Crisis of Faith by Benjamin Medrano (z-lib.org)

by Unknown

  “I feel…” Diane paused and took stock of herself for a moment.

  Her body didn’t feel much different than it had before, to be perfectly honest. Yet at the same time, the air felt a little clearer, her mood a little brighter, and some of the unspoken tensions had faded away. It was… lovely, and even the prospect of what was coming that evening didn’t worry her. So she smiled as she stepped out of the pool and into the towel.

  “I feel just fine. Better than before, in fact,” Diane said simply.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Nadis said and smiled as she added, “In the meantime, I believe that a few blessings are in order.”

  “Agreed,” Torkal said and sighed as he added, “I wish we could eliminate her and be done with it, but… we do what we must.”

  Diane nodded, but refrained from comment, as she didn’t entirely agree with him.

  No matter what Wenris had done, the succubus had kept her promises to Diane, and a part of her was almost giddy at the idea of turning the tables to redeem the succubus. Not that she’d tell Torkal that.

  Chapter 24

  Traveling into the Godsrage Mountains wasn’t easy, not even for a goddess. Tyria had been forced to kill half a flight of a strange, frost-breathing eagles, then she’d dodged an ice-aligned mana storm only by the barest of margins. While her inner fire would have allowed her to survive the raging torrent of snow and bitter cold, it would have injured even her, and she was quickly coming to understand why the mortals considered the area to be impassible.

  Now she was dealing with a pair of vicious, stupid frost drakes, and the dragons roared loudly as they lunged at her, spitting orbs of frost between snaps of their jaws. Tyria dodged past a swipe of one of their claws, drawing her sword fluidly as she glared at them, speaking coldly. “I’d suggest backing off… if you have enough of a mind to realize the pair of you will die, otherwise.”

  The only response were a hiss and a roar from the two as they spun around, pure savagery in their gazes, and Tyria sighed as she shot forward at them, her blade flashing ruthlessly. The next moment she was past them, and the drakes fell from the sky as their heads detached. Mere drakes weren’t a threat to Tyria, not when she was able to deal with entire armies on her own, but they were still annoying and delayed her.

  She took a moment to ensure her sword was clean before sheathing it again, and as she flew toward the center of the mountains Tyria looked down and shivered, sorrow rippling through her.

  The immense mountain range was craggy and sharp-edged, obviously younger than most mountains elsewhere across the world, and they were covered in thick layers of snow and ice, with mist obscuring much of them. Yet even that mist and snow couldn’t obscure the past entirely.

  Here she saw the fallen trunks of immense trees poking from the ice. There she saw what looked like a lake that had flash-frozen instantly, then been pushed into the sky like a glacier. And in yet another spot she saw the ruins of an ancient building, one large enough to be a palace. One by one, she flitted by the wreckage of the Eternal Wood, and as she passed Tyria couldn’t help a shiver. For her, the vibrant fey nation had been lush with life only a few years before, and now… now it was gone.

  The folding of space wasn’t gone, though, and the only saving grace was that it hadn’t gotten worse over the passing millennia. Tyria ripped through the sky like a meteor, the cold here biting at her skin even through her fire, and she shivered, then dodged as a glowing blue phoenix lunged up out of the mists at her. The creature missed, and it wasn’t as fast as Tyria, so she didn’t even slow down, leaving the frozen creature in her wake.

  As the sun passed its height, barely visible through the clouds, Tyria came into sight of the center of the mountains, and she came to a sudden, almost jarring stop as she stared, murmuring in shock, “What… in all the heavens?”

  In front of her was a massive crater, the location where the world tree had once grown, but she couldn’t see into it. Within the circle of mountains was a vast, swirling funnel of seething white clouds, sparks of lightning crackling in its upper reaches. It wasn’t a tornado, nor even a hurricane, though the winds were obviously powerful, and she couldn’t help being taken aback by the sight.

  For a long minute Tyria just hovered there, her wings beating to keep her aloft, then she shivered and shook her head, murmuring, “No, I don’t have time for this.”

  She moved toward the funnel, and as she did she felt the temperature dropping even further, riming her armor in frost, though her internal fire kept it from getting too far. She held her breath as she hit the funnel, and was instantly thankful that she had.

  Frozen wind ripped at Tyria, almost howling in her ears, and immense amounts of mana seethed through it, clawing at her body. Tyria shuddered and called on her power, sheathing herself in a barrier of violet flames to repel the assault, plunging through the wall of wind as rapidly as she could. The mana ate away at her barrier, but before more than a tithe of her defense had degraded, Tyria reached the center of the mountains, and everything went silent instantly.

  Inside the funnel it was as quiet as a grave, and a shiver ran down Tyria’s spine as she looked down and realized just how right the term was. Like she’d told Sistina and the others, she could see souls, as part of who she’d been as Medaea, and what she saw was terrible.

  The souls of thousands of the unquiet dead were scattered about inside the vortex, though they weren’t truly undead. Most of the bodies she could see were frozen husks on the ground or buried in the depths of a lake of ice, and all of them were around the base of the funnel of a vast volcano, dull crimson light still flickering within it. Then Tyria had to look again, and her eyes widened still more.

  The volcano’s exterior was sheathed in ice, which was why she didn’t recognize what it was at first, but at a second glance she realized the truth. The ice was covering a layer of bark, not stone, which meant she wasn’t looking at a volcano… no, it was the stump of the world tree itself. As a chill rippled through her, Tyria looked up, and she could see a figure in metal armor hovering over the caldera, a huge hammer slung across his back.

  “Baldwin,” Tyria murmured, looking down at the battlefield where so many fey had died again, hesitating for a moment before she asked herself, “Why did he want to meet me here?”

  Tyria paused in the odd hush, and after a moment she realized that while everything was frozen around the ruin of the tree, the air wasn’t nearly as cold here as it was outside. Mana pervaded the air in densities far greater than even in Sistina’s domain, with a surprising amount of fire mana as well. She shook off her curiosity, though, and instead flew toward Baldwin, along with the heat rippling up from the stump below him.

  Baldwin half-turned as she approached but didn’t do anything else, which gave Tyria a moment to look down, and the sight caused her stomach to clench hard. The interior of the trunk was charred, most of the tree a massive shell containing nothing. Far below them was a massive bed of coals, where the wood slowly popped and seethed, motes of mana boiling off bit by bit, and creating a wave of heat above the stump proper.

  “Amazing, isn’t it? Over six millennia later, and the fires still haven’t killed the tree,” Baldwin’s deep voice broke the hush, with a note of weariness in it that startled Tyria. “Not that anyone can stop it. It’s been tried, and nothing we can do can so much as touch those fires. No, in a few more millennia the fire will sever the roots, and the world tree will die in truth. And with it will go magic itself. I wonder what will become of us, with as much mana is invested in our bodies?”

  Tyria looked up at Baldwin and pursed her lips slightly, seeing a scar crossing his right eyelid, though there was now a golden orb where his eye had been. He’d changed, now with a narrow dagger-like beard, and she couldn’t tell if one of his arms had been replaced or not, with how his armor covered his body. A part of her was startled that he was being so fatalistic, but a moment later she realized that he had no way of knowing about Sistina, or that she
was the new world tree. After a few moments she shrugged, setting the thought aside.

  “I have no idea what will happen, being honest. I suppose we’ll deal with it when it happens, no more and no less,” Tyria said, examining Baldwin carefully, then added, “You’ve changed, I must say.”

  “Not as much as you have. If I hadn’t been told you were Medaea, I wouldn’t have believed it on first sight,” Baldwin said, and he sneered slightly as his gaze drifted across her body. “Your armor also isn’t what I’d consider the most functional, either.”

  “You can blame both of those on Irethiel,” Tyria replied, shrugging as she looked down at her armor. “It’s partly my own, for going to sleep for so long, but I certainly didn’t choose my new appearance, name, or armor. It… works, I suppose, but I’m not thrilled with the openings.”

  “Succubi,” Baldwin muttered, his tone baleful as he shook his head slowly. After a moment his expression cleared and he focused on her. “Well? Why did you want to meet me?”

  “Some of your worshipers attacked mine a short time ago, though there are doubts that they were acting of their own volition,” Tyria said bluntly, folding her arms as she looked at Baldwin levelly. “They claimed I cut off your arm and took your eye during the Godsrage.”

  “Good grief, they’re still going on with that story?” Baldwin muttered, reaching up to rub his helmet in irritation. “You know as well as I do that—”

  The deity stopped as he looked at Tyria, frowning deeply as he tilted his head. “You know the truth as well as I do, so why are you looking at me like that? You were here when it happened, and it isn’t like we’ve been lifelong enemies.”

  “As a matter of fact, I don’t remember,” Tyria replied, her tone a touch tarter than she intended as she glared at him. “I remember our fight, and right up until the moment we called a truce, then headed south. After that everything is hazy, though, and I only remember that the world tree was destroyed, and my grief at finding that Demasa and the others had all died while I was fighting you.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Why would you forget that?” Baldwin asked, looking confused now as he tugged on his beard gently. “We fought side by side, until we realized we were outmatched!”

  “Fought who?” Tyria demanded, her patience growing thin at last.

  “Us, of course,” another voice interjected at that point, though, that of a young man who was amused, yet with a vindictive edge to his words.

  “Yes, and if it hadn’t been for interference, neither of you would have gotten away,” an eerily similar female voice added.

  Tyria spun around, her sword clearing its sheath as Baldwin swore and unlimbered his hammer.

  Behind them were a pair of deities, and the sight of them made Tyria’s sense of worry spike hard. Each of them looked human, with tanned skin and athletic bodies beneath their armor, as well as glowing red eyes and long black hair. They were twins, and just similar enough that it was hard to tell that one was male and the other female. The man had a rapier loosely held in one hand, while the woman was easily spinning a massive black axe. They were Erethor and Eretha, the twin deities of destruction.

  They were also ancient enemies of Medaea, as she’d clashed with them dozens of times over the millennia in her attempts to gain justice for the fallen. Seeing them here wasn’t good, and the power she could feel radiating off them… that worried Tyria, since they felt even more powerful than they were before.

  “Don’t worry, Medaea, there won’t be a need to hurt your church after this,” Erethor said, a broad grin on his face.

  “Not since you won’t be escaping this time,” Eretha added, her tone unpleasantly cheerful.

  Chapter 25

  In the frozen snows below the hollow shell of the world tree, a pair of amber eyes opened as she stirred for the first time in decades. Not much snow had drifted down to cover her body, fortunately, which meant that she didn’t have to put in much effort to move as cognizance returned to her.

  A searing sensation burned near her heart, like it had for countless years, but it was colder now, more embers than a raging fire. That was what had happened to her rage as well, and it was a cold thing, seething beneath the surface… but now its targets had come at last.

  At the same time, though, she felt something else. A faint breath of fresh air, of flowers that had been dead for so long she’d almost forgotten their scent, and she smiled. The seed had taken root at last, and that was more important than even vengeance.

  Still, vengeance had its place as well. As the sounds of metal clashing on metal began, she mentally reached out for the spells she’d laid years before… and slowly, the magic came at her command.

  “Heaven’s damn it, not again!” Baldwin spat out, and the ring of metal on metal split the air as Eretha’s axe hit his hammer, sending him flying backward into a section of the stump’s rim.

  The ancient wood cracked as he slammed into and through it, but the deity recovered before hitting the ground, growling loudly.

  Tyria didn’t have time to help him, though. Erethor was far too close for comfort, his rapier rippling with black energy as he tried to skewer her, and it was all she could do to keep up with him. She unleashed a wave of fire at the deity, but he dodged, a sardonic smile on his face.

  “Come on, Baldy, I just want to take your other eye too. And maybe your head…” Eretha said excitedly, her voice almost sickly sweet as she rushed forward with her axe.

  “I thought that this sort of thing was forbidden after the Godsrage!” Tyria snarled, beating her wings hard as she tried to open the distance between her and Erethor. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much success.

  “Oh, it has been,” Erethor agreed, grinning widely as he added, “On the other hand, since when have we cared about the rules? As long as you were moping in your little prison, we were content to let you destroy yourself.”

  The deity shot at her, and Tyria hissed as she dodged a hair too slowly, and he managed to clip her left ear. Dark magic tried to rip into her body, but she managed to overwhelm it, mostly due to how the blow barely hit her.

  “And if you were corrupted by Irethiel, that would’ve just been delicious!” his sister added brightly, hammering Baldwin back surprisingly easily. “Destroying who you were entirely… mm, such a lovely thought. Then you broke free, and it fell to us to finish you off.”

  “We’ll be punished, of course. But it won’t lead to our deaths, which means it’ll be completely worth it,” Erethor said, and with a smile he flickered forward faster than he’d been moving so far. Tyria only had an instant to realize that his hand was pressed against her midsection and it was wreathed in black energy. The god grinned, and the light exploded against her.

  Tyria’s internal organs shuddered as it felt like she’d been hit by Sistina’s Siegebreaker Array again, and her ribs creaked like they were about to shatter, but that was only the beginning, as the force of the blow sent her flying downward like a meteor. Ice and stone shattered as she hit the ground, and she coughed blood as several organs were pulverized by the impact combined with shadow magic.

  Instinctively she channeled healing magic through her body, rebuilding the organs rapidly, and she spread her wings. Or to be accurate, she tried to spread her wings, only to find that she couldn’t move.

  “What…?” Looking down, Tyria’s eyes widened as she saw the net of darkness that’d wrapped around her body and wings, and she quickly began struggling, forcing her body to ignite with flames in the process. The flames began eating away at the net, but it was terribly slow.

  “After last time, we didn’t want you to be able to run. How can we kill you if you escaped again?” Erethor asked.

  “You damned, destructive, id—” Baldwin began, only to get sent flying backward as Eretha landed a hit on his left arm, denting the armor so deeply that his arm bent unnaturally, and when he hit the ice it shattered in over a hundred feet in every direction.

  Eretha looked like she was about to spea
k, but a different female voice interrupted, her words oddly archaic. “You are quite right about one thing. How can I kill you if you escape?”

  The snap of a pair of fingers echoed through the crater, and the vortex stopped. At the same time a green-gold aura erupted from around the edge of the crater, immense magic vibrating the very air as pillars of the light snapped into existence, forming a vast, net-like dome in the sky. It seethed with power, and Tyria couldn’t help a flinch since the power within that net was enough to threaten even a deity. That was high magic, and Tyria had no idea where it had come from.

  “Who’s there?” Eretha demanded, spinning around, her axe at the ready, and Erethor turned as well, looking around cautiously.

  Their distraction gave Tyria a little hope, and she surged power into her fires, trying to strengthen the flames to consume the net faster. It worked, but the problem was that the shadowy net was oddly resistant to her power, a fact which worried her still more. The twins had obviously been planning this for a long time. Across the crater, Tyria saw Baldwin drag himself out of the ice, panting as he propped himself up with his hammer.

  It was the other figure who pulled herself out of a snowbank that drew all of their attention, though. The woman was tall, curvaceous, and beautiful, and with a single, elegant flick she removed crusts of snow and ice from her skin. For an instant Tyria thought the woman was a ghost, but then she realized the truth, that she was still alive.

  The woman had amber eyes and pale green skin, along with a heart-shaped, stunning face and ruby-red lips, though there was nothing pleasant in her gaze as she stared at Eretha and Erethor. The woman was wearing armor made of some type of pale white wood, scarred by the countless passing years, and her hair was long, pale lavender that almost matched some of the ice around them.