Champion of the Gods
Copyright© 2025 by QM
Chapter 50
“Will he always use the same likeness?” Darras asked. “Just that Erren can adjust her likeness to suit what we’re doing.”
“At the moment, he hasn’t,” Serulon replied thoughtfully. “Once he realises we are looking for that likeness, he possibly will.”
“What of potential nexi points in the narrative?” Tsumi asked. “Is it likely he’ll interfere there?”
“As the recent situation in Korch wasn’t a nexus, it seems unlikely,” Erren replied. “It was, however, troublesome.”
“It does appear that he can spot areas where interference can cause a potential massive change,” Doriel said thoughtfully.
“As can I,” Erren replied. “It’s just that the current flow of the narrative is within the boundaries Dad set.”
“And a Crusal, Korch war wasn’t?” Saltak asked. “Only our brother interfered with the Orcs, too.”
“The Orc war was inevitable,” Erren explained. “Our brother set it away twenty years earlier, is all. Crusal conquering Korch and then going on to attack Asul was never part of the narrative.”
“It would have devastated Golsten, and so much potential would have ceased,” Serulon explained. “Certain nexi would have ceased to exist, and it’s possible that the western continent may have become involved.”
“Sounds like something our brother would like to bring about,” Hallis frowned.
“Most certainly,” Erren agreed. “However, without his direct interference, there was no way Vellt would have attempted to do so as he would not have known the circumstances or timings necessary.”
“Precisely,” Serulon agreed. “A forbidden act causing a major rift in the narrative, with stark outcomes for the continent of Golsten.”
“And likely that he’ll attempt to do so again,” Pelegard nodded grimly.
“Knowing our brother, yes,” Crannok nodded. “He’ll no doubt believe we cannot stop him.”
“Yet stop him, we must,” Erren replied.
The Dark Lord drifted in his domain, considering the rebuilt narrative he could now envision. The attempt to break it by getting Crusal to invade and conquer Korch had failed, though as yet, he could not see how his sister had interfered to snuff it out so easily. Still, there were other stress points to try, and as he could not be detected interfering, he would continue to do so.
The Elves of Firios’ party, including Klea, were scouting the swamps of Ssthastar, getting a feel for the land and constructing maps of the interior. The Lizardmen were primitive, and the land was sparsely populated, though the Lizardmen hunted far and wide within it, and caution was needed at all times.
The Elves had now grown used to the presence of Klea, and certain conversations that were no-go areas at the beginning of the partnership were occasionally discussed openly between them. The same was true for Klea: she would occasionally mention something about Elven society that she found strange, but had previously avoided the subject.
The party had eventually found where Casal was, though they were under instructions not to interfere with the First One or any of his Ubaids. The reason why became apparent when Lizardmen hunters found the trail of the party and began a pursuit that didn’t end until the Elves reached the safety of the forested area.
“They are persistent, I’ll give them that,” Firios observed when they finally made it to the gateway.
“Very,” Klea agreed. “Talented trackers, too.”
“They attempted to penetrate the woods,” Kielle said as she emerged from a tree. “They failed.”
“Our thanks,” Firios replied in gratitude.
“Did you kill them?” Tinara asked.
“No, just misled them,” Kielle smiled. “Every path they took led them to the same place at the edge of the woods.”
“I hope they learned a lesson from that,” Traskis frowned.
“If they come in force, they die,” Kielle stated. “With the gateway, these woods are protected.”
“We’ll begin again tomorrow,” Firios decided. “We need to finish mapping the west.”
The Dark Lord walked out of an alleyway in the city of Abramoch in Thenarron. The city was now a hub of economic activity after the savage war between Thenarron and the Western Alliance. Many of its citizens had turned away from their obeisance to him, but there were still those who supported his cause, and it was one of those he intended to see.
Fillas Creen was disliked by many who, unfortunately, had to deal with the man. Vain, venal and grasping were some of the milder epithets used to describe him, not that he cared. His business ostensibly involved travelling from village to village, buying surplus goods, and reselling them in Abramoch. This, however, was a cover for handling stolen goods and reselling them in areas away from the original theft.
“Ser Creen, a word, if you please,” The Dark Lord requested as he entered the warehouse where Creen was arranging a profitable sale of grain to the local granaries.
“Who the hell are you?” Creen asked, as he could have sworn the warehouse had been locked.
“A messenger from your god,” the Dark Lord replied. “He has a mission for you.”
“A mission, eh?” Creel frowned. “What’s in it for me?”
“A tidy sum in profits.”
“Say on,” Creel replied, rubbing his hands together.
“There are a group of bandits operating in the Yarrosh area who would appreciate your expertise in disposing of their gains,” the Dark Lord explained.
“I’ve heard of them,” Creel frowned. “They tend to shoot people down rather than greet them.”
“I can arrange an introduction,” the Dark Lord thinly smiled.
“Can you now? Interesting.”
“Trust me, they have a lot of ... merchandise, and the wherewithal to obtain a lot more.”
“Get too greedy, the King’s men will get involved,” Creel pointed out.
“That’s their problem, not yours,” the Dark Lord replied. “Though even the King’s men would struggle to take them down in the woods they base themselves in.”
“True, all I need is what they are willing to sell.”
“I’ll meet you at the ferry crossing tomorrow at nine chimes,” the Dark Lord offered. “I’ll introduce you to their lookout.”
“Very well, though what’s in it for you?”
“My task is to see his will done, nothing more,” the Dark Lord replied, before leaving.
The following morning, Creel and the Dark Lord were ferried across the Tuurval River. Creel, following the directions the Dark Lord provided, eventually pulled up his wagon outside an ordinary-looking house in the village of Yarrosh, and the Dark Lord alighted and knocked at the door.
“State your business,” an unkempt man who answered the knock demanded.
“My friend here wants to see Vallas,” the Dark Lord replied.
“I don’t know a Vallas,” the man replied.
“Don’t lie, this could be very profitable for him.”
“Profitable?”
“He has goods to sell; my friend has money to buy them and contacts for selling them on.”
“It appears that I may know a Vallas after all,” the man conceded. “Follow my directions.”
The man hauled himself up onto the wagon and then gave Creel directions out of the village, which led them to the dense woods. From there, the man gave a piercing whistle that soon had the wagon surrounded by armed men, all looking at Creel and the Dark Lord with suspicion.
“He wants to see Vallas,” the man said. “Seems he’s interested in buying our ... merchandise.”
“Follow me,” the apparent leader of the group decided. “You head on home, Gill.”
“Sure,” the man replied, dropping to the ground from the wagon and heading back the way they’d come.
Creel then followed the leader deeper into the woods, with the bandits pulling aside various bits of scrub that disguised the wide trail until the wagon reached a fortified encampment. There, a well-dressed man with a distinct military bearing stepped out to face them.
“Greetings, Vallas, I am a messenger for your god who has brought the man you need to sell on that which you have obtained,” the Dark Lord stated.
“Are you now?” Vallas replied, his voice laden with suspicion.
“The Dark Lord approves of your endeavours.”
“You have goods of ... questionable provenance,” Creel added. “I have the contacts to move them on. Also, I can provide any goods you may be short of ... for a price, naturally.”
“Interesting, no questions asked?”
“Of course, I’m here to make a profit, not enquire as to your ... business,” Creel replied.
“Keep it that way,” Vallas replied. “And we’ll get along well.”
“Good, now what do you have to move along?”
“I need you to go to Thenarron and deal with some bandits,” Erren informed Darras.
“Like Saltion Forest?” Darras queried.
“Yes, it appears my brother has been meddling again, and what should have been a minor matter is now a major potential future problem,” Erren sighed. “If you don’t nip it in the bud, the Fiend incursion from Ventris will be far more savage as Thenarron will have lost too many mounted archers dealing with the brigands and their ambushes.”
“Where am I going?”
“Abramoch first, then you’ll have to cross the river and take a look around Yarrosh.”
“They’ll have lookouts, no doubt?” Darras nodded.
“They do,” Erren replied. “This is going to be quite savage, my love, as they are organised and utterly irredeemable.”
“Surprised they haven’t been dealt with before now?”
“Too small scale for any other than the local nobility to deal with, but now they’ve made a connection with a merchant to sell their ill-gotten gains to, so their influence will grow.”
“I’ll deal with it,” Darras nodded. “I take it the forest folk will help?”
“Yes, though only scouting advice and warnings.”
Darras stepped through the gateway into Abramoch and headed through the city to the river, where he paid a ten copper toll to be rowed across. From there, he made his way to Yarrosh and, following Erren’s directions, avoided being seen and slipped into the dense woods to the southeast of the village.
“Greetings, sir Darras,” a Woodnymph said as Darras set up a small camp in a clearing with a small stream.
“Greetings, lady of the forest,” Darras replied politely.
“Those you seek are five miles due south of you; you should be cautious, they are both watchful and quite savage.”
“Any hostages or prisoners?”
“They do not take any,” the Woodnymph replied. “Recently, they have been dealing with an outsider; his wagon is due in two days.”
“My thanks, and may Lomarris bless you for aiding me,” Darras replied.
“You may use the hidden paths, just be wary, as these men and their leader are no fools and are aware of the forest folk, though they have yet to see us.”
“I will, and again, my thanks,” Darras nodded as the Woodnymph faded away.
The next morning, Darras headed south through the woods until he reached the area that Erren said was being used by the bandits as a base. Though there was no sign of activity, Darras was not fooled; the absence of any birdsong indicated that there was some presence.
‘They’re in the trees, ’ Erren confirmed.