The Godling Chronicles The Shadow of God - By Brian D. Anderson Page 0,1

hoped I would never see such a thing happen again. I have seen far too much elf blood spill in my life.”

“Do you really believe Angrääl is responsible?” she asked, closing her eyes, internally contemplating the truth. “Do you think his power is that great?”

“I cannot say for sure,” Theopolou admitted. “But I see no other way for this to have happened. Long have our brothers and sisters on the Steppes lived alongside Angrääl. If the Reborn King has the key to heaven, and I believe he does, then it is very possible he could have bent our kin to his will.”

“The elves of the Steppes are a strong people,” said Eftichis. “If they have indeed been corrupted, then what resistance can we hope to offer? Already we have been betrayed from within our own ranks.”

“I do not know what hope there is,” said Theopolou. “Only that there is hope. And the elves of the Steppes have been close to the influence of Angrääl from the moment the Reborn King seized power. We have been far removed by comparison. If things were different, who knows what would have become of us.”

“I agree,” said Bellisia. “And they are still our kin, regardless of what they have done. I, for one, will not abandon the idea that they can be redeemed. And, if we are to follow the example Theopolou set before us, forgiveness must be in our hearts.” Her eyes drifted over the camp. “But I must admit, it will be difficult. I have not seen so many elves slain since the Great War. I was only twenty-five during the first split, but the memories are still fresh in my mind.”

“It is so for all of us who lived through it,” said Theopolou. “And we have passed that memory to our children...along with our hatred and fear. It is a cycle that must end.”

There was a sudden disturbance near the healing pavilion, drawing immediate notice from the assembled group. Theopolou and the others reached for their weapons. From the direction of the commotion, Marinos appeared, half running toward them.

“What is it?” asked Theopolou, once Marinos was in earshot.

“Red sails,” he replied. His voice cracked. “Red sails on the horizon.”

Theopolou stiffened. “Are you certain?”

“There is no question,” he replied.

The others looked confused.

“Red sails? What does that mean?” asked Eftichis.

Theopolou lowered his head and took a deep breath. “It means the elves are coming.”

Chapter 1

Kaylia drifted in and out of consciousness. She knew she was bound and slung, face down, across the back of a horse, but each time her thoughts came into focus, an unseen force would press against her, and the world would go black again. Finally, she was able to resist long enough to hear voices. Elven voices.

“This does not sit well with me,” said a deep male voice. “It is one thing to bring traitors to justice. But I was not told these creatures would be among us.”

“Nor was I,” replied another. “But it is far too late to turn back. Once we are home, we can consult the elders. Until then, we must endure their company.”

Kaylia felt a hand grab her hair and lifted her head. Though she was not blindfolded she dared not open her eyes.

“Is she awake?” asked the first voice.

“I cannot tell,” replied the second. “The beast has blocked all connection to the flow. I cannot sense anything.”

The first voice grumbled and cursed, but made no other response.

Hours passed before they came to a halt. Kaylia was still feigning unconsciousness when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Suddenly, the air carried the foul stench of death, and she sensed the approach of...something.

“She is not asleep,” came a rasping voice. “Are you elf?”

Kaylia felt her bonds being cut, and she slid down from the horse. Her legs nearly gave out, but strong arms in rough leathers steadied her. She jerked herself free as her eyes focused. It was well after nightfall, and a small campfire was being built in a clearing a few yards away. She could make out about twenty elves, but that was not what caught her attention. It was the being standing in front of her. A Vrykol, tall and slender; adorned in a sleek, hooded black robe, and carrying a lengthy, vicious, curved blade. It reeked of decay, and its foul breath wheezed and gurgled.

Kaylia glared at the creature. “So this is what our people have become? Murderers of their own kind, and slaves of the