Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2)

by Brent Lee Markee

  “I believe that whoever is last to grant the boon will have the greatest influence over the boy, and though I do not compel my followers I do ask of them a great many things. For that reason I believe that it would be best if Ragnós does the final gift, for he asks the least of his followers.”

  “What kinds of things do you ask of them?” Analya instinctively reached out and grabbed Ragnós’s hand as an especially strong contraction hit.

  He smiled at her as she held his hand in what would be a painfully tight embrace to any other. “Fight for yourself, for others, just for the hell of it. I don’t really care why; just always fight to improve your lot and the lot of those around you. If someone gets a big head and thinks they know what is best for everyone when they clearly don’t, remove the problem.” He shrugged.

  “That doesn’t sound so much different than what most of the people in the Protectorate do,” Analya said, hope once again blossoming in her chest.

  “Right you are, and I love the fighting spirit this world possesses.”

  “Alright, we may all be thrice damned for this, but at least my son will have a fighting chance.”

  They all looked towards the door as Analya finished. Someone had tried to enter and found the door wouldn’t budge.

  “Analya!” Lagelion yelled. “The door is jammed. Are you okay in there?”

  “I’m fine, dear.” Analya replied as Cypheria placed her hands on her stomach. “If you give me a minute I’ll come see what’s blocking the door.”

  She gasped as the power began to flow through her once again, and she sent her consciousness to once again reassure her child that all was well.

  “No, don’t do that, I’ll just go around on the ledge and come in the window. Sit tight.”

  The second and third sins of my creation, Vitiosi Dei! The deep part of his mind said as the scene faded away.

  I don’t understand. The boy told the voice.

  These beings that are called gods created me in their avarice. I am a defense against their mechanizations. I was created from the memories stored within the blood so that I could protect him until he was able to protect himself.

  Are you saying I’m the champion of three of the gods?

  Gods? Release me from my bondage and we will show them the power of a god.

  What would you do if I were to take off the manacles?

  I would shape these creatures into my pets; they would become strong and be the first soldiers in our war against all those who have done us wrong.

  And how would that make you any different from the beings that created you?

  I didn’t ask to be created!

  So now you are going to force your will upon other sentient beings and shape them to how you think they should be? Not even bothering to ask them if they would like to change?

  Silence reigned in his mind, a quiet that seemed to go on forever, before an angry voice filled the void.

  You are nothing! A shell of what you should be, and even that was too weak to do what needed to be done. Champion of the gods, ha! You are not even the champion of your own mind.

  You may be right for now, but all things change. A collection of minds gathered their wills in order to force the creature back into his cell. The boy watched on in horror as he realized that they were slowly being pushed back.

  Fight, a voice rang out over the chaos, a voice that was now familiar to him because of what the creature in his mind had shown him. The voice of Ragnós was compelling him to fight back, telling him to break the bonds that held him back.

  He tried. He really did, but the thing held him in a vice grip that he didn’t know how to break out of.

  Yes… fight, another familiar voice rang out. The amusement in Ol’ Thom’s voice sent a chill down his spine.

  The two wills of the god-like beings forced him to dig deep and find the strength that he didn’t even know he had. He screamed inside his own mind as he put every ounce of strength he had remaining into breaking the grip of the creature within him. A moment before he was about to give up, his mind broke free from the chaos and he added his strength to that of the tribe, and little by little they forced the thing back into its cage deep in the recesses of his mind.

  He blinked as his eyes opened and the evening light glared brightly through the canopy above, blinding him momentarily. Pershanti sat a few feet away, his eyes closed in concentration. The boy took a deep breath and allowed himself to fall backwards, stretching out as he went.

  “No luck, huh?” Pershanti said, completely unaware of the intense battle that had occurred only a few feet away.

  “Not in breaking through the wall,” the boy said.

  We have learned much though, and a great victory has been had. It is worthy of celebration.

  Pershanti looked around as the voice intruded on his thoughts and raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ll tell you all about it over dinner,” the boy said. “I’m not sure even I understand everything that happened.”

  Chapter 20

  Gaining Strength

  Year: 3045 AGD

  Month: Midwinter

  Third Thirdday

  Death’s Edge Forest

  “Vitiosi Dei, you are sure that’s what that thing said?” Pershanti asked as he stared into the small bubbling spring outside of the Quaelyne Village.

  “As sure as I can be, I was kind of distracted by the whole seeing my parents, three gods, and finding out I’m some sort of champion for each of them. Do you know what it means?”

  “Yes. It is an extremely old tongue, but a well-documented one in the archives. A loose translation would be ‘Fault of the Gods,’ or a more literal translation would be ‘Gods making mistakes.’”

  “Yeah, well he’s not wrong there,” the boy said, unlimbering his legs from the position he had assumed many hours prior when they had started their meditation session for the day.

  “You are right. I have never heard of anything like this before. I’m going to need to research your condition in the archives.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I’m afraid so, my boy. There is a place I know where I might be able to find information about what we are dealing with. You are welcome to come with me, of course, but I think the Quaelyne can help you right now more than anyone else.”

  “I want to go with you, but I agree about the Quaelyne; I should stay with Troublefinder and his people. Where are you going?”

  “To a place of learning that has been around for as long as my people have been on this world.” Pershanti smiled. “Someday I would like for you to see it, but that is all I can tell you for now. Its existence is a strongly held secret, and I have already said more than they would like. Stay with Dauntless while I am gone; he has a soft spot for you, and seems to understand what you are dealing with more than anyone.”

  The weather had been getting steadily warmer over the last few Eightdays, and all evidence of the blizzard that had chased them into the forest had melted away several days before. Slowly but surely, the forest was beginning to hum with the activity of life as its denizens shook off their winter slumber. On their walk to the spring earlier that morning, he had even seen tiny green sprouts working their way through the loose layer of foliage that had not yet fully decomposed before winter took over.

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” the boy said, taking several deep breaths as he began to feel moisture gathering in his eyes. “You were my first real friend in this new life of mine. That means a lot. Whoever I become in the future, I’ll always remember that.”

  “Think nothing of it, lad. I was trapped because of my own curiosity, and the universe was kind enough to put us in the same place. I am honored to know you, and I am sure I will continue being so whenever you decide who you are.” Pershanti smiled as he stood sticking out a hand.

  Taking the Grenaldin’s hand, the boy rose to his feet and looked the strange squat scholar in the eye. Pershanti nodded, expressing more in that tiny gesture
than could be said with a thousand words. They turned to head back towards the village, each wrestling their own inner demons.

  Nameless! A quiet voice intruded upon his mind. Each of the Quaelyne had a different way of “speaking” when they sent their thoughts into his mind, and he had grown to know the voices of each member of the tribe. The voice that was breaking into his thoughts now was not any of them, but he had a feeling he knew who it was simply based on its youthful exuberance.

  “Troublefinder?” He said aloud, looking all around him for his furry companion.

  I did ... The thought cut out suddenly.

  Focus, Dauntless’s thoughts came; the boy realized that he was now being included into Troublefinder’s lesson. If you lose focus even a little, he will not hear your message.

  Can…you…hear…me?

  The boy almost laughed at how carefully Troublefinder had sent the message, and could imagine his small friend sitting in a glade somewhere with his eyes scrunched closed in concentration. He stood and made his way out of the burrow in search of his friend.

  “I can hear you,” he said to the air as he emerged into the evening air. Pershanti had left only a few hours ago, saying that he could get well out of the forest before nightfall if he left early. It had been hard to watch the Grenaldin go, but something told him he’d see the strange little man again. Relentless and another female took it upon themselves to see him safely out of the forest, so Dauntless seemed to have decided it was a good time for Troublefinder to receive more lessons.

  A sudden feeling of mirth passed through him that he knew more than likely was emanating from Troublefinder. He suddenly had the urge to hop around in a circle in joy, so when he heard a twig snap behind the large tree he decided to go that way. As he rounded the massive trunk, he found Dauntless sitting on his haunches staring down at a very animated ball of fluff. The large Quaelyne’s mouth was slightly open, giving the boy the impression that he was laughing, and maybe he was.

  “So I have to put up with you in my mind now too, huh?”

  Troublefinder stopped jumping around as he heard his friend’s voice. The small Quaelyne stood still, staring at the boy, his muzzle scrunched in concentration.

  Yes! So now I can help too if the angry one gets loose again!

  I think you may need quite a bit more practice before you want to try to tousle with that one. Dauntless said, his thoughts conveying the seriousness of the situation. What we did to help him was extremely dangerous. We could have all been consumed.

  He would never let that happen! Troublefinder said, plopping onto his backside, worn out by the little bit of communication he had accomplished.

  That was our thought as well, and the only reason your mother let us try. If it wasn’t for your friend’s resistance, we would not have won that battle.

  Dauntless’s thoughts brought home just how dangerous that hidden part of his mind was.

  “I’m…”

  The boy’s apology was cut short when Dauntless’s muzzle shot into the air taking several deep sniffs. Puffing up his body, Dauntless turned towards the south and let out several low chuffing sounds. Several moments later he deflated slightly, though he still seemed tense and ready for a fight. Out of the trees came a Quaelyne that was not a member of the village. They stared at each other through the clearing for several moments before the stranger turned and disappeared back into the line of trees.

  Well, that was unexpected, Dauntless said as he let out a long breath.

  “Who was that, and what did they want?”

  His name is not mine to share, but it seems we have been summoned to a gathering. Apparently there are more of your people than just you in the forest.

  “Why all the puffing up and posturing?”

  If I am found to be weak or caught unaware, I might lose my position as mate to the leader of the tribe. Dauntless let it be known how he felt about such a thing occurring.

  “Wait, you mean Relentless would just take someone else as a mate if you lost a fight?”

  Troublefinder looked back towards the trees where the other Quaelyne had disappeared, his eyes scrunched slightly as he concentrated.

  It would be her right, and if I am not the strongest male to give her pups I would not deserve the position.

  “Yeah, but you love each other don’t you?

  We have been lucky to find each other, Dauntless said, hedging around the idea. I like to think that if I lost it would make her sad for a time. He shook his head, turning to Troublefinder and giving him a soft swat with his large paw. Now is not the time for such thoughts, however. We must prepare the village for our absence and await your mother’s return.

  He and Troublefinder tagged along beside Dauntless as the Quaelyne went from burrow to burrow to communicate what had occurred to the members of his tribe. The boy was fairly certain that Dauntless could have talked to all of them without even leaving his own burrow, but the other Quaelyne seemed to appreciate and respect the personal interaction.

  They had only just returned home when Dauntless sensed Relentless’s approach to the village. He told the boys to go into the sleeping chamber and wait for them. It didn’t take long for them to grow bored, but luckily the adults didn’t keep them waiting long enough to get into trouble.

  Dauntless seems to think we should take you boys with us to the gathering. Relentless sent as she came into view.

  Troublefinder looked up at the boy, tongue lolling out of his mouth, which was wide open in a grin. Seeing his friend’s excitement, the boy couldn’t help but grin himself.

  It is going to be a learning trip though! Dauntless sent, trying to sound stern, but some of the joy he had at seeing the boys so excited leaked through.

  Somehow one stupid boy following me around has suddenly turned into three. Relentless sent without malice. Alright, let’s go. The nearest tribe is several days journey, and the gathering spot is several days beyond that.

  Third Fourthday

  City of Asylum

  Nim was tired. Tired of giving orders, tired of everyone looking at him like he knew what the hell he was doing, and most of all, tired of the limited information that had been slowly streaming in from outside the city. The High Lieutenant Commander had gone back to Safeharbor earlier in the month to oversee the operations throughout the Protectorate, and she had taken her husband with her. That meant that Nim was in charge of the one hundred thousand soldiers and craftsmen that were still in the city.

  As the weather improved, he had begun receiving reports of the refugees from Asylum slowly making their way back towards the city. He and the men and women under his command had done as much work on the city as they could at the height of winter. Hundreds of houses had been made livable again, but there were still many times that left to go.

  Ashur had been doing much of the leg work over the last few Eightdays, making his presence known to the men and inspecting the work that was being done without being obvious about it. Craftsman tended to work better when they felt they were respected enough to get the job done without too much oversight, but they also could get complacent and start cutting corners if given too much leeway.

  Zander and the Shapers under his command had been invaluable in the process of revitalizing the city. They were able to take piles of scorched or broken wood and glass and make usable pieces for the reconstruction. Of course, using highly trained Mages to shape boards and re-forge nails for a long period of time was not a good idea, so many of them were rotated out every Eightday. It was, however, valuable for the young Mages in training, and seeing their idols perform the same dull repetitive tasks as themselves made them work much harder.

  Dunnagan had left on the First Thirdday of the month in order to officially take charge of the Wardens. Of all the forces of the Protectorate, theirs had taken the biggest toll in the battle for Asylum. The old Dwarf had a lot of work ahead of him revitalizing his forces, but Nim knew there were few others who would be up to the task as much as his old friend.


  Cypherious and his monks were probably the most valuable of all the people in the city to Nim, however. Not only were the monks capable and skilled laborers, but they also made incredible scouts and messengers. If any of the older members of the Order had an issue with the young man taking charge, they kept it private. Nim had no doubt that word of the bravery and skill that the Order of the Griffon had displayed during and after the battle would spread to all corners of the Protectorate. He grinned as he thought about the droves of young waifs looking for glory heading into the mountains to find the fabled Order’s monastery.

  The logistics of it all were harrowing however. Making sure that all of these men and women were fed, clothed, and had the basic necessities, took an army of its own. His command staff was made up of nearly a hundred junior officers who felt the need to keep him informed of every little detail. It hadn’t taken Nim long to remember why he had retired in the first place. The amount of paperwork he went through on a daily basis when they were having trouble keeping fires lit throughout the city was laughable.

  Nim was going over the latest report from a Captain named Lecroise on the difficulties of waste management when he heard the soldiers guarding the door snap to attention. The alacrity with which they snapped to attention made it clear that whoever it was approaching was fairly important. He placed the odious document on top of the 'to read' pile on his desk and checked his uniform. After straightening one of his sleeves, he heard the guards say “Arch Magus” through the door before a short line of conversation ensued.

  A short knock and the face of Sergeant Tanner appeared in now open door. “Sir…”

  “Of course, please tell Arch Magus Windsbane to come in, Sergeant.”