Valaran had called upon tainted magic, now, his power was combined with Sadira's, and he was channelling the fear of the crowd on top of that. The air rippled with tiny chaos storms. Gavin unwove as many of these as he could but there were far too many. Parts of him burned and parts of him froze. Valaran rushed forward. Gavin lunged, stabbing his spear into the Golden Giant's knee. The wound sealed instantly. A pseudopod, all flesh and spines, erupted from the Sadira-armour, slashing Gavin as he fell back. He had he must act quickly.
Power ripped through Gavin, more than he had ever drawn before, as he wove a brain-burster spell, drawing upon the outrage of the shocked audience and every ounce of his own will. Valaran roared in pain, his skull shifting. The fact that the Golden Giant did not use the twisting magic of the Wirn to counter his spell was not lost on Gavin. The side of Valaran's head exploded. Gavin stepped forward and rammed his spear into his throat, careful to avoid Sadira's flesh. He twisted the spear
Valaran staggered, bleeding, half of his head blown away.
He did not fall.
Gavin triumph turned to despair as Valaran's head reformed, crudely. Valaran's throat closed up.
“You can't win,” rasped Valaran.
"Your right, Valaran, I cannot beat you." said Gavin, his spear drooping limply.
"I'm glad you've finally learned your place. Get on your knees and death will be quick for you. I will send Sadira to you once I have finished using her, she will not survive this I am sad to say. You should never have challenged me"
"You won't get away with this," said Gavin. He knew what he had to do.
"I already have,” snarled Valaran. “You have no idea the power I wield right now. Even The Chosen will be hard pressed to defeat me, especially after they run into the surprises we left for them. There will be a new Reckoning this day."
"It's not them The Chosen need to worry about," said Gavin. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the end.
“Enough,” sneered Valaran. “I cannot afford to waste any more time with you.”
As Valaran swept forward and swung, Gavin leapt, weaving the twisting magic of the Wirn. The alien patterns came to him with ease, perhaps surprising, or maybe by design. After all his life had been shaped by The Deliberative, The Chosen, the People, and companions both living and dead. He was thought incarnate, a spear aimed straight at the heart of Valaran, or perhaps the very ideas that shaped the Golden Giant. Then he touched Sadira's skin, unleashing the spell a moment before Valaran's sword took him, cleaving through his armour and deep into his side. Gavin hit ground hard, tasting blood and inhaling sand. It took a tremendous effort for him to roll onto his back as Valaran stepped in to finish him.
Valaran raised his blades. He could taste victory. With Gavin dead he could escape or face The Chosen in the bowels of the arena alongside his thralls. He was so far gone into madness that he thought he could survive, even win, such a confrontation.
Gavin looked up at Valaran, and as their eyes met, he smiled. Valaran could see no fear in Gavin's eyes. He had seen that same confidence in Omodo. It gave Valaran pause. Sadira's flesh shifted around him, constricting his movements. Valaran's arms froze at the apex of his swing, and Gavin, his life leaking away, watched as Valaran came undone.
Gavin knew it was beyond his power to defeat a Valaran empowered by his own twisted magic and Sadira's nigh-endless vitality. He has not attacked that spell with the warping of the Wirn. Instead, he had found where Valaran had subverted the bond that Gavin and Sadira shared. He had broken that. He felt the bond shift, and steeled his mind, supporting Sadira with the last of his will.
Sadira woke. She tried to scream. She could feel that her body had been flayed and warped beyond recognition. The pain was almost too much for her, but her fury overpowered it. The only thing she could sense that Gavin was injured, his life ebbing away. She needed to help him! But first she needed to heal herself. She concentrated on regenerating, drawing power from desperate rage. She could sense Gavin's iron resolve and it spurred her.
"Too late," said Gavin, weakly, as Valaran struggled against the flesh of Sadira. Gavin's vision blurred, but he kept his eyes on Valaran's. Blood poured from his wounds and the darkness closed in, but he could still sense the patterns and the shifting strands of magic. There was a terrible majesty to it, like watching the heavens collapse. He wanted to say 'I told you she would kill you', but he was too weak.
The Golden Giant opened his mouth. He choked on his own retort as Sadira's flesh flowed upwards, engulfing his face and then forcing its way viciously down his throat. As the last of the mass entered his body Valaran began to scream. He dropped his swords, clawing at his mouth and chest. He could feel Sadira inside him, consuming him from within. His roar of pain and desperation, faded to a gurgle.
Sadira channelled power, rebuilding her shattered limbs. Her lungs ached for air. She struggled, feeling Gavin fade, desperate to get to him. Her life magic was powerful. She was an expert body sculptor. Now, she cast about for more power, and she found the audience. She drew upon their horror, she drew upon their hope. The power of half a million people coursed through her. Their rejection of Valaran's abominable deed was all the strength that she needed.
Valaran screamed with two voices, as he fell to his knees. His last sensation came as Sadira burst out of him. His last thoughts were full of pain and horror, fading into darkness with no succour, his mind consumed by the terrible magics that he himself had invoked.
The crowd shook itself in disbelief, horror and wonder entwining, as a gore-clothed Sadira rose from Valaran's remains.
Sadira stumbled, blind and insensate, following her link to Gavin, falling to her knees and fumbling for him. Although he swam in blackness, passing the threshold between life and death, such was the power that Sadira drew from the spectators, from Valaran's death, and from her own desires that she could catch the last of his life essence and cast off death. Her power was great, and her will was equal to the task.
The crowd began to cheer.
Like a woodswoman nursing the last ember of an old fire, Sadira nurtured that last spark of Gavin's life while she healed his body. His heart began to beat again.
The first of The Chosen, Giselle and Moltar burst through the monster's entrance, bloody and glowing with power. They stopped short. A silence had fallen over the arena.
Sadira tended to Gavin, ignoring all else. In that moment she wielded the power of life as only a Chosen could, and any Gifted who glanced upon her was struck dumb with awe. Behind her, was a sapling, growing from the remains of Valaran, rapidly developing into a tree, both beautiful and terrible in the centre of the arena, nurtured by his blood, and sinking its roots into sand and stone.
The first thing Gavin saw as his eyes fluttered open was Sadira, bloody and beautiful, smiling down on him. He sensed magic flowing around her, vital and strong. The first thing he smelled was a mix of blood and offal, and the heady scent of now blooming tree. The first thing he heard was the exultation of half-a-million men and women, screaming, shouting, raving, yelling, and celebrating; giving witness to the wonder, and expunging the horror that they had just seen.
It was like waking from a nightmare.
Oh, how they cheered.
Chapter Sixty-Two: Apotheosis (Unfamiliar Ground)
Both were Chosen.
In the end, the people of Krass would not be denied. As discontent threatened to spread throughout the Domains, The Chosen, The Assembly of the Covenant, and The Deliberative each voted to allow Sadira to swear the Oath of the Covenant, and to allow Gavin to swear it with her.
Many restrictions were placed on the new Chosen; the demands of politics and the price of a smooth acceptance. They would only get one vote on the Council of The Chosen between them and their allocation of resources, military and financial, would likely be cut in half. However, Marius and The Chosen of the Western borders, returning after defeating the Wirn, forestalled any further intrigue. They felt that the Council and the Ass
embly had wasted too much time on trivialities when their attention was needed elsewhere.
With support from Marius and the border Chosen, Chosen Giselle was able to ensure that Gavin and Sadira both received the regular number of Hearthbound. Interestingly The Deliberative did not contest this, despite the fact that they usually vehemently opposed the idea of more Gifted who did not answer to them. This started a host of rumours, many centred around Cleothera and her relationship to the fated pair.
o-----
The tree that had grown from Valaran's corpse resisted all attempts to remove it from the Grand Arena. It was a thing of taint and old magic combined. Since they could not kill it, The Deliberative contained it with a second set of wards and placed special attendants to watch over it. The tree was ugly and twisted, but it occasionally bloomed brilliantly. The people of Krass came to believe that it flowered during particularly intense matches. They were partially correct.
o-----
Amoura's after-party was legendary, just as everyone expected. For once, Gavin was just as pleased to socialize as Sadira.
o-----
Past disasters led to the policy of every Chosen having a probationary period where they learned the intricacies of their office. Chosen Gorixus' ill-fated attempt to invade Sudra's Horn with little preparation, or Chosen Silvius spending his entire support allotment on creating a brothel were the most commonly cited reasons for this practice.
Each new Chosen was given a mentor, a sort of supervisor who could teach them to wield their new power effectively and help curb their initial excesses. Chosen Giselle naturally became Sadira's mentor, since she had acted as the Champion's matron. Gavin did not have an official patron. Chosen Mordhawk had unspecified duties which disqualified him, and many of The Chosen objected to allowing Giselle to supervise them both. This resulted in three days of debate and at least one challenge to a Chosen's duel, before Chosen Marius and the Border Chosen once again forced a resolution. In the end, Chosen Mazurin was agreed upon as Gavin's mentor.
Gavin had been hoping for Chosen Marius or Chosen Mordhawk, but he had read some of Mazurin's treatises on warfare, weaponry, and stewardship and found them agreeable. It was certainly a better choice than many of the other candidates put forth. He found the naked politicking of the Council of The Chosen repugnant, yet fascinating.
o-----
On the day of the Oath they marched down the Triumphal Way once again. The sides of the wide streets were lined with Legionnaires and crowded with citizen well-wishers. Sadira marched at the head of a full century of Daeri Homeguard. She had not yet settled on her final heraldry, so they wore the colours of her family and her Champion's banners.
The Parade Square was packed with more than a million citizens, as before, but this time the crowd was facing the Assembly of the Covenant and the Oathstone. Their cheers shook the air like a constant thunder.
Representatives of The Deliberative, the Assembly of the Covenant, stood arrayed around the rune covered rock. The Oathstone was not especially large, but it gave off a sense of expectant depth, like a moonlit lake just before a breach. Seen by a Gifted, the pattern of the stone was simple, yet powerful, almost elemental in nature.
The speeches were of the traditional sort. Gavin could feel Sadira's boredom through their bond. She wanted to catch the next ship to Emerald Cove, where they could wallow in their triumph and revel in their freedom.
They both scanned the crowd picking out familiar faces. Ravius, Cleothera, Master Ironwall, Delph, Sax, Chosen Marius and Amoura Vogue, Arena Master Druth and Camille Caesaria, A leaner looking Sulius ul-Cyrus, Azure Dream, Bull Dangerous, Green Sting, Silver Rose, Hummingblade, Razorthorn, Deathcat, and many others.
Both of them moved forward to take the Oath simultaneously. The Deliberative had decided that this was safest, since their bond might interact oddly with the ancient magic Oathstone.
The Oathkeeper, a white-haired Orc crone, bearing a runed staff, and dressed in a plain white robe, stepped forward to meet them. Her gaze was clear and her lined face was solemn. As she approached the pair, a hush fell over the crowd. The Oath was one of the most sacred rituals in the Domains; witnessing two at once was unheard of since the grim days of early empire.
“Hold out your hands, palms facing upwards,” said the Oathkeeper, drawing a tiny runed knife made of the same type of rock as the Oathstone.
Gavin and Sadira held their hands up as she asked. She drew the knife across their palms. There was a small bloom of magic, blood-potent. The cut did not heal quickly and their blood ran freely.
“Place your palm upon the Oathstone,” said the Oathkeeper. Her solemn voice was the only sound, save for the rustling of the vast forest of people around them. The weight of expectation bore down upon them.
“Clear your minds,” said the Oathkeeper.
Gavin breathed in and exhaled, surprisingly relaxed. He had never expected to stand here, swearing the Oath, save perhaps in a child's fantasy. And yet he had challenged himself, walking in darkness, always seeking to better himself, and he had persevered.
Sadira simply felt as if she had reached the end of a long race. In truth she cared more for the victory than the prize. Karmal's war-cleaver felt heavy on her back, smouldering.
“Bind to the stone,” said the Oathkeeper.
The blood and the expectant power of all the people gathered made this a simple task. The stone, used to swear oaths before Krass was even a city, awakened to their presence. The conscience of an Empire welcomed them.
Gavin felt the weight of the stone. It had begun as a simple stone, whose solemn appearance and position on the rise made it witness to meetings of people. It had endured, tasting brutal sacrifice and bright oath, gaining significance because of the people around it. That significance grew as the people flourished. Their belief changed the stone, the simple magic of countless thoughts, and now it was the secret heart of an Empire. The weight of the stone was the weight of history.
Sadira felt the eyes of the ancestors upon her. She felt their acceptance wash over her as she attuned her pattern to that of the stone, weaving a subtle connection between the both of them.
Gavin's uncut hand found Sadira's. No one objected.
“They are bound Oathkeeper,” said Chosen Giselle, the representative of The Chosen, acting as a witness.
“I confirm that they are bound,” said Ordo Grevex, grim-faced representative of The Deliberative. “Let the oath proceed.”
“The words of the Oath of the Covenant are known to us all,” said the Oathkeeper, her voice carrying across the square. “They are the same words spoken by blessed Ezuis, and the same Oath sworn by the last of The Gifted when they took refuge in our city as The Reckoning descended upon us, becoming the first of our Chosen. Let us all speak them now.”
A million citizens gave voice to the Oath along with them.
“I give my oath to serve and protect the city of Krass,”...Power flowed
“I give my oath to defend the citizens of Krass,”...into Gavin and Sadira
“I give my oath to obey the laws of the people,”...and through them
“I give my oath to act to prevent The Reckoning,”... gentle but irresistible
“I give my blood to seal this oath, freely in good faith,”...like the tide
“My oath is my honour, and my honour my life,”... scouring them
“I am Chosen, I serve,”... and binding them.
All compulsion faded from the pair, save the oath. Gavin blinked. The world around him seemed to sharpen, becoming more distinct. He sensed patterns more clearly than he ever had. He could feel the city like a living thing beneath his feet, knew its strengths and its festering sores. He could feel the people, their hopes and desires, their needs and their secret lusts. He could feel the Empire itself, all of the Domains and the tainted lands pushing back against them, and that vast panoramic sense nearly swallowed him until he pulled back. After an endless moment he realized he was standing slack jawed st
aring at the stone.
Sadira felt the weight of the weapon on her back and saw the world beyond the borders of the Domains.
“You may let go,” said the Oathkeeper. They did.
The blood was gone.
“You are now Chosen: go forth and serve!”
The citizens cheered, filling the grand square with riotous sounds. Sadira pulled herself against Gavin, drawing him into a kiss.
o-----
Gavin and Sadira spent some time in Emerald Cove, shirking their responsibilities and enjoying each other to the fullest. But after many sunny days and sultry nights, Gavin's gaze turned west, and Sadira could sense his thoughts drift to old wounds.
They travelled west, out onto the Dragon's Green. They carried no banner to proclaim them and took no escort to protect them, but all marked their passing. They were Chosen now, and power rippled in their wake.
The pair came at least to a place sharply etched in Gavin's mind. A humble stone shrine sat there, built around a massive war-maul and a set of armour. The shrine marked where they had stood after scattering the ashes of his friend and brother, Omodo. He felt a deep sense of melancholy, knowing that he would never hear that laugh again. And yet, he felt a quiet strength, knowing that he carried the memory of Omodo with him. People came and went as Gavin knelt at the shrine, Sadira at his side. They would later speak of the new Chosen's piety, showing reverence for the dead. As the sun began to set, they stood, Gavin drew Sadira close, watching a herd of wild cattle in the distance.
“Ravius told me they are going to build a school here,” said Gavin.
“What will they teach?” asked Sadira
“Apparently Omodo was secretly working on a book,” said Gavin. “They found his notes. I had no idea. Ravius said he thought it was a journal before he read it.”
Domains of the Chosen 02 Bloodlust: Will to Power Page 43