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The Last Goddess

Page 41

by C.E. Stalbaum


  ***

   

  A small band of violet-robed men emerged from the edge of the forest, and General Bremen could feel Major Thorne scowling at them beneath the visor of her helmet. He knew she had no interest in working with fanatics of any kind, even if they were Balorites. She grew uncomfortable enough when he spoke of his own faith, but she generally kept any criticism to herself. In the case of strangers, however, she was rarely so…inhibited.

  “They are our allies,” Bremen warned softly. “Remember that.”

  “I don’t trust Veltar,” she said flatly, “and I certainly don’t trust a bunch of cultists.”

  “But you do trust me, and I’ve already told you this is necessary. Don’t do anything to jeopardize this.”

  She paused briefly, her hands shifting as they held onto her reins. “Yes, sir.”

  Bremen nodded and took a deep breath himself. He had to admit that he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from these men. They may have shared the same patron, but fanatics, he had come to learn, often blinded themselves to the truths offered by other faiths. It was why he had embraced the teachings of all the Five True Gods. Each had their own wisdom to share, and he knew he was stronger for it. Abalor was still his unquestioned lord, however, so perhaps that shared bond would be enough.

  He dismounted as the men approached and took off his helmet. He only counted ten in total, and most were reasonably young. One of them—a long-faced, middle-aged man—stepped forward and offered a salute.

  “General Bremen,” he said. “It is an honor to finally meet you. I am Faedan, Priest of Abalor.”

  “The honor is mine then, Father,” Bremen replied evenly.

  “We have long respected your victories over the faithless who claim these lands. I had hoped that one day Empress Malivar would recognize the folly of your exile.”

  Bremen scoffed. “Not likely, I’m afraid. But with your help, perhaps her permission won’t be necessary.”

  “Brother Veltar messaged us about your hunt for the Kirshal. He thought you might be chasing a ghost, but he wished us to help you regardless.”

  “She is not a ghost. She has been found at long last—and she has awakened.”

  The man eyed him for a long moment. “I admit it is difficult to believe despite your reputation. The hunt for the Kirshal has long been the errand of fools.”

  “But not this time,” Bremen assured him. “She is real, and so is her power. She has destroyed five of my Faceless already.”

  Faedan idly tapped a finger against his chin. “Do you know why she has awakened?”

  “No,” he admitted. “But Abalor himself has granted me the insight to track her. I can see her light as it flickers within the Fane.”

  It was apparent by the man’s face he wasn’t convinced, though it was just as apparent by his meek posture that he wouldn’t say that aloud. “Such divine inspiration is rare, General, as I’m sure you know. You are certain of this?”

  “Twice Abalor has led me to her, and even now I can feel her fleeing to the west. She heads to the Kirshane, and we will stop her. She must be brought back to Haven so her power can be harnessed. Only then will we be able to release Our Lord from his prison within the Fane.”

  The priest made eye contact with each of the other men with him before finally nodding. “I remain skeptical, but if there is even a chance what you say is true, we cannot afford to wait. I have organized my forces in preparation to travel with you.”

  “I hope you brought more than ten men,” Thorne commented from her horse.

  Faedan’s eyes flicked over to her as if noticing her for the first time. A smile slowly drew across his lips, and he raised a hand into the air. “You could say that.”

  A moment later the line of trees behind him stirred, and the air rippled like a wave of heat had passed through it. Suddenly an entire unit of men stepped forward from the edge of the forest, all adorned in resplendent violet cloaks and light armor.

  “I have two hundred soldiers ready to serve, General,” Faedan said. “It may not be an army, but I assure you they are loyal and well-trained.”

  Bremen smiled. Army or not, it was the closest thing he had controlled since Turesk—and they were magnificent. “Excellent.”

  “My priests and I shall accompany you as well, in case you are in need of our magic. If the Kirshal really is awake, I imagine you will need all the help you can get.”

  “Capturing her will be difficult, but the Kirshane are a weak and dying order. They will not be able to stand against us.”

  “I agree. And even if you are wrong about her, general, I would not pass up an opportunity to confront them. Their demise has been a very long time coming.”

  Bremen nodded. Staring out at his new army, all his doubts about working with fanatics were cleanly swept away. This was not merely an alliance of convenience; it was destiny. An army of the faithful would descend upon the Edehan betrayers and cleanse them with righteous fire. He couldn’t think of a more appropriate way to begin the Restoration.

  “It has indeed, Father,” Bremen said, his smile widening. “It has indeed.”

 

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