As the Shadow Rises: Book Two of The Age of Darkness

by Katy Rose Pool

  “Prince Hassan, no!” Hector cried, and a moment later he felt arms hauling him back, away from the Hierophant.

  Hassan whirled. “You think that just because he’s a Prophet he’s worth protecting? He did this. He doomed us all.”

  “You think a being such as a god will be satisfied with the death of one man?” the Hierophant asked. “No. It will not rest until everything we built is destroyed. This very world is an insult to it—it will wash it clean of any influence from me, from the other Prophets.”

  Hassan felt his skin prickle, and despite his hatred of the Hierophant he knew that he was telling the truth—or at the least, he believed his own words.

  “We still need him,” Hector said. “He’s the only one who knows how to kill the god.”

  “Kill it?” the Hierophant said derisively. “It cannot be done. The first time the god was slain, it took seven Prophets. The best we can do is bind it.”

  “Bind it how?” Hector asked.

  “The same way its esha was bound beyond the Red Gate,” the Hierophant replied. “Only a Prophet can do it.”

  “We have a Prophet,” Hassan replied. “So I guess we don’t need you.”

  But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t completely true. Jude had said that trying to reseal the Red Gate had almost killed Anton. And when they’d left Anton at the city walls, he hadn’t exactly looked like he was up for taking on a god. The Hierophant seemed to read the uncertainty in Hassan’s eyes.

  He smiled. “Even if your Prophet could do it, I have the Relic of Sight.”

  A loud boom shook the temple.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Hector said. “The city is collapsing as we speak.” He looked at the Hierophant. “You’re coming with us.”

  “If you insist,” the Hierophant sighed, managing to sound both putupon and smug at the same time. “My Witnesses will accompany us.”

  Hassan, Hector, the Hierophant, and ten Witnesses marched out of the cave and back toward the city walls. The streets were flooded with even more people, fleeing out toward the city gates. The crush of the crowd hemmed them in, making it difficult to navigate back to where Jude and Anton were waiting.

  When they finally reached them, they were not alone.

  Illya Aliyev stood with them, along with the girl—the one who had resurrected the god.

  “You found him,” Anton said, eyes locked on the Hierophant.

  “And you brought Witnesses,” Jude said, sounding none too happy about it.

  The Witnesses eyed him with equal distaste.

  “He’s willing to help,” Hector said. “Aren’t you?”

  The Hierophant swept his cold gaze over them. “I know how to stop the god. We need to bind it. But we’ll need a place to trap it.”

  “I know a place,” Illya said. “A tomb just outside the city.”

  “That will lead the god away from Behezda,” Jude said approvingly. “But how do we draw it there?”

  “I know how,” Hassan said at once. He looked at the Hierophant. “We use him as bait.”

  Hassan couldn’t help feeling somewhat victorious as displeasure spread over the Hierophant’s stern face.

  “Fine,” he snapped. “But you all will protect me. And I will need the Relics—all of them, to seal the god away.”

  Jude nodded. “Once we get to the tomb, they’re yours.”

  “Godfire chains will slow it down,” the Hierophant went on. “We can use them to impede it temporarily.”

  Jude nodded. “All right. Then we all go to the tomb. Pallas will draw the god to us. We’ll use the Godfire chains to disarm it, and then seal it inside the tomb.”

  “And what about Beru?” the girl beside Illya demanded. “We can’t just lock her up.”

  “For now, we have to,” Anton said. “Once it’s contained, we’ll find a way to expel the god from her.”

  The girl’s gaze hardened.

  “We’ll find a way,” Hector said. “We will.”

  “All right,” Jude said. “We all know the plan. We all know what happens if we fail.” He looked around at all of them. “Let’s go capture a god.”

  58

  BERU

  THE GOD’S RAGE ONLY GREW, SHACKLING BERU WITHIN IT. SHE HAD MANAGED to hold on for those precious few minutes at the Red Gate, when the god was still confused. But now, the god’s will was overpowering. It was like a cage penning her in, leaving her immobile, able only to see what the god was doing.

  You are Beru of Medea, she told herself. You are Ephyra’s sister.

  The god’s fury thrashed inside of her.

  She thought of the oasis. She took herself back there, in the grotto that Hector had showed her the morning before everything had unraveled. That was the last time she’d felt peace. That girl, she told herself, as the world shook and broke around her, that’s who you are. She wasn’t this creature. She wasn’t this wrath.

  Something fluttered at the edge of her awareness. Something calling out to her—no, to it, the being inside her.

  I’m here, it seemed to say. Come and get me.

  The Hierophant, Beru understood at once. The god suddenly halted its destruction, the trembling city going still. The Hierophant was calling to it from somewhere outside the city.

  In a burst of bright light, the god transported them there.

  The Hierophant stood before them, at the entrance of what appeared to be a tomb. A long courtyard lined with dead trees led to the stone steps of a mausoleum. The Hierophant was not alone. Everyone who’d been at the Red Gate stood with him—everyone except a few who must have either escaped or died when the Gate fell. Hector and Ephyra were among them, as were Anton, and Illya, the golden-eyed boy.

  Don’t hurt them, Beru pleaded. She did not expect the god to heed her, or even hear her.

  The god let out an ear-shattering shriek and flew at the Hierophant. Illya and another boy Beru recognized but did not know dove in front of him, Godfire chains in their hands.

  The god roared and thrust Beru’s hands out. A burst of white light erupted from her palms, striking the two boys down. The two swordsmen—Hector and another Paladin—closed in on the Hierophant, standing between him and Beru.

  “WHY DO YOU PROTECT PALLAS?” It was Beru’s mouth that spoke, but it was not her voice. There was an echo of her voice within it, but it sounded ancient and terrible.

  “If we give him to you, will you leave this city alone?” Anton asked.

  The god’s gaze found him on the Paladin’s other side. “YOU DO NOT BARGAIN WITH A GOD, LITTLE PROPHET.”

  The god took a step toward Anton. The other Paladin stepped back, shielding him. The god tilted Beru’s head. Something like recognition flashed bright in Beru’s mind.

  “YOU,” the god said. “YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN MINE.”

  The Paladin seemed to steel himself as she approached. He went still as she curled a hand beneath his chin, flinching when she lifted it gently.

  “YOU WILL BE MINE.”

  “You can’t have him,” Anton growled over the Paladin’s shoulder.

  The god flicked Beru’s hand and Anton went flying to the ground. The Paladin tried to whirl toward Anton, but the god held him firm.

  “Jude!” Hector cried, leaping toward them.

  The god waved Beru’s hand and Hector collapsed to the ground. A bolt of pain shot through Beru. The god took a wheeling step back and froze, bewildered and incensed. In its distraction, the other Paladin darted off toward Anton.

  The god’s eyes locked onto Hector’s. Beru watched understanding cross Hector’s features. The connection between their esha remained, and it affected the god, too.

  Someone pounced on her from behind. Without turning, the god slammed its attacker onto the ground, like it was swatting a fly.

  “Beru,” Ephyra’s voice cried out, shaking. “Beru, you have to fight. You have to fight it.”

  The god turned toward the sound of her voice.

  No, Beru thought desperately. No
, don’t touch her. Don’t hurt her.

  The god approached Ephyra, moving slowly, deliberately. Ephyra did not cower.

  “It’s me,” she said softly. “Beru, it’s me.”

  The god lifted a hand, and Ephyra rose a few inches off the ground.

  “YOUR SISTER ISN’T HERE ANYMORE,” the god said.

  It’s not true, Beru thought. I’m right here, Ephyra.

  “YOU ARE THE ONE WHO BROUGHT ME BACK,” THE GOD WENT ON. “GAVE ME THIS NEW FORM. PERHAPS, IN THANKS, I WILL NOT PURGE YOU FROM THIS WORLD.”

  Ephyra trembled, suspended in the air.

  “THEN AGAIN,” the god said, “I GAVE FORM TO THE BEINGS IN THIS WORLD, AND THAT DID NOT STOP THEM FROM KILLING ME.”

  The god tightened Beru’s hand into a fist. Ephyra let out a broken gasp, and Beru realized what was happening. The god was squeezing her lungs, cutting off her air.

  Beru felt like she was pounding her fists against a metal door, slamming against the walls of her mind, trying to tug at the god’s will. But it was so much older, and so much more powerful than she.

  She could only watch, despair clutching at her chest, as Ephyra’s eyes fluttered shut.

  “Prince Hassan, now!” Hector’s voice bellowed.

  Blinding pain ripped through her and Beru—the god—stumbled. Ephyra hit the ground.

  The pain only worsened, screaming up her side until Beru collapsed. When she looked up, she saw Hector on his knees, blood seeping out of a wound in his side, his face contorted in pain. His other hand grasped the hilt of a knife, and it took Beru a moment to understand that he was not trying to pull the blade out—he was twisting it deeper. Using their connection to hurt the god.

  The god roared in agony and Beru felt her own mind go white at the edges. When the world waved back into focus, she felt her body thrashing, fighting against someone, her chained hands pinned behind her back.

  When she looked up, she saw Prince Hassan, Jude, and the Hierophant standing over her.

  “YOU VILE CREATURES,” the god howled. “YOU INSIGNIFICANT LITTLE INSECTS!”

  Hassan and Jude hefted her to her feet easily, dragging her toward the entrance of the tomb while the god continued to spit curses at them. They deposited her inside the threshold and looped her chains around one of the pillars within.

  The Hierophant stood in the doorway, a dark shadow blocking the light. He glanced at Hassan and held out a hand.

  The prince hesitated, before finally handing him the Crown. Jude unclipped his sword from his belt and handed it to the Hierophant as well.

  The Hierophant placed the two items on the ground, along with the Chalice.

  The god watched him, restless with fury. The Blade, the Chalice, the Crown—they were all a part of it. Stolen from it. To see them in the Hierophant’s possession enraged it.

  “I have you now,” the Hierophant said, not taunting, but simply a statement of fact.

  “Wait!” Ephyra cried, appearing in the threshold. Beru slackened with relief. The god had not killed her. “Wait, just let me say goodbye to her, let me tell her that we’re going to find a way to fix this. Let me at least—”

  Jude stepped toward Ephyra, blocking her path. Beru could still hear Ephyra’s pleading as the Hierophant stepped closer to her, gripping the last Relic—the Stone.

  The other Relics began to glow faintly in the darkness of the tomb. Beru felt the Relics seize the god’s esha.

  The Hierophant strode forward, flanked by four of his Witnesses, crossing the threshold until he was standing over the god. He reached out and pressed his hand against Beru’s forehead. His touch seared her skin, and she felt the god’s esha pulse like a shock wave. The tomb shook with its power, trembling so violently it threatened to break apart. The god would bring the whole tomb down before it gave up control. It would bring the whole city down. The world.

  She felt it build and build and then, like a breath being sucked from her lungs, the god’s esha contracted. Beru gasped, the god’s will suddenly giving way to her own. She was out of the cage, the god shut inside it. The mark on her forehead burned as the god’s will rattled inside her, but the mark held. The god’s will was confined within her own.

  She stared up at the Hierophant, incredulous. What had he done?

  “Beru!” Ephyra cried. She rushed forward, past Jude and the prince, and threw herself to her knees at Beru’s side.

  “It’s you,” she said, her voice close.

  “It’s me,” Beru agreed, and Ephyra embraced her. Beru shut her eyes, just letting herself be held for a moment, safe. The god was still inside her, she could feel it, even now, prowling in its cage, but she was in control. Ephyra tugged at the Godfire chains, inhaling sharply when the metal touched her skin.

  “Stop,” Beru murmured. “Ephyra, don’t.”

  Ephyra pulled away and Beru struggled out of the chains on her own.

  “Wait,” Jude said from behind them, looking wary. He looked over at the Hierophant. “I thought you were going to seal her in the tomb.”

  “Look at her,” Ephyra said, spinning to glare at him. “She’s in control. The god is bound.”

  Beru stood, leaning against the pillar for support. Ephyra reached for her.

  The Hierophant moved, stepping behind Ephyra and seizing her arm with one hand. Before Beru could comprehend what was happening, he had the Godfire chains wrapped around Ephyra’s wrist.

  “You don’t want your sister to get hurt,” he said to Beru.

  The swordsman and the prince started toward them, but Beru, fearing what the Hierophant would do to Ephyra, instinctively held up her hand. They were knocked back. The Witnesses, who had been standing by idly, now moved to restrain them.

  Beru looked down at her hand, incredulous.

  “The god’s power still flows through you,” the Hierophant said. “Although you are now the one in control. If you want to keep your sister safe, you will do as I say.”

  Beru stared at him, fury building in her chest. This anger was hers—but she felt the god’s alongside it.

  “Beru,” Ephyra said, her voice steady. “You don’t have to do this. Don’t do this.”

  Beru met her gaze. She knew what Ephyra would do if their positions were reversed. What she had always done.

  She flicked her gaze back to the Hierophant. “What do you want?”

  The Hierophant smiled. “You will do my bidding. Use the god’s power to serve me.”

  Beru felt the god’s rage burn hotter. It felt like it would choke her. Whatever the Hierophant had done, it had put Beru in control of her own body again—but for a moment, she gave her voice over to the god.

  “PALLAS THE FAITHFUL,” IT SAID. “YOU WERE MY MOST LOYAL SERVANT.”

  “And now,” Pallas replied. “You are mine.”

  59

  ANTON

  THE WORLD WAS STILL SHAKING AS BERU STEPPED OUT OF THE TOMB, followed by the Hierophant and Ephyra, who was chained in front of him. Anton’s breath caught in his chest. Jude was still inside.

  He scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding and his head swimming. He could barely stand upright, still too weak to do anything but watch Beru and the Hierophant. And it was Beru again, not the ancient deity inhabiting her. He could see it in the way she let her gaze flicker over Ephyra, fear plain in her eyes.

  There was no way to know what had happened inside the tomb, but Anton could guess. And it seemed Illya had guessed the same thing, because a moment later he was hurrying over to the Hierophant, kneeling at his feet.

  “Immaculate One,” he simpered.

  The Hierophant paused, glancing down at Illya like he was a muddy footprint.

  “You have failed me,” the Hierophant said. “Disobeyed me. Why shouldn’t I just kill you now?”

  Illya’s eyes flickered to Ephyra, and then back to the Hierophant. “Because I can be useful. I have been before.”

  “When you were loyal to our cause.”

  “I still am,” Illya insisted.r />
  The Hierophant actually laughed, low and rumbling like thunder. “Don’t take me for a fool, Illya Aliyev. I know what you really are. You say you want power, but you don’t even know how to claim it. So instead you seek out those of us who do have it, and lick their boots until they throw you a scrap.”

  Illya looked like he’d been punched. Anton felt a grim sort of satisfaction.

  The Hierophant motioned toward Beru. She moved toward Illya and he flinched.

  “But,” the Hierophant said. “Your self-interest makes you predictable. And I suppose I may find a use for you.”

  Illya looked up, and stood at the Hierophant’s wordless command. The Hierophant looked at Beru.

  “Take us to Pallas Athos.”

  The air around them shivered with bright light, and then Beru, the Hierophant, Ephyra, and Illya disappeared.

  The mausoleum was still shaking. Jude and Prince Hassan emerged from within, racing out onto the steps before the threshold of the tomb collapsed behind them.

  “Anton!” Jude cried, running toward him.

  “Where’s the Hierophant?” Prince Hassan demanded.

  Anton shook his head. “They’re gone.”

  Jude reached his side and gripped his arm, pulling him over to where Hector was crouched in the dirt, still bleeding.

  “We need to get out of here,” Hector said grimly.

  Jude helped him to his feet as the courtyard shook beneath them.

  “Come on!”

  The four of them ran over the trembling ground. Stones ripped up out of the path, like the seams of the earth were coming undone. A wall of blood-red water rose up from the lake beyond the tomb, rushing toward them.

  Jude yanked Anton hard to the left, changing course. Anton stumbled, crying out as he hit the ground. Jude’s hand slipped and he skidded to a stop.

  And then the ground began to crack in two, a deep fissure forming beneath his feet, Anton on one side, Jude on the other.

  “Anton!” he bellowed, as the ground shifted, the chasm widening between them.

  Anton watched as Hector dove for Jude, wrenching him back before the abyss could swallow them. A great crash sounded as one of the huge stone pillars began to topple sideways.