Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2) (17 page)

Eng bowed his head solemnly. A shadow passed over his features as though he contemplated dark thoughts. “Thank you, Ultim Qardone. The moment we received your message about releasing the conduit, I was commanded to deliver two things: a message and a set of tools for you to give to Seba.” He tilted his head, listening to something only he could hear. “I tire of waiting.” His voice warbled strangely. “I gain strength, and am displeased you have taken my favored meal. My displeasure grows, as will your pain, should you fail in this task I have given you.”

Graiphen stared. Eng did not appear possessed of Braetin, or her presence would have been palpable to him, but clearly she was channeling power through him somehow.

Eng smiled wearily. “I understand your surprise, brother,” he said. “Rather than explain, I will show you. This will complete the second part of my task: to deliver the thorns you will implant within Seba for his return to Vol.”

“Can the Mistress hear through your ears?” Graiphen asked.

Eng widened his narrow eyes as a presence flashed within them. “Yes.”

“But she is not here.”

“No, I am but a catalyst for her power.”

Graiphen nodded, wondering how the connection had been achieved. Surely if this method had been available when he left Vol over a month ago, she would have used it with him or another so she could keep in contact with him. Of course, he’d been Pang’s vessel, so perhaps the two would not be compatible, but he wondered why his mistress would have kept such a technique hidden from him. Or had she wanted to keep it hidden from Pang?

As though answering the unspoken questions, Eng pulled back the sleeves of his red robe. Embedded in each wrist between the tendons appeared to be a disk or button. With some effort, Eng grabbed the end of one between his fingers and pulled. A wide, stubby thorn slipped out and blood gushed from the hole. With the same smooth motion, Eng removed the thorn from the opposite wrist.

Graiphen stared, watching incredulously as Eng removed another thorn from each foot, and one from each shoulder. He lifted his robe and removed one from each hip. Trails of blood ran down his skin where the thorns had been.

“Our Mistress grows more distant.” Eng sounded almost relieved. “You will take this and implement them into Seba exactly as they have been within my body. They will guide themselves to the correct point when they are close enough. I would suggest, therefore, not holding them against your own skin until you are ready to implant them.”

“When I do this, the mistress will see through his eyes?”

“And hear through his ears.” Eng sounded weak and his already pasty skin had paled even further. “Though it is my impression the effect is faint.”

Graiphen sat back in stunned silence as Eng pulled his robe open at the front. One thorn the width of a fist protruded from his chest. “This one must go in first, or the others will not take hold properly. It acts as an anchor.” With those last words, Eng yanked the thorn out. His eyes widened and he let out a strangled gasp. Blood seeped over the front of his robe, making the red a deeper, truer shade around the wound.

Eng fell to his knees and whispered, “Mistress.” His eyes went black for a moment, then faded to their natural shade. Eng and Braetin were gone.

Graiphen sat motionless in front of the grisly tableau. The door opened and one of the young acolytes who tended to him walked in, barely seeming to notice the heap on the floor. He bowed before Graiphen.

“Ultim Qardone,” he said. “A message has arrived for you from the senate.” He held out a folded, sealed envelope.

Graiphen took it, grateful for the momentary distraction. “Qardone Eng is holding eight small thorns and one large one. Gather them all and put them in a suitable bag. Handle them with a heavy cloth, for they are dangerous and may seek out your skin.”

The acolyte looked down at Eng. “Is he dead?”

“In our Mistress’s service.” Turning the envelope in his hand, Graiphen said, “Now go. These thorns are holy relics and should be treated as such.”

“Yes, Ultim Qardone.” The acolyte went into an adjoining room and returned with two velvet bags. Using one as a glove, he unclenched Eng’s fist and removed the thorns, placing them in the other bag.

Graiphen broke the seal on the message and unfolded the page. His eyes scanned the script. What he read froze his heart. He read it a second time and then a third. The missive came from a man called Dul Potes, a Durjinian senator Graiphen had counted amongst his allies, back when he himself sat on Vol’s Council of Eight. The letter revealed that two days prior, the emperor had asked the senate to strongly consider execution for Seba. He had stopped short of demanding it, saying that of course the decision must ultimately lie with the senate itself. They had only finished their deliberations on the matter that morning.

Graiphen thought back. The request had gone to the senate the day after Zain had met with the emperor. In the two days that had passed since then, the emperor had denied his requests for an audience. “Curse the light,” Graiphen muttered.

The acolyte hurried to finish his business and rose. “What shall I do with this?” He indicated the bag in his hand.

“Give it to me.” He accepted the bag from the boy and gestured for him to go.

When the heavy door closed, leaving Graiphen alone with Eng’s body, Graiphen felt the rage and panic rise in his chest. He was trapped. If Seba died before Graiphen could implant the thorns, Graiphen’s fate was set. He would be killed or worse.

Not only was Braetin already displeased with him for Seba being taken out of her reach to begin with, but now she’d lost the conduit she’d been feeding on for so many months.
Pendra.
She’d been one of the ones taken at Dramworthy Farm months before. In his missive to the temple, Graiphen had explained why her release was vital, that it was part of the emperor’s price for Graiphen bringing Seba back, but Braetin was not a patient or rational creature.

On the other hand…
Graiphen considered as he felt the thorns within the bag. They were surprisingly heavy, for such small things. These were meant for Seba, not him. Seba was Braetin’s chosen vessel, not him. He saw with clarity that she was using his position, knowing he could get to Seba, but that she no longer had any real use for him.

He scanned the letter again. Zain had to be behind this. Zain and Octavia. Graiphen had to believe it was coincidence that their aims intersected, but together, their voices might sway many. Of the two, Zain was the more pressing threat. And the more Pang tried to seduce Graiphen to her side, and therefore Zain’s, the less Graiphen trusted them.

Yet those were his choices: to remain faithful to the goddess who betrayed him or align with the goddess who wished to use him. The two Spirits were the same, in many ways, but he had cast his lot in with Braetin the moment she’d freed him from Seba’s influence, back when they knew Seba only as
the dark conduit
.

It occurred to him once again that Pang was testing Graiphen’s loyalty to Braetin. If so, was she doing it at Braetin’s request or merely for her own amusement? The more he thought about the possibility, the more he wondered if this was an elaborate test set up by his mistress. If he passed this test, perhaps all
would
be forgiven.

As he sat and pondered, he glanced down at Eng one last time.
No
, he thought with a sigh. Braetin did not forgive, nor did she come up with elaborate schemes. How had things gone so wrong when he’d done exactly as he was told to do? At this point, he had only one choice.

“Uwer!” he shouted.

The acolyte came rushing back into the room. “Yes?”

“Have this mess cleaned up.”

“Yes, Ultim Qardone. Should I have his remains returned to Vol?”

Graiphen frowned. “I don’t see why. He’s of no further use to the Mistress.”

A sickly look of disgust passed over Uwer’s face, but he nodded.

He was young. Someday he would understand.

“Before you do that, though, send a message to Pang’s temple, requesting an audience immediately with Pang’s vessel Kiarana and her son Zain.” He stood. “I will arrive there in one hour’s time.”

“As you command, Ultim Qardone.”

Chapter 17

As Graiphen waited for Zain and Kiarana to arrive, he sat in the strange little side-room and reflected on the rumors floating about. Everyone in the city seemed to be talking about Nassore’s visit to Pang’s temple a few days before and his apparent friendship with Zain.

Of course, Nassore was a more visible figure than his father, who never appeared in public, but still, the visit had garnered much public speculation and already drawn people by the hundreds to the temple doors. Within days, Graiphen expected that number to swell to the thousands.

When the young demi-god did appear, he seemed happy and disinterested, as though keeping Graiphen sitting in a small, uncomfortable room meant nothing. His aging seemed to have slowed. Even though it had been two days since Graiphen had seen him, he appeared much the same as before. Fully adult, but now somehow ageless.

“Graiphen,” he said, casually draping himself over an arm chair, then frowning, appearing to find the seat uncomfortable.

“Zain,” Graiphen said. “You have heard about the emperor’s request of the senate, I assume.”

Zain raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “Of course.” He raked his hand through his coal-black hair. “I knew of it the moment it happened. Did you just find out?”

Ignoring the question, Graiphen said, “It was your influence, I take it. You persuaded Nassore to speak to his father?”

Zain yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. “It hardly required much influence. Nassore and Jorek already believed Seba to be dangerous.” He narrowed his eyes, suddenly seeming sharper. “As do you. You can’t tell me you honestly wish to return him to Vol.”

Graiphen kept his anger in check. “My mistress demands it. After I brought Pang here, doing everything required of me, this is how your mother thanks me? What reason could she have to thwart me? Where is Kiarana?”

Zain flinched at the mention of the vessel’s name. “My mother Pang is receiving devotions.”

“You mean she’s feeding.”

“You forget yourself, Graiphen,” Zain said. “You are but a servant, far away from the protection of your mistress.” Despite his lazy and casual manner, his tone carried menace.

“So even as Pang tries to persuade me to break loyalty with Braetin, you work against me?”

“It is not we who work against your interests, but Braetin. She is a spider, spinning a dangerous web. You will perish in great pain, even if you do manage to fulfill her desires. If this is the end you choose, then so be it, but why would you?”

“She saved my soul from the influence of the dark conduit.”

“The very same conduit she now wishes you to bring to her house. The man who will replace you as head of the temple. He will offer her his corrupted powers, and she may grow too strong to stop. You will be dead, or worse, and she will grow stronger. Does the idea of your own demise matter so little to you? Are you so eager to meet your end?”

“A life of service to the Spirits demands perpetual sacrifice, but the rewards are great.”

Zain cocked a half-smile. “And what have your rewards been?”

Graiphen considered. He’d been named Ultim Qardone and gained a great deal of influence in Vol, more than he’d had as a senator, even. But the influence hadn’t brought him comfort or any personal gain. He’d been given authority, the ability to wield firelight, but that power only brought death.

When Graiphen didn’t answer, Zain’s smile widened. “Serve Pang, and Braetin will die. This will not only serve our interests, but that of the empire, even the world beyond. Braetin feeds through fear and death, Pang through desire and passion. The yolk of service to such a goddess surely is a light one.”

“How do I know this isn’t a test, set out for me by my mistress and your mother?”

Zain laughed. “You are so distrustful. I suppose you can’t be certain. But when has Pang ever betrayed you? Braetin certainly has.”

“And you and your mother have betrayed Braetin. She brought Pang into this world. I was there. Would the goddess who betrayed one of her own have any qualms about casting me aside?”

“You fear Braetin, which is right. She is a powerful being. But under the protection of Pang’s temple, you would be safe. Choose life or choose death.”

Graiphen nodded, feeling troubled. Was he really contemplating this? It was a risk, to be sure, but if Zain was right and Braetin planned to kill him no matter if he succeeded or failed, he would be a fool to not weigh the options, regardless of his own feelings of loathing for Pang and what she reduced him to.

Still, was the humiliation of her touch worse than an agonizing death? He’d seen men and women killed at Braetin’s whim. He’d even been the instrument of some such moments. His stomach twisted. What had he become?

“You are considering our offer. Good,” Zain said.

Graiphen gave the barest of nods.

“To ensure your loyalty is more than just words, we ask that you perform a task for us. When it is done, we will take you in and protect you.”

“What task?” Graiphen asked, instantly suspicious.

“The woman Octavia is an obstacle to us.”

“How?” Graiphen asked.

“Our influence with the emperor is impeded by her presence. Every day of late, she is in Jorek’s presence, advising him against us, whispering in his ear about her
concern
over our relationship with Nassore.”

“But on the other hand, she agrees with you about Seba.”

Zain shrugged. “There her usefulness ends, and we expect Seba to be dead by week’s end. We hardly need reinforcement from one such as her.”

Graiphen’s mind began to turn. If he didn’t accept this offer, he would have less than a week to secure Seba’s release. If he failed, there would be no saving him from Braetin’s wrath.

“You want me to have her removed from the city?” How could he manage that?

“No,” Zain said. “She must die. Once the city is ours, we will see to the others of her kind. Talmor will no longer be a haven for heretics.”