Of Gods and Elves - By Brian D. Anderson Page 0,104
Gewey asked.
“They marvel at your courage,” Linis replied. “I imagine most thought you would flee.”
“Perhaps I should,” Gewey joked. “Maybe I should just grab Kaylia and head east.”
“I wish that were possible, my friend. If it were, I might even come with you.”
“I doubt that very much,” said Gewey, with a laugh.
The Chamber of the Maker was no less impressive by day. In fact the light of the morning sun caused it to glow even brighter. As they approached, the rumble of the crowd grew more intense. Gewey dreaded the silence his arrival would cause. His heart pounded in anticipation. Just as he reached the entrance, he spotted Felsafell, leaning lazily against the statue base. He was dressed in his customary skins and carried his gnarled walking stick.
“I see you come,” said Felsafell. “I see you go.”
“Aren't you coming inside?” asked Gewey.
“I care not for fighting,” he replied. “No, indeed. When the young fights the younger... sadness only... sadness and pain. I wish not to see such things, oh, no.”
“Then you are leaving?” asked Linis.
“For now,” answered Felsafell. He took a few steps forward. “We'll meet soon enough. Again and again, I think.”
“You know more than you're saying,” said Gewey.
Felsafell grinned impishly. “I know much. I tell much. But do not tell all, as I do not know all. Find your road child of heaven. I'll meet you alongside.” As he walked passed Gewey and Linis, he stopped and pressed a small key into Gewey's hand. It was gold, and bore no markings.
“What's this for?” Gewey asked.
“What is a key for, you ask.” Felsafell laughed. “You know this already. Oh, yes, you do. And now I say farewell.” He continued until he was out of sight. Gewey shoved the key in his pocket and looked at Linis, who only shrugged.
“I suppose it's just another one of his mysteries,” said Gewey. “If I live through this, maybe I'll solve it.”
The moment he and Linis entered the Chamber fell silent. He peered down to the Chamber floor. There stood Theopolou, Eftichis, and another elf he assumed was Eftichis' second. Eftichis was dressed as he had been the night before, a long knife hanging loosely from his belt.
As Gewey approached, his eyes met with his opponent’s. Their gazes locked for what seemed like an eternity. Gewey knew that soon those eyes would be dull and lifeless by his hand. He pushed the thought from his mind and turned his attention to Theopolou.
Theopolou addressed Eftichis. “I ask you one last time to withdraw from this challenge.”
Eftichis drew his weapon slowly and leveled his gaze. “I will not.” His voice was even more determined and commanding than the previous night. “This... human, shall either flee, never to return, or die.”
Gewey drew his weapon, allowing it to draw in the flow. The power within him grew until the very foundation of the Chamber trembled. The world around him seemed to grow small and insignificant. The elves before him, as well as those in the gallery, were as children to his eyes. The Chamber of the Maker itself was at his command. He had never felt so much of the flow pass through him before.
Then it occurred to him. The building itself was made by channeling such power. Inside this structure, it was as if a river with the power of the earth became a raging hurricane. He took another look at Eftichis. The elf was frightened, though he tried to mask it.
“I ask you one last time,” Gewey's voice boomed, causing the others to wince. “Do not do this.”
“What are you?” screamed a voice from the crowd.
“Demon,” cried another.
“I am no demon,” Gewey said to the crowd. “You will find out soon enough what I am.” He turned back to Eftichis. “Do you still wish to fight me?” He tried to lessen his hold on the flow but an aching sadness replaced it, along with a yearning for its return. Still after a few moments, he managed to release it.
“Now more than ever.” The elf was grim, though shaken. “I would not have one of my kin bonded to such a creature, nor would I have my people follow you to their doom.” Gewey was taken aback.
“Oh, yes,” Eftichis continued. “I know why you are here. We all do. And I would spit my last breath in your face before standing by your side.” This brought cheers from several throughout the gallery.
“Give me your knife,” Gewey said to Linis, as he sheathed his sword.