The Dragonrider Heritage Second Series, page 38
Blasphemy to everything I had ever been taught.
But calling an emperor a blasphemous heretic was an excellent way to be found guilty of treason and burned in the city square. I had seen many other priests go that way, screaming with their dying breaths that Nar’Haleen had betrayed itself. My mentors. My elders. My friends.
First, the Tibrans had come and burned our temples, enslaving any who would submit, and slaughtering those who resisted. The temple where I had grown up and served was, as far as I had heard, nothing but cold cinders now. But I couldn’t grieve that loss. Not when the emperor I now served was all but mad with lust to become the sovereign ruler of all the southern kingdoms. He hid that desire behind the claim that he only wanted to reunify the land—the same excuse many emperors had used before him. His efforts had proven far more desperate, though. Desperate … and violent. He was willing to entertain any method, no matter how dark or dangerous.
And any who dared to defy him, or speak out against his methods, were declared traitors and heretics.
With that sort of constant threat looming over our heads, the days had grown dark. Rumors were as lethal as poison-tipped arrows. Accusations of treason to the crown were enough to get a person executed—even without evidence that it might be true.
The emperor was growing more paranoid by the day. The fear of failure closed in slowly like the teeth of a vice. Sooner or later, it would surely be the death of us all.
Even now, there were only a few of us left to tend to the divine temples in the Hall of Holies, and we had learned to be cautious. We had to be quiet, choose our words carefully, and guard our true feelings.
Well, most of us.
I watched Auguress Riva stride ahead, paying no mind to the divine images around us as the lengths of her long robes dragged behind her. With her head held high and arms folded into the long, bell sleeves of her gown, her mouth stayed pinched tight and her gaze focused straight ahead. She didn’t say a word until we had passed out of the royal palace, through the Solistirium Courtyard, and into the Hall of Holies where the high priests, like us, were housed. Behind the gilded doors of that sacred ground, she finally lost it.
“That blathering, ignorant, old fool!” Riva seethed through her teeth as she stormed forward, walking faster toward the archives room. “Who does he think he is? How dare he question me? I’ve given him every powerful weapon he has! His navy now boasts a drakkon in its ranks because of me—my work! Did I not promise him sovereign rule over all the southern kingdoms? Have I not given him agents on foreign soil that bring back all manner of their secrets? That ungrateful cur. I stand at the threshold of the divine and will soon rend those gates wide open, and he would dare spit in my face!”
“We have promised him much,” I reminded her solemnly. “That we could restore the unity of all three of the southern kingdoms, that the gods would bless it, and that he would do it all with a weapon crafted by the very gods themselves.”
To be honest, I was shocked the emperor had even believed those claims in the first place. Riva spun a good tale, yes. She had a way with words that twisted in people’s minds like a worm in an apple. But still—I’d assumed the emperor had more sense than this.
I had been wrong about that and a great many other things, lately, though.
Auguress Riva flung the doors open to a broad, circular chamber lit by one, central skylight above. There, shelves crowded the curved walls, many holding ancient texts, tomes, and scrolls. Others stored stone tablets, bottles and vials. Ancient artifacts and relics from thousands of years ago were crammed into any available space and left to gather dust. Several long tables crowded the room with chairs where, once, young priests like myself had spent their days studying the histories and rituals of their faiths.
Now … I was one of the only ones left.
I turned to shut the door behind us, bowing my head some as I tried to gather my thoughts. Calm my nerves. Think. “The emperor is growing impatient, yes. But it is not unexpected. He has gathered his armies down to the last man, and they will march on Faladurn in only a week’s time, with or without our assistance. But I am certain His Majesty would much prefer to launch this assault with a mighty divine weapon at the forefront, as promised. Damaria’s resilience has surprised him before. And we cannot anticipate how Rienka will respond to such an aggressive move.”
“With smug indifference, as usual,” Riva snorted as she stomped over to one of the tables and put her hands on the map spread out across it, resting her weight as she studied the tiny inked features. “We’ve satisfied them with their so-called independence from Damarian rule. They would never rally back to them now, or even see us as a threat.”
“And that will be their mistake,” I muttered. “Their final mistake.”
“But … there is another matter to consider,” Riva hissed low, turning around to face the only member of our group who had yet to say a word today. “His Royal Buffoonness was not wrong about you.”
I turned around just in time to see her walk briskly to our young ward, who stood silently in the middle of the room like an empty shell, staring vacantly ahead. She drew back and slapped the boy hard across the cheek.
I froze, keeping my back to the door and not daring to take a breath.
The young boy, dressed out in gleaming black armor, didn’t respond. He didn’t move or even blink. He stared back at her, but there was nothing in his expression. Not pain. Not anger. Just an emptiness that still made my stomach turn.
“Useless Maldobarian whelp,” she seethed, her face twitching with anger as she grabbed his chin and leaned down to glower right into his face. “That the goddess would ever give such a blessing to a pathetic human child is ridiculous. You were meant to leave none alive—to ensure no one escaped from that library. And yet you let one slip through your fingers. One carrying the very thing we need to ensure success!” She drew back as though she were going to hit him again.
“If I may, Auguress,” I interrupted before I could even think to stop myself. “I-I … believe this may not be entirely a loss.”
She stopped, freezing in place, and then slowly turned to me with eyes that practically glowed with wrath. “What do you mean, Edarix? How, by all the gods, could you even dare to imagine this is advantageous to us in any way?”
I couldn’t stop my gaze from darting between her hand and the boy, who still hadn’t so much as blinked. Anger, dread, and sorrow stirred in my gut like a whirling vortex. But it paled in comparison to the fear that quaked the very foundations of my soul when I met Riva’s scorching glare. I barely knew this woman. She’d come into this holy place like a shadow, subtle and silent. Now, she filled it like a sandstorm—blasting, reckless, destructive, and on a path I couldn’t predict.
But I had seen what happened to those who tested her.
“You mentioned before that you suspected there were rebel forces stirring,” I explained hurriedly, barely managing to keep my tone sharp and even. “Those who would try to subvert our retrieval of the codex or even botch the ritual altogether.”
Her dark eyes narrowed, seeming to lose all sense of soul and sense in the process. “Get to the point.”
“I am merely suggesting that perhaps letting them run ahead, just far enough to believe they have outsmarted us, would allow us to locate their forces. We could make a more precise attack and remove them from play entirely. It’s likely they still don’t know what they have, yes? The power of the codex is ancient and extremely fickle. Just reading it alone would be quite dangerous. I doubt any but those schooled extensively in divine magics could even decipher it.”
Little by little, the wrath in her eyes began to smolder down. Her brow crinkled with thought and she slowly lowered her hand. “Let the foxes take the hen back to their den, then burn them all at once.” A grin curled over her thin lips. “I like your thinking. Perhaps you’re not a complete imbecile, after all.”
I swallowed and bowed my head. “Yes, Auguress. I do try.”
“Other preparations must be made, of course. We will need to mobilize a unit of specialized stealth forces immediately. Then, when the time is right, we will send them exactly what they’re looking for.” Her cold gaze swept back to the boy as her smile widened. “I should also speak to my contacts in Rienka. They need to be on the watch for meddlers.”
“I can send the request to General Bazkan immediately,” I suggested. “And the Hands of Fate can be mobilized before dawn.”
“Yes. Yes, go and do that. I must prepare the Scrying Chamber. I want to know what, exactly, our little foxes are doing.”
“If you permit, I will also take the boy to see that he is fed,” I offered, attempting to make my tone as indifferent and callous as possible. “He’s of no use to us if he dies of hunger or thirst too early.”
Fear prickled in my chest as her gaze flickered between us. My heart pounded in deep, hard thuds that seemed to toll like a bell all through my body. I didn’t dare move—not to blink, not to breathe.
There could be no weakness. No emotion. No sense of compassion whatsoever.
“Fine,” she relented and waved a hand dismissively. “Have him bathe, as well. He still reeks of blood.”
The instant the door thudded closed behind me, leaving Riva alone in that chamber, my knees wobbled. I thrust a hand out and caught myself against the wall. My breath came in halting, ragged pants as I put a hand to my chest. Even through the many layers of my black and dark purple silk robes, I could still feel my pulse thumping hard against my palm.
I shut my eyes tightly and focused, trying to slow my rising panic. To control my breathing.
Goddess preserve me. How much longer could this go on? How long until she suspected? How long until she saw my reluctance and had me eliminated the same way she had the others?
I hated this game. I’d been so caught up in the pretending, of doing and saying whatever was needed just to stay alive, I hadn’t even realized it was slowly dragging me in closer to her side. I had been sucked in like a beast trapped in a tar pit, unable to save myself from slowly sinking to the murky, oily, burning depths.
My only hope—my only way out—was to keep playing along until the right means of escape presented itself. Once, that hadn’t seemed so difficult. I only had to worry about myself. Now, there was him. The boy. I couldn’t stand the idea of abandoning him to Riva’s mercy, especially when she barely seemed to remember he was even alive at all.
I couldn’t falter. Riva still trusted me. Otherwise, she wouldn’t allow me to speak to the Hands of Fate on her behalf. She wouldn’t have let me take the boy from her presence, either.
I just had to hold on. I had to be patient and careful until that moment arrived. Then, perhaps I could get us both out—myself and the boy.
Pushing away from the wall, I glanced down at where he stood nearby, still staring despondently ahead. If he noticed my response at all, it never showed. No emotion ever passed over his features. It had alarmed and disturbed me, at first. Before I knew the reason why. Now, my gaze tracked down to the mark on his hand. Pity like a cold knife twisted in my heart. Whoever he had been before, he couldn’t have deserved a fate like this one.
But we were both prisoners now.
The boy followed me from the chamber as obediently as a dog. He didn’t say a single word as I walked ahead, leading the way through the Hall of Holies once again. Here, smaller sculptures of all nine gods stood in a semicircle, each one only ten feet tall, and crafted with far more attention to detail. The altars before most were empty, and the candles had long been left to burn down and die. The priests who had attended them were long gone, and so there was no one left to pray at their feet, offer tokens, holy oils, or replenish the incense and candles.
No one apart from me.
I stopped, my feet dragged to a halt as though by some unseen force as I passed before the statue of her—my patroness.
Clysiros, Goddess of Death.
My eyes closed and I bowed my head. Then I held a hand up to the boy. “Wait here.”
He stood perfectly still and didn’t reply.
Walking to the altar before her, I stopped and gazed up at the beautiful depiction of the goddess. Her many wings carved from obsidian glass shone, wreathing a feminine, alabaster-skinned figure with long hair that fell to her bare feet. She wore a gown of that same black glass studded with diamonds that glittered like stars, and a breastplate of polished silver. One of her hands grasped a small sickle with a bouquet of lilies tied around the hilt.
Drawing a blade from my broad belt of wrapped silk, I cut away the wax drippings off the four golden candles that stood at her feet and added new incense to the censers smoldering on either side of the tall, black stone altar. Then I stood back, pressed my palms together, and bowed my head low.
Once, I had prayed without fear. Without shame. I had been a true shalnii priest serving in Salnis, trained to be one of the finest servants to Clysiros. I had been a guardian of her temple, a teacher of her wisdom, and a diviner of her will. I’d felt truly connected to her, and devoted my energy every day to upholding her charge of guarding the boundary to the afterlife.
Now, I could barely speak her name without my voice trembling and my hands shaking.
“Lady of the Midnight Skies, Guardian of Souls, Keeper of the Final Gate, I beg you hear your humble servant once again,” I whispered, keeping my words hushed in hopes that no one else who might be spying nearby would hear. “I know I walk a cursed path, but I plead your pardon and your guidance. My heart has not turned from you. I still bear your oath mark. I still carry your promise and care for the lost spirits. But there are enemies at every turn. I fear I am always one step, one word, away from my own end. If there is some way out, some way to return to your side, I beg that you show it. Guide my steps. Guard my words. Take your revenge with my hands when the time is right.”
“She doesn’t hear you.” Someone spoke suddenly, using the Maldobarian language. Not something I was accustomed to hearing here.
I whirled around, clinging to the altar in shock. Was someone else there? Had they overheard me, or—?
The boy stared up at me with that same empty, slackness to his expression, but his gaze seemed to sharpen and focus for the briefest instant. As though, for only a second, he actually saw me.
I took in a deep, steadying breath and pushed away from the altar. Slowly, I stepped closer to him. It had been him speaking, hadn’t it? That voice had been so young. I hadn’t imagined it.
“The gods always hear those who pray earnestly and truly to them,” I countered, poised to flee at the first sudden move that child made. I had, after all, seen him murder ruthlessly. He brandished power unlike anything I had ever seen outside of ancient legend.
A living divine weapon—that is what Riva called him. A gift to aid our cause. And I had come to believe her.
“No,” he murmured again. “If that was true … she would have heard me a long time ago.”
My mouth hung open. What? What was he saying?
Before I could ask, the boy blinked owlishly, still staring back at me with that fragment of focus in his cobalt blue eyes. Then his head turned slightly, his soft, boyish features returning to that emptiness he usually wore. Like someone drawing a curtain, a shadow fell over his features and he might as well have been a thousand miles away.
In that state, he only seemed to hear Riva’s commands. He only obeyed her, unless she ordered him to do as I asked. Even then, my control over him was limited.
But was it possible … could her hold on him be weakening? Or was he growing strong enough to throw it off himself?
Riva had told me that this boy’s incredible power came from Clysiros, and I knew without any doubt that was the only reason I still stood here, attempting to serve, in hopes that staying close to this boy was somehow part of the goddess’s divine plan. I could identify his abilities as they surfaced. I could even teach him some measure of control over them.
It couldn’t be coincidence that we had both wound up here, trapped in the same living nightmare. When it came to things divine, there was no such thing. There was only an intent we didn’t understand. Perhaps Clysiros meant for me to stay close and watch over him. I didn’t know that for sure, and yet the thought of walking away from him always turned my blood to ice. To think of him left alone with Riva … I couldn’t. I had to stay. Someone had to stand watch. He was an instrument of my patroness, and I might very well be the last of her guardians.
We had to stay together, to whatever end.
18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The boy ate like a starving puppy. He shoveled in spoonfuls of stew so fast, I had to wonder how long it had been since Riva let him eat. Days, perhaps? It seemed she had a habit of forgetting that, beneath that power, he was still a living, breathing person that required things like food and sleep.
Then again, she seemed to have a habit of forgetting that about everyone.
Auguress Riva was not my friend. She never had been, and she never would be. We were forced into the same environment by chance. Or, rather, astronomical bad luck. I’d always been the sort to sit back and observe others before I made any sort of decision about how I felt about them. When it came to Riva, I had learned very quickly that she was dangerous.
I didn’t know where Riva had come from, exactly, or who had trained her. She claimed no home temple, and was very vague about how she’d come into her divination magic. It was far too late to question any of that now, though. She had slithered into the palace like a viper, subtle and silent, claiming to serve Milontos. Riva had proven to have very impressive skills in divination, though. Those talents had quickly earned her the trust and favoritism of the emperor, along with the respect and cautious jealousy of our peers. She was not someone to be toyed with, and I had watched my every move carefully around her from the beginning.
