Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) (35 page)

              Temendri knew the old man was trying to convince himself that everything would work out just as much as he was trying to convince his apprentice. If they failed, they would have to report it to their master, and if for some reason they lost the Princess and twelve Dracairei at the same time, they would lose the good favor they currently enjoyed. That was not something either of them wanted to think about.

First Eighthday

Serenity Valley

The Proper Peacock

Shawnrik had never been so uncomfortable in his life. He was surrounded by a half dozen people, all of whom seemed to have their jobs focused around poking him with one sharp object or another. Olivia had made it clear on Sixthday that if he didn’t go with her to the tailor on their free day that he would be going to the Winter Dance by himself. She sat not far away with a knowing grin on her face.

The owner, a man named Isaac, stood just out of reach, guiding each of his employees in their tasks. The whole thing wouldn’t be all that bad had they not expected him to stand there in nothing but his underwear. He still couldn’t look Olivia’s direction without blushing, though she seemed to have no problem at all staring at him as he was poked, prodded, and measured by people he had never met before.

“My, you are quite the specimen,” Isaac said, eyeing Shawnrik up and down. “Tell me, have you been growing fast of late? I know boys your age tend to shoot up dramatically every now and then."

You have no idea,
Shawnrik thought before replying. “Only a couple inches in the last year or so.” He hoped that his next growth spurt would have the common courtesy of waiting until after the dance, at the very least. The Dean had come and talked to him the day before and told him he didn’t think it was likely to occur until fall at the earliest, and Shawnrik hoped with everything he had that the man was right.

“I’m fairly certain he has put on some muscle in the last few Eightdays, though,” Olivia said.

Looking over towards his date for the dance, he almost took a step back at the predatory gaze which was being directed at him. He had involuntarily twitched, which caused two of his tormentors to puncture his skin with their torture devices.

“I see. Well, we’ll have to allow for some space and do our final stitching the week of the dance, then,” Isaac said as he shooed his staff away.

Shawnrik let out a sigh of relief that made the tailor grin from ear to ear.

“Perfection is painful, my young friend, as I am sure you are well aware. One does not have a body such as this without your own share of blood, sweat, and tears. We will have everything ready for you next time you come in. You will be magnificent.” He turned towards Olivia and cocked his head. “On the other hand, my dear, you could stand to follow your date’s stance on physical fitness.”

Olivia finally blushed, but instead of making Shawnrik feel vindicated, it simply made him angry.

“Hey,” Shawnrik said, stepping towards the man. “She is beautiful.”

“Yes, well, the eye of the beholder and all that.” Isaac said, stepping backwards several paces. He raised his hands in a calming gesture as he continued. “She is indeed a beautiful young woman by herself, but when I am through with you she is going to look like a farm hand hanging on the arm of a god. We will of course do everything we can to close that gap, but anything she can do in the meantime will only help our cause.”

Shawnrik took another step towards the man, fully intending on knocking him through his own front window, but he felt a small hand touch his arm and he paused.

“Shawnrik.” Olivia said, drawing his attention away from the Tailor. “Isaac is the best at what he does, and he is not personally attacking me—he's just confident in his work,” she said, throwing a quick look at the tailor.

“But…”

“No buts.” She tugged on his arm so he would bend down and she placed her hand on his face. “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” She put her finger over his lips as he was about to reply. “I mean, really looked at yourself, especially with someone standing next to you.”

He followed her as she tugged on his arm and led him to a mirror that took up a good portion of the wall in the back of the shop. She made sure to hold eye contact with him all the way. When they stopped she turned her head towards the reflection and his gaze followed.

Olivia wasn’t terribly short for her age, but the top of her head was level with the center of his chest. She was beautiful. Her body was not too athletic, nor too out of shape; perfectly healthy. Chestnut hair framed a cute, round face that held the softest brown eyes that Shawnrik had ever seen.

Standing next to her was a monstrosity, something that shouldn’t exist in the real world. His wide frame looked perfectly sculpted. Each muscle clearly defined beneath his skin. Twin yellow orbs stared back at him, each glowing brightly in the lights of the shop. His short, cropped hair had an almost blue sheen to it, framing a face that was well defined; it was the kind of face he saw on the statues of ancient heroes around Safeharbor.

He began to turn his head away, his mind wanting to reject what he saw, but as he began to turn his head his eyes locked with the reflection of those beautiful brown eyes. What he saw in that gaze did not reflect what he had seen in the slightest. Those eyes didn’t seem to be repulsed at all by what they saw. Shawnrik saw Isaac in the background, and the look he saw in the Tailor’s eyes was reverent, if anything.

Turning back to the image, he tried to take the whole thing in as one image, trying to figure out what the others saw that he didn’t. He stood there next to the girl he was developing deep feelings for, in his underwear, looking at himself. As he stared at the image, he realized that the features that he loathed because they were so different than everyone else were what made him unique. Even next to someone as intimidating as his grandfather, the blacksmith for the giants in Tranquility Mist, he would stand out.

“Look at you,” Olivia said, a tear dripping from her chin.

“Alright,” Shawnrik said. “Now I’ve seen what you see when you look at me. See what I see when I look at you.” He took her image in, trying to will his feelings through the glass.

After several seconds, her eyes widened and fresh tears began to flow. He heard a loud noise from behind and realized that Isaac was blowing his nose on a handkerchief.

“I am sorry!” Isaac said, moving up behind them. “I see now what you see. You will both be the envy of the Institute. I will stake my reputation on it!”

Chapter 19

The Seeds We Sow

Year: 3045 AGD

Month: Midwinter

Second Sixthday

Death’s Edge Forest

“That’s right, breath in. Feel the air around you.” Pershanti spoke in soft, soothing tones. They had been with the Quaelyne for a full Eightday now, and they both found that it was the perfect atmosphere for their meditation training.

A short distance from the village, they had found a small hot spring that was being fed from the massive water flow below. Most of the pools had a slight smell that Pershanti said smelled like rotten eggs, but there were a few smaller pools that were set apart from the rest that were not offensive to the nose. The pair currently sat near one of these pools, listening to the water burble up from below.

It had been getting easier for the boy to attain a quiet mind as the time and distance from the mine expanded. The boy who had been left to rot in the mine was not the same boy who had was now concentrating next to the quiet Grenaldin.

“Turn your thoughts inward, sending all extraneous thought aside. Once again locate that wall inside your mind that you aren’t able to pass through.”

Pershanti’s voice faded away as he delved deeply into his own mind. His mind still registered the words, but they became so faint that they no longer mattered. He had been searching his memories the day before when they had located the place in his mind that he couldn’t access. Dauntless had been with them yesterday and had dubbed the spot “the vault.”

A low growl from the deepest parts of his mind accompanied his arrival at the vault. Whatever had been done to him, it seemed that it offended that part of him greatly. He also found the idea offensive, but having no clue what was behind the block, he wasn’t as bothered as that deep part of him seemed to be. While he felt the disgust from that part of his subconscious, he sent a tendril of thought in that direction.

The main focus of his concentration was directed towards the blank space before him, searching for even the tiniest weakness. As had happened the day before, he couldn’t find anything that felt different from the rest. It was just one giant blank space in his mind that he couldn’t bypass. After an indefinite amount of time, he started throwing his consciousness against the blank space in a futile effort to feel even the slightest shift.

He could feel himself losing the concentration necessary to continue his exploration when that small slice of thought that he had sent into the deepest parts of his minds was seized forcefully by the thing that dwelt there.

I can break through.

How?

Take the manacles off, and give me control. I can fix everything.

Do not give in.
Relentless’s voice broke through the boy's thoughts like a spear.

Don’t interfere in this; I can make you all greater than you are.

As you have already started to do to my son?
Relentless growled.
Did you even ask his permission before you started to change him?

I do not require permission! We are greater than…

No!
the boy thought,
Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should.

Fool, those are the kinds of thoughts that allowed the Mage to have his way with your mind. You restrained me then as well. I was hoping that without the watcher’s training you would be more malleable.

Focus your mind—you are this thing's master.
Dauntless said, inserting himself into the battle.

The boy could now feel the minds of the entire tribe focused on him. Not only did they want to help him master this inner part of himself, but they knew that if he failed it would affect them all. Sending the rest of his will through the strand of thought that the thing had a hold of, the boy powered through, but what he found was beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

“You must, Lagelion, there is no other option—every other avenue has been exhausted. Even the Mages cannot guarantee his safety.”

“Analya, please don’t make me do this. We can keep him safe…”

“No, you know that if the High Council finds out about him he will never know a day of peace in his life. He will always be looking over his shoulder, wondering when the hunters will come for him. If he is just some nobody on the streets they won’t care about him until he can make a name for himself.” She pulled his thin, calloused hands into her own a moment before a strong pinching sensation surged through her abdomen. If she hurt his hand as she squeezed it, he gave no outward sign. The contractions had been getting stronger and closer together all night. Her son would be born this night, and the world must think that he died in the process.

“You are right, I know, it’s just so hard for me to feel this helpless.” He looked into her eyes then, and she could see the pain in those mercury orbs of his.

“Go, get ready. Soon it will be time to call in the midwife.” She held his hand up to her cheek. “There is still time before the birth, tell them to wait until I call.”

“As you wish,” he said, hesitating for a moment, clearly not wanting to break contact with her. After a moment, his eyes shifted into that familiar resolve that he often wore, and he pulled his hand away and walked towards the door, stopping only to put his sword on.

“Oh, Lagelion,” Analya whispered after he closed the door. “Please forgive me for what we are doing to our son this night.” Another contraction came shortly thereafter and she allowed herself to cry into the quiet solitude of night.

“Though you leave your son to the whims of fate, he need not be without certain protections.” A soft raspy voice floated through the room.

“Who is there? Show yourself. I must warn you, I am a Shaper and about to have a child—there are few who could contest my will at this moment.”

“Peace, young Theromvore,” the voice said, materializing out of the darkness in the form of a well kempt man well into the autumn of his life. “I have heard your prayers in the middle of the night and in my benevolence chose to grant your son a boon.”

It didn’t take long for her mind to flow through the list of beings that this man could be, and when she decided on a name her blood ran cold. “Ol’ Thom,” she whispered.

He bowed slightly in acknowledgement.

“What does the God of Death want with an unborn child?”

“An unborn child? Nothing,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “Your soon to be born child, on the other hand… I simply wish to help him survive what is to come.”

“Help him how?” Analya asked, not sure if she really wanted the answer. “And what is to come?”

“What is to come? Heartache, loneliness, and betrayal, or to put it more succinctly: life. Life will come, my dear.” He looked truly sad for a moment before his face lit up with a wicked glint. “But, he doesn’t have to suffer through it needlessly. I will gift him with the ability to see when death is near, and give him the cunning and finesse to be able to do something about it.”

“What do you want in return?” Analya said, realizing that she was about to make a deal with a creature whose motives were unclear.

“I simply want him to live. I assure you that will be more than enough to keep me busy for years to come.” He gently placed his hand on her stomach, and a smile crept across his features. “Yes, this one will be strong, perhaps the greatest of you all. The hunters would never let one such as this survive.”

She wanted to swat away that hand and tell him to go back to whatever hole he had crawled out of, but she also knew that he wasn’t lying. Thom was one of the beings that the rest of the world knew as gods. She knew better from her studies at the academy, but she also knew that even though he would also benefit from the deal in some way, he would do exactly as he said.

“What do you need from me?” Analya said as her vision began to blur.

“Need? Intriguing, yes, I would like you to tell the boy to not resist. Let him know that all is well.” Thom’s smile didn’t move as he placed his other hand upon her stomach. “This will be over shortly.”

She sent her thoughts towards her unborn child, blanketing his mind with her warmth as Thom began to work. Analya could feel the creature’s power course through her body, it was unlike anything she had ever felt before. That power built up around her womb and struck like a coiled serpent.

She gasped.

This was the moment I came to be.

What am I seeing?
The boy asked.

             
This is the time leading up to our birth, before our parents abandoned us.

             
They stood outside the scene now, looking in as Analya Theromvore’s body shook with the power that was being sent through it.

             
This is the first sin of our creation.

             
First? You mean there are more?

             
Watch.

             
As the stream of energy died off from the being known as Ol’ Thom, he began to dissipate from the feet up and slowly disappeared from the room, the last thing remaining was his smiling face before that too vanished. Analya opened her eyes after a few moments and seemed surprised to find the room empty. She placed her hand on her stomach and could feel the energy that had been left behind, assuring her that she was not mad.

              “I really wish he hadn’t done that,” a feminine voice said floating through the room.

              “Yes, but now it is done. What can we possibly do to counteract such an act?” a strong, deep male voice replied.

              “Who’s there now?” Analya asked, sounding tired and defeated. “Don’t just stand there talking to each other, show yourselves.”

              Two forms removed themselves from the shadows, coalescing into a pair of humanoids. His form was larger and well-built for war, and hers was athletic yet hardy. They shared many of the same features, allowing any that saw them together the impression that they were twins.

              “Ragnós? Cypheria?” Analya said before she gave a short titter of amusement. “Surely I am going mad.”

              “The case could be argued,” Ragnós said, but his sister swatted him.

              “Nonsense, she is just doing what she thinks is best for her offspring,” Cypheria said, before adding. “Misguided as that may be.”

              “Really, so you can get in a jibe, but I can’t?”

              “It’s a girl thing,” Cypheria said, sending a conspiratorial wink towards Analya.

              “So what did he just do to my son?” Analya said, her voice rising several octaves by the end of the question.

              “Calm,” Cypheria said, laying a reassuring hand on Analya’s shoulder. “I assure you the child is unharmed.”

              “What did he do?”

              Cypheria turned towards her brother and gave him an imploring look.

              “Fine,” Ragnós muttered. “I always have to do the dirty work anyway.” He walked up beside the pair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thom has just laid the boon of the Champion upon your son.”

              “Boon of the Champion?” Analya mouthed before her eyes opened wide. “My son is to be the Champion of Death?!”

              “Is,” Ragnós said. “Your son is the Champion of Death, and a few dozen other minor domains, but that’s the big one.”

              “That is not the problem, however,” Cypheria said.

              “Not the problem?” Analya replied, sweat beading on her forehead. “
That
is not the problem?”

              “Unfortunately not.” Ragnós sighed. “You see, we are only allowed to grant our boon to a creature if they are willing to accept it. There are strict rules for things like this, and he has just bent this rule to the breaking point.”

              “So what now?” Analya fell back in her chair, all of her fire burned away by the revelation. “Will you kill my son?”

              “What?” Cypheria asked. “No.”