The Last Goddess

by C.E. Stalbaum

  Part of her hesitation was pure intellectual curiosity—she still felt like she’d only begun to understand this new weaving technique, and as a scholar she hated turning away from any project half-finished. Another part was pure ego; she had the potential to be the first mage to beat the Flensing, at least publically. It was a sure path towards immortality in the history books.

  But mostly Tryss felt like she didn’t have a choice. If she was going to turn away from Aston and her mother, she was going to need help. Eventually she might have to disappear altogether, and Veltar had the resources to make that happen. She could provide him with a new weapon to wield against their enemies, and he would grant her the life of research and discovery she always wanted.

  All she had to do was betray her mother and perhaps even the Fane itself.

  Tryss sighed as she stepped up to the door, and before she could even knock the senator’s tall, muscular bodyguard—Gralis, if she remembered correctly—cracked it open.

  “Good evening, princess,” he said. “Please, come in.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, tossing a last furtive glance behind her. Just as before, she hadn’t noticed anyone following her, so her thick cloak and deep cowl must have been working.

  She stepped past the bodyguard into the house’s quaint living room. The fireplace was lit, and Veltar sat looking over a handful of papers as she approached. He smiled politely once she drew closer.

  “Good to see you again, Your Highness,” he said with a half nod. “Your message indicated that you’d found something already.”

  Tryss pushed back her hood and walked over near the fireplace. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

  “About what?”

  “I expected you to give me research notes on half-finished experiments. Instead I was handed working outlines and proven field data.”

  He frowned. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  She stared into the flickering embers for a few moments to gather her resolve. “It raises a lot of questions. You said Balorite scholars have been experimenting with these methods for a long time—you never said they had succeeded.”

  “I wasn’t aware they had,” Veltar said. “I’m familiar with the basics, but it has been a long time since I was at the academy, and I fear my skills have atrophied over the years. Regardless, I find it hard to believe they were as progressed as you say.”

  “The techniques are buried behind a lot of jargon,” Tryss admitted. “A first or second-year academy student probably couldn’t get through it, but anyone beyond that could figure it out with enough time. A true mage could decipher it within days.”

  “Interesting.”

  “It’s a lot more than ‘interesting,’” she said sharply, turning around to face him. “This isn’t a new breakthrough, either. Your people cracked this mystery at least a century ago, just about the time the Faceless were created. But somehow it hasn’t spread—I’m trying to figure out why.”

  Veltar shrugged. “If what you’re saying is true, I’m not sure. But I suppose the greater question is: does it really matter?”

  “Of course it matters!” she snapped. “You’re talking about a complete redefinition of how we understand the Fane. Magi don’t need to be crippled by the Flensing, and worse…” She trailed off and shook her head. “You’re looking at a weapon. A powerful, terrible weapon.”

  “Abalor tells us that the Fane is his gift to any of his children worthy enough to use it,” Veltar said. “It is only the Edehans who have tried to convince us that we must be sheltered from its power for our own protection. This research just illuminates another of their lies.”

  Tryss sighed and paced over to a chair before forcing herself to sit down. Rage wasn’t going to help her here; she needed to be calm and in control. She needed to know if he had been lying to her, and, if so, she needed to figure out his true agenda.

  “I’m not interested in debating dogma,” she told him. “The point is that this technique could have easily spread through academic circles and changed all of Esharia by now, but it hasn’t. I want to know why.”

  “The Edehans control the academy and always have—you know this. They would do everything in their power to keep this a secret.” He picked up a glass of a yellowish liquid and casually sipped at it. “I don’t know of anyone else actively practicing these techniques, but again I think you may be missing the larger picture here. If this research really is as far along as you say, then I have given you gold and gotten nothing in return.”

  “How convenient for you.”

  “For me?” he grunted. “Princess, you’re telling me I’ve had a way to revolutionize magic right at my fingertips and didn’t even know it—and that I unwittingly gave it to you. You’ll forgive me for saying so, but I think you’re overreacting.”

  “Maybe,” she murmured, crossing her legs. “The way I see it, no matter what else happens here you want me out of the picture. You need Kastrius to be able to rule uncontested, and that’s your first priority. You also know I’m not exactly on good terms with our mother, and you know that I want a way out of this arranged marriage. So you show up and drop this magical key on my doorstep and act like you’re doing me a favor.”

  Veltar set down his glass. “I never claimed to be a philanthropist, Your Highness. I told you from the start exactly what I wanted, and I knew in exchange that I could help you. I guess I’m a bit surprised by your outrage.”

  Tryss pursed her lips. He was right about that. He had been upfront about his motives from the start. She just thought it was suspicious how much information he had given her, and she had a hard time seeing a career politician with his reputation making such a colossal blunder. He had to be doing it for a reason; she simply didn’t know what it was.

  That was also only one side of the problem. The other was the incessant nagging of her conscience—not just at helping a sleazy politician like Veltar, but at the danger of what she might release into the world.

  “Perhaps you don’t understand the nature of this technique.”

  He shrugged. “I know what you wrote in your findings years ago. You said a mage could forge a gateway to the Fane by drawing from another living creature.”

  “Not drawing,” Tryss whispered. “We’re talking about a….defilement of the Fane itself, a perversion of its connection to all things, both living and dead. I’m not sure you realize what kind of power you’re dealing with here. If this technique spread, you wouldn’t be able to control magi at all.”

  “An interesting comment coming from a mage seeking her own freedom,” Veltar said bemusedly. “I’m surprised a brilliant theoretician like yourself still feels constrained by Edehan ethics.”

  “Forget the Edehans,” she said. “Forget the Balorites or even the Vashir. This is about more than rote dogma. Do you really think the Republic or any nation could survive in a world where magi could literally sacrifice others to touch the Fane?”

  He grunted softly. “I think you exaggerate, my dear.”

  “That’s just it: I’m not.” She shook her head and clasped her hands together. “I know the Balorites tout the free use of the Fane, but there has to be a limit. Even Zarathar, your legendary Balorite hero, acknowledged the importance of the Flensing after he created the Siphons. Before he died he said he ultimately regretted what he’d done. He understood that all power must have limits, lest everyone suffer.”

  Veltar eyed her quizzically as he sipped at his drink. “What are you suggesting, princess? That you want to abandon our agreement? You could, you know, and there’s nothing I could do about it. I just wonder if you’re willing to live your life in the gilded cage your mother has built for you.”

  “It might be worth it. The alternative is….”

  The senator smiled as she trailed off. “We all have to make sacrifices to get what we want. Sometimes they’re personal, and sometimes they’re moral.” His face hardened as he stared into the now empty glass. “I allowed my daughter to join the
military just over a year ago. I believed it was important for all Darenthi citizens to show their support regardless of whom they were or what family they came from. Only two other senators have enlisted family members, and neither are anywhere near the front lines.”

  “I remember hearing when she was killed,” Tryss said softly. “My mother was convinced you had done it as a political stunt to gain sympathy.”

  “Our glorious, trusting Empress,” Veltar muttered. “I’ve made many other sacrifices in my day, and it’s time for you to decide if you will do the same. Your conscience or your freedom, princess—the choice is yours.”

  She lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. “There’s more I want to study. I’ll have to get back to you. For now I just…well, I needed to tell someone.”

  “Feel free to contact me whenever you wish, and I’ll do what I can to make the time. But I feel I must point out that sooner or later, you’re going to have to pick a side. Your marriage is fast approaching.”

  Tryss nodded once and then stood. Gralis immediately moved over to the door and opened it for her, and a minute later she was once again alone on the streets of Haven. It had probably been a mistake to come here. All she had done was make herself look even more vulnerable to the man who wanted to exploit her. And it certainly hadn’t answered any of the questions that had been bothering her—she still felt trapped between two awful choices. What she really wanted was a third option.

  She sighed and continued through the park, but amidst her musing a flicker of movement to her left caught her attention. She turned towards one of the larger trees and squinted at it. She could have sworn someone had ducked behind it just then…was she being followed now? The park was even emptier than when she’d entered a few minutes ago. She stopped in her tracks and studied the area, then decided that probably looked even more suspicious and pressed forward.

  Tryss made it perhaps another thirty feet when a pair of men leapt out from the shadows of one of the other trees. Ragged and burly, they looked desperate but unarmed.

  “Good evening, princess,” one of them said softly. “Fancy seeing you out here by yourself.”

  Tryss stopped in her tracks and tilted her head upwards. “You really think I’d be out here alone at this hour?”

  “If you’re doing something embarrassing, sure,” the man grunted. “Varium addict, maybe? You look like the type. But really I just wanted to know if you were who I thought you were. Thanks for clearing that up.”

  “I suggest you get out of my way,” she told him flatly, mentally running through a list of possible spells she could use against them. Her heart had started pounding, and she suddenly wished she’d at least protected herself with a kinetic barrier. Hopefully she could just scare them away; they were just simple street thugs, after all…

  “Sure thing.”

  They casually drifted to the side, but before she could take a single step, a thick hand wrapped around her face. In a heartbeat she was being flipped off her feet and dragged backwards against the nearest tree. Her assailant’s grip was like iron, and it was all she could do to kick wildly. His skin reeked of liquor and grime, and she nearly choked as she tried to open her mouth and scream.

  “Check her pockets—I don’t see a purse,” one of the thugs said. “A week before your wedding, princess. I bet you’ll fetch a fine ransom.”

  Tryss tried to scream, but nothing came out. She tried to weave a spell, but she couldn’t concentrate. She had never in her life been so completely powerless. Even as a child Tiber had always been there with her, a command word away from gutting anyone who did so much as look at her the wrong way. And for many years now her magic had been a constant protector, but suddenly none of that made the slightest bit of difference. She couldn’t speak; she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything.

  As she continued to flail wildly, Tryss felt her hand brush against the bark of the tree next to her. She stopped struggling and tried to ignore the men as they groped around in her cloak for any valuables. All she needed to do was concentrate...all she needed to do was focus for just a second…

  The air around her hissed, and she could almost feel the tree crying out as she fed on its life energy and ruptured a path to the Fane. Magic sparked at her fingertips—and without so much as a gesture, one of her assailants abruptly flew backwards, tumbling through the air as if he were caught in a free-fall. He finally smacked into the fence at the edge of the park some sixty feet away. A sickening crunch followed as most of his bones shattered on impact.

  “Oh, drek!” his partner hissed. “What the—”

  He never finished the sentence. His body lurched in a different direction as she shifted the pull of gravity around him. He smacked into another nearby tree and shrieked as the collision crushed his legs.

  The man holding onto her faltered; she could feel his muscles quiver as he watched her effortlessly dismantle his companions. His grip remained firm, however, and she quickly wove another spell. Her skin crackled with electricity, and he screamed in her ear as the current coursed through him. A few seconds later he collapsed on the ground in a smoking heap, twitching uncontrollably.

  Tryss stood there holding onto the tree, her breath burning in her lungs and her heart thumping wildly in her chest. The magic came so easily, so instantly, that in that moment she felt she could do virtually anything. An army of them could throw themselves upon her, and she could eradicate them all one by one, or perhaps even all at the same time—

  She gasped for air and released her grip on the Fane. The magic vanished, and her senses returned. The beggars on the streets were running away now, and the scattered pedestrians were shouting wildly.  One of her attackers was assuredly dead, and two others were certainly maimed. She had never wounded anyone with her magic before, at least not like this. She had certainly never killed…

  Next to her, the great oak had withered. It seemed barely able to hold itself up; the trunk was black and the bark had flaked off like so much dead skin. The splendorous autumn leaves were shriveled husks, as if the heart of winter had descended two months early. 

  Defilement. It was the only term she could think of to describe this sacrilege, this tearing of the Fane. And yet without the pain of the Flensing to restrain her, she could weave again and again and destroy anything and everything in sight.

  “Goddess forgive me,” she whispered. The nighttime air blew lightly against her cheeks, and in the distance she could hear the thundering approach of a Faceless patrol. She had to get out of here. No one could know she had been here, or that she was responsible for this…

  Tryss wove a hand at the tree and a spark of flame leapt from her fingertips. By the time the Faceless arrived, the pyre would have consumed the evidence. And the wounded men near her…well, no one would believe what they had to say. They were criminals.

  Tryss turned on a heel and ran. She didn’t look back.