Savage yowled, leaping down from Kirstin’s shoulder and slinking toward the relative safety of the undergrowth—the parts of it, at least, that weren’t currently ablaze. Kirstin watched the kitten find cover, her face softening briefly with relief before her gaze snapped back to Eliud, eyes alight with fury.
“You call this a success?” she demanded, her voice as fierce as the flames around them. “Which parts, specifically, were ‘successful’ there?”
“Well,” Eliud began, “it would be fair to say that we’re all still alive after tampering with powers beyond mortal comprehension. Given those circumstances, I’d say it’s nothing short of miraculous that we remain in one piece. Really, we should be quite pleased that—”
Kirstin shot him in the chest.
Of course, this was an utterly futile exercise. Eliud merely waved his hand, and the arrow transformed mid-flight into a daffodil, which bounced harmlessly off his robes before drifting to the ground.
He raised an eyebrow, as if mildly disappointed by the lack of imagination. “I have to say, my dear, that seems ever so slightly an overreaction. It’s not like any of us were hurt . . .”
Kirstin shot him again.
The Celestial Harbinger could scarcely comprehend how drastically her life had shifted over the past few months. Looking back, it would be wrong to say she felt any nostalgia for her time at Keep Trellec—with Jak, Drunnoc, and the others.
Still, there had been a semblance of normality to that life. Each day, she woke with a familiar gnawing unease, ground out her meagre existence, and faced a world thoroughly committed to keeping her low.
But at least no one had ever suggested she step through a hastily constructed magical portal into the realm of the Dark God. Yes, there had been certain advantages to her previous, far less apocalyptic struggles.
Eliud allowed her second arrow to pass cleanly through him, as if he were made of smoke, and it struck the tree behind him with a loud crack.
Josul leapt in surprise, barking his displeasure, his tail puffed in indignation. From a bush to their right came a low, irritated mewl: “Oh, do be quiet, you idiot,” followed by an unimpressed flick of a feline ear as Savage peered out, clearly displeased by the commotion.
“Right,” the Pendragon said brightly, clapping his hands together in — what Kirstin assumed — he considered a ‘take charge’ manner. “How about we review and plan out the next steps?”
*
Eliud’s conversation with King Rendell had been surprisingly brief—far more so than Kirstin would have expected for a meeting between two of the Kingdom’s most formidable figures. She’d anticipated a clash of words, a prolonged negotiation or at least some tension-filled exchange, especially given how their last encounter had ended.
But this time, it had been almost anticlimactic, a few terse sentences exchanged before the King had dismissed them, leaving Kirstin to wonder what silent currents lay beneath their words.
After overcoming his initial shock at being transported outside his palace walls, the King rallied quite impressively.
“El, this is crazy. Do you have any idea what they will do to you for this?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Might they, for instance, knock me out, whisk my unconscious body to a secret Sky Keep—one meticulously designed to neutralise someone of my Skillset—and then launch said Keep in the general direction of the northern wastelands, hoping I’ll either starve to death or become a convenient meal for the local Wyverns?”
The King’s frown deepened. “I assume you’re being oddly specific because...?”
“Because that is exactly what your esteemed circle of advisors, hangers-on, and social climbers attempted when I decided to approach you through official channels.” Eliud’s gaze sharpened, his tone laced with a dangerous calm. “Are you seriously suggesting you had nothing to do with it?”
The King blinked, momentarily taken aback, turning his attention to the giant lap dog that was, once again, attempting to lick his face.
“Josul, not now.” The hurt expression on the dog’s face was so comically human that the tension in the clearing eased. Slightly.
Rendell nodded towards Kirstin. “And you are?”
Eliud stepped in front of her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “She is none of your business, Your Majesty. You have shown yourself to be wholly incapable of acting appropriately around those I care about. As soon as you answer my question, we will take our leave. Given my druthers, you will never see either of us again.”
“And what is your question?
“Where would the Dark God keep a child he wanted to hide? Specifically, hide from me.”
*
The two had retreated a short distance, leaving Kirstin, Savage, and Josul to idly pass the time. Sensing an opportunity, Kirstin decided this was as good a moment as any to probe deeper into the man who had appointed himself her protector—particularly his relationship with the King.
She glanced at Savage, who lounged on a tree stump with a distinctly unimpressed expression, and Josul, who sniffed the ground, blissfully oblivious. “What exactly is Eliud’s history with Rendell?” she asked.
“They were friends,” Savage said. “Well, as much as that peculiar man can have friends. He and Rendell spent quite a bit of time together in their youth, thick as thieves for a while. But then…we had places to go, worlds to explore, and he stepped away from life at Court, distancing himself from the Kingdom’s affairs.”
Her eyes narrowed, as if recalling memories sharp enough to bite. “After the Stonehand was finally put out to pasture, they asked Eliud back. They wanted him to take up the role of Mentor. Sent the Darkhelm herself to ask. So we returned, lived in the palace for a spell.”
Savage paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And then the bad things happened.”
That was as much information as Kirstin had ever heard about Eliud’s life before the Darkhelm had led them to his cottage. “The bad things?”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The cat shook her head and began cleaning her paw with a detached elegance. “No, that’s not my story to tell. If he’d wanted you to know, he would have shared it himself.”
Josul gave a low, mournful whimper, pressing his massive body against Kirstin’s side, his eyes wide and sorrowful.
Savage gave him a sidelong glance, then flicked her tail in mild exasperation. “Pet the dog. He’s sad.”
Kirstin absently rested a hand on Josul’s head, scratching behind his ears, feeling the tension in his shoulders relax as he leaned into her touch.
From the little Kirstin had been able to piece together, Eliud had owned three such massive dogs when he had been persuaded to return to the Capital. She bent and vigorously rubbed Josul’s hide, eliciting a whuffle of pleasure. “Did something happen to the other dogs?”
“Not something. Someone.”
And that was all Savage would divulge.
Half a bell later, Eliud reappeared, leaving the King standing at the edge of the woods with a contemplative expression. With a glint of mischief in his eye, Eliud strode back into the clearing, hands clapping together as he declared, “The hunt for Genoes is on!”
*
Eliud was frustrated—a state he knew well enough to recognise as dangerous.
In his experience, frustration rarely yielded his best decisions. For most, such inner turmoil might lead to unwise arguments, a few too many drinks, or impulsive purchases.
But for Eliud, emotional roiling often meant pushing boundaries he’d normally respect, meddling with forces better left undisturbed, or attempting spells that most wouldn’t dare under optimal conditions.
He envied most people.
When Eliud Vila—known to the commonfolk as the Duskstrider and bearer of the Mythic Class of Pendragon—became frustrated, there was, however slight, a very real chance that the nature of reality itself might end. His frustration wasn’t simply an inconvenience; it was a force that, when unchecked, could bend or even fracture the laws of existence.
Eliud took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders in the manner he’d seen others use to shake off tension. The fact that this ritual had never once relieved his own strain was no reason to abandon it now.
Focusing, he attempted to harness his considerable resources, channelling the energy swirling within him toward the problem at hand. For a moment, the air around him seemed to hum, thick with barely-contained power as he willed himself into calm.
The King had eventually agreed to share a little of what he knew regarding the whereabouts of the stable-boy Eliud had sworn to find. Among the Rendell line’s inherited Skills was a powerful tool known as
, allowing the King to locate any subject within the Kingdom with uncanny accuracy. Eliud had long argued that
was a deeply flawed Skill, an intrusion that seemed unworthy of a monarch’s dignity; after all, the surveillance of subjects suspected of treason struck him as rather gauche. But, as in many things, his advice had fallen on deaf ears.
Rendell had countered that he used the Skill sparingly, and that while moral scruples were all well and good, they held little weight when an unexpected army materialized at one’s gates. Spymistress Stein, for her part, had sided with the King, pointing out the tactical advantage that
provided. By then, Eliud had been fighting—and losing—so many political battles that continuing to argue seemed an exercise in futility.
But now he had found the perfect use for the Skill and a King who, pleasingly, was willing to try to make amends for the past . . . ‘indiscretions’, as he had wanted to call them.
“Indiscretions?” Eliud had said, as brightly as he could manage, his mind being dragged back to an evening of fire, blood and betrayal.
Rendell had sensed he was stepping on dangerous ground and had quickly returned attention to the proposed use of
.
It had taken the King no time at all to find Genoes. The challenge, however, was where he had found him. This was why Eliud, Savage, Josul, and Kirstin were currently standing in front of a darkly shimmering portal that was resolutely refusing to allow them access.
Indeed, it has been extremely – some may say, explosively – resistant to attempts to cross it.
Eliud’s frustration at the situation momentarily got the best of him, and he channelled
“Feeling better?” Kirstin asked, cocking her head at the cone of devastation that the Pendragon had caused to the vegetation around the ethereal doorway.
“Oddly, yes.” Without a shred of ceremony, he plopped down cross-legged on the ground before the portal, flexing his fingers to shake off the persistent tingling his Skill had left behind. “So,” he continued, glancing at the swirling gate before him, “where are we at? We know Genoes is somewhere on the other side of that portal.”
He tilted his head thoughtfully, as if sizing up an opponent, eyes narrowing with a focused intensity.
Kirstin settled beside him, and a moment later, Savage slipped out from the undergrowth, executing a few delicate hops before leaping up to her usual perch on the Celestial Harbinger’s left shoulder. Meanwhile, Josul ambled over, surveying the scene with mild interest before deciding to plonk his massive frame directly across Eliud’s legs, effectively pinning him with the sheer weight of his bulk. Eliud glanced down, a resigned sigh escaping him as he realized he’d be going nowhere without negotiating with the enormous hound.
We would make quite a scene for anyone wandering past, Kirstin thought. Woe betide the bandits that thought we were easy pickings.
“But do we know that?” She asked Eliud. “We only have the King’s word for it. He could be lying.”
“He could,” Eliud conceded, “though there is a long—and, dare I say, horrifically colourful—history of what happens to those who lie to me.” His tone was light, almost amused, though a glint in his eyes hinted at stories best left untold. “I sensed that Rendell was genuinely keen to attempt a rapprochement...perhaps even motivated by a newfound sense of self-preservation.”
He paused, letting the implication sink in.
“You know,” Kirstin interjected dryly, “it doesn’t impress me when you use long words like that. It just reminds me how incredibly old you are.”
Eliud continued as though Kirstin hadn’t interrupted “. . . and it would be poor politics for Rendell to send me on a wild goose chase. I don’t believe he was even aware of Logan Twilight’s intentions with his Sky Keep.”
Kirstin nodded, considering this. “So, we’re confident, then. Genoes is just on the other side of that portal.” She glanced at the swirling gateway, a glint of determination in her eyes.
Eliud opened his hands in a gesture that was neither fully confident nor entirely uncertain. “Well, ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ The realms of the gods don’t follow the neat geography we’re used to. If Genoes is truly in the Dark God’s domain? The King’s
managed to locate him there and identified this portal as the closest connection to his presence. But that’s where our certainty ends.”
He paused, his gaze fixed thoughtfully on the swirling gate. “Now, it might be that the lad is standing just on the other side of this doorway. On the other hand—” he let his voice trail off, leaving the possibilities hanging in the air.
“On the other hand?”
“We may be facing quite a challenging search,” Eliud continued. “From what I understand of the Dark God’s realm, it’s not entirely unlike that of the Goddess. And Her world is… vast, to put it mildly. Infinite, even. Not to mention that it has a rather casual relationship with the rules of time and space.”
Kirstin’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been to the Goddess’s realm?”
“Of course,” Eliud said.“What sort of quasi-divine being would I be if I hadn’t been invited around for tea and crumpets by a few of the Gods?” He held her gaze for a moment, enjoying her look of astonishment before breaking into a broad grin. “I’m joking,” he admitted. “In my youth, the Goddess made several rather unsubtle attempts to recruit me to Her cause. One such effort involved whisking me to Her realm to showcase a series of... delights.”
He paused, allowing a flicker of mock solemnity to settle on his face. “You’ll be pleased to hear that I resisted—impressively, if I do say so myself.”
"Delighted."
"I'm hungry," Savage yowled. "Is there going to be anything, or anyone, I can eat soon?"
Eliud stood in silence for a moment, eyes fixed on the swirling portal. Then, with a faint gesture, he activated a Skill, lifting the massive Josul effortlessly into the air and setting him gently aside. Rising to his feet, he strode toward the portal with a thoughtful frown.
“All right,” he said, “so this isn’t a problem that can be solved with sheer, overwhelming power—which, frankly, is annoying. Let us, therefore, resort to something… sneakier.”
“Such as?"
Eliud winked at her. "This is your time to shine!"