Mortals & Deities Read online

  Turning back to the second slave, it startled her to see him still standing. Puzzled, Elith tilted her head to the side. “Jarill? Are you in pain?”

  The man blinked and his mouth worked as if to speak, yet no sound came forth. A hairline slit of red encircled Jarill’s neck and Elith knew for certain her blade had struck true. He looked at her and her heart wept for him. She had not meant for any of them to feel pain, only to send them on to the Aftermore as the Revered Father had ordered. That is why her attacks were precise, meant to kill in an instant. These slaves had trained with her for well over six moons now, and she had grown to enjoy their company. Staring into Jarill’s eyes, memories of the times he had laughed with her came rushing back. She did not understand why this made her feel…odd. She felt like she had lost something. Yet, she could not fathom what that could be.

  As if someone cut the strings holding him up, Jarill’s knees buckled and his head separated from his shoulders as his body crumpled to the floor. The head bounced once then rolled in a semi-circle, coming to rest facing Elith. Stepping to it, she knelt and looked into Jarill’s open eyes. “‘And Mash’ayel looked down upon Ramdin’s broken body while the king lay among the thousands upon thousands of Bathane’s army he had slain single-handedly and said, “You have served me well this day, Ramdin. You will be rewarded in the Aftermore.” And with that, the War God reached down and closed the King’s sightless eyes’.” Stretching out a hand, Elith closed the slave’s sightless eyes.

  Standing, the ends of the Ratave staff blunt once more, Elith glanced at the blood-covered sand at her feet. She committed the scene to memory, though she did not understand why she felt compelled to do such a thing. For some reason, it seemed important that she should remember these three men. That they had lived and trained and laughed together. Remember that she had been the deliverer of their death. Some would have thought them her friends, though she did not understand that concept. Still, she drank in the sight until she was certain it would remain vivid in her memory.

  Spinning the Ratave staff between her fingers, she willed it to shrink. Once it reached two hands in length, she slipped it into its holding pouch at the small of her back, pivoted, and strode from the room. She doubted she would ever return to this chamber again.

  Alant Cor bolted upright into a sitting position. Dew covered much of him and he shivered in the chilly, pre-dawn air. Glancing around, it took him a moment to remember where he was. Waist-high stalks of wheat surrounded him, and he saw the top of a small copse of hardwood trees in the distance.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he forced himself to stand. He noticed the faint glow of his home stead of Hild’alan a quarter league or so over the low rolling hills covering the northron grasslands of Ro’Arith. He gazed in wonder as the sun broke the distant horizon and morphed the purple hues of the night sky to the brighter oranges of dawn. “What am I to do now?”

  Last night, after the guarder fled and Alant discovered his red glowing eyes had caused the man’s fear, Alant ran away from the one place he thought he would be safe—his home. It was long into the eve before sleep crept up on him. He had spent much of that time thinking of how to reach his papa, Tanin Cor. Certain the guarder had sounded the alarm that some minion of evil lurked on the road, he could not just walk into town. He could try and catch his papa with the work detail in the morn. Yet, that would bring just as much, if not more, attention to himself.

  And my glowing red eyes. What did the Elmorians do to me?

  Hiding near the edge of the road in the hopes that he could catch Tanin’s attention on his way to work the fields had been abandoned as well. Each fielder group was accompanied by guarders who kept a sharp eye on the surrounding area, ensuring their safety. Although, not much threatened life this close to Hild’alan, the occasional nasty creature was not unheard of. So, the guarders always kept an eye out for danger. The last thing he needed was one of them skewering him on the end of a spear.

  The realization that he had spent the night outside the protective walls of Hild’alan washed over him. Glancing around, he suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable. This brought back memories of the prior day, and his brush with death.

  Has it been just one day?

  A tremor of fear ran through him at the memory of his last few moments on the Isle of Elmorr’eth, in the Chamber of the Chi’utlan. That, too, had occupied his mind for much of last night. How had it happened? One moment he stood in the center of one of the greatest cities on all the Plane of Talic’Nauth, the next he woke up just outside his home stead thousands of leagues—not to mention an entire ocean!—away.

  It is impossible!

  Still, he was here. Home. Of that, he had no doubt. And here, he had to overcome his next obstacle. Somehow, he had to speak with his papa.

  Yet, even in broad daylight, he could not walk into Hild’alan with any hope of success. Strangers were rare this far north of Mocley, and no one could walk into the stead without being questioned by the guarders at the gates. And he could think of no way to get his papa’s attention while he worked outside without being seen. He had no idea how he could manage this since he could not afford to have anyone see his glowing red eyes.

  Motion on the gravel road caused his heart to leap into his throat. Dropping to the ground, he cursed himself for being a half-blind fool. He listened to the sound of footsteps on gravel coming closer.

  What would someone be doing outside and alone this early in the morn?

  The lands surrounding the stead were safe for the most part. Yet, experience taught most locals to err on the side of caution. Almost every turn of the seasons or two, someone lost their lives within sight of the walls of Hild’alan.

  The Plane is a dangerous place, especially this far from a large city.

  That thought struck him as odd. He had not realized he had been away from home long enough to see the place he grew up in as being small.

  The footsteps drew nearer. The closer they came, the more certain Alant became that just one person approached.

  Mayhaps it is the guarder from last night?

  That thought struck him with fear. He refused to imagine what might happen to him and his red eyes if he were discovered. People did strange things out of fear. He had never heard of anyone with red eyes before, and knew the people of his stead would—

  “Alant?”

  The whispered call not only cut off Alant’s train of thought, it sent a quiver down his spine from the sheer fact that someone had called his name. However, he thought he recognized the voice.

  “Alant?” A heavy sigh came from the man on the road. “Ah, Tanin. What are you doing, man? You have gone mad!”

  Standing up, Alant was just in time to see his papa turn and start back down the road. “Papa?” Tanin Cor froze. He did not turn around, instead stood in the middle of the road like a statue. “Papa, is that you? What are you doing out here?”

  As if the added sentence broke some spell, Tanin spun around to face his son. Looks of shock, fear and elation all fought for dominance on his face. “Alant?” His lower lip quivered as if he were about to cry. “My son?” The two men stared at each other for long, anxious moments. Then his papa’s face scrunched and tears fell from his eyes. “My son!” Tanin ran into the field. When he reached Alant, he stopped, as if unsure of what to do next. Reaching out a shaking hand, he brushed Alant’s cheek. “It really is you.” Before Alant could reply, Tanin embraced him and Alant fought to breathe under the crush of his papa’s hug.

  Loud sobs broke from Tanin when Alant returned his hug. “Aye, Papa. It is me.”

  Tanin pulled him away to arm’s length. “Let me get a look at you, boy! Let me get a good look at you!”

  Elation over seeing his papa was replaced by fear of what the man would see, and Alant pulled away, turning his head. “Papa, I…”

  “Alant, son, what is wrong? What are you doing out he
re?” Tanin reached out, cupped his fingers under his son’s chin, and pulled his head back to face him.

  “I do not know, Papa. Please do not be afraid of me.”

  A chuckle escaped his father as he wiped the tears from his face. “Afraid of you, boy? Why, by the Twelve, would I be afraid of you?”

  “My eyes, I do not know what has happened to them, yet…” Alant flinched as Tanin leaned closer.

  “What of your eyes, son? I see nothing wrong.”

  Raising a hand, Alant touched his cheek. “They are not red?”

  “Aye, a little bloodshot mayhaps. Yet, nothing a good eve’s rest will not cure.” Tanin glanced around the field, his eyes coming to stop on the spot Alant had slept last night. “Why are you out here? How did you get here?” His father waved a hand around the area. “Is that where you slept? Why did you not come home? I am sure the guarders would have let you inside, even after dark.”

  Alant glanced at the crushed wheat stalks he had used for his bed, then shrugged his shoulders. “Why are you out here, Papa?”

  Tanin reached up and rubbed his chin, still staring at the spot where Alant had slept. “I had the weirdest…” He looked back into Alant’s eyes. “I saw you. Late last night. Your calls woke me. You needed me. Kept calling out to me. You were…here.” He waved a hand encompassing the field. “I felt I had to come here.” He laughed again. “Your Ma said I was crazy for leaving before firstmeal. Even once they opened the gates, the guarders did not want to let me go out alone. Had Flinnok Nime not been on duty, I think a few of them would have dragged me off to the Shapers, thinking me ill.” Tanin reached out and put a hand on Alant’s shoulder. “Yet, that does not explain anything. I thought you had been sent to Elmorr’eth. I thought you were…”

  Pain danced through Tanin’s eyes so deep that Alant reached out and put a hand on his papa’s arm. “Thought I was what, Papa?”

  A single tear escaped Tanin’s eye and raced down his cheek. “Dead. We were told you had died during your training with the Elmorians.”

  “When? How?” Alant’s knees went weak.

  “Near a tenday gone now. We received a Crystal from some Shaper in Mocley.”

  Looking back at his papa, Alant no longer felt weak. Anger replaced it. “Shaper? Who?”

  Tanin looked at him in surprise. “The name he gave was Sarlimac. Sier Baroth Sarlimac. He said he was one of your teachers.”

  Fists clenching, Alant’s mind raced. “Aye, he was.”

  “Son, did he wrong you in some way?”

  Did he? Did my instructor betray me somehow? Send me off to die at the hands of the Elmorians? Nix. Sier Sarlimac gave me the Tarsith. He warned me about the Elmorians.

  Reason took hold and his anger abated. No, his instructor had simply delivered the message he was told to, a message sent to him from Hath’oolan. Sier Sarlimac must believe him dead as well if he had told his parents this. Alant paced over the trampled wheat he had slept on. It was the only thing that made sense. Sarlimac would not have betrayed him.

  Yet, how could he have thought me dead before the Elmorians took me down to the Chi’utlan?

  “Son?” Tanin reached out and grasped Alant’s sleeve, ripping him from his thoughts. “Are you in trouble? Did you run away?”

  His papa’s question was so obviously the answer, all Alant could do was gawk at him open-mouthed. “Aye.” How could he have missed it? It seemed so clear to him now. “Aye! I ran away! That must be it!” He remembered it now. Those last few moments in the Chamber of the Chi’utlan. The fear he held for the Gralet’nars. Them drawing their swords and advancing. All he thought of was running. Fleeing to somewhere safe. “Home! That is where I wanted to be! Here, safe at home! It was my last thought before it happened.” He frowned at his papa. “Still, how? How did I come here?”

  “Son, you are making no sense. You must be delirious from traveling so far all alone. Though I cannot imagine how you crossed the Great Ocean as a runaway.” Tanin slipped his arm around Alant’s shoulders and started to guide him to the road. “Come, let us get you inside. You must have been traveling for moons now. Your mother will be—”

  “Traveling!” He pushed his papa away. “That is what I did! I Traveled!”

  Concern washed over his father’s features, and he once again slipped his arm over Alant’s shoulders and pulled him toward the road. “Aye, son. You have been traveling. You are not well. Come with me. Let me care for you.”

  The sincerity in the man’s tone made Alant laugh. The shocked look that his papa held hearing him laugh made Alant laugh even harder. “Nix, Papa. I am well. Answers are falling into place for me. Answers to questions you do not know have been asked. Come.” Alant flipped his arm around Tanin’s shoulders. “You say Ma thinks her son is dead? Let us prove to her she is mistaken. Besides, I am starving!”

  His papa, not looking convinced, let Alant pull him out onto the gravel road.

  When they arrived at the stead, Flinnok Nime stepped out of the gate and came down the road to meet them. “Tanin, first one, now the other of your dead sons have returned. Though this one looks more the worse for the wear than Arderi did.”

  “Arderi is here?” With all that had been thrust upon him, Alant had forgotten that his brother would have been Tested by now. He knew his brother held the power within him. Though he had not known how at the time, he felt it in his brother long ago. “Why is he not at the Chandril’elian in Mocley?”

  “Nix, Arderi is not here.” His papa nodded to Flinnok and gripped his outstretched hand. “He was. Left the morn after he returned from the Nektine.”

  “Arderi was in the Nektine?” Alant was stunned. “Why did he not go to Mocley?”

  Tanin smiled at him. “You are not the only one who lives with secrets, son.” Looking back to Flinnok, his smile grew. “If you will excuse us, Nime. I think this boy’s Ma will be put off if she finds out we lingered at the gate.”

  The old Guarder grunted. “Aye, I suppose she might at that. Good morn to you both.” Spinning on his heel, he walked back to the small building just on the inside of the walls. Before he stepped through the door, he turned. “And do not think I will not ask how you knew he was out there, Tanin. Yet, for now, get the lad home to his Ma.”

  When they rounded the corner that led to the fielder housing section, Alant took a deep breath. Near three turns of the seasons had passed and yet the place still looked, felt and even smelled the same.

  Simple. Safe…Home.

  A sense of peace filled his spirit like the grin filling his face. With each step he took, another weight lifted from his shoulders—another burden vanished from his thoughts.

  Not that my burdens are gone. Still…I am safe for now. For now, I will not worry about what has happened to me. I will put my family at ease. The morrow will be soon enough to start looking for answers.

  Shifting his eyes to his papa, the look of concern on Tanin’s face as he stared at him made Alant laugh again. “Papa, I am fine. Everything is fine, now.”

  The morrow will be soon enough, indeed.

  Arderi Cor looked up into the bright blue eyes of Rinear, her golden blond hair cascading down to cover her shoulders, and smiled. At least he hoped it was a smile and not a foolish-looking grin. Her smooth, almost bone-white skin stood out in stark contrast to her ruby-red lips. Taking the steaming bowl of stew from her, he broke eye contact. “Thank you.” His face reddened when she giggled. With a coy look, she turned away and retreated from the table.

  “It is so rare for us to have guests, please forgive Rinear.” The older man sitting across from Arderi blew on a spoonful of stew before putting it into his mouth.

  Arderi’s gaze lingered after the girl until she disappeared through the door that led to the kitchen. “There is nothing to forgive, Master Rine, she is—” He cleared his throat and attacked his stew. Though it burned his mout
h, he gulped it down as fast as he could shovel it in.

  Larith Rine reached out and placed his hand over Arderi’s. “Slow down, Brother. The hunger you feel is caused by the Traveling. It will pass. Yet, there is no need to scorch yourself. There is plenty more stew.”

  Forcing himself to slow, Arderi followed Larith’s example and blew on his next spoonful to cool it some before devouring it. He had never been so hungry. Whatever Ragnor had done to him in the Undercity of Mocley had left a hole in his belly. “Where is this place?”

  “Bin’Satsu is an ancient and forgotten Citadel lost amongst the Tandeba Mountains.” At Arderi’s puzzled look, Larith smiled. “Brother, you are thousands of leagues from home. Bin’Satsu is located in the northron part of Silaway.”

  Astonishment filled Arderi. “How…How can that be?”

  “The Sending Stone. That is what you used in Mocley. You Traveled here.” Raising a hand to forestall Arderi’s response, Larith continued. “Listen, Brother. I do not know your tale, yet it is obvious you have not had the training you require. Unfortunately, there is no time. A Mah’Sukai walks the Plane of Talic’Nauth once more, and all effort must go toward finding and killing him.” He looked down into his bowl. “Before it is too late.”

  A drop of hot stew dripped onto Arderi’s thigh and he realized that he held his spoon halfway between his mouth and the bowl. With his stomach still feeling like it ate itself, he shoved the stew into his mouth to give himself time to think. Why did Ragnor send him here, so far from everything he knew? How could he travel so far without any of the actual traveling that accompanied it? Instead of getting answers to the many questions that filled his head, coming here had only added more.