Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2) (27 page)

The lower levels of Pang’s temple were laid out very similarly to Braetin’s, and that fact alone made the task easier. Once, however, when expecting to enter another storage room, he found himself in someone’s study. Fortunately, the occupant must have been at prayers, for Graiphen found himself alone. He didn’t dare wait long in case the resident returned, so he searched around until he found a room that seemed less likely to be disturbed. He was a mere twenty paces away from the inner sanctum.

The temple clock chimed the hour for nightly prayers before Nassore and Zain emerged, pulling the door closed behind them. “Come, let us eat,” Nassore said. “I’m hungry.”

Zain chuckled. “You’re always hungry.”

Nassore laughed low in his chest. “Then feed me.”

With an adoring look, Zain kissed the prince on the mouth. “Soon,” he said. “Soon you will have more than you could possibly want. I promise.”

Nassore cocked his mouth into a half-grin. “You’d be surprised how much I want.”

“No,” Zain said. “I don’t think I would be. Your highness,” he added, as though the title was an afterthought.

Together the pair went down a corridor that curved away from Graiphen’s hiding place, deeper into the temple’s winding maze.

After their voices had retreated into silence, Graiphen slipped out of the room and toward the inner sanctum. He could talk his way past whatever servants Kiarana had within. He’d been here many times, so they’d not think it strange when he appeared. His robes were red, so the bloodstains wouldn’t alarm them.

Once he did the deed and cut Kiarana’s throat, they would be too frightened to prevent his escape, and although he was a man of middle age, he had no doubt he could still best any of the willowy priests he’d seen here.

His stomach churned. With his hand on the center plate of the door, he pushed. He was surprised to find it pitch black and quiet within. Would Kiarana have left? He’d heard of her going nowhere after she’d been chosen, instead letting Zain do all the errand running and appearances for her.

Panic started to rise in his chest. Where could she be? The threat of failure suddenly became more real and his knees felt weak.

“Damn you, Kiarana,” he muttered in the darkened room.

A hushed murmur met his ears and he turned. He shivered when he realized he was not alone.

His eyes finally settled on the bed in the rear of the room. The linens were in disarray, and he had mistakenly thought the chamber empty.

Given the early hour of the night, the realization that she must be sleeping surprised him, but he smiled in the darkness, happy at how fate had favored him. This would be easier than he had dared hope.

Stepping quietly in his soft priestly shoes, he slid the knife out of his robe. When he arrived close to her, he saw she wasn’t sleeping at all. Her legs were spread in a most disgusting display with her hand between them. At first, he thought she was dead, and then he realized she was breathing and her hand was moving.

She was completely unaware of his presence.

Confused, Graiphen watched her for a moment, then averted his eyes, repulsed. Pang’s presence was gone. Of that, he was certain. All that remained was the husk of Kiarana.

A moment of indecision gripped him before he put the knife away.
Curse the eight
, he whispered.

He turned to go just as someone else came to the door. Qardone Vono entered, followed by a dozen priests and priestesses. When he saw Graiphen, his eyes widened in surprise. He gestured for the lamps to be relit and when he did, he saw Graiphen’s hands.

Graiphen looked down at the dark stains on his fingers.

“What have you done?” Vono said. He raced to Kiarana’s side, but then sighed with relief when he found her unhurt.

“Nothing,” Graiphen said.

Vono whirled around. “You came here with evil intent.”

“Evil? I do the will of my goddess, as you do.”

With another gesture, Vono silently instructed the other priests, who went and gathered Kiarana into their arms. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes fixed into a distant stare.

“What will you do with her now that she’s no longer the vessel of Pang?” Graiphen asked.

Vono watched the priests carry her away. To those who remained, he said, “Quickly, clean and prepare the chamber.”

“For whom?” Graiphen asked.

“For our mistress,” Vono said. “And Kiarana will be honored, as is her due. She served well and faithfully. She will not be harmed, if that is what is worrying you.” He watched Graiphen. “But that wouldn’t worry you, would it? What does worry you, Graiphen? Growing old? Your impending insignificance?” He laughed unpleasantly.

“Prince Nassore,” Graiphen said. “Pang has taken him?”

Vono smirked. “Even you wouldn’t dare do harm to the emperor’s son. I’m afraid you’re too late. You will not find it so easy to return here, as we’ve been ordered to begin posting guards now that our goddess has favored the prince. But don’t worry, I doubt he will have the same use for you that Kiarana did.” He paused. “Although you never know. Pang’s tastes are her own, and if she favored your… worship… before, no doubt she will again, no matter whose body she chooses to inhabit.”

Bile rose in Graiphen’s throat. He would not submit to the sexual whims of Pang again, especially not if she inhabited the body of that boy. But the dread knotting his stomach told him he’d be powerless to stop her.

“Show the Ultim Qardone out of the temple,” Vono said, signalling to two of the priests. “And make sure he leaves.”

Chapter 27

That evening, unable to bear doing nothing, Octavia did as she knew she should have done before and sent for members of the Sennestelle in Durjin. Self-conscious worry settled over her. She was barely out of her apprenticeship and was only released and proclaimed free to practice on her own a few months before.

On the other hand, she was a guest of the emperor and that gave her some status, even amongst her own people. Sen Betram, the man who was head of the conduits in Durjin, Senne Gysella, an archivist and teacher, and Senne Treviia, one of the highest ranking members of her order in all of Talmor, arrived within an hour of her summons and she received them in her chamber, not trusting any of the reception rooms in the palace to be truly private.

Senne Gysella was a small, narrow-faced woman with greying black hair. The hunch in her back made her seem even shorter. “We’ve come as requested,” she said sourly.

“Please, sit,” Octavia said. “Thank you for your help.”

Betram took a seat next to Senne Treviia, a stout women with peculiarly small eyes. She wore green robes, showing that she was in mourning. Octavia decided not to comment, despite that Kilovian custom dictated that she should offer a blessing.

“I will come straight to the point.” She paused. “In my time dealing with the dark conduit Seba of Vol, I have come to learn a few things.”

Gysella adjusted herself on the fat cushions. “Such as?”

“That the Spirits of Light and Shadow are not merely dangerous fictions, but true creatures of power. They exist in physical form in another realm and use a portal that allows them limited access to this one. They can possess humans, though they seem to do so to volunteers. I do not know if this is choice or a limitation.

“I know they can make themselves felt and heard if one is close to the portal, and I know that at least one of them is planning to come through physically. This must not be allowed, of course.”

Octavia took a breath, and the others did not interrupt. “The man Zain, whom you’ve no doubt heard of, is literally the son of Pang, as he claims. What you might not realize is that he was conceived mere weeks ago.”

The other conduits looked at one another, and Gysella sucked in her breath. “This sounds outrageous. Who told you these things?”

“Most of this information came from the Spirits themselves. I spoke to the one called Braetin. That conversation is part of the reason you are here. It was she who first used the phrase
Child of Eurmus.
It has been one of the few clues I’ve been able to gather. I don’t know the origin of the phrase, so I’ve set out to find out what it meant.” She also told them what Korbin had found in a book, where a Talmoran soldier referred to “the Children.”

Betram’s face grew redder as he spoke. “Despite the rumors coming from Vol, we know the Talmoran gods are not real. The only truth lay in the power of the One. This Zain person is nothing but a fraud, a priest they’ve dressed up to fool the weak-minded into pledging service.”

“Not real? That is what they say of our teachings,” Octavia said. “But they are not my only source.”

Treviia furrowed her brow. “Who else, child?”

Octavia bristled at being called
child
. She was no longer an apprentice. “My sister, Trinity.”

Betram seemed to understand at once. “It was she you sought when your mishap with your own apprentice caused you to lay unconscious for more than two full days.”

She understood clearly that he was pointing out her mistake as a way to discredit her claims, saying she was inexperienced or inept as a conduit. “That wasn’t the first time I spoke with her. She visited me once.” Octavia licked her lips. She hated talking about this. “I died at the hands of Braetin. My soul was carried over the barrier between realms, and my sister met me there.”

Betram shook his head. “We know you came
near
death. We all acknowledge visions at such a time are a phenomenon. Who amongst the senior Sennestelle have not treated someone on their sickbed after a grievous wound or illness, only to have them recount dreams of the afterlife? It’s nonsense. I don’t mean to be insensitive to what you went through, but—”

Octavia continued as though he had not spoken. “After my death, Trinity asked me to return to this world, to take on a cause.”

“What cause?” Treviia’s eyes narrowed.

“To rid the world of these invaders, these so-called Spirits of Light and Shadow. She asked me to defeat the gods of Talmor.”

The three members of the Sennestelle exchanged glances once again.

“It has been done before. Once, they ruled this empire, feeding on the emotions, the pain, suffering, and even love of the Talmoran people. But they were cast out of this world once, weakened and injured for centuries. Four of their number have died in the interim. They fear us, because we can cast them out and prevent them from feeding on the souls of men.”

Gysella stood with a frown. “I’m very sorry for whatever you endured. But this tale is preposterous. You want us to believe you returned from death after a revelation and received a quest to battle heathen gods?”

“Alien entities from another realm,” Octavia corrected her.

“We need to discuss this,” Betram said, his tone dark.

“Good,” Octavia said. “I agree. It’s imperative that we search for anything pertinent that might be recorded in the Sennestelle’s archives. I was never taught anything that pointed in this direction, but Braetin fears me, so there must be a clue somewhere in our history to explain why.”

“Child,” he said. “You’re tired and sick. Only yesterday, you awoke from a sleep that lasted several days. That and your previous misadventures take a toll on the mind. You need to be cared for.”

Misadventures?
The others rose and Octavia shot to her feet. “You don’t believe me?”

“Of course you saw what you saw,” Gysella said. “You had fought against a dark conduit, a feat we all respect, of course. In doing so, you brought all our people from a place of fear and having to hide from Talmorans. Before this, as you know, our practice was considered heresy in the empire. But judging by what we’ve seen here today and what Betram told us of your problems over the past week, it’s clear to us you were damaged in that fight.”

“Damaged?” Octavia crossed her arms.

“You need rest. We’ll see that you get it,” Treviia said, her high-pitched voice grating on Octavia’s nerves.

“I’m not tired,” Octavia said. “You must believe me. Without your help, I have no hope of succeeding.”

“Come with us,” Betram said. “You shouldn’t be here in this place. It is obviously exciting the distress you suffered and making the problem worse. You need to be supervised.”

“Agreed.” Gysella’s face pinched into a scowl. “It’s important for your own safety that you do not keep seeking. Your apprentice will be taken under Betram’s tutelage, of course.”

“My…” At first she thought they meant Liara, but then she realized the truth.
Korbin.

“Come with us,” Treviia repeated.

“No,” Octavia said.

“No?” Betram blinked. “Are you no longer under the authority of the Sennestelle?” he asked, gently mocking.

“I am a Talmoran citizen,” Octavia said, reaching into the pocket on her scarf where she kept her token. “You cannot force me to leave.”

Gysella frowned sourly. “We only want to help you, child, and you’re doing more harm than good here.”

“Get out.” Octavia gestured to the door. “Get out.”

Betram stepped closer to her. “You invited us here. Your behavior is bizarre. You must see that. You need our help. The influence of these Talmorans has been a bad one. It’s changing you, Octavia. You’re confused. Surely you must see that claiming to have received a mission from the dead proves you are irrational, and you’ve taught your apprentice to do the same.” He turned to the others. “The young man claimed to have spoken with his dead mother. Undoubtedly he wanted to appease and impress Senne Octavia by following her example.”

For a moment, Octavia didn’t know what to believe. She’d been through so much, and her head hurt. Then a thought occurred to her: Korbin
did
see Trinity. Octavia wasn’t crazy. She held to the knowledge that he would never have claimed such a thing if it weren’t true.

“Thank you for coming,” she said firmly. “But I won’t be leaving with you.” She bowed to them. “May the power of the One ever guide you.”

Treviia tutted. “We will return,” she said. “We must seek the advice of the Sennestelle head council.”

Betram nodded to his colleague. “We can’t anger the emperor of Talmor. She is his guest.”

“And a citizen,” Octavia reminded them.