Champions of the Gods (3 page)

“Are you ready?” Dirk asked.

Aurora nodded and solidified completely. Dirk raised the steel sword high and came down on her swiftly. The blade cut into her shoulder, and she turned to mist instinctively. Still, the steel continued on through her astral body and she howled in pain.

Dirk retracted the blade and sheathed it. “Hurts, don’t it?”

Aurora solidified again, inspecting her untouched shoulder, rubbing it. “But, it doesn’t kill us.”

Dirk smirked at that. “You’re already dead.”

“I feel weaker, tired.”

“Yes. While metal swords, arrows, and the like cannot kill us, per say, they can weaken us. If you take too many hits, you will be weakened to the point that you cannot remain in the physical plane, and you will return to the spirit realm. Your bearer, however, being left alone in the midst of battle, may be killed.”

Aurora nodded understanding, glancing over at Gretzen, sitting by the fire with other villagers.

“You must remember,” said Dirk, “whether you have taken form or not, metal is not your friend. Gretzen said something about it causing us to vibrate, and altering the temporal gateway that keeps us here. No matter how you say it, metal hurts like hell, and it will get your arse sent packing. So don’t get cocky and think that you don’t have to block strikes or pay attention to your surroundings. Understand?”

“Yes, I believe that I do.”

“Good. Now let’s give winking a try.”

“What’s
winking
?” Aurora asked.

“Something Krentz and I made up. It’s when you blink in and out of solid form. It can be quite useful, but it can get you into trouble if you’re not careful. For instance, you cannot wink out in the middle of a sword parry, or else the enemy’s blade will sail through your now astral blade and yourself as well, unless you get out of the way in time. Luckily, in astral form you are only as slow as your thoughts. Watch. Try and hit me.”

He unsheathed his sword and Aurora followed suit. She circled him slowly, gauging the distance and the reach of his strike. Suddenly she slashed forward. Dirk parried a blow up high but then disappeared when Aurora’s blade came in again from the side. A hot pain tore through Aurora’s back and she turned to mist and shot off to the side. Aurora solidified, feeling much more tired than before and finding it harder to maintain physical form.

“How did you do that? You disappeared and reappeared right behind me.”

“No, I didn’t,” said Dirk, sheathing his blade once more. “I flew under your blade and around you. I was just too fast for you to see. Try it. See that hut over there? See how fast you can get to it in spirit form.”

Aurora’s face twisted with determination. She changed from solid form and shot across the ground. In two heartbeats she was standing beside the hut.

“Not bad,” said Dirk. He turned into a streak of light and was suddenly standing beside her. “But you can be faster. The only thing stopping you is the limitations that you are putting on yourself.”

“I’ll race you to the next hut,” she said with a smirk.

“You’re on,” said Dirk.

Krentz watched the two shoot around the village, yearning to be able to do what she once could. Dirk had been spending more and more time with Aurora—and the barbarian beauty returned to the spirit world with him every day.

She knew that her jealousy was ridiculous. Dirk was only showing her the ropes. Still, the pain of loss remained. She felt as though they had lost something special that only they had shared.

“What do you think?” Raene was asking her.

“What?”

“Ain’t ye heard a word we been sayin’?”

Krentz offered the dwarf a deep scowl and turned to watch Dirk and Aurora once more.

“We need to attack Zander before he gains more power,” said Azzeal. “He will strike Northern Uthen-Arden soon, if he hasn’t already.”

“For now, I remain where I belong. With my people,” said Gretzen.

“Not only they be headin’ into Northern Uthen-Arden, but me mountains as well. I for one ain’t sittin’ here on this rock while dwarf mountains are bein’ invaded,” said Raene.

“You are free to leave if that is your wish,” said Gretzen, absently staring at the fire.

“Dirk and I are at your mercy, Gretzen,” said Krentz, finally looking to the group. “You and you alone can restore Dirk to physical form.”

“It is too dangerous. You know this,” said Gretzen.

“There must be a way.”

“Without the lost healing magic of the elves, I fear that it cannot be done safely.”

Krentz looked away from the old barbarian but found that Dirk and Aurora had vanished beyond view. She excused herself and retired to her tent.

For many long hours she lay there, staring up at the chimney hole at the top of the teepee, unable to sleep. She was tired of being idle. More than a week had passed since she had been returned to her elven form—a week spent trying to convince Gretzen to march south. The old barbarian was a stubborn one, however, and would not be swayed. Krentz was reluctant to leave her, for she was the only one who might restore Dirk.

Wind ruffled the tent flap, and Dirk solidified on the straw bed beside Krentz.

“Would you like to return to the spirit world with your new friend?” she asked.

Dirk gave her a concerned look. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re spending an awful lot of time with her lately.”

“Are you jealous?” Dirk asked, eyeing her with amusement. “Don’t worry. Aurora isn’t my type. She is much too tall.”

“Of course I’m not jealous. I just think that you have lost track of what’s important.”

“What’s important is that we are together.”

“We must find a way to restore you to your body. Or don’t you even care?” Krentz asked.

“Of course I care. But how do you propose we do that? You heard Gretzen. It is too dangerous without elven magic. Who exists that can still wield the power?”

“If any are given the gift, it will be Whill of Agora.”

Dirk laughed at that. “I don’t think that he will be very keen on helping us.”

“Who else is there?” Krentz asked, becoming increasingly upset.

“Krentz, what’s wrong? We’ve been over this.”

She let out a long, pensive breath. “You don’t know what it’s like. How frustrating it is. Before the Taking, I could have healed you myself. Now I can’t do anything. Not even the magic of the spirit world.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, gently brushing the hair from her face. “Perhaps Kellallea will return the power to the elves.”

“No. She will not. Especially not to the daughter of Eadon.”

“Don’t lose faith now, Krentz. We’ve beat far worse odds before. Everything will work out. Trust me.”

The next morning Krentz was awakened by Azzeal, who looked to the floor out of modesty when he spoke to her. “Lady Krentz, excuse my intrusion. Would you walk with me today? There is a place that I have not been in many years. I would have you join me.”

Krentz was confused by the lingering effects of sleep and the strange request. She hadn’t spent much time with the sun elf, and she was a little uneasy around him. It wasn’t so much his being a lich that bothered her—she had after all spent the last seven months as a spirit—but rather, it was the way he seemed to be able to look right through to her soul.

She agreed, and he left her to rouse. While she dressed, she wondered about what he might want from her. Perhaps information on Zander, or questions about the spirit realm.

Emerging from the tent, she found him waiting for her, smiling as he always did, and holding two steaming bowls. “Are you hungry, my lady?”

“Actually, yes. Thank you.” She took the offered food and sat with him at one of the smoldering fires at the center of the tents.

Krentz and Dirk, as well as Raene and Azzeal, had been given their own spot at the southern tip of Fox Village. The buffalo hide tents were large and comfortable, each with a fire pit at the center. Gretzen had taken up in one near them as well.

Krentz eyed the bowl of soup. It smelled like fish and looked like seaweed.

“It is
Veizla Fiskr,
in the barbarian tongue—feast of fish,” said Azzeal.

They ate for a few awkward minutes before Krentz was tipping the bowl back and wiping her mouth.

“Shall we depart?” Azzeal asked.

“Lead the way.”

Azzeal led her north out of Fox Village toward the only visible peak on the horizon. His pace was steady, gentle enough that they might have had no problem keeping up a conversation, but Krentz found herself unable to think of what to say, and Azzeal seemed content with silence. Once in a while he glanced at her with that ever present grin and those eyes that knew everything.

There was a time when that idea wouldn’t have bothered her as much. But she had done things that she was not proud of. She tried to tell herself that she hadn’t had a choice, that she had been forced. But she knew the truth of it. Now that she had returned to her physical form, the memories and emotions attached to her body had become almost unbearable.

Krentz had sworn fealty to her father, Eadon, to save Dirk. The dark elf lord had won in the end. He had taken from her the last of her purity by forcing her to kill every one of Whill’s living relatives. King Mathus had even fallen by her hand.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked after an hour of silent travel.

“Beorn’s Cave. Do you require rest? There is a spring up ahead—if my memory serves me right.”

“Yes, that will be fine. I did not bring my water skin.”

He stopped and pointed at a tall pine tree looming over the rest of the cluster at the root of the small mountain. “It is just up there. I apologize for not informing you of the distance. Another half hour I suspect.”

At the spring Krentz drank her fill and watched, curious, as Azzeal did as well.

“How is it that you need food and drink? Being what you are…considering what happened to you.”

Azzeal wiped his mouth and looked to her with a knowing grin. “Being that I am a lich? It is alright, the word does not bother me as much as the condition. I see that you are curious. It seems that Gretzen’s magic has begun to restore life to me once more. Every day I am feeling more…myself. Does my presence bother you? I have felt as though it might. It is completely understandable of course.”

“No, no, it doesn’t bother me. It’s just…”

“Just?”

“I am a dark elf,” said Krentz. “Doesn’t
that
bother you?”

Azzeal laughed. “Now, why on the heavens would it? Your skin does not make you. Nor does the reputation of your ancestors. I know you, Krentz, daughter of Eadon. Yes, I know who you are. The one who got away,” he mused.

“How do you know who I am?” she asked.

“I know many things. I have all my life been a student of history and the peoples of this world. Cultures, I find utterly fascinating. Two hundred years ago I spent many decades here on Volnoss, studying its people. That is when I met Gretzen, of course. T’was I who authored the Windwalker Archive. Have you ever read it?”

“
You
wrote that? Incredible. Talon came to me in the spirit world. Told me to seek out his Amma.”

“Strange how things work sometimes. Is it not?” said Azzeal with a friendly smile. “I know your history, and much of Dirk’s. A chance encounter with a traveling bard named Bramby Brecketsworth a few years back lent much to my knowledge.”

“Bramby…” Krentz said in nearly a whisper. She smiled at the memories. “What year was this?”

Azzeal looked to the sky as he thought. Overhead three crows circled. “I would say that this was ten years ago. Yes, it was ten.”

“Why were you so interested in me back then?” asked Krentz.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You are the only dark elf, to my knowledge, who has ever shunned her people and ran away…successfully!”

“He found me in the end.”

“We have something in common then,” said Azzeal. “For he found me as well, and exacted his revenge.” He pulled his shirt open to expose the glowing blue gem in his chest where his heart should have been.

“I’m sorry,” said Krentz.

“As am I for what was done to you. If my people have ever brought you harm unjustly and out of prejudice, let me apologize for them as well.”

“Thank you.”

He offered her a respectful nod and continued up the slope.

Soon they came to the opening of a cave and he stopped, regarding her with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “This is where Chief was born from the spirit world. To me it is called Beorn’s Cave.”

“Who was Beorn?” Krentz asked, intrigued.

“He was a bear friend of mine. Ah, look. The ivy has grown thick, but there are tracks. Perhaps bears live here still.”

Azzeal slipped his pack off his shoulder and retrieved two torches from inside. He handed her one and lit them both with a striking stick.