Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2) (30 page)

“Your father chose his path. He is choosing it still. It won’t be the first time we made a pact with their kind.” She spoke as though choosing her words carefully. “If they expend themselves battling each other, what harm does it do to our aims?”

“Our hope lies in his weakness?” Korbin asked.

Graiphen closed his robe. “So it seems.” His voice betrayed exhaustion.

Korbin sighed. This was never going to work.

∞

Graiphen twitched, pain radiating through his body. Although Braetin’s presence felt more distant than when he had been possessed of her directly, she could send agony through the thorns, into his joints and even his heart.

Her anger burned through him relentlessly, setting each of the thorn points alight.

“Father?” Korbin frowned with concern. He touched Graiphen lightly on the shoulder, and something in his skin made Graiphen cry out with pain as though the boy had worn a glove of acid.

“Step away from him,” Octavia said quickly. Korbin did as the witch commanded.

I want her
, Braetin said in Graiphen’s mind.
Take her. Give me a child as you did Pang. But our child will also have the blood of Eurmus. She will be unstoppable.

“Father, no!” Korbin said and Octavia backed up a few steps.

Graiphen put his hand to his head to try to block the pain. Had he spoken aloud?

I have already taken three Children of Eurmus in Vol. One has borne me a child this very day, and soon, she will do so a second time. I have chosen two more to bear the seed of my most devoted acolytes. These four children who will build my army will soon control the city of Vol. These four will become four hundred, then four thousand. But the one born of this one’s blood will outshine them all. Her lineage is strong.

Now Graiphen understood why Braetin had kept the conduit Pendra alive and why she’d been so angry that Graiphen had ordered her released. She had been planning to use Seba to impregnate her, to blend the blood of two conduits with Braetin’s own power. And now, it seemed, she had gathered the other conduits sent recently by the Sennestelle and was using them as breeding stock.

Graiphen swallowed a mouthful of his own vomit. These horrific creatures had turned him and presumably others into rapists. The pain of what he had become hurt worse than the pain wracking his body as he tried to resist.

“I won’t let you hurt her,” Korbin said, his features contorted with fury.

Octavia picked up a slim silver knife and held it in her shaking hands. “Run, Graiphen,” she said. “Run before it is too late.”

“I can’t,” Graiphen croaked. His joints searing with the pain of the thorns, he lurched toward Octavia. Against his own will, he felt a thrill of pleasure at the fear on her face. Disgust welled within him at the goddess who moved him like a marionette across the room, who gave him the power to shove Korbin aside.

With an easy motion, Graiphen batted aside the knife she held. With strength beyond his own, he ripped the front of her robes and pushed her to the ground. Roaring with rage, he fought the Spirit within him. “Kill me,” he croaked as he knelt on top of her. “Pull out the thorn.”

Octavia’s face twisted with revulsion. “No,” she said. “You must live. You are the only one who can get close enough to kill Pang’s vessel.”

The goddess within him laughed in triumph. “
I knew you would confess my power and submit to me one day. Receive my seed, and your children will rule this world.
”

With one burst of force, Octavia pushed her hand against the side of his neck. The burning sensation coursed through Graiphen, making him scream with pain. He scrambled away from her and saw she was holding the wax poppet she’d tried to give him earlier. She was using his own blood against him.

“I will never submit, Braetin.” Octavia held up the now-mashed poppet between them. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Korbin grabbed Graiphen from behind and pulled him toward the door. “Go,” he said. “If you ever touch her again, I
will
kill you.”

Graiphen had never heard so much hatred in Korbin’s voice, not even when he had first disowned his son. The Spirit of Shadow within him reveled in the outpouring of malice, but he himself wept to hear it. Korbin pulled back the heavy door and shoved Graiphen outside.

Graiphen looked at his son and wondered if it was the last time he would see him. “Bar the door after me,” he whispered.

In the distance, Braetin raged. If she had possessed him fully, he had no doubt he would have died from the pain she sent surging through his body.

Chapter 30

Octavia’s hands shook as she knelt to retrieve the slim silver knife from the ground. She felt as though she might vomit and wanted nothing more than to take a bath, but there was no time.

Breathing in and out with closed eyes to calm herself, she heard Korbin approaching after he’d barred the door. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

Yes? No? How could she be? But she must be. If she fell apart, all would be for naught. She nodded silently and stood. “She has retaken Pendra and I suppose the members of the Sennestelle who went to Vol to replace me. She’s forced them to bear her children.” Her thoughts went to Liara, and her heart lurched.

“We’ll go there and help them,” Korbin said. “We can leave now. The palace is probably in such chaos that we have a good chance. We may have to leave some things behind, but I don’t care about that. We’ll just grab what we can carry without looking suspicious and go.”

“Help them? How? What could we possibly say or do that would make anything all right for them again?”
Trinity? How can you ask this of me? How can you expect me to fix this alone?

“Maybe nothing, but we can try. We can be there. We can find a way to close that portal.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” she snapped at him. “Do you think the Red Manus, plus hundreds of priests in the temple, the thousands of devotees, and the Spirit herself will simply give us directions to the most sacred part of the temple? And when we get there, how do we destroy the portal?”

“I don’t know.”

The determination on Korbin’s face both comforted and annoyed her. How could he be so confident they would succeed? Zain and Pang had murdered the emperor.
Jorek.
A wave of sadness swept over her. If they could kill him without repercussions, they could kill anyone. And now, one of the Spirits effectively ruled Talmor.

A knock at the door startled Octavia.

Korbin moved close to the door. “Who’s there?”

“Hekare, Dul. Forgive the intrusion, but I need to speak to Senne Octavia.”

Octavia stepped forward and mouthed to Korbin, “The scribe?” It seemed like ages since she’d gone to the palace archives. With everything that had happened, she’d nearly forgotten the task she’d set him.

Korbin shrugged. “This isn’t a good time,” he called through the door.

“I understand, Dul,” the young man said, “But I found something I must show her.”

Octavia looked down at the rip in her robes. “One second,” she called. She ran to her wardrobe and pulled out a thick shawl and wrapped it around her, covering her ripped dress. “Let him in.”

Korbin did as she asked and removed the heavy wooden bar from the door and pulled it open. “Come—” His words were cut off abruptly as not one but four people entered.

Octavia’s heart raced, and she involuntarily stepped back against the wardrobe. Hekare was followed immediately by the three members of the Sennestelle who had visited Octavia the previous day: Betram, Gysella, and Treviia. The three were all dressed in Talmoran clothing suitable for servants or clerks.

Betram stepped forward. “Before you call for the guards, Senne Octavia, please know this is not the boy’s fault.”

“Korbin,” she whispered. “Don’t let them take me.”

“What’s going on here?” Korbin demanded as he shut the chamber door.

Gysella held her hands up. “I know we upset you yesterday, sister, but please hear our words. You see, Trinity made us return.”

Rage welled up in Octavia’s chest. “How dare you invoke her name to me? Do you think by doing so I will come willingly? That you can manipulate me with sentiment?”

Korbin frowned. “Octavia, who are these people?” He looked at the scribe. “Hekare?”

“Dul, forgive me. But they speak truly. I have seen the visions myself. She comes to me in my dreams.”

“Who does?” Octavia asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“Trinity,” Hekare said. “Ever since you first sent me to the library in the city, I have worked from morning until night, trying to find what you asked for. I did it for duty the first day, but she visited me that night in my dreams, demanding that I continue.” His voice faltered. “At first, I thought it a simple nightmare from being overtired or having too much wine the previous night. But she drove me on, saying I had to continue, that the empire and even the world depended on me. For seven nights I’ve scarcely slept.” He blushed. “I know it sounds stupid.”

“No,” Octavia said quietly. “It doesn’t.” She would never forget the way her sister had haunted her own dreams in the past months.

Betram looked relieved that she believed the boy. “And she visited each of us last night, as well.”

Octavia might have been reluctant to believe him but for how haggard and tired all three Kilovians looked. “What did she tell you?”
And why did she tell you and not me?

Treviia gestured to the scribe with her thick fingers. “She told us to listen to you and instructed us to find Hekare at the Durjin library, saying he would help us get into the palace. And the emperor’s death only proved to us that our dreams had been true and that delay could be catastrophic.”

Gysella nodded, her narrow face looking pinched and worried. “How could we deny it any longer? The three of us having the same dreams, all of a woman you claimed to have visited on the other side of the veil? We had to return. Trinity had spoken to Hekare too, and he was waiting for us. When we learned what he had discovered, we had to come here. We disguised ourselves as servants and he helped us enter without raising suspicion, for I fear that our visit might not be welcome here today.”

Octavia turned her attention back to the scribe. “What exactly have you learned?”

He pulled a small book out of a satchel he wore on his back. “I’d worked for days, Senne, looking at history books and wandering the stacks aimlessly. Nothing spoke of what you wished to know. Were it not for the dreams of Trinity, I would have given up, even though she never told me precisely what book to look for. Her voice was urgent, but her instructions were only to keep searching, saying I was on the right track. So, I kept going, looking even in places that made no sense, and yesterday I found this.” He held out his prize to her.

She accepted the small book and opened the first few pages, noting the Kilovian script. “What is it?” The book had tiny portraits inked within, pictures that seemed to move if she stared at them too long.

Korbin came and looked at the pages over her shoulder. “It looks like a book of poetry.”

“It’s more of a folk tale,” Hekare said. “There are a few foreign manuscripts in one of the back rooms, but not many.”

“You read Kilovian script?” Korbin asked, glancing up at him.

“Not well,” Hekare confessed, “But enough to recognize the title. That’s why it stuck with me, Senne. It was the original of the one I told you about, the story my mother used to tell me as a child. I wasn’t certain it was important, but when the Sennestelle came to me this morning as Trinity had told me they would, I knew this must be what I must show them.”

Octavia’s eyes scanned the title page. “Child of Darkness.” The name wasn’t one she knew. She looked at the three conduits. “You’ve read this?”

Betram nodded. “I had never heard of it, but once I read it, I understood why.”

Flipping through the pages, Octavia sat down on one of the couches in her room. The others followed suit, except Hekare, who stood aside from the others as a servant might, and Korbin, who stood beside Octavia, reading over her shoulder.

“What does it say?” Korbin asked.

“It’s strange.” Octavia went to the first page. “It’s laid out like a poem, but the rhythm is too disjointed to be pleasing. The language is stilted and archaic. I’m not sure how old it is.” She flipped through quickly. “Nothing in here indicates the age of the book.”

Hekare said to Korbin, “I don’t know enough Kilovian to translate every word, Dul, but it’s very similar to a story my mother used to tell me. In it, there were eight friends who were wealthy and powerful and had many admirers. They would feast every day and play and indulge every night.”

“A metaphor for the Talmoran Spirits?” Korbin asked.

“It could be,” Octavia said.

“The story was never presented to me that way,” Hekare said. “The number eight appears often in Talmoran culture, as you know. Until I saw this, I didn’t realize the story was Kilovian. Anyway, halfway through the story, they meet another called Darkness. At first, they greet him as a friend and he shares in their bounty and becomes a part of the circle, but as the story progresses, he proves to be false and betrays them.”

“How?” Octavia sat forward.

“According to the way my mother tells it, he stole from them and gave their riches away, leaving them hungry and poor. The eight friends banded together and imprisoned him.”

Octavia looked down and paged through the book eagerly. She found a relevant passage near the end and translated: “Into the place between they sent the trickster, far away where he could do no harm. The eight friends laughed at their cleverness, but they did not know the peril they would face.”

“Peril?” Korbin squinted at the text, although he could not read it.

“Although at first the eight friends got their riches back and they thought all was well, they didn’t know that Darkness had children. Something about the fact that he had children prevented them from killing him outright. He had many, in fact, but one in particular led the others. When he heard of his father’s abduction, he called up all the others and they performed many evil blood rites, even calling on ghosts. The children persecuted the eight friends, driving them away. The eight friends lost everything: their wealth, their popularity, their power, their homes.”