by Tam Chronin
"I don't know." Aral closed her eyes and leaned against him, reminding herself over and over that she was safe now. She felt his arms come around her and after a moment she managed to relax. "It was just a very bad night. One bad night. It shouldn't bother me."
Raev tucked a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You have lost your parents. Your brother’s life was put in peril shortly afterward, and now yours is as well. If this priest did what it is I suspect that he did, there is no reason for you not to be upset.”
Aral's blood ran cold and her eyes flew wide open. "You...suspect? What do you suspect happened?"
"I have heard terrible things about priests and what they sometimes do to adorable young ladies such as yourself," Raev said with a scowl. "Such things that are best left unspoken."
Rage battled mortification as she knew what he must think of her. "What occurred was of my own free will, no matter how distasteful I found it. I am not some victim for you to feel sorry for." Her hands clenched in fists, fingernails digging painfully into her palms. She held them before her, resting them on his chest. A threat? A need to seem more powerful? "Unfortunate things have happened, but I am not some frail flower that will die without your nurturing. I am a mage of great power, I have studied at the greatest university of magic in the world, and I did what I thought needed to be done to save my brother's life. I was betrayed, but I was not raped! So, if that is the word you find too distasteful to utter—"
She was choking on tears and anger, too consumed by emotion to go on.
Raev put gentle hands upon her wrists, looking into her eyes with nothing but compassion. Aral relaxed her hands and leaned into him. He hugged her and stroked her hair. He didn't hold her like a lover, but like a father comforting a child. It melted something inside her. Something that had been holding her together for the longest time.
It was the first time Aral found herself wanting to be touched in so long it made her heart ache to realize just how cold and distant she had become. She stood within the comfort of his arms and cried, just cried, until the desire to fill the silence grew unbearable.
"He made me feel stupid for believing his lies," she said, voice small and fragile. "That was the first great nightmare I faced when I realized—when the shock began to fade. It doesn't matter that he wasn't kind or gentle. I wasn't there for my own pleasure.
"He was furious that I didn't react to him, that my body didn't respond. Then he entered my mind and found my secrets, and I stopped him…and I assumed that was the end of it. I thought I'd won." Aral's voice pitched upward, throat tight. She took a breath, fighting for control. "The sex was over. The spell weakened me, and I had fallen asleep when he was—after he finished.
"The next thing I knew he was dragging me out of bed by my hair. I was naked, half-asleep, and couldn't think. I felt like I was watching everything happening to someone else, even though it was my body he threw into the streets, my body he spit on, my body that all the people had—" Aral stopped, looking up but at a point across the room.
"That's the thing that gave me nightmares. Still gives me nightmares. I knew to expect what happened that night, but the crowds are what finally made me feel helpless. I was losing everything, and the world went away, and the magic took me. The next thing I knew I was at Master Arsat's door. And I was so relieved it was over."
Raev kissed the top of her head, gently. She looked up at him and reached up around his neck and pulled him down for a proper kiss.
She didn't know what came over her. His kindness after reliving that cruelty? Her loneliness? The need to erase all of the horrible things she'd been through and replace them with something better?
Aral undressed him, hesitating now and then. He didn't make a move except to cooperate. Raev let her do what she wanted. No sudden movements, no words, until his pants lay at his feet.
"The couch?" The question was accompanied by a slight gesture.
It was big enough. Close enough. If they went to either bedroom, Aral thought she'd stop it all and shut down, let fear rule her again. And so she nodded, undressing herself as they walked over to it. She was clumsy and hesitant from so little experience, but Raev was patient. He guided her, taught her, pleasured her in ways that her previous experience had not prepared her for.
When it was over, both of them spent, Aral sprawled over Raev and listened to him breathe. Listened to his heart beat. Raev was nothing like Porrellid. Nothing at all.
That was all she'd wanted. To erase that memory. To feel in control of her own life again.
But what did this mean for them?
Chapter Ten –
Smoldering Embers
"The goddess will hear your request, my child."
The phrase had no meaning.
Krecek said it every day, nearly all day. They were words to placate the masses.
Nothing more.
He placed his hand on top of the human girl's head, briefly, as if he were bestowing a blessing. In honesty, it was a signal that she could leave.
"Thank you, High Priest," she said. She seemed to think it meant something, because as she left she was beaming, giggling with her friends.
He forgot what she'd asked for already.
"Just bed one of them already," Mirasen murmured beside him, bending close to his ear. She was one of the high priestesses, and she'd been goading him to enjoy his position to the fullest.
"Why?" Krecek stared at her. "They're all so...human." He paused. It wasn't their humanity he found beneath his notice. It was the fact that he'd touched greatness. He'd been embraced by a goddess. "Well, mortal. What could they have to offer that she doesn't?"
"Just something to pass the time," Mirasen laughed. "A diversion. A way to warm up, if you will."
Krecek stared at her in silence until she walked away. She was laughing at him, but that didn't matter.
Maybe he should. Maybe it would make him seem more normal for his position. It might help keep their eyes off of him, keep them from questioning his motives all the damn time.
He didn't want some random supplicant, though.
He wanted to find Aral. To keep her safe.
To tell her what he'd done for her.
To erase everything Porrellid had done to her.
These thoughts were useless. Worse than useless, they were dangerous. His mind always returned to Aral on the days Arlanz came in. The café owner would probably arrive at any moment. He'd been coming regularly, every week, since his wife had last miscarried.
They'd spoken a few times, prayed together several times, but Krecek would stop the conversation short of asking anything about the others.
"Are they alive? Are they well?"
"I promise you, if ever they are not, I will let you know as soon as I can."
"That's all I need to know."
It was as good as a pact. If he was busy on a day Arlanz came in, Krecek would still take the time to catch his eye, holding his breath until Arlanz nodded. They were safe. It's all he needed to know.
Arlanz strode through the temple doors at a pace that spoke of purpose and importance.
He didn't bow his head reverently or wend his patient way through as he always had before. People made way before him, muttering resentments he seemed not to hear.
Krecek's mouth went dry. Sounds around them became muted.
Something was wrong. It had to be.
Had one of his friends died?
Was it Aral?
"I beg an audience," Arlanz said, stopping just an arm's length away to give a perfunctory bow. "In private."
"Of course," Krecek managed in a normal tone. He couldn't risk looking distressed, or in any way like this was an unusual event.
There were eyes everywhere. A fact he was intimately aware of, since many of them reported to him, as well.
Every step they took toward Krecek's office his dread increased. He kept thinking of the last time he saw Aral, and how gloriously beautiful she had been. Despite the tears on her face, despite p
osition she had been in, she was stunning.
He hoped that would not be the last time he saw her.
They turned a corner and he started thinking of the others. Something could have happened to Davri or Naran. Naran was still a small child, wasn't he? It would be such a tragedy for the boy to meet his end so soon, after all they'd done to keep him alive.
And Davri, of course, was...
Well, he was Davri.
Krecek was just as drawn to Davri as he was to Aral, but he hadn't worried about Davri. The young man was strong, both physically and magically. There were rumors now and then that the Beran family had divine blood in their veins. It wasn't impossible. In fact, it would explain much of the magic they possessed.
His attraction to Davri had been put from his mind for some time now. There was no cause to worry about Davri, because he was so naturally adept with magic. But now, with the thought that something was wrong, it was impossible not to think of him. He'd never told Davri, never told Aral, how he felt about them. What if he never had the chance?
Krecek closed his office door, heart in his throat. "What happened?"
"I bring good news," Arlanz said. "It is urgent, but not dire. There is a spell that Aral has found to communicate with covertly, and she did not wish to wait to see you again."
Krecek was so relieved he slumped against the door, closing his eyes briefly to clear his mind. "I didn't expect good news." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Death or capture, but…thank you. For a moment I really thought someone had died."
It was Aral's voice that answered him. "Still very much alive," she said. "Happily so, some days."
Krecek opened his eyes in an instant. He wanted to smile but all he could do was gape. "You almost look like I could—touch you." There were currents of magic floating in the air around her, creating this perfect image of her. Channeled through...something Arlanz held? Yes. It flowed from a sigil he never would have noticed if it hadn't been active. "What an amazing spell."
"My father did most of the research," Aral said demurely. "I just had to put a few things together and find the right inks and herbs. Raev helped with that." She waved that aside and leaned forward. "Krecek...it's so good to see you again. I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you as well," he said softly, absently raising a hand toward her, though he could feel within the currents of the spell that it would come to naught. A flash of irritation swept over his face as he forced his hands to his sides. "So much has happened. I don't know where to begin."
"I'll start, then. Congratulations on your new position. I know you worked hard all this time, and it's what you've wanted for years."
This brought out a bitter laugh from Krecek.
Aral and Arlanz exchanged confused looks.
They didn't understand. They couldn't. No one would have told them...
"I wasn't chosen for it," he said, the weight of what he was confessing pulling on his shoulders, bending his back. "I took it. I murdered Porrellid. I demanded his position."
Arlanz gasped.
"What?" Aral looked...stunned? Disgusted?
"It's more common than you'd think," Krecek said. A terrible hollowness had carved a spot in his chest. Saying these things aloud to two people who knew him, who lived outside these walls, forced him to think about what he'd done and what he'd seen from the others. Living it was somehow easier than admitting it. "The high priests are corrupt, and the gods are at best amused by their corruption. I had no idea, until I set my faith aside and became one of them. Not a day goes by when I don't think that something should be done, but what? Who could do a thing?"
"We will." Arlanz's voice was a deep and soothing rumble, full of assurance.
"That's right," Aral said. "If my life is forfeit anyway, I'm going to go out with purpose. We're gathering like-minded people to join us, to make changes. Byrek, Davri, Raev, Arlanz, and Bretav have already agreed to help me. We're all making lists of people we trust, that we think would help us. You've been at the top of those lists."
Krecek stared. "How do you plan to do all this?" Some part of him was afraid of her answer. He was a priest. He had power. And the things he shared with Nalia that no other could understand or— "Wait! No. Tell me nothing. Arlanz, you need to leave. Aral, you should never talk to me again. I need to think. I need to do...something. I'm not sure what to do. She'll find out—"
"It's okay," Aral started.
"It's not!"
"We've got—" Arlanz tried to interject, but Krecek cut him off as well.
"You don't understand!"
How could they understand?
"I'm trying to protect you both!"
He wanted to explain, to tell them, but how could he?
Living this life was easy. He could tell himself he was doing what was necessary to survive.
Admitting to what he'd done, to people he loved and respected, was something else.
Admitting it to Aral was impossible.
"Nalia fucks her high priests."
It was a new voice that said it.
The blunt shock of the word, the crudity, made Krecek cringe. He clutched his arms around his stomach as if he was going to be sick.
He knew that voice.
"Literally and figuratively," this new person went on, laying the crux of Krecek's dilemma exposed before them all. "She's a pragmatist like that. It keeps them loyal and keeps her amused and informed." He paused. Smirked. "Oh. I'm sorry. Did my little word shock and offend?"
"Krecek, this is—"
"I know who Agruet is," Krecek said, though speaking was difficult when his mouth felt like it had been filled with ashes. "God of secrets and deceptions. I'm the one who taught you his name, remember?"
"We've been working together," Aral continued as if she had actually made the introduction. "Without his help, I never would have figured out this spell. Especially the part that keeps other gods from spying on me while I'm using it."
Krecek looked around at the three of them. His heart was pounding, and he really did feel sick. "Aral, the spell Porrellid used against you. You know—"
She nodded and reached for him, but it was useless. Her touch was nothing but a wisp of magic through the spell.
"You'll have my help," Agruet said.
"Why should I trust you?" Krecek shook his head, confused that the others weren't questioning this as well. "Why are we trusting you? Why you, of all the gods?"
Agruet stepped close and looked into Krecek's eyes with a somber, serious expression. The trickster god was, for now, not playing around. "Krecek Alavraneth, you know the stories. The myths, legends, tales...my past. Our past. You're a priest and an elf. You are your father's son. You know them all." Agruet waited until Krecek nodded. "Now, think back to when my brother and I were coming into power. We were destined for something, but we didn't know what. So, we slipped away to explore the darkness. Lost, afraid, and searching—"
"—they looked to the void from whence creation had come, and the void unmade them, then created them anew. Baedrogan found peace in the unmaking and brought that gift and knowledge to all creations of the gods. Granting that they would know an end and yet be remade. No mortal knows or can comprehend what Agruet saw, except that it was the secret of all."
"That was beautiful," Agruet said. "Quoting Ashavan?"
"My father said his was the most accurate account of this particular tale."
"True. Ashavan died long ago, staring into my eyes and begging for more of my secrets." Agruet paused a moment, perhaps indulging in the memory. "That line of scripture should have been that I had learned all secrets, but some things are lost in translation when the writer is going mad. Can you imagine? Mere glimpses of what I saw drives mortals insane. I chose to become the god of secrets, deception, lies, half-truths, and not telling anyone else a damned thing because I know too much. It can't be healthy for me."
Krecek shifted his weight from one foot to another. Was Agruet saying that he was insane?
Th
is line of conversation wasn't inspiring any trust.
Agruet laughed. He was suddenly standing directly in front of Krecek, and he leaned in close. "I know things that will give you nightmares. I know things that will give all of the gods nightmares, and they don't know because they don't want to know.
"When my mother touches your flesh and takes your secrets and sees this conversation, she'll look at it and forget every word because she is afraid of the things I know. I have seen our end. Our demise. My brother's hand upon us all. And I know that you will lead us to that fall."
His voice was soft, but the words burrowed into their minds like maggots to meat.
"I should hate you for it." Agruet stood tall. Shrugged. "If you think I'm betraying my brother-gods, it's nothing next to what you, Krecek, are about to bring. You want to end the suffering of your friends? I promise you they will suffer eternally if you do not follow this path.
"You're out of choices. The day you said hello to Davri, spawn of my half-mortal daughter, was the day you became the instrument of our deaths. You are the greatest betrayer of us all, Krecek. Every god but me curses your name without knowing they curse it.
"I bless you. I love you above all others. I praise you. I would worship you if I could. Krecek Ceolwyn, Wizard and murderer of gods."
Krecek had gone perfectly pale, feeling the blood drain from his head in shock, knees trembling under the weight of those prophetic words. "No," he whispered. "I'd never."
"You will," Agruet said. "Aral already agreed to this. Davri was born just for this purpose. You… Well, you and I still have a choice, I suppose. But knowing where it leads, neither of us would take it."
"Why?" Krecek had to ask. "Where does it lead?"
"It leads you to my mother's bed, my mother's side, as a favored toy while everything you love, everything you've sacrificed for, rots."
He could see it. Krecek could see exactly that happening.
"…fuck…"
Agruet nodded, solemn as a funeral, and disappeared.
"Ceolwyn?" Arlanz asked. "Wizard?"
The words snapped Krecek back to the present. He stumbled to his chair and sat down heavily. He had to compose his words carefully, to explain without giving away too much.