David Dalglish - Blood Of Gods

“What in the name of the gods was that ?” asked a bewildered Pox Jon.

“An elf,” Quester told him.

“No shit.”

“He was saying something,” said Rachida. “What was it? I couldn’t make it out.”

“Sounded like nonsense to me,” Talon said, trotting over toward the spot where the elf disappeared. “Just gibberish.”

“It wasn’t gibberish,” said Turock. Rachida turned toward the absolutely terrified-looking spellcaster. It made her uneasy to see him so. What’s more, she now heard a steady thrum, one that vibrated her saddle.

“What did he say?” she asked.

“Noro, nuru e taryet,” the spellcaster said. “It’s Elvish for ‘Run, death has arrived.’ ”

As if on cue, a horribly loud trumpeting rang out, causing most of the eight hundred men gathered on the road to cover their ears. Countless birds squawked and flew from the treetops in bunches. Quester clammed up and actually appeared frightened for the first time since Rachida had met him. Rachida’s head whipped back around, and she looked on as the tall trees to the east began to sway, their budding branches snapping like so much kindling. Her horse whinnied nervously and then bucked.

Then, in a flash of dust and an explosion of dirt, the tree line exploded outward. What rumbled out of the forest was huge. Menacing. Evil. Impossible.

And it was coming their way.

“Flee!” shouted Rachida. Her mind blank with fear, she spun her panicked steed around and hastened into the forest in the other direction, followed by the soldiers and sellswords, while death closed in from behind.

And so history repeated itself.

Aullienna Meln, the princess of the Stonewood Dezren, walked along the twisting skywalks that formed the causeways of the city within the trees. Only this time, Carskel didn’t walk behind her, prodding her along. Instead, he was by her side, his hand in hers, a triumphant smile plastered across his face. He looked down, his eyes unabashedly taking in every inch of her.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

She did her best to force her cheeks to flush, thinking about the first time she and Kindren kissed. “Thank you, my love,” she said, speaking with her best innocent quiver while squeezing her brother’s hand. “It means a lot that you should think so.”

Carskel beamed and turned away, gazing down the jewel-lined skywalk and the group of elves that had gathered toward the center of Stonewood. “Desdima did her best work. I am glad I spared her life.”

Desdima had been Lady Audrianna’s personal tailor, one of the original thirty-two that had escaped from Dezerea and the Quellan oppression. The work Carskel referred to was the garb Aully now wore; a gown of spun satin, white as the northern snowcaps, embellished with shimmering crystals. The gown was long and flowing, the train trailing five feet behind her. The sleeves were form-fitted, the material billowing out at her wrists like a flower, and the collar clung tight to her neck all the way to the base of her jaw. The back was bare, though her naked flesh was hidden by her long, golden hair, teased and curled and pinned with roses, cornflowers, and pink silkwood blossoms. The dress was formfitting yet comfortable, a work of art that conveyed the conservative nature of the Stonewood culture while still suggesting the sensual nature of a coupling. It had been made originally for her wedding to Kindren.

Now, she detested it.

Aully groaned at his words, a sound that Carskel misinterpreted. He began to rub his thumb along Aully’s palm, causing her to shudder. Again he misinterpreted, and bent over to kiss her on the cheek as they strolled. It was all Aully could do not to turn away in disgust.

“This. . this is wonderful, sweet sister.” Carskel rose back up, a jolly hitch in his step. “Today, we announce our engagement to our people. Tonight, we feast. Tomorrow, they love me. And the day after that, we depart for Dezerea for our nuptials. It truly is an exciting time, is it not?”

“It is, my love,” she replied demurely.

He glanced down at her once more, this time appearing more somber. His eyes even began to tear up.

“You do not know how concerned I was, sweet sister. When I entered your chamber to ask of your decision, I was prepared to lash out at you. And then I saw you there, kneeling, hands clasped before you, radiant despite so much filth. . you were a sight to behold, Aullienna. And when you told me yes, when you whispered those words of love into my ear, I knew you spoke the truth. You must understand that I never wished for you to suffer so. You simply had to learn . Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Only when your entrails are hanging from the skywalks like garlands. “Of course, my love,” she said. “My own foolishness dictated my punishment, nothing more.”

“I am glad to hear that.” Her brother released her hand and squeezed her shoulder, pulling her close in the process. She allowed him to do so, just as she had allowed him to embrace her after thirty days spent rotting away in her cellar prison. She performed perfectly, nurturing her malevolent brother’s pathetic need for acceptance, and then spent the following two weeks cultivating her hatred. Every bite of exquisite food she ate, all the primping and preening of oblivious handmaidens, only ripened her rage. She plotted and planned, dreaming up wicked schemes, all the while praying to Celestia for validation. The goddess’s silence was all the answer she required. Her mind was made up; her will, resolute. She would become Jimel Horlyne, the elf who Kindren said had killed one of the ancient demons all by himself. Aully had pictured herself as the statue of that great elf, reaching down from the ceiling, her face warped by both torment and triumph. By the time Carskel had come to her this morning, after Desdima had finished sewing her into the ornate gown, she’d felt primed to burn an entire nation to the ground.

The sound of clapping filled her ears the farther along the skywalk they tread. Just as before, her people hung from the other walkways, nearly three thousand Dezren gathered en masse. The cheers rose in volume as she rounded the bend, circling onto one of the lower skywalks. Rose and tulip petals were tossed into the air, fluttering down like dead butterflies. Every face she saw was filled with a reserved sort of joy. Aully began to hate every one of them. How can you not see what’s right in front of you? Most have them had lived for far longer than her fifteen years. Surely, they weren’t so blind.

They will see. When today is over, they will understand.

Carskel steered her toward the forest city’s central causeway. Ethir Ayers and Mardrik Melannin guarded the entrance to the walk, the rough elves like stone guardians staring straight ahead. Both bowed when she and Carskel passed them by, and Ethir’s mouth twitched ever so slightly when his eyes met hers. He doesn’t trust me, thought Aully.

He was right not to.

Aully’s uncle Detrick once again waited on the causeway’s central platform, dressed in a long, flowing brown robe with deep green stripes running up the sides. He held a book in his mangled right hand, appearing eager as he watched his niece and nephew approach. Aully had to refrain from scowling at her uncle. She’d come to despise him over her time in seclusion, perhaps as much as she hated her brother. Carskel was an evil, plotting bastard, but at least she knew where she stood with him. Detrick was a craven weakling with the face of a friend.

Detrick dropped to one knee when they reached the center platform, planting a kiss first on the back of Carskel’s hand, then on Aully’s. Then he stood and faced the crowd that surrounded them. He raised his hands, and the mob quieted. Aully glanced about her. She saw Desdima standing on one of the middle skywalks, along with the others that had escaped Dezerea with her, but Kindren and Lady Audrianna were nowhere to be found. She shuddered.