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Authors: Julian Benoit
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anymore; shall we my friend? The two of you have some secrets about you, as do I.” He continued, “I could sense the horses and the boy from a mile away, but your presence was a complete surprise.”
“I, as well, could smell the fire and hear the music, but no mind could I sense,” Hadaras offered. “It seems you have some ability. May I ask, from where?”
“Let’s just say, that I was born a couple hundred years ago on the northwest coast, right on the border with the colonies in fact.”
“Was it your mother or father?”
“My father was the source of my elvish blood,” Cladus answered. “He took good care of my mother and me, until I was grown and she passed away. Then, he disappeared back to the elvish lands. I haven’t seen him in nearly one hundred fifty years. So yes, that boy you have there is not the only half-blood wandering these lands. I have encountered a few of us over the years. As for you, my new friend, I sense nothing of Man in you.”
“Fair enough,” Hadaras conceded, his human features smoothly morphing to elvish. “The boy is my grandson, my daughter’s son. I’ve been raising him since he was two.”
“Does he know what he is?”
“No”
“What happened to his parents?”
“They passed through the veil nearly thirteen years ago.”
“Thirteen years eh,” Cladus mused, “thirteen years ago, the Kolixtlanis were looking for a halfblood boy. Word of it travelled quickly among us magicians who knew of one another. Is this the boy? Is that what became of his parents?”
Chapter 7
Gurlachday, Day 1, Growing Moon, 8760 Sudean Calendar
After five bone-jarring days of riding, Zormat had only thoughts of murder for the yag. Unruly, cantankerous and omnivorous, it was the perfect mount for a goblin, but not necessarily an elf, even an elf that was one-eighth goblin. They rounded a bend in the trail and it opened to a clear grassy sward, with the beachhead just beyond. He scanned southward down the beach and could see his ship moored in the distance. There appeared to be a small group massed on the beach. They rode down the beach at a vigorous trot, the yag’s odd feet floating on the loose sandy soil. As they neared the group, he could see that they were men, dressed in light armor and appearing to be soldiers of some sort. Closing to within thirty paces of the group, they halted the mounts and Zormat handed the reins to Shaggat. He dismounted and strode purposefully to the group. The apparent leader shouted something at him in a language he did not understand and the six lancers flanking him raised their weapons to a guard position. Two archers, armed with longbows, moved to the outer flanks to provide cover. Zormat drew his sword, glowing like red flame, even in the bright afternoon sun. The seven-pointed star on his forehead flared with the same fire. The leader gave a quick hand signal and the soldiers stood down. He said something else that Zormat did not understand, but its tone sounded reasonable.
We do not speak the same tongue, so I will communicate with you in this manner, Zormat spoke into the mind of the leader, sheathing his sword as he came to a halt. Speak as you normally would and I will understand you while we are so connected.
“I can understand you, stranger,” the leader offered, then asked, “Who are you and why do you travel with the goblin? Do you belong to this vessel?”
The ship is mine, yes and this goblin has been my guide from the jungle interior. I have journeyed to and from Immin Bul and I have much work remaining.
You bear the mark of the Nameless God, but I do not recognize you from any folk who worship him. What is your business in Kolixtlan?
I come at my Father’s bidding, from a far off land, to spread the word amongst his people that he will soon be freed from his prison.
With the wordless transmission of thought, the full import of the title
“I, as well, could smell the fire and hear the music, but no mind could I sense,” Hadaras offered. “It seems you have some ability. May I ask, from where?”
“Let’s just say, that I was born a couple hundred years ago on the northwest coast, right on the border with the colonies in fact.”
“Was it your mother or father?”
“My father was the source of my elvish blood,” Cladus answered. “He took good care of my mother and me, until I was grown and she passed away. Then, he disappeared back to the elvish lands. I haven’t seen him in nearly one hundred fifty years. So yes, that boy you have there is not the only half-blood wandering these lands. I have encountered a few of us over the years. As for you, my new friend, I sense nothing of Man in you.”
“Fair enough,” Hadaras conceded, his human features smoothly morphing to elvish. “The boy is my grandson, my daughter’s son. I’ve been raising him since he was two.”
“Does he know what he is?”
“No”
“What happened to his parents?”
“They passed through the veil nearly thirteen years ago.”
“Thirteen years eh,” Cladus mused, “thirteen years ago, the Kolixtlanis were looking for a halfblood boy. Word of it travelled quickly among us magicians who knew of one another. Is this the boy? Is that what became of his parents?”
Chapter 7
Gurlachday, Day 1, Growing Moon, 8760 Sudean Calendar
After five bone-jarring days of riding, Zormat had only thoughts of murder for the yag. Unruly, cantankerous and omnivorous, it was the perfect mount for a goblin, but not necessarily an elf, even an elf that was one-eighth goblin. They rounded a bend in the trail and it opened to a clear grassy sward, with the beachhead just beyond. He scanned southward down the beach and could see his ship moored in the distance. There appeared to be a small group massed on the beach. They rode down the beach at a vigorous trot, the yag’s odd feet floating on the loose sandy soil. As they neared the group, he could see that they were men, dressed in light armor and appearing to be soldiers of some sort. Closing to within thirty paces of the group, they halted the mounts and Zormat handed the reins to Shaggat. He dismounted and strode purposefully to the group. The apparent leader shouted something at him in a language he did not understand and the six lancers flanking him raised their weapons to a guard position. Two archers, armed with longbows, moved to the outer flanks to provide cover. Zormat drew his sword, glowing like red flame, even in the bright afternoon sun. The seven-pointed star on his forehead flared with the same fire. The leader gave a quick hand signal and the soldiers stood down. He said something else that Zormat did not understand, but its tone sounded reasonable.
We do not speak the same tongue, so I will communicate with you in this manner, Zormat spoke into the mind of the leader, sheathing his sword as he came to a halt. Speak as you normally would and I will understand you while we are so connected.
“I can understand you, stranger,” the leader offered, then asked, “Who are you and why do you travel with the goblin? Do you belong to this vessel?”
The ship is mine, yes and this goblin has been my guide from the jungle interior. I have journeyed to and from Immin Bul and I have much work remaining.
You bear the mark of the Nameless God, but I do not recognize you from any folk who worship him. What is your business in Kolixtlan?
I come at my Father’s bidding, from a far off land, to spread the word amongst his people that he will soon be freed from his prison.
With the wordless transmission of thought, the full import of the title
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