Questing Sucks (Book 1) (68 page)

Sehn got off of Patrick and scowled down at him. “How dare you attempt to slaughter my prey! If you kill him, then how will he spread—”

Patrick jumped to his feet and leveled his blade at Sehn. “Not this time.”

“I agree,” Saerith said. “Sehn, there is so much more at stake here than your ridiculous ego. That man is one of the items of power. If we can destroy it then it will weaken The Hawk.”

Sehn scratched his head. “The who?”

“Never mind that,” Patrick said. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and pointed his blade at the Champion with the other. “Sehn, that . . . thing, or whatever it is—he could very well be the difference between saving this world and destroying it. He—no, it—has to die.”

“That is my choice to make, Patrick.”

“No, Sehn! It’s not!”

Patrick tried to force his way past Sehn, but Sehn held his ground. “Didn’t you say that it was my job to collect these items?”

“And what of it?” Saerith asked.

Sehn didn’t answer. Instead, he stumbled his way back over to the Champion and slapped him on the face. “Wake up!”

While asleep, the Champion didn’t look quite so menacing. With those terrifying eyes of his closed, he appeared no different than any other man, perhaps even princely in a way. There was something regal about his face, something Sehn couldn’t place.

“Wake up,” Sehn repeated with another slap.

“There is no need for that,” the Champion said, rubbing his face. “I’m already—”

Sehn slapped him again. “I said, wake up! Oh, whoops.”

The Champion leaned up into a sitting position, and Saerith and Patrick were instantly on their guard. “S-Sehn! Kill it! Before it kills us all!”

Sehn ignored the two and focused his attention on the Champion. “From this day forward, you are my minion. Do you understand me, fool?”

The Champion nodded. “You are one of the cursed, and I have been defeated, so it is now my duty to serve you.”

Sehn turned back towards the two princes. “I take it this matter is settled?”

Patrick moaned and shook his head, but he did drop the weapon. “I just want you to know, Sehn, that since meeting you, you have ruined my life. Do you know that? In fact, I think only my father has ever made me more miserable than you do.”

Sehn exploded with rage. “What! Are you claiming that someone is better than me at life-ruining? Bring your father to me at once! How dare someone challenge the Great Sehn to a life-ruining war!”

Sehn was pleased to see frustrated tears fall down Patrick’s face. Good. All should cry in the presence of the Great Sehn!

Epilogue: Nice Try

 

Ghell looked over his shoulder while he fled. He needed to be fast. He needed to keep moving. His mind raced with a million perilous thoughts. What would the Hawk do when Ghell returned alone and without his army?

No!
Ghell yelled in his mind.
This isn’t my fault—any of it. I was betrayed!

It was difficult for Ghell to continue running. He panted as he rushed through the Valley of Hahl, taking little comfort in the steam that, at the very least, obscured him from any potential pursuers. How could everything have gone so wrong? Not even the relaxing sights of the snow-topped mountains or the heat from the hot-springs could calm his rampant nerves. Each subsequent step increased in difficulty. He was tiring, he was growing weak—but he wouldn’t give up. No, it was too soon to give in.

It’ll be fine,
he told himself.
I’ll explain everything to my master. After all, it wasn’t my choice to bring along that wretched creature of his. Those were just my orders. I will not be blamed for this.

Ghell wished for the life of him that he’d brought along a horse, but the only one at his disposal had been cleaved in two halves by the ridiculous strength of the Champion. He paused when the grass below him became soggy. Running was an issue this close to the hot-springs, because the soil was more mud than anything else.

I may as well take a break.

Ghell walked awkwardly over the mushy surface, taking a seat close enough to a hot-spring that the rising steam bathed him in warmth. He knew it wouldn’t relax him—at least not much—but if Ghell didn’t rest his aching body, he’d more than likely trip from exhaustion and break his leg. The only thing worse than dying a traitor’s death would be getting caught by a roaming Kingdom patrol then hung for his crimes in Hahl’s courtyard.

He sighed. He never expected things to go this badly, and to think, all because of that Gods-cursed ‘Champion’ he’d been forced to bring along. A lot of good
that
did him in the end, he thought bitterly.

Ghell followed the rising steam with his eyes, allowing himself to become mesmerized by the smoky patterns—anything to take his mind off his devastating failure. He trembled as he thought of the consequences. He hoped—no, he prayed the Hawk would see none of this was any of his own fault. If not, Ghell would be slaughtered, painfully.

More than just painfully,
Ghell thought with a groan.
That man will flay me alive.

Ghell’s groan turned into a whimper. “Could my day get any worse?” he asked aloud.

“It just did,” answered a voice.

Ghell jumped up from the rock and fumbled around for his dagger, tripping over his own feet and falling to his knees. Who said that? He spun around in a circle and scanned the surrounding area. He could only see a short distance in front of him because of the screen of steam.

Ghell whirled around at the sound of a rock being stirred by a foot. Through the steam, he could see the outline of a Human—no, an Elf, walking menacingly towards him. Coming closer, the form became more defined. Through the outline of the smoke, Ghell could spot the curves and bumps indicative of a prime, Elven woman.

“W-who’s there?” Ghell shouted. “Announce yourself or be killed!”

It occurred to Ghell that in his panic he’d dropped his dagger a few feet behind him, but whoever—or whatever—approached couldn’t possibly know that. As the form drew closer, who Ghell now believed to be a strikingly beautiful Elven female, Ghell could make out the features on her face. She was gorgeous, with short wavy hair and piercing blue eyes.

Maybe my day is about to get a little better after all,
Ghell thought.

He smirked. “And who might you be, missy?” Ghell felt the slightest bit of cheer. This one was quite the looker. Her luscious thighs and plump breasts made his eyes water.

The Elven woman’s lips formed into a sneer, and Ghell’s cheer vanished as he noticed the daggers that she wielded in each hand.

“My name is Cah’lia, of Elvar,” she said. “And you.” She raised her arm, pointing the tip of her dagger at Ghell. “Are about to die.”

Ghell wore an innocent smile, holding out his hands in a gesture of peace while he slowly backed away from her. He needed to retrieve the dagger. After he’d bested the woman in combat, he’d keep her for a pet, at least until he’d had enough of her. He didn’t know who this woman was, but he didn’t really care, either. After the long, tiring, and humiliating day, Ghell had certain needs that the kind Gods had seen fit to offer him filled.

The woman relaxed for a moment while she watched Ghell back away. She lowered her dagger slightly, pointing to a location behind him.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’d rather die than attack an unarmed man. Pick it up.”

Ghell looked at her in confusion. “I’m sorry, what did you—”

“You heard me!” the woman, Cah’lia, snapped. “I said, pick it up!”

Ghell hesitated for a moment then said, “I think there’s been some misunderstanding here. I don’t mean you any harm, Elf. I’m just passing through.”

The woman’s sneer turned into a hideous scowl. “I know who you are, commander Ghell.” She took two steps forward, and Ghell could now make out the deep fury in her eyes. “You’re someone who is a threat to my…” she hesitated, and for a moment, her fury shifted into shyness, and Ghell could swear that she blushed. “My…my Sworn,” she finished.

“Your Sworn?” Ghell turned the words over in his mind until he remembered their meaning. The ‘Sworn’ was the term the Elves used for those whom they promised themselves to, similar to the Human word “betrothed.” The woman twirled her daggers, throwing them in the air then catching them. Ghell could see that this Elf meant business. More, she might even be a threat. Perhaps it would be better to let her live and wait for a new plaything to come along?

Ghell smiled sweetly. “I mean no threat to you or any of those you care about. Is there any way that we can just—”

“Pick up your blade, commander, or I swear I’ll slit your throat before you even have time to blink.”

Ghell let his false smile fade, replacing it with a bold sternness. “Very well.” He kept one eye on the Elf as he stepped backward and leaned down, reaching behind him and feeling for his own dagger. He grabbed at it then stood back up to his feet.

“I suppose that now you will try to kill me, girl.”

Cah’lia reclined her neck and narrowed her eyes, extending one arm forward. She placed the other arm below and parallel to the first, in what Ghell knew was deadly Elven fighting stance. “I’ll do more than try.”

Ghell didn’t care that he would be fighting a woman. No matter whom he faced, or where, he had been taught that the path to victory was one of quick, decisive strikes and preemptive maneuvering. There was no need to feel out his enemy or to hold back. Before the Elven girl spoke another word, he raised his dagger and charged at this ‘Cah’lia.’ He wouldn’t give her the chance to ready a defense.

Ghell tried to slice her across the throat, but she dodged nimbly, with a grace that he could tell was born of numerous years of practice. He knew then that he was dealing with someone quite skilled. But it wouldn’t matter. After all, she was still just a mere woman, and he was a man. No woman could ever hope to best a—

He cried out as the single sharpest pain he’d ever felt spread across his face. What happened? Did the fight begin? Where was he? What just…?

Ghell blinked, or at least he tried to, but only his left eye seemed to move. His sense of balance shifted, and he realized he was on his back, but when did he decide to lie on the ground? Better yet, why did he lay on the ground in the first place? And that bloody thing that was sticking out of the mud and trailing blood—was that…was that his eye?

A boot pressed sharply down on his throat. “What just happened?” Ghell cried frantically. “Please, what just happened?”

From the eye still in its socket—when did he lose the other one?—Ghell looked up at the Elven woman. She was so filled with grace, yet so thunderous and frightening.

“You just lost,” she whispered. “That’s what happened.”

“Lost? But how…when did we start fighting?”

“Does it matter?” She pressed the boot down harder against his throat, and Ghell had to struggle to breathe.

“P-Please,” he croaked, “spare me.”

For some reason, his ardent plea seemed to increase the Elven woman’s fury. She pressed even harder.

“Spare you? You brought danger to the life of…of my man. You brought war to my people. No, no mercy for you, commander Ghell.”

She removed her foot for a moment, but it was brief. The boot was replaced by her knee, and now she was kneeling down on Ghell’s throat with the dagger held close to his other eye. Ghell struggled, but the pain was too great, the fear too crippling.

Ghell screamed, “Please! Spare me!”

“Not a chance.” She brought the dagger down on top of him, and Ghell closed his remaining eye. The world was enveloped in darkness, and he waited for death to take him. How badly would it hurt? Would she make it quick?

Ghell thought of all these things while he waited for the end, and yet, after a few moments, he wondered why he still existed. What was going on? Had she changed her mind? Ghell opened his eye, and with a start, he realized he could open his other one, too.

At once, a searing pain shot throughout his back, and he sat up. The ground had become as hot as lava. He jumped to his feet, but they burned too. Ghell filled with an agonizing confusion. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to find the girl, but the steam around them had vanished, along with the woman. Come to think of it, the Valley of Hahl had vanished, too. Where in the Gods was he?

He looked up, and where only moments ago had stretched a clear blue sky, now was the sight of a reddened, darkened world of horror. He was in some kind of mountainous valley, narrow, with spikes containing bloodied, severed heads stretching on for as far as his eye could see. He could hear screams. People bound by chains jittered and twitched, while large creatures with Human torsos and birds’ heads picked the skin off of their bodies and sliced off their limbs.

Ghell whimpered. Where was he? He jumped, startled, when he felt movement below his foot. He looked down into the face of a man, bloody and bruised. There was just a face but no head or body. With a gasp, Ghell noticed that the entire surface floor was nothing but an endless sea of Human faces. All of them moaned and begged for forgiveness, for salvation.

“You will become one of them, commander Ghell,
” a voice purred.

Ghell recognized it. He dropped to his feet and threw his arms towards the red sky, ignoring the burning pain in his knees from contact with the lava-like floor of tortured faces. “Please!” he begged. “I have not failed you, my Lord. I swear that I haven’t!”