The Sins of the God King

Chapter 25: Sartos

As the first delicate fingers of dawn stretched across the horizon, the specter of pain returned to haunt Sartos' wounded body. The venom's grip was loosening, permitting tentative movements in his toes and fingers. A restless night had plagued him, as tiny insects had crawled into the deep recesses of his leg wound. Their minuscule legs bore thorns that, like phantom pinpricks, had inflicted faint stings upon the stitching. The notion of requesting Emae to deliver another of her rigeetle sting briefly flitted across his mind, but he can't afford to be this helpless in a long run.

The refuge of the birch tree's embrace had been their haven through the night—a calculated choice. Its embrace provided concealment and an advantageous vantage point over their surroundings. Emae is already waken and now packing up her items on a voluminous sack pouch. Realo, however; his whereabouts is nowhere in Sartos view.

As fleeting moments pass by, Sartos hears a streaming sound. Then after that, a pungent smell of piss emerges. Soon, a flow of warm liquid reaches his leg armor. The realization struck Sartos with a jolt of fury. 

"You savage dog! If the fates ever permit, I'll relish gutting you like the wild beast you are!" His voice, roared back to life.

In the wake of his enraged proclamation, the air was punctuated by a riotous laughter—a strident, mocking chorus that erupted like wildfire. Emerging behind the birch tree, Realo materialized, his laughter cascading like a torrential waterfall, unnerving and unhinged. "Should you find that slim chance," he taunted, his words a brazen dance of ridicule. The mad laughter persisted, weaving a dissonant symphony that danced in opposition to their grim reality.

Emae's voice cut through the maelstrom with a dry reproach. "There's something profoundly awry about you," her words were a firm critique of Realo's unsettling demeanor. His laughter continued, unchecked and uncaring, as he returned his focus to the assortment of equipment he had strewn about. Unfazed by the exchange, Emae approached Sartos, a coil of rope secured within her grasp. Her gaze bore into Sartos, as she spoke with the weight of necessity. " I must bind your arms, just to be sure," her voice was level, yet her intent was beyond compromise. But Sartos' attention was consumed by his seething anger, fixated solely on Realo.

Emae tied Sartos' hands behind his back, and he was finally able to move his neck. He looked up at her, and she was still as calm as she had been the night before.

"Now," she said in a calm voice, "tell me where the Xeldorians are."

Sartos remained silent, thinking carefully about the consequences of his answer. The events of the past few days had been alarming. Helias had seemingly murdered the 10 lords and the king, and Lyferia had "accidentally" destroyed the gates of North Fort. Both of them possessed necro ink.

Sartos was already convinced that the couple was up to something, but he wasn't sure if they were acting on their own or if they were being ordered by the Xeldorian elder leaders or someone else. If Helias and Lyferia were acting on their own, then they should be persecuted alone. But if they were being ordered by their own leaders, that would be a different story. As long as Sartos didn't know the answer, he couldn't condemn the innocent Xeldorians by telling where they are.

Sartos was more confused than ever as his imagination goes wild, What if the Xeldorian truly orchestrated Helias action? Had this been the plan all along by them? Were they planning to join forces with the new Navo'ri army?

The faiths and the craglins were unlikely to betray Torryn. The ash Warlocks were out to get the faiths, and the craglins would never go back to being treated as low-class creatures.

The forgers, on the other hand, were a different story. They had betrayed the Navo'ri in the past, and they would do whatever it took to survive.

Sartos knew that he had to answer Emae's question, but he didn't know what to say.