Champions of the Gods (27 page)

“But the two of us together, surely we could defeat the necromancer.”

She shook her head. “You would have no control. I have practiced my craft for over two hundred years, and even I do not understand every aspect of it.”

“I appreciate your concern,” said Whill. “But I also need protection from Zander and his minions. If I inadvertently gain their power, I will be even more unprepared.”

“Then you must stay far from them. Go south and deal with Kellallea.”

“You would have me face a goddess but not a necromancer?”

Gretzen eyed him sidelong. “Your destiny does not lie on Belldon Island.”

“I will not leave my countrymen to deal with Zander while I fly to Elladrindellia. I would see Zander stopped as soon as possible. There are things that are more important than my destiny. You say that I am not prepared for your power, yet you seem to know everything. If that is true, then you know what I have been through. I defeated Eadon and gave up the power of a god. If anyone can handle your power, it is me.”

The old woman let out a long sigh. “You are an impatient one. Aren’t you, Whill of Agora?”

“That may be so. Look, I have agreed to give you Shierdon. All I ask for in return is your help. We do not need to march what is left of your people to Belldon Island. Give me your power, and together we will defeat Zander.”

“If that is your wish, then I shall respect it. But I warn you. Nothing will ever be the same should you pierce the veil.”

“I understand,” said Whill.

“Very well,” she said, extending her hand.

Whill stood and walked closer. He steadied himself with a deep breath and cleared his mind. Slowly, he took her hand in his.

At first nothing happened. Whill stood holding the old woman’s hand and staring into her cloudy gray eyes.

But then suddenly the world melted away and the veil was lifted.

Whill gasped.

Shadows flew past his face.

Voices cried out in the eternal night. Above, against a backdrop of churning stars, the moon streaked across the sky, waxing and waning rapidly like a blinking eye. The ghosts of animals and barbarians alike roamed the land, seemingly without purpose. One of the barbarians, a woman, noticed his attention and streaked across the quivering grass.

“Help me!” she cried in an ear-piercing voice of torment and loss.

Whill fell back. It was as though he were falling in a dream. He fell through the air and the spirit loomed above. Her face turned gruesome as rage filled her eyes. Whill hit the ground and the spirit was upon him, pinning him there and glaring down on him.

“Help me!” she screamed through skeletal teeth with no lips.

“Back!” he cried, touching his hand to her forehead. A flash of light erupted from the contact, and the ghost turned to a wisp of light that flew zig-zagging into the dark forest.

Come with me.

Whill turned around and saw Gretzen standing with an outstretched hand. He hurriedly reached for it and was pulled beyond the veil once more.

He blinked. They were in the tent. The fire crackled softly beside him. He realized he was on the floor, lying on his back. Gretzen still held his hand and pulled him up to sit.

“What was that?” he asked, releasing her and rubbing his throbbing head.

“The spirit world,” said Gretzen. “You did well with the
Krellr
. I thought for a moment she might devour your soul.”

“They can do that?”

“In the spirit world they can. You must be careful when going there.”

“But I didn’t even mean to go there.”

“It is what you wanted, therefore it is what you did. You are now a spirit walker, a
Krellr Troda
. You will see spirits here in the physical plane, and you will be able to visit the spirit world when you wish.” She suddenly clutched his sleeve and pulled him closer. “Remember this. Your strength in the spirit realm depends on just that, your spirit. It is a wild place of sheer willpower. That is what keeps the spirits between realms, which is the only way to defeat them. Most ghosts are aimless, pathetic creatures, but some are strong of mind and purpose, and will use you to return to the land of the living. Beware.”

She released him, and Whill reconsidered the wisdom of his decision.

“Thank you, Gretzen.”

She gave a mirthless laugh that ended in a long cough. “Be careful what you thank me for. Your journey through the land of the dead has just begun.”

Whill thrashed about in his sleep that night, plagued by nightmares both real and imagined. Gretzen finally came to him in his dreams and led him through the land of the dead. They ventured through forests and glades, across ancient bridges long destroyed and forgotten by time. The sun never rose there, though the moon ever flirted with the churning stars.

He saw creatures that he had never heard of, including mammoth beasts that shook the ground with their footfalls and lumbered along aimlessly. Forests and hills rose and fell. Villages full of busy barbarians were there one moment and gone the next. All the while an eerie wind blew; it was seen as well as heard, manifesting itself as fleeting shadows that sailed through the trees and over the tops of wheat fields, dancing and tumbling with each other, and changing the landscape wherever they touched down.

“It is time to wake.”

Whill shot up straight in bed, brandishing his dagger. A strong hand grabbed his wrist.

Aurora smiled down on him.

Gretzen eyed the dagger that was only inches from her neck. “You should not sleep with weapons,” she said lazily and turned from him.

Whill let out a pent-up breath and glanced around to get his bearings. He was covered in cold sweat. “I’m sorry,” he said to her, cursing himself for being so stupid. “I could have killed you.”

“None to worry,” said Aurora, releasing him. “Gretzen called to me for that very reason. You were thrashing about and yelling in your sleep.” She nodded toward the pillow beneath Whill’s head.

He turned reluctantly and found the feathers to have been scattered everywhere. His fur quilt had many slashes and puncture holes as well.

Whill tossed the dagger onto the floor and rubbed his eyes. “How are you here?” he asked Aurora. “And why are you…what happened?”

“I am now like the spirit wolf Chief. I was killed and raised as a lich. Gretzen set me free.”

“I know what you did to Azzeal. You betrayed us all.”

Aurora bowed her head in shame. “I can only ask for your forgiveness, and I understand if you will not give it. Azzeal has forgiven me. I hope that you can also find it in your heart to do so.”

Whill didn’t know what to say. “Well…it looks as though you have paid for your mortal crimes.”

“She has,” said Gretzen. “The woman who betrayed you is dead. Here stands the true Aurora.”

“I cannot undo what I did. But I can spend eternity repaying my debts,” said Aurora.

Whill offered her a nod.

Just then Azzeal entered the tent and smiled at them all. “Ah, I see that you have awakened. Forgive me, I heard your thrashing about from outside.”

“You are no bother, Azzeal. Please, come in,” said Whill, glad to have the topic changed from Aurora’s sorrowful plight.

“That was one hell of a dream,” he said, indicating the ripped bedding.

“Not a dream. Real,” said Gretzen.

“Right,” said Whill.

Azzeal offered him a hand and helped him to stand.

“Now that we have come to an agreement, we must move on Zander,” said Whill as he walked to Gretzen by the fire.

She cocked a brow and glanced at him. With a slow shaking of her head, she returned to her work. “Breakfast first. Heroism later.”

Whill ate breakfast with Gretzen and Azzeal as Aurora stood by the fire, staring at it absently. He remained silent through the entire affair, sensing that the old woman liked it that way. She seemed to carry a great weight. The evidence was in her hunched back, slow movements, and the gravity of her stare.

When finally she discarded her bowl, she wiped her hands on one another and got to her feet. Whill and Azzeal followed suit.

“Let us go south and be done with this,” she said and turned to Aurora. “I have given the trinket to my apprentice for the time being. Watch over our people while I am gone.”

“Yes, Gretzen. I will keep them safe,” said Aurora.

Krentz had made it back to Brinn with Teera, Elzabeth, and Ella, but the women were not in good condition. Elzabeth seemed to be catatonic. She only stared, rarely blinking. The youngest of the women, Ella, had told Krentz how Zander and the death knights had ravished them, with Elzabeth getting the worst of it. Teera had been spared the filthy groping hands of the dark elves, but she had been disfigured. Her hand had been severed and the stump had not been treated properly.

The dwarves had returned from Belldon Island with half their numbers, still they had dealt a blow to Zander. He would retaliate soon, Krentz knew.

She stood atop the battlements of Brinn, looking out over the southern shore of Lake Eardon. The horizon to the north glowed a furious green. Even in the gloomy daylight caused by thick cloud cover, she could see the churning clouds above Belldon Island.

“His retribution will be swift,” came Raene’s voice behind her. The dwarf climbed up the stairs and took a place beside Krentz.

“Yes. I believe that it will,” said Krentz. “His plan to trap Whill in his web failed. Now he will attack. There were hundreds of thousands of human souls in that kingdom. Can it be that they have converted them all?”

Raene watched her speak, becoming increasingly frightened. It was not for the elf’s words that she was startled, but by how Krentz spoke the words, and the look in her eye. Perhaps it was because Krentz was now mortal and without magic that she seemed to scare more easily. Raene did not know. But in all the time she had known the dark elf, Raene had never seen Krentz so shaken.

“Bah, Whill and Gretzen will be here soon enough. They’ll set things right once and for all,” said Raene, trying to sound tough.

When Krentz didn’t answer, Raene put a hand on her shoulder and gave a little squeeze. “What be on yer mind, eh?”

Krentz pulled her cloak tighter, shrugging Raene’s hand off in the process. “We almost lost Dirk and Chief out there. That man and I have been through more than you can imagine. We’ve cheated death more times than should have been possible. I feel a shadow at my back, getting closer with every breath. One of these days we’re going to push our luck just a little too far.”

“Aye,” said Raene. “I just buried me father nigh on a tenday. Everybody pushes their luck a little too far sooner or later. Ain’t none o’ us get out o’ here alive. And I say if ye got to be dyin,’ ye might as well be doin’ somethin’ worthwhile. Just think o’ all the good ye’ve done.”

Krentz suddenly broke down and covered her eyes with her hand.

A startled Raene blinked and looked on, not quite knowing what to say or do. She reached a hand out to touch Krentz’s arm, but then pulled it back.

“What good have I done?” Krentz asked, wiping her eyes and straightening.

“Well shite,” said Raene. “For one, ye’ve killed…I ain’t for knowin’ how many hundreds o’ undead. Surely that means somethin’. And for second, ye saved who knows how many barbarians on Volnoss.”

“That battle would have been won without me. Besides. Some sins cannot be washed away, no matter how many good deeds you cover it up with.”

Raene began to sense that Krentz was speaking of something deep and dark within her. “What did you do?” she asked with a small shiver.

Krentz was silent for a long time, but then, finally…

“I killed Whillhelm Warcrown’s entire line. I killed King Mathus of Eldalon. Right when the kingdom needed him the most, I destroyed his entire family.” Krentz’s voice cracked, and she cupped her mouth.

“Ky’Dren’s bloody beard…” Raene gasped, at once knowing it was the wrong thing to say.

“I don’t know why I told you that,” said Krentz, aggressively wiping at eyes that would not dry. “Forget what you heard.”

She turned to leave, and Raene grabbed her arm. “Wait,” she said.

Krentz eyed the hand wearily.

“Listen,” said Raene, trying to find elegant words somewhere in her clumsy mind. “I ain’t for believin’ ye did that on yer own accord. Ye might be a dark elf, but ye ain’t evil. Ye were forced to do it, weren’t ye?”

Krentz nodded. “I swore fealty to my father to save Dirk from a similar fate. I knew that Dirk would not be able to deal with being forced to kill the human men, women, and… The guilt would have torn him apart.”

“It be tearin’ ye apart,” said Raene. “Ye’ve got to be forgivin’ yerself.”

“I can’t…” Krentz broke down again and bent, sobbing onto Raene’s shoulder.

Raene teared up as well, moved by Krentz’s pain and openness. Dwarves were a hard people. They did not often cry, nor did they speak so plainly about their feelings. Krentz was the first person to ever confide in her so.

“What ye did, ye did for love. The guilt o’ what ye done be laid on yer father’s shoulders. And he’s paid for his crimes. Ye need not torture yerself.”

“I need to tell him,” said Krentz.

“Tell who?”

“Whill,” said Krentz, straightening and wiping at her eyes.

“I don’t know if that be a good idea,” said Raene.

“I must. It is the only way. When he looks to me, I can barely hold his gaze. He has agreed to heal Dirk, bring him back to me. All the while we harbor this terrible secret. He needs to know.”

“Even if it means him not healing Dirk out o’ spite?”

“You don’t understand. If I am to claim to be a good person, I need to act like one. Not a murderous liar who accepts miracles from those she has wronged.”

“I guess,” said Raene, squeezing her hand. “If that be what ye be thinkin’, that be what ye should be doin’.”

Krentz sniffled and smiled down upon the dwarf. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. I was a hypocrite.”

Raene shrugged it off. “Never mind all that. It already been swept out the door.”