Book 6 Prologue

Owain wondered what the point of any of this was. How impressive could Neia truly be? Still, they were here to deal with one threat, why not meet this fabled ‘Radiant Ruler of the Elves’?

He was finding the strange mind games of the elves to quickly wear on his patience, however. The few he’d met back home usually knew how to keep their abilities in check, but the ones in the heart of the elven lands were all too happy to use their abilities at will. Or maybe they didn’t even realize they were doing it. Either way, it was unpleasant having his own thoughts and desires slightly altered by their strange, fae origins.

Once he shook off the effects he quickly found the elves to be haughty and arrogant. They didn’t show nearly the respect required to the Hero and Chosen. If anything, he felt they were slightly talking down to them at times. This ‘Neia’ would likely be no different. Especially considering the way the people seemed to talk about her.

Of course, Owain’s mood was already soured by the guards who had tried to impede his way. They should have known better than to try and stop the Hero. They’d backed down quickly enough, but it didn’t help his mood any when he walked through the overly decorated halls. He was the Hero. It was his duty to save this world. He didn’t have the time or energy to deal with their useless ‘decorum’ when the cult they had been chasing for so long was already doing who knew what.

The guard outside the throne room tried to block his way, but Owain didn’t listen and merely shoved him aside before shoving open the door.

He stopped short, his eyes going wide when he saw the vision of radiance that was sitting there. For the first time since coming to these lands, he felt as if he had been the one in the wrong.

He didn’t even need to ask if she was Neia. She matched the stories he’d been told. More than that, he now knew why they had been trying to stop him.

Neia was covered in blood, but not her own. He had expected a grand, opulent throne room. It was nothing of the sort. It was more akin to a hospice. The room was filled with cots and the wounded. The smell of blood and other bodily fluids assaulted his nose, but he could barely notice. Neia didn’t seem to notice him, either.

Neia was standing over a man, her hands holding such magic that they physically glowed. Though the elf was moaning, he barely moved. Black marks were under her eyes and she, frankly, looked like she might fall over at any second. As opposed to the fine, overly elegant robes that he saw most elves wear, she was wearing garments akin to bloody rags. But rather than making her look less elegant, they somehow made her look all the more. Even surrounded by the dying and wounded, coated in their blood, exhausted as she likely was? Still she looked like the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

------

“They offered it to us, didn’t they?” Neia asked, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice.

“They were just being nice,” Korgron said, her own temper burning just as hot as the elf’s. “They were half starved! They--”

“They offered, I accepted,” Neia said right back. “I’m hardly going to turn away such a gift. If it means that much to you, why don’t you go hunt a boar or something?”

“Why don’t you?” Korgron asked.

“Because I’m tired! Unlike you, princess, I’ve been busy healing every one of their wounded,” Neia said. “While you’ve been off doing who knows what?”

“Fighting off half this army by myself,” Korgron said.

Then both of them turned to face him and Owain felt a chill go down his spine. “I, err, I think I heard a roar,” he said quickly. “I’m going to go keep an eye on the wall, okay?” He turned and quickly made what he would consider a tactical retreat.

Not that he really thought Korgron was wrong. But he didn’t think Neia was wrong either. Neia had been working all day and the food reserves of their hosts were spread thin. But he could hardly blame her for accepting what was offered. After all, if they couldn’t afford to miss out on the stew, why offer it?

------

Owain had to suppress the urge to tear out the man’s throat. He could only take solace in knowing that, if they were lucky, Korgron would do it for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the demon lunge forward. “How DARE you!” she yelled.

“Korgron!” Neia yelled, making the demon stop short and nearly fall over. The man stared down at her, the color drained from his face and eyes wide with fright. “Don’t. Leave it be.”

“What?” Korgron asked, her tail flicking erratically with barely contained rage. “He called you--”

“It’s fine,” Neia said. “Please. Just let it go. I’ve been called worse.”

“But—” Korgron said.

“Please,” Neia pleaded before she shook her head and continued walking. “Just please. Let it go.”

Korgron stared at the elf for a few moments before she pulled back and walked after her.

Owain’s eyes narrowed on the man. “Count your blessing,” he said before following after her.

“The gods won’t follow imposters,” the man said. “She’s a curse, you’ll all see. Before long she--” His words were, mercifully, cut off when Hardwin drove an elbow into his face.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

While Owain was denied the satisfaction of doing it himself he could at least take solace in knowing that Hardwin held enough control to not kill the man.

------

“It’s for the best,” Neia said softly, her eyes lowered.

“If we could just open these damn doors,” Owain said before giving the door to the Realm of the Gods a solid kick. “There has to be a way.”

“If only things were that simple,” Thalgren said with a soft sigh. “The gods rarely get involved in such affairs.”

“So? Neia isn’t ‘such an affair’, she is one of their Chosen!” Owain said before giving the door another firm kick. “If we could just open this stupid door we’d have everything we need to prove those claims were preposterous.”

Neia gulped and slowly shook her head. “Hero, please. It’s not important. If it wasn’t that, it would be another thing. Just let it go.”

“I will not!” Owain yelled before banging his hand on the door. “Open! Open you blasted door, please! Just open!”

“HERO!” Neia yelled. “Please. Please, just let it go. Let them say what they want. I don’t care.”

Owain went still for a moment before he turned to face her. “But they’re lies. All of them are lies. You’re not--”

“Who cares?” Neia asked. “Me? You? Them? It doesn’t matter. It’s not worth it.”

“Of course it is,” Owain said. “You’re--”

“I’m not worth it,” Neia said. “Just please. Stop this. Please.”

Owain was ready to object, to fight all the harder. But then he saw the tears in her eyes, threatening to fall. Very slowly, he nodded. “As you wish.”

------

“Hero,” Neia said. “Searle told me--”

“Damn Searle,” Owain said. “I’m tired of hearing his fretting. The world is on the brink of disaster, the gods are gone and more people disappear every day. I don’t have time to listen to more of his fear mongering.”

Neia stared at him for a few long moments before, finally, she nodded. “I… I guess you’re right. But I--”

Owain waved a hand, cutting her off. “Neia, I’m busy. I have so much to deal with now. Is whatever you need to say really important?” How in the future he would wish he had never said those words. Because he knew, even then, that she would never say yes. He had just been so tired, so spent. He had just wanted the conversation to end.

“No,” Neia said gently, her eyes lowering. “It’s not. I--”

“Then please, return to your home,” Owain said. “Now more than ever they need a beacon, a pillar to stand behind. They need you. A ruler.”

“I’m not…” Neia started to say before she nodded. “As you wish. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Owain said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Owain?” Neia started.

“What is it now?” Owain asked, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“Nothing,” Neia said before she turned to leave. “It’s nothing.”

He never did find out what she had tried to tell him then. It was the last time he ever saw her.

How those memories would haunt him.

------

Neia sat on the throne, her legs scrunched up to her chest in a way that was almost child-like. It would have even been cute, if the floor wasn’t covered in the blood of those she had slain. If not for the horns that now sprouted from her forehead. Though she was now wearing priceless jewelry and the finest silk, Owain couldn’t help but feel she had never been more hideous.

“Why?” Owain asked. “Why do any of this? Why kill our friends? Why go against the gods?”

Neia’s eyes looked up at him and he could see the tears flowing from her eyes. “You’re still alive, Hero. I hoped this wouldn’t happen. I hoped I wouldn’t see you.”

“I am the protector of this world,” Owain said before gripping his axe tightly in his good hand. “You’ve become as vile as they said, Neia.”

Neia gave a light chuckle before nodding. “I always was. Just before I covered it so well,” she said before she slowly got to her feet. The jewelry rattled with her movements.

“How many dead did you strip all of those from?” Owain asked.

That, at least, seemed to make her freeze once more. Then she gave another small smile, her eyes cold and devoid of the kindness they once held. “Is it not the way of this world? Besides, it was hardly as if the dead have use for them anymore. If I am to meet the gods, should I not dress the occasion? Oh… wait. There are no more gods here now, are there?”

Owain couldn’t contain it any longer. He ran towards her, lifting the axe overhead while she drew back the string of her bow.

------

“Ew ew ew ew,” Bauteut said while she helped Joan scrub the mud and whatever else off. “I swear, Joan, only you could end up this filthy.”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” Joan asked. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“You’re lucky you’re not diseased,” Bauteut said. “Must you attempt every method to get yourself killed? Monsters, plagues, what’s next? Perhaps you could try old age?”

“Sounds boring,” Joan said.

“Of course it does,” Bauteut said. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Find Neia,” Joan said. “Wait for the rest of the Chosen to catch up. Don’t die.”

“Oh, at least that last one is part of the plan now,” Bauteut said. “So how are we going to find Neia?”

“Not sure yet,” Joan said. “First I guess we need to figure out where we are. I’m sure I can talk us out of trouble, though. After all, our mission is to save the world.”

“I see,” Bauteut said before glancing over towards their guard, a young elven woman with a bow. “Are you sure we’re not in danger?”

“Elves take good care of prisoners,” Joan said. “Even the demonic ones. No, the fun bit is going to be once we’re out of prison. Still, elven assassins aren’t so bad.”

Bauteut gave a long, drawn out sigh. “I hate it when you talk like that.”

“Better the assassin you’re expecting than the one you’re not,” Joan said with as chipper a voice as she could manage.

She was rewarded by this comment by being dunked under the water and then tugged back up, hacking and coughing. “Almost clean,” Bauteut said grimly.

Joan just glared up at her healer, biting back a rather curt reply. “You know, this water is cold.”

“River’s usually are,” Bauteut said dismissively. “Now stand still while I try to unknot this tumbled webbing you call hair. We’ve got to look our best when we meet… whoever we’re meeting.”