The Godling Chronicles The Shadow of God

chapter 21





Weila woke Gewey and Aaliyah, and offered them both a cup of clear, sweet-smelling juice, which they gratefully accepted, though its fragrance did not prepare Gewey for the sour taste. His face twisted and he nearly spat it out.

Weila laughed. “It is from the fruit of the ganhi bush. It is sour, but very good for you.”

“Is Lyrial ready to see us?” asked Aaliyah.

Weila nodded, and pointed to the far end of the pool near the statue. “Go to her. I will wait here.”

“You're not coming?” asked Gewey.

“As I said, this is a matter for the Amal Molidova, not a Sand Master,” she explained. “Do not worry. We have spoken of Pali, and she does not hold you to blame any more than I.”

Gewey and Aaliyah finished their juice, then made their way around the pool to where Lyrial sat waiting. In front of her, two flat round cushions had been placed. She motioned for them to sit. She wore a pair of loose-fitting, cream, linen trousers, and a matching blouse. Her blond hair was in a tight braid that fell down her back and wound around her waist, ending up in her lap, and her bright green eyes twinkled in the blue light emanating from the water. Her face had the same timeless quality Gewey had come to know in elves, yet he knew she must be quite old.

Lyrial's eyes darted back and forth from Gewey to Aaliyah. “I do not think you are in league with the Soufis. So do not fear.”

“That is good,” said Aaliyah. “And know that we come in friendship.”

Lyrial raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? It is hard to imagine those who exiled my people so long ago have suddenly had a change of heart. No. I believe if you desire friendship, it is out of necessity. Whatever the troubles are in the west, I think you have brought them with you.”

“First, I would say that my people did not exile you,” said Aaliyah, her tone forceful and steady. “My people are from across what you know as the Western Abyss. But do not think that is a reflection on the other elves of this land. I do not believe they even remember you exist. Certainly, those living today had no part in your exile.”

Lyrial shook her head and let out a huff. “It would stand to reason that their arrogance and folly would shorten their memory.”

“Your kin do not seem to share your attitude,” said Aaliyah. “Those we spoke to seem pleased that the elves of the west would come.”

“It is for them to live and die, free in the sands,” she shot back. “It is for me to protect that freedom. Their hearts are not as burdened as mine.” She shrugged. “They do not read the ancient lore.” She paused and sighed. “Still, I am not unwilling to welcome them, if they truly wish it. And stories of the elves from across the Abyss have been told long before we came here. If your people have returned, then perhaps it is you who have brought war.”

“I can only tell you we have not,” she retorted. “We have been unable to return until now.”

Lyrial sighed. “Very well, then. Tell me your tale.”

Aaliyah told her story, beginning with their arrival and ending when they left for the desert, leaving out Gewey's identity as a God. “I know that Weila told you why we came, and that we had intended to leave your desert in peace.”

“She told me what you allowed her to know,” Lyrial replied. “But you have not revealed all. What is it you fear me to learn, I wonder?”

Aaliyah stiffened. “I have told you all that you need to understand that we are guiltless regarding the Soufis. Anything else is our affair.”

Lyrial placed her finger to her chin and met Aaliyah’s gaze. “Is that so? You may not have caused the Soufis to gather, but I wager that whatever it is you fight, did. They are wretched slavers that plague the sands. And though cunning and fierce, they would never gather in such great numbers on their own. They raid and flee.”

“I will say nothing more on the matter,” said Aaliyah.

Lyrial and Aaliyah stared into each other’s eyes, unblinkingly.

“What she hasn't revealed is me,” Gewey interjected. “I am what she will not tell you.”

Aaliyah stiffened then folded her hands.

Lyrial threw her head back in laughter. “You? And what could she reveal about you?”

“We came here to retrieve what was guarded within the Black Oasis,” he said. “They were gifts, left for me by my father...Gerath.”

Lyrial burst out laughing again. “You think a half-man is something new to us? You think us ignorant fools?”

“I am not a half-man,” Gewey asserted. “And it was not Aaliyah that burned the Soufis. I did it.”

“I see.” Lyrial stood. “So you claim to be a God, and not a half-man? That would be something indeed...if it were true. Of course, such an outrageous claim can be settled easily enough.” She held out her hand. Gewey took it and she led him to the edge of the Waters of Shajir. “Do not move.” In a flash she drew a dagger from her sleeve and cut the back of Gewey's hand.

Gewey winced as blood trickled into the shimmering liquid. The second it touched the surface of the water, the ground began to rumble. Beneath the waters, a billowing red cloud boiled up violently, rapidly covering the entire pool. Suddenly, a thunderous boom knocked them off their feet, as fire erupted from the urn atop the great statue, shooting hundreds of feet into the air. The fire spread out, then fell, raining down flames that disappeared in a blinding flash, just a few feet above the ground.

Slowly, the earth stopped shaking and the blood red water transformed back into its original blue color. Lyrial sat, eyes wide and mouth agape. Gewey got up and offered her his hand. She looked at him in awe, then after a long moment, allowed him to help her to her feet. He held her hand as he walked her back and sat down. Lyrial looked stunned, unable to speak.

Just then Weila ran over. “What happened?”

Lyrial motioned for her to sit. “It seems that this concerns all elves, Weila. You should stay.” She lean forward and stared into Gewey’s eyes. “How is this possible? Can the end times be here at last?”

“I don't know anything about that,” said Gewey. “But if you will let me, I'll tell you my story as well.”

Lyrial nodded. “Of course. Yes, please.”

Gewey recounted the events of his life, beginning with the death of his father. Several times he had to stop and back track, as he remembered details. Lyrial and Weila took a special interest when he told of his bonding with Kaylia, asking him three times to repeat it.

More than two hours passed before he finished. The light of the morning sun had painted the sky red and purple. Gewey got to his feet, rubbed his neck and stretched his arms.

“Then it has come to pass,” Lyrial whispered to herself. “Your name...Darshan. We have heard this name before. It is the name of the one who will herald the end times. It is said that your coming precedes the reunion of the elves, and the upheaval of the world. The waging of a great war will remake creation and reveal to the elves, a new destiny.”

“I have no desire to involve your people in any war,” said Gewey. “I only came for the gifts of Gerath. Now that I have them, I intend to leave you in peace.”

Lyrial shook her head and smiled, as a mother speaking to an ignorant child. “The Soufis have gathered for war. The one you call the Dark Knight, is clearly behind it. He either intends to make war on us, or to march them from the desert and make war on you. Either way, we cannot allow it. If they attack us, then it will be their doom, but if they leave the sands...” Her jaw tightened. “I will not allow the filth of the desert to visit their horrors on the rest of the world. And if this Dark Knight would call on such people to fight for him, he has revealed to us his true nature.”

“What will you do?” asked Aaliyah.

“We have already begun to gather our forces,” said Lyrial. “And our scouts are watching every move the Soufis make.”

“Then you should take care to watch for the Vrykol,” said Gewey. “They are powerful and deadly. It was a Vrykol that killed Pali, and nearly killed Aaliyah. If they are with the Soufis, you must be careful. They can only die if you remove their heads.”

“I will inform my people,” said Weila, grimly.

“If the Soufis attempt to leave the desert, we will stop them,” said Lyrial, determinedly. “Once they are dealt with we will go west for the first time in many generations.” Lyrial got to her feet and looked at the statue, her arms across her chest. “And though this may be our end, we will not be idle while evil floods the world.”

“How many are you,” asked Aaliyah.

Lyrial turned back to Gewey, her chest swelling with pride. “We can raise an army of twenty-thousand in a short time. Twice that, if needed. But it would take longer.”

“And how many are the Soufis?” asked Gewey.

“They have three times our number at least.” Lyrial smiled viciously. “But they could have ten times that and still they could not hope to defeat us. It is long past time we dealt with them once and for all. The atrocities they have visited on the people of this land will finally be avenged.”

“I would hear more of your people,” said Aaliyah. “Your desert is filled with wonders I have never dreamed of. The scholars of my land could spend generations studying the Blood of the Desert alone. And this.” She pointed to the statue. “Who built it?”

Lyrial sat and crossed her legs. “It was here long before we arrived. The legends say it was built by the Gods. As far as our tales…it will be a pleasure to tell you of the desert. For all my people's merits, they care little for my stories.”

“That's not true,” Weila protested, jokingly. “I have listened to you ramble on for six-hundred years and never complained.”

This made both Aaliyah and Gewey's eyes shoot wide.

“How old are you?” asked Aaliyah.

Lyrial smiled. “I am seven-hundred and four. But Weila is far older.” She could see the confusion in their expressions. “This surprises you?”

“Indeed,” said Aaliyah. “I am nearly three hundred. The elders of my land rarely see six. How is it that you live so long?”

Lyrial thought for a moment. “Perhaps it is that we do not steal life from the earth. Perhaps that power shortens your own life.”

Aaliyah looked closely at both Lyrial and Weila. “That may be. Or perhaps it is the desert itself that extends your life.”

Lyrial nodded. “That could be. It is said that the power of the Creator first gave life to the world here. And that it was here that the Gods were born. It could be our legends are more than just stories.”

“If it is the desert that extends your life,” said Aliyah, “then I fear what will happen if you try to leave it.”

Lyrial pondered this for a moment then said, “I cannot allow this to concern me. My people will not be trapped by our own mortality. We will know soon enough if what you suggest is true.”

“But—” started Gewey. Lyrial held up her hand, silencing him.

“There is nothing to discuss,” she asserted. “Our course is set. I will not dwell on it. Now if you still would like to hear stories of my people?”

“Of course,” said Gewey.

For the next few hours, Lyrial told them of how her people were exiled for protesting the enslavement of humans, and how they came to live in the desert. She spun tales of adventure, tragedy, and joy. She told them of their fight with the Soufis, and their protection of the humans from slavery. Weila looked bored and began dozing.

“Your people have lived a noble life,” Aaliyah remarked, once Lyrial had finished. “That you were exiled for objecting to the subjugation of humans connects with our own history.”

“A story you can tell me another time,” said Lyrial, rising to her feet. “I will not delay your mission any longer.” Weila handed her a small silver flask. She walked to the pool and filled it. “Take this.” She handed the flask to Gewey. “The Waters of Shajir are powerful. Their healing properties are unmatched. A single drop will heal the deepest wound.”

“Thank you,” said Gewey, bowing low. “It will serve as a reminder of your kindness.”

Lyrial bowed in return. “Once we have defeated the Soufis, I will march my people to the western edge of the desert. There we will await word from you. Weila will take you to the shore.” She smiled at Aaliyah. “I look forward to our next meeting. Please tell our kin that we are overjoyed to reunite with them.”

Aaliyah nodded. “I will. I know they will feel the same. Your friendship will be of great value in the days to come.”

Lyrial took one last, long look at Gewey, then smiled. Gewey watched as Lyrial turned and walked away.

“Come, Darshan,” said Weila. “If we hurry, we can have you back to the shore by nightfall tomorrow.”

“I wish we had more time,” said Gewey.

“I agree,” said Aaliyah. “We should send an envoy here as soon as possible.”

“But what if you're right?” Gewey couldn't help but think about what would happen if the elves left the desert. “What if it's the desert that lets them live so long?”

Weila stopped in her tracks. “My people will not sacrifice their honor for a long life. Do not think on it any longer.”

“How long do you live?” asked Gewey.

“Our elders see nine hundred years or more,” she replied. “But think on this. I heard your story. You have lived more in your short life than any elf that walks the sands. I would give all of my years to live a life of substance, however short it may be. If we step off the sand and perish, it would be better than to have hidden ourselves away in fear and dishonor.”

Weila led them ten miles, to a similar rock formation that they had seen on the journey to the Waters of Shajir. This time the trip seemed to pass by much more quickly. Weila regaled them with tales of the desert with ceaseless energy.

“I noticed that during your recount of events you spoke very little of your homeland,” Weila said to Aaliyah. “Surely there is much to tell.”

“There is,” she replied. “More than could be told in the time we have.”

“Then tell me of your village,” said Weila.

Aaliyah laughed. “Well, my village is a city of more than one-hundred thousand elves.”

Gewey cocked his head. “Then, that's something I'd like to hear about, too.”

“Very well,” she said, laughing softly. “My city is called Parylon. It is on the shores of what you know as the Western Abyss, though on the other end, and many leagues away.” Her voice became distant. “To put is simply, Parylon is beautiful. Tall silver spires that glimmer majestically in the sunlight, dwarfing the redwood forest that border it to the east. Between the spires are lavish homes and stunning gardens. Halls of learning and meditation are built from the finest marble, and adorned with sculptures and reliefs lovingly carved by the greatest artisans the world has ever seen. One could spend a hundred years wandering the city and never see them all.

“The streets are paved with polished green slate that reflects the light of the noonday sun, making the whole city look as if it were an extension of the Creator's grace. In winter, when the sea churns and foams, the spires cast a green shadow, transforming the coast into an emerald field of waves and sand.

“Each afternoon, the city fills with music and laughter. We boast six schools where the finest musicians study, teach, and compose. Each afternoon, the students take to the streets so the world can listen to what they have learned. In the evening, the masters give concerts in the city square. As a girl I would wait for hours and hours for the song masters to arrive, and listen until my mother would find me and take me home.”

“At night, the glow of a million lights shine more brilliantly than the stars in the heavens. In the spring, the moss of the listorlia grows on rooftops in infinitely intricate swirling patterns. In the light of the full moon it glows softly, and releases its snow white spores into the air, covering the streets in a blanket of sweet smelling wonder.”

She paused and sighed sadly. “I do miss it.”

“How could anyone leave such a place?” asked Weila. “Why would your people have come here to begin with, when such magic exists?”

Aaliyah smiled. “I look at your desert home and see far more magic. For all our accomplishments, we have nothing like the Blood of the Desert, or the Waters of Shajir. And our life is not without peril. I tell you of the best we have to offer. These are the things I love, yet not all there is. Beyond our borders live a brutish race of foul creatures. We call them the Morzhash. Though only the Creator knows what they call themselves.”

“What are they?” asked Gewey.

“We do not know for certain,” she replied. “They are twice the size of any human, stronger than any elf, and covered in thick black hair. Their faces are twisted and flat, with a swine like nose and narrow red eyes.”

“Are they intelligent?” asked Weila.

“They are cunning to be sure,” said Aaliyah. “And deadly, though, I do not know that they possess anything more sophisticated then a club or spear. They do not work metal and live in make-shift huts, as they hunt and scavenge the forests and jungles. Occasionally, we will find what remains of a camp, but we have never found any permanent settlements. As far as we know, they live a nomadic life.”

“It wouldn't seem like they could trouble your people too much,” said Gewey.

“For thousands of years they have been little more than a nuisance,” she replied. “They raid a village, or attack a traveler. We have captured a few. But have never been able to decipher their crude language. In fact, until the time of my grandmother, we had no idea they even had a language.”

Gewey tried to picture the creatures in his mind. “You say they raid your villages? Why?”

Aaliyah shrugged. “There is no apparent reason. They take nothing. They simply kill and destroy.”

“Why not hunt them down?” asked Weila.

“We have tried,” she replied. “For all their size and girth they move through the forest with amazing speed. And they disappear long before we can track them.”

“Still, it seems like a minor problem,” said Gewey.

“Until the past few years it has been,” she said. “But lately, their raids have become more brazen. They have begun to invade deeper into our land than they ever had in the past.”

“You think it is because of what's happening here?” asked Gewey.

“It may be linked somehow,” Aaliyah replied. “The Morzhash would certainly make formidable allies should the Dark Knight find a way to control them.”

The thought of massive savage beasts fighting on the side of the Dark Knight sent chills down Gewey’s spine. The Vrykol were bad enough, but should these creatures reach their shores, it could cause fear and panic across the land. “Let us hope the two are not related.”

Weila laughed, shocking Gewey out of his morbid thoughts. “Beasts or no beasts, I intend to see your city, Aaliyah. And may the Creator help any pig-nosed oaf that tries to stop me.”

Aaliyah smiled. “I would not worry. My city is one of three, and by far the oldest. The lands around us would burn to cinders before we let it fall. Though we did not come in great number to these shores, should the Dark Knight think to extend his grasp to my home, he will find that only the humans of this land could raise a larger army.”

“Your words give me hope,” said Weila. “I must admit, the elves of the desert have been alone for too long. Your arrival, Darshan, has brought us the hope of kinship.” She folded her hands and bowed her head. “I think that perhaps your arrival has saved us. A people cannot live without moving forward. We have become too set in our ways.”

Gewey reached out and touched her shoulder. “Darshan is a name given to me by a God. And yes, I am his son. But my father was a human. He raised me, and taught me to be the man I am. He named me for his father...Gewey.”

Weila’s face twisted as she tried not to laugh. “Gewey is a silly name for a savior.”

“Gewey is a human name,” he countered. “It will be the human in me that fights the Dark Knight. And I will either defeat him, or be destroyed. And should I win. If I somehow find a way...nothing will change. Your people will still be in the desert.” His gaze shot to Aaliyah. His passion swelled. “Your people will still be across the sea. The world will still be the world. Humans, elves, and even the Morzhash. Nothing will change. Once there is victory...what then? What will you do with the world you are given?” The flow was raging through him as his voice roared. He calmed his spirit and closed his eyes. His frustration and anger grew. He reached out desperately. Aaliyah was there. His spirit had flown straight to her.

“Calm your storm,” Aaliyah whispered. “I am here.”

Gewey shot an accusing glance. “You—I—” His eyes fell. “I don’t know why I said that. I suddenly felt angry. I am sorry.”

A tear spilled down Aaliyah's cheek. “There is no need to apologize. I could feel your passion. Your true nature is beginning to assert itself.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You are what your nature has made you,” she explained. “Your human side is only one part of you. The Gods are the most powerful beings ever created. And their feelings are equally powerful.”

“This is true,” agreed Weila. “Even in our stories, the anger, love, hate, and desire of the Gods are far beyond that of mortals.”

“Are you saying I am becoming more…God?” The idea frightened him.

“Perhaps,” Aaliyah replied. “I cannot say for certain. But I feel that you are changing.”

“What do you mean you feel it?” asked Gewey.

“When you saved me, it created a bond between us,” said Aaliyah, smiling sweetly. She touched his cheek. “I knew it at once. I am surprised you did not.”

“But...but,” Gewey stammered. “What of Nehrutu? And what of Kaylia?”

“What we share is different,” she explained. “When you touched the essence of my spirit, I became a part of you.” She could see Gewey’s discomfort. “Do not fret. As far as I can tell it has not interfered with your connection to Kaylia. And as far as Nehrutu is concerned, that time between us has passed.” The mention of Nehrutu brought sadness to her voice.

This did little to ease Gewey’s mind. “Please release your hold on my bond with her.”

“You could do this on your own, I suspect.” She sighed and nodded. “But very well. I will do as you ask.”

Suddenly, Gewey could feel the barrier being lifted. Instinctively, he reached out for Kaylia. She was there. Joy and rapture rushed through him, as they became one. The longing was over. He was with her.

Aaliyah was almost unable to shake him out of his communion before they arrived at their destination. Weila led them back to the surface. The sun was just going down and Gewey could taste the salty sea air. Three hours later they were back at their boat. Gewey and Aaliyah said a heartfelt farewell to Weila, then made their way back to the ship. The crew cheered wildly as they climbed on deck.

“Tales will have to wait until tomorrow,” announced Aaliyah. “We are both weary from travel.”

That night Gewey washed and slid into bed, excited that he could contact Kaylia once again.

“I envy her fortune,” said Aaliyah, as she lay down and pulled the blanket tightly around her.

Gewey looked over. “I am the fortunate one. And not only because of Kaylia.”