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The Last Goddess

Page 33

by C.E. Stalbaum


  ***

   

  Prince Kastrius pressed a finger against his forehead. He half-expected to feel his brain throbbing out of his skull, because right now he felt as if it was about to explode.

  “How can she be awake?” he murmured through clenched teeth. “It’s not supposed to be this way…”

  “Something must have happened,” Bremen’s ghostly head said from the sending stone. “The scriptures are quite clear.”

  The prince slammed a fist onto his desk. “Well, they were wrong.” He knew he shouldn’t have placed so much faith in a bunch of ancient books. He should have planned for this somehow; he should have been prepared. “Now we have nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far, my prince,” Veltar said. The image of his head floated right next to Bremen’s. “We know where they are headed, and I have told you my people in Ebara are willing to help.”

  “And why are you suddenly interested in this?” Kastrius asked. “A few days ago it was all you could do not to berate us for even thinking about it.”

  “Whether or not this woman really is the Kirshal, she obviously wields great power. Even if we can’t secure her as an ally, we certainly can’t allow our enemies to befriend her, either. She needs to be dealt with.”

  Kastrius scowled at him. “And in the process, we just so happen to wipe out the Kirshane. How convenient for you.”

  The senator’s eyes narrowed. “I’m providing you with the resources you need to chase down your own personal agenda. I would think you’d be grateful. Besides, the Kirshane are the consummate Edehans, and as much your enemy as they are mine.”

  Kastrius grunted and turned away. In the many long and lonely hours he spent trapped in this tower, he had started doing some research on Veltar’s history with the Kirshane—and Jonas Bale in particular. He hadn’t found anything completely damning yet, but rumors from Veltar’s home province suggested he might have worked with Bale and the Kirshane in the past. Kastrius had immediately ordered his people to dig further, and he hoped the results might finally give him some leverage in this triumvirate.

  But for now, all he had was speculation. Clearly the senator’s interest in this was personal, but Kastrius hadn’t decided if that was a problem or not. Veltar did have a point: without the support of his Balorite followers in Ebara, their hunt for the Kirshal ended right now.

  So once again the prince found himself completely reliant upon his partners. That had to change—and soon.

  “We should be able to rendezvous with your people by the end of tomorrow, Senator,” Bremen said, changing the subject. “Unfortunately, we won’t be able to keep pace with the Kirshal traveling in such a large group.”

  “You’re an industrious man, General,” Veltar told him. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

  Bremen’s face shifted slightly. Was it annoyance? It was hard to tell through the ghostly distortion.

  “We’ll do what we can,” Bremen said. “I hope your followers are well-trained. It’s clear we won’t be able to rely on our Faceless.”

  “Their training is more rigorous than your own soldiers. You won’t be disappointed.”

  “I trust not. She will be difficult prey. If the legends are true, it might take an army to stop her.”

  “Imagine the power,” Kastrius whispered, mostly to himself. “Imagine once we’re able to harness it for ourselves...”

  “Don’t lose focus on the matter at hand,” Veltar warned. “My people will arrive tomorrow to take you to the prison and free you from the Siphon. After that, I suggest you make your way here as quickly as possible. We still have many arrangements to finalize before the celebration.”

  Kastrius glared at the floating image. “I’ll be there. Just make sure your people know what they’re doing.”

  “Of course. I’ll speak with both of you later.”

  The image winked out, and the general offered a half salute. “I shall keep you apprised, my prince.”

  Kastrius spun away and didn’t bother to respond. Bremen was turning out to be quite the disappointment. Perhaps all the tales of his exploits during the war were exaggerated. Though to be fair, the Kirshal being awake was hardly his fault. Kastrius just didn’t feel like being fair at the moment.

  At least Bremen seemed able to track her movements for some indiscernible reason. The general had a reputation as a competent weaver, at least for a krata, but was no true mage. He claimed it was some sort of vision from Abalor, but Kastrius found the boon a little too convenient for his tastes. But then, given all the bad luck they had already faced, he probably shouldn’t have been so critical.

  Besides, he had bigger concerns at the moment. Tomorrow he would be breaking into the Sandrathan prison and freeing himself from his mother’s leash. He wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of facing the full fury of the Flensing again, but at least he would finally be able to get personally involved in his own destiny. Years of working through intermediaries had left him…agitated. He didn’t understand how his mother had done it all of these years.

  Most importantly, it would help him keep a closer eye on his “allies.” Bremen’s incompetence was almost as disturbing as Veltar’s manipulations. The senator’s about-face on the Kirshal was more than just opportune timing, and Kastrius wasn’t convinced it was entirely about a personal vendetta, either. Something else was going on here, and perhaps when he reached Haven he would finally be able to figure out what it was. 

  In the meantime, he had a few last-second preparations of his own to make. Kastrius sat down at his desk and got to work.

   

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