yanti returned to his cabin and gathered his belongings. The Vrykol stood patiently in the corner.

“I hope you don't mind walking,” said Yanti, feigning concern. “We have far to go.”

The Vrykol made no response and followed Yanti topside. The gangplank had been lowered though it did not quite reach the shore.

“This is as close as we could get without running aground, my lord,” Braydon explained, his voice filled with trepidation.

Yanti looked at the first mate for a long moment. Then turned and stowed his belongings on his saddle. The Vrykol leaped to the shore with unworldly strength, bringing gasps and murmurs from the crew.

“If I were you, I would forget you ever saw me... or my companion.” Yanti mounted his horse. He reached in the pouch on his belt and held up a silver coin. “Do we understand each other?”

“I... I understand,” replied Braydon, trembling.

Yanti tossed the first mate the coin and urged his horse down the gangplank. He cursed as water drenched his boots. He considered killing the first mate for a moment, but dismissed the idea. Braydon had already ordered his men to pull up the plank and shove off.

“I know your kind are fast,” Yanti said to the waiting Vrykol. “You will need to be.” He spurred his horse west into a dead run, not bothering to see if the Vrykol was following. He knew the creature was not far behind.

He reached into his jacket and touched the letter. He would not allow his plans to fail... even if it meant that the godling had to die.