Of Gods and Elves - By Brian D. Anderson Page 0,11

her own people,” said Millet. “She would rather die.”

“You’re right,” said Jacob. “But it was my life and not hers she was protecting. That’s what they do. They use the people you care for against you.”

“How long have you been in prison?” asked Maybell.

“Six months,” he replied. “I was released once but immediately rearrested. When I was jailed the first time, troops were just arriving. Now they are at least two-thousand strong.”

“What do you intend to do?” asked Millet. “If you go back you’ll be imprisoned…or worse.”

“Like I said earlier,” said Jacob. “I’m heading to Baltria. I have friends there who can help me. Then I’m going to get my mother out of Angrääl.”

Millet thought for a moment. “I’ll go with you.” He turned to Malstisos. “You and Maybell go back and tell Lord Starfinder what has happened.”

“I don’t need you slowing me down,” said Jacob.

Millet laughed. “If you are who you say you are then you will need my help. I traveled with your father for many years and am far more capable than you might think.”

Malstisos smiled. “You should listen to your elders, young one. Millet is far more traveled than you. Besides, I doubt they left you with any coin. How do you intend to eat and lodge?”

“I can hunt,” said Jacob stubbornly. “I’ve learned to survive on my own.”

“That may be,” said Millet. “But I serve the house Nal’Thain and have an obligation to see to your well-being.”

Jacob met Millet’s eyes. “You serve my father, not the house Nal’Thain. He gave up his right to use that name when he abandoned us.”

“You speak from ignorance,” said Millet. “But now is not for me to enlighten you.” Millet straightened out his bedroll. “I am going with you. We’ll take the road east to Manisalia. There is a crossroads a few days from the city. We’ll split up there.”

Maybell’s eyes lit up. “Perhaps we should see the Oracle.”

“You can try,” said Millet. “But I would not tarry long. If she will not see you right away you should move on.”

“I would relish the chance to see the Oracle,” said Malstisos. “She is well known to my people.”

“I think you will be disappointed,” said Jacob. “The rumor is she has left Manisalia to escape the armies of Angrääl. I even heard that she is dead.”

“I hope you’re wrong,” said Maybell, settling into her blanket. “It would be a great loss to the world. Her wisdom has helped guide the world away from destruction for many decades.”

“Decades?” said Malstisos. “My people have tales of her that go back before the Great War. I have always assumed her to be more than one person, the title passed down but perhaps not.”

“You think she is that old?” asked Maybell. “She is human, after all.”

“Are you so certain of that? Our stories always describe the same person, always looking the same way. That in itself means nothing, but I’ve also heard human tales of her. Recent ones. They are too similar in her description to think it a coincidence. At least it seems that way to me.”

“Maybe you can ask her if she is still there.” Millet pulled his blanket over his chest and yawned. “We still have a long journey ahead. We can continue this discussion tomorrow.”

Chapter Three

The next day they rode in silence. At mid-day, they stopped to eat and rest the horses. Several groups of soldiers and a few local farmers passed, but all ignored their presence. The temperature had dropped substantially, and a strong north wind cut straight through the party’s clothing. It wasn’t long after they were underway again when it became clear that they would need to risk a town and an inn.

“No need for us to hide at this point.” Millet’s voice trembled from the cold. “Whatever their plan, it’s obvious they do not intend to hinder our departure.”

“I agree,” said Malstisos. He glanced over at Maybell who rode in silence, her eyes down. He couldn’t help but worry. Despite remarkable resilience for a woman of her advanced years, he knew the elements must be taking their toll. “In fact I intend to remain in plain sight for as long as possible.”

Jacob chuckled and slowly shook his head. “It would do no good to run. They have trackers from Angrääl following us even now. Of that, I have no doubt. Where we go, they will follow.”

Millet grunted with displeasure. “When we split up they may have a harder time of it. I have a feeling that