The Last Goddess

by C.E. Stalbaum

  ***

   

  As expected for an order of disciplined ascetics, the Kirshane monks kept a regular sleeping schedule. So when Selaste started wandering the hallways after the others had settled in and lied down, she was essentially alone. It was a feeling she had gotten used to since waking up in the middle of a body she didn’t recognize and a world she didn’t understand.

  She eventually made her way into the candle-lit library that dominated the southern portion of the building. It was at least a hundred feet wide and probably just as deep, and aside from a few bits of furniture and decorations, the entire thing was stuffed full of shelves. At the entrance was another statue ensconced in soft blue light. It depicted a different goddess, tall and beautiful, her palm opened downward as if she were casting a spell upon the world. The inscription at the base was in an odd script, but after staring at it for a second she realized she could read it. It said “The Light of Knowledge.” Judging by what the others had explained to her during their trip, it was probably a reference to Illyria, the goddess of wisdom.

  Selaste sighed and wondered if the gods were mocking her. She had plenty of knowledge—what she lacked was context. And as it turned out, that made all the difference.

  She clenched her hands together, and an unexpected surge of anger welled up inside her. She nearly slammed her fist into the statue but stopped herself just short. Instead the rage simmered into despair, and the tears almost immediately streamed down her face. She clutched meekly at the goddess’s arms to hold herself up.

  “Are you all right?”

  Selaste spun her head around. Rook was standing there at the doorway, his shirt half buttoned and his hair tussled as if he had been sleeping. “What are you doing here?”

  “Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I decided to take a walk and try to find Rynne.”

  She turned back to face the statue and pulled herself upright. She did her best to wipe away the tears and hoped the lighting was dim enough he wouldn’t notice. He would, of course. He noticed everything. But at least it was something to do while she fought back the wave of embarrassment.

  “I’ve slept enough,” she replied hoarsely. Gods, even her voice was giving out. She felt his hand squeeze her shoulder, but she slapped it away. “Don’t.”

  She heard him take a step back, and it actually made her feel worse. Whatever she might have been in a past life, apparently pride had played a large part of it. The thought of appearing vulnerable in front of someone made her nauseous.

  “This place isn’t what you expected,” Rook said softly. “I know; it isn’t what I expected, either.”

  Selaste swallowed heavily. “I never believed, you know. Not really. The entire notion that I was some divine being…”

  “We still don’t know if Bale is telling the truth.”

  “But I’m not her. I’m not the Kirshal.”

  His brown eyes studied her, and she felt more exposed and vulnerable than ever. “No.”

  “So then I’m just a fool who can’t remember her own name,” she murmured. “Fantastic.”

  “You’re a victim, not a fool.”

  “That isn’t much better.”

  Rook smiled. “Sure it is. Victims can find justice; fools are doomed for life. We can figure out who did this to you and deal with them.”

  Selaste wiped away the last traces of wetness from her face and took in a deep breath. “I guess that’s also bothering me a little. I still don’t understand why you’re willing to help me. You know I’m not the Kirshal, and it seems like you have better things to do.”

  “I already told you that I’m the one who got you into this mess. I bought you from the salvagers, and you’re my responsibility.”

  “You make it sound like you own me.”

  He grunted. “Not at all. But I do take responsibility for my actions, and I protect my people when they’re in trouble.”

  “I’m not one of your people.”

  “Technically, no, but maybe I hope you will be someday. Even if you weren’t a mage, you’re smart and tough. I’m always looking for capable individuals.”

  She snorted and turned to face him. “Is this how you do all your recruiting?”

  “More than you’d think,” he admitted. “I hired Rynne after I saw her fleece a band of Kimperan merchants. You don’t really know someone until you see how they handle the worst.”

  “And here I am, crying like a little girl,” she murmured. “What does that say about me?”

  “That you’re a human being. Most people wouldn’t have made it this far. I don’t think anyone can even pretend to know how they’d react if they were in your situation—no memories, being hunted by a powerful enemy…” Rook shrugged. “The way I figure it, you’re doing pretty damn well.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it.”

  He smiled again. “It’s important you remember that you’re not alone. If the Kirshane can’t help you, we’ll find someone who can.”

  She nodded slowly and looked him up and down. Even with his hair tussled and his clothes disheveled, he was still like an island of tranquility amidst a sea of chaos. On impulse, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. He squeezed, and this time she didn’t bother trying to hold back the tears.

  Selaste didn’t know what she had been like in her other life, but she had a feeling physical affection hadn’t played a big part in it. The very prospect had felt awkward to her since she’d woken up back in Haven.

  Or it had, until now. He was warm and strong, and for one moment, at least, it didn’t matter that she couldn’t remember who she was. It didn’t matter if she was a goddess or normal woman. It just mattered that she was close to him, and for the first time since she had awakened, she didn’t feel alone. 

  Selaste wasn’t sure how long she was pressed against him, but eventually she pulled away. He offered her a handkerchief that had mysteriously appeared in his hand.

   “Something you’ll learn if you work for me long enough,” he said softly. “Always come prepared.”

  She laughed and wiped at her face. The tension flushed from her muscles, and the despair followed right behind it. “You know, I actually had one in my pocket earlier. Then I threw this on.”

  Rook glanced down and eyed the red silken robe she had chosen to sleep in. Rynne had smuggled it into her bags before they left, apparently, and Selaste had to admit it was comfortable. “It looks good on you.”

  “Good, huh?”

  She had the satisfaction of seeing him blink in surprise. His hands were still on her back and seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing. “How about great?”

  Her smile widened. “I get the feeling you don’t have much practice at this.”

  “Not…in a while,” he admitted.

  “It’s all right,” she told him. “I don’t think I do either.”

  His eyes glimmered, mere inches from her face. His hands squeezed at her back and pulled her in closer—

  And then he abruptly stiffened and glanced off to the side. “Someone’s coming.”

  She stepped away and followed his gaze. Four figures stepped gradually into the dim lighting, led by an old man in flowing crimson robes.

  “Ah, Mr. Rook,” Bale said. “I wondered where you had gone.”

  Rook raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

  Bale smiled crookedly. “Not for much longer. It was kind of you to bring her with you, though. It will save us some time.”

  “What are you talking about?” Selaste growled.

  “I apologize for not being clear earlier, but there were a few things I needed to be certain of. Now that I am…” The old man craned his neck back. “I have no quarrel with you or your companions, Mr. Rook, but you have something that belongs to us.”

  Rook glanced to Selaste, his jaw tightening. “I thought you said she was an imposter.”

  “She is,” Bale told him, “but that’s not what I’m referring to. The Kirshal
may be dead, but her power endures…and you are the one holding it.”

  “What?” Rook breathed. “How could I—?”

  His body tensed, and the color drained from his face. He took in a sharp breath and slowly shook his head.

  “What is it?” Selaste asked.

  “The Kirshal,” Bale said softly, “was his wife.”