“Let me make sure my understanding of this situation is accurate,” he said finally. “You want to kill us all—literally bring an end to the world as we know it—and you’re asking me to help you?”
Sephana leaned forward, burnished ringlets spilling forward over her shoulders. Clasping her hands in her lap, she assured him, “Quinlan, the world as we know it is already coming to an end. There’s nothing we can do to stop that. The best we can hope to accomplish is to minimize the extent of the damage. And if we can contain the casualties to the mageclass while shielding the common citizens, then that has to be our duty. Possibly our highest duty.”
Quin sucked in a cheek, grimacing at her words. “I understand your line of reasoning,” he allowed cautiously. “I’m just quite certain I don’t agree with it.”
Braden glanced up from his position against the wall. Glowering across the room at his brother, he remarked with a voice full of brittle contempt, “Of course you don’t agree with it. That’s because you’ve never had any honor.”
His statement made his brother sit straight upright. Quin’s face turned pale, his cheek twitching the way it did when he was very angry. “Who are you to dare lecture me about honor, Braden?” he demanded in a composed voice seething with injury. “I’m not the brother who killed his own wife.”
The insult of his words sent Braden reeling. He shook his head, glaring up at Quin with scalding hatred in his eyes.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he snarled. “It is not my fault Amani’s dead; it’s your fault. First you seduced her, then you plagued her with guilt until she mortgaged your life at the expense of her own. If you had just one scrap of moral decency, my wife would still be alive today. You were the one who should have been executed that day, not her. If you had any shame at all, you’d understand that.”
Quin merely shrugged. “That’s your way of looking at it, Braden. Not mine.” He gathered his hat in his hand as he rose from the bed. Placing it on his head, he adjusted the brim carefully. “I wish you both the best of luck, but I want no part in any of this.”
He extended his hand toward Merris, who accepted his invitation and rose to follow him toward the door. Her eyes were wide and deeply unsettled.
Braden called after him, “Integrity comes from doing what you know is right, no matter how much you despise doing it. You’re still one step away from Hell, Quin. It’s not too late to turn back.”
At his brother’s words, Quin drew to a halt and glared back at him over his shoulder. “I might be just a step away from Hell, Braden, but you’ve already thrown yourself in.”
He reached out to open the door.
Feeling utterly besieged, Braden rose to his feet, resigned, running his hands back through his hair. “I need you, Quin.”
His brother finally turned completely back around to face him. Quin was actually chuckling, a wry and scornful sneer on his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. When have you ever needed me before in your life?”
Braden lowered his head, gazing down at the floor. He swallowed the emotions gathered in his throat.
“I’ve always needed you,” he explained in all honesty. “You were just never there for me. And now I need you more than ever. This is our last chance to be brothers, Quinlan. It won’t make up for all the bad blood between us, but it will sure make up for a lot of it. Now, I’m asking you: will you be there for me, Brother?”
It was Quin’s turn to look down. His gaze dropped to Braden’s waist, coming to rest on the silver talisman that hung from his war belt. Quin’s eyes slowly widened as it dawned on him what Braden’s possession of the ancient heirloom implied.
He brought his hand up to rub his eyes in weary resignation. “Please tell me that isn’t Thar’gon.”
“Of course it is.”
Quin dropped his hand, tilting back his head to stare upward at the ceiling. “Oh, gods, we really do actually have a chance, don’t we?” He did not sound pleased about it at all.
Braden nodded, running his hand down Thar’gon’s leather-wrapped haft. “Yes, we do have a chance. We have a very good chance, actually.”
Quin drew in a deep breath and held it for a long moment. Then he blew it out, puffing out his cheeks and muttering, “What a honey of a pickle.”
He raised Merris’ hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against her knuckles. “Wait for me here, darling,” he directed her. “I have to go collect some things.”
He tipped his hat. Then he turned and strode out of the room.
Merris flinched at the sound of the closing door, dropping back down onto the bedside. Alone in the room with both Braden and Sephana, she felt suddenly very uncomfortable. Both Masters intimidated her terribly, making her skin fairly crawl with the degree of power they were both capable of wielding. Especially Sephana. She didn’t trust the woman. She might be able to manipulate Braden if necessary; he was male, after all. But Merris knew from experience that her former mentor was thoroughly immune to her influence.
“Come now, dear,” Sephana beckoned, moving to sit beside her on the bed. She took Merris’ hands into her own, caressing her thumbs against her wrists.
She inhaled sharply. “You disavowed the Acolyte’s Oath?”
Sephana’s voice sounded horrified. Merris felt a numbing stab of fear. She had forgotten all about the damning absence of the chain from her flesh.
“Quin made me his apprentice!” Merris gasped defensively, glancing back and forth between Braden and Sephana. “We didn’t think I’d ever be going back!”
“Quin?” Braden gasped, his face a mask of incomprehension. “You traded your allegiance to Quin over Aerysius? This is all my fault,” he insisted to Sephana. “I should have explained things better before sending her off.”
Sephana dismissed him with a curt wave of her hand. “What’s done is done. It doesn’t matter anyway,” she sighed, turning back to Merris. “I guess all that matters is this: are you happy?”
Merris frowned, blinking in consternation. She really didn’t understand Sephana’s reaction at all. Why would the woman care whether or not she was happy?
“I’m … very happy,” she responded quietly before admitting, “I’m also scared.”
Sephana nodded in understanding. “Of course you are, dear. We all are. Listen. I’m not going to promise you anything, but there is a chance that you might survive this. You are not a Master, after all. There is no gift yet in you. You can sense the magic field, but you have no power to influence it. That might make all the difference between life and death for you.”
Merris stared at her dully, not really listening to any of Sephana’s words. She wanted to leave. She needed to leave. She was starting to feel very claustrophobic in the small room.
“So, tell me, how did you come by that sequence?” Braden inquired of her.
Merris turned toward him, running a hand through the platinum spirals of her hair. She explained, “I met a Master by the name of Devrim Remzi in the vaults under Om’s temple. I got the sequence from him.”
Braden frowned, eyes sliding to the side in thought. “Devrim Remzi.” He seemed as though he might know the man. Merris figured he probably did; they were both colleagues of the Lyceum, after all.
He continued almost to himself, “Remzi would know the Empirical side of this situation better than anyone else. He might even be able to help us destroy the Well of Tears.” To Merris, he wondered, “Did you get the impression that Remzi might aid us? Or is he thoroughly their man?”
Merris shrugged, realizing this might be her one opportunity to escape their tense presence. “I couldn’t say for certain,” she responded. “If I could talk to him again, I could find out. He seems easy enough to find; I think he spends a great deal of time in the temple. He may even be living there.”
Braden and Sephana exchanged a long look. At last, Braden nodded. He put his hand on Merris’ shoulder. “I want you to go back to the Temple of Wisdom. Find Remzi and bring him here if you can. I need
you back here by second watch. Do you think you can do that?”
Merris nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “Anything I can do to help. I’ll hurry back.”
She sprang up from the bed and then paused, realizing that she couldn’t run out into the streets in the silken robe of a serving girl. Somewhere on the dirty floor of the room was the elegant wrap she’d worn on the first day of her arrival.
Glancing up at Braden, she wondered self-consciously, “Would you mind turning your back for a moment?”
As he complied, Merris allowed Sephana to help dress her, assembling all the pieces from off the floor into a rumpled but serviceable garment. She donned the dupatta last, draping it gracefully over her shoulder and fixing it in place.
“You look beautiful,” Sephana smiled, stroking her cheek. “Doesn’t she, Braden?”
Braden nodded once without looking as he strode over to a cushion and dropped down upon it. He pulled out a knife from his belt and began using the tip to scrape at the dirt under his nails.
Merris glared at him in disdain, feeling thoroughly insulted by his lack of response. Red heat rushed to her cheeks, her nails digging into the flesh of her palms. She swallowed, feeling the anger slide like a lump of poorly chewed food down her throat and into her stomach. She took a deep breath, inhaling fresh air while exhaling the remainder of her ire. She looked back up at Braden with a grin on her face and hatred in her eyes.
She ran her fingers through her curls then offered Sephana a warm hug. “Thank you again. I’ll do my very best,” she promised, smiling with as much affection as she could muster.
Merris could not bring herself to say anything to Braden. As far as she was concerned, the man was utterly contemptible. Pulling back from Sephana’s embrace, she opened the door and let herself out.
Once outside the inn, Merris smiled triumphantly. Away from Braden and Sephana, away from Quin’s suffocating presence, she felt a sudden, remarkable thrill. She started down the city street with a smile of delight on her face, noticing how people dodged quickly out of her way in deference, clearing a path before her. She did not understand how or why, but her mage training was somehow obvious to the common folk that walked Bryn Calazar’s crowded streets. There was no longer any hesitation or indecision in their eyes. When they looked at her, when they saw her gaze, they just knew. They could sense the potential within her. It was in the way she carried herself, the grace with which she moved. The confidence projected from her face.
Merris giggled and spun around in the street, the sound of her laughter like ringing silver bells. People darted back away from her, their faces clouded with confusion. The looks in their eyes made Merris smile even more.
She crossed the bridge over the River Nym out of the Lantern District, turning onto a broad avenue. Overhead, on the cliff above the sea, sprawled the Lyceum’s cascading domes. The Lyceum’s grand structure stood watch above the harbor, its tall minarets and golden domes drawing Merris toward it like a moth to a candle flame. She desperately desired to be a part of that splendor, to take her place within those lofty walls. She had come so far and was now so very close.
All she needed was the gift. But the only way she could acquire power of her own was to have it Transferred to her upon the death of another mage.
“Turn and look at me, love.”
Merris whirled at the sound of a stranger’s voice, redirecting her attention from the Lyceum’s shining walls. Behind her stood an exceptionally attractive man with dark-olive skin and piercing hazel eyes. There was something about his eyes, far more intriguing than just the color, that Merris found immediately captivating.
“Yes, it is true,” the man said with a charming grin, nodding in a satisfied way. “You are even more beautiful than I believed. I must know your name.”
His words brought a smile to Merris’ lips. He held her eyes entranced by his gaze.
“Merris,” she offered.
“Merris,” the darkly handsome man spoke her name as if savoring the sound of it on his tongue. “You intrigue me, Merris.”
Merris blinked. There was something about him. Too late, she noticed the shadows that consumed his eyes.
Merris recoiled, backing away from the man as a chilling fear drove deep into the pit of her stomach. She turned to flee—
—and ran right into the chest of another man standing right behind her.
“Nooo…”
It was really more of a moan than a word. But it was the last word ever spoken by Merris Bryar.
11
The Monster Within
Braden held Sephana’s hand in his own, messaging the markings on her arm gently with his thumb. The silvery luster of the chain on her wrist glimmered in the flickering light of the lantern. The intricate design looked very much real, not at all like a tattoo or sketch, but rather with an illusion of depth and realism that was remarkable.
Braden invited her, “Tell me again how you came by this marking.”
Sephana graced him with a patient smile, obviously pleased by his interest in the symbol. She explained, “When an acolyte is first brought before the Assembly of the Hall, they are made to swear the Acolyte’s Oath. The vow pledges us to a far higher duty than what we may have served previously. The mark of the chain reminds us of our obligation to that duty.”
Braden nodded thoughtfully, still caressing the pad of his thumb over the beguiling and intricate design. He was vaguely surprised that there was no texture to the image at all; despite appearances, the skin of Sephana’s wrist beneath the chain was just as smooth and soft as the rest of her arm.
“What were the words of the vow that marked you with such a fetter?” he wondered.
She drew herself up on the side of the bed, withdrawing her hand from his grasp but leaving the markings uncovered by the sleeve of her gown. Holding his gaze, she recited formally:
“I swear to exist only to serve the land and its people.
With my life, if possible. If not, then by death.”
Braden nodded, looking down. “That’s really quite profound,” he said finally. “And remarkable, when you think about it. That vow seems to be the embodiment of our own purpose. I mean, that is our goal, is it not? To live up to the letter of that oath?”
Sephana seemed to be gazing at him with a newfound respect, appearing to weigh his words carefully, considering their implications. “Indeed, it is,” she finally agreed.
He reached out and took her hand in his. “I want you to help me say the Acolyte’s Oath. I want to make sure I get the words right.”
Sephana frowned, staring at him skeptically for a long moment as if expecting him to change his mind. At last, when it became obvious that his motives were pure and unwavering, she nodded and muttered solemnly, “All right, Braden.”
She took his left arm into her hand and encircled her thumb and fingers about his wrist. “Repeat after me,” she directed him firmly.
Braden closed his eyes as he solemnly uttered the phrases of the vow, repeating them exactly as Sephana instructed. When he finished, she released her grip upon his arm.
He opened his eyes, looking down. The sight of the fresh markings on his wrist didn’t surprise him in the least. What was shocking was how the emblem of the chain looked so natural against his own flesh, already seeming so much a part of him. He rotated his arm, allowing the intricate pattern to glimmer metallically in the light of the tapers as he inspected the fresh design.
He felt awestruck, rendered thoroughly speechless by the beauty of the symbol. Very seldom in his life had he ever acted on impulse—doing so had never seemed to work out very well. Nevertheless, Braden was glad he had chosen to take this leap of faith. It seemed very right.
He grinned up at Sephana, feeling somewhat euphoric. “This doesn’t mean I’m bound to serve Aerysius now, does it?” he asked in jest.
“It does not,” she assured him with a smile. Then she bent forward, wrapping her arms around him. “I don’t know if I’ve ever to
ld you how much I admire you,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re the kind of person that I’ve always aspired to be. I want you to know that. And I also want to tell you how much I love you.”
Braden stiffened in her arms, her confession bringing him only pain instead of gladness. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing with all his soul that he could actually be the man she thought he was. He wished he was worthy of such praise.
“You honor me too much,” he cautioned her. “You are an amazing woman, Sephana. You deserve far better than I can ever give you.”
Then he kissed her slowly, drawing her down onto the bed with him as his hand went with purpose to the fastenings of her gown.
That was how Quin found them hours later. Drawing the large pack he was carrying off his shoulder, he dropped it to the floor. On top of it he tossed down a jumble of assorted items he’d been carrying in his arms. He stared in astonishment at the sight of his brother and Sephana lying entwined in his own bed. After a moment, he remarked:
“They say that a man is not made by clothes and manners alone. Which is a good thing, Braden, because I see you have neither.”
He sank down onto a patterned rug, reclining with an elbow on a cushion, chin propped in the cup of his hand. “Would it truly have put you out so much to rent a room of your own?”
Braden cast a weary grin in his direction. He lay with his arms folded around Sephana, who was somehow still managing to stay asleep, head cradled against his chest.
Braden responded with quiet aplomb, “In the future, I will try harder to retain both my manners and my clothing in your company.”
Quin grinned, always glad to have his own sarcasm returned in kind. “That’s all I dare ask. Here, why don’t you put these on instead of those horse-smelling rags you wore in? And I have something for Sephana, as well.”
Sitting up, he fished around in his leather pack, producing a stack of folded garments. He laid them out on the fringed rug beside him. Then he stood up and walked toward the door, announcing, “It seems I’ve worked up quite a thirst. I’ll just go grab a bottle of wine. Where is Merris?”
The Complete Rhenwars Saga: An Epic Fantasy Pentalogy Page 164