Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2)

by India Drummond

  She read the conflict passing over his features in a flash before he was able to school his expression. “You can always trust me, Octavia. I swear to that. I would never betray you.”

  Releasing his sleeve, she nodded and they began to walk again. “I was hoping to find someplace that sells herbs,” she said. “So far, none of the shops here seem to be what I want. I suppose I’ll have to ask Sen Betram where to look. The conduits in the city will know.” The reminder of the unsent letter twisted her stomach. She inwardly scolded herself for not finishing what should have been a simple task.

  “We’ll need to go down to the other districts for that, I think,” Korbin said. “These shops cater to the very wealthy, and none of them prepare tonics and potions.”

  By the time they reached the bottom of the hill, it was past midday and she wished she’d asked for a carriage. The road had turned out to be much longer than she’d originally thought. She had no problem walking, but she realized she hadn’t told anyone where she was going, and what if the emperor wanted to speak with her? Although she relished her time away, she didn’t want to anger or offend her host, not when he was making an effort to help her people. She hoped there would be more ways she could use this time to their benefit.

  Down the road, the spires of Durjin’s temple district reached toward the sky. Korbin’s gaze followed hers. “It’s strange,” he said, “that we came to this city because of a person we’d tried to avoid in Vol.”

  Octavia felt for him. She might have had her nightmares about Graiphen, but Korbin had to live with being his son. “No doubt I found it easier to avoid him than you did,” she said, but that was a lie. He invaded her dreams nearly every night: him, Seba, and Braetin, not to mention Trinity.

  Her sister’s image had become twisted in Octavia’s nightmares. Trinity wanted something, something Octavia didn’t want to give. Upon waking, her protestations in the dreams always seemed ridiculous. Of course Octavia would give her sister anything, and she wanted to fall back asleep so she could tell her sister so. But then, dreams often didn’t make sense.

  “Do you want to turn back?” he asked.

  “We’ve come this far. We may as well look for the shops I came for. I need a few personal things, as well. I had thought to see if there was a Kilovian seamstress in the area.” She also wanted to get in touch with the community leaders here, after having decided that a formal letter would seem peculiar and far too Talmoran. She realized she didn’t even know which quarter of the city Kilovians lived in. It would be the poorer areas. Of that she could be certain. But high in the palace atop the city, she was not likely close to any immigrant quarter.

  “If you’re going to be at court, you might consider a Talmoran style of dress.” When he caught her glance, he added, “There’s nothing wrong with what you normally wear, but you’re not here as a healer or to serve the community, but as an advisor to the emperor. People will expect you to look the part.”

  “I’ve been a conduit since I was thirteen years old. People will expect me to look that part.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you think the emperor will care how I dress?”

  “No,” Korbin said with a smile. “His biggest concern seems to be that you feel comfortable in your surroundings. Would you care if he did?”

  “No, not really.” But in truth, she did find herself wanting to fit in. The palace was such a strange environment, and she was already tiring of the constant stares. She was used to standing out; every Kilovian in the empire had to be. But these stares were laced with jealousy and contempt. Besides, the need to fit in was one worth resisting. Her smile faded as she considered that perhaps the trauma of the previous winter was making her forget who she really was.

  Suddenly she wanted to go back to the palace, to immediately send a message to Betram as she’d originally planned, to reply to the emperor and find out how long he expected her to stay.

  If she was already finding herself changing after one day, what would it be like if she remained for a month? Perhaps she had made a mistake after all. She’d agreed to stay, so she had to fulfill her part of the bargain, but revealing her purpose was the least the emperor owed her.

  She glanced at Korbin, planning to ask if they could begin the long ascent up to the palace, and she saw him staring toward the temple complex. His blue eyes were clouded with concern.

  “What is it?” She followed his line of sight.

  “There’s a crowd forming,” he said.

  Sure enough, dozens of people were pouring into the square, and the queue seemed to keep coming.

  “Is today a holy day? Some kind of festival?”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t like it. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but with my father nearby…”

  “I agree.”

  He led her toward the crowd, and as they approached, a few stepped aside for Korbin. One of the privileges of dressing and walking like a Dul, she supposed.

  Once inside the square, her eyes were immediately drawn to the center. A young man sat on a bench, and many people knelt around him, reaching out to touch his feet or the hem of his robe. He looked so much like Korbin that it startled her, except his hair was longer and his eyes a more brilliant shade.

  “Holy eight,” Korbin muttered.

  Octavia stared. The man wore the loose robes of a Pangian priest. His skin shone, almost as though lit from within, and she felt the uncomfortable sensation of power emanating from him. “Do you know who that is?” she asked quietly.

  Korbin shook his head, but another bystander turned and answered, her voice quavering with excitement. “He is called Zain. He is the son of Pang!” The woman’s eyes gleamed with adoration. “He healed two brothers this morning who had terrible scars from being burned, and a woman yesterday said he touched her and told her that her barren womb would now conceive.”

  Octavia watched as Zain reached out to the people around him. She felt his power moving in the direction of his focus. Her gut twisted, and she glanced at Korbin. “We need to get away from here.”

  Korbin nodded. They had to shove against the tide to leave the temple square, and as they moved through the crowd, the murmurs of the people became a chant. “Zain. Zain. Zain.”

  “Who is that?” Korbin asked, then added, “I mean, who is he really?”

  Octavia glanced back. “I’m afraid he may be exactly who they say he is. I sensed his power, and it is not of the One.” A bystander jostled her as he passed, trying to crowd toward the temple.

  “His power is like Braetin’s?” He kept his voice low, but still a few heads whipped around when he said it. He took Octavia by the arm and gently led her further away from the crowd.

  “Yes, and no.”

  “You think Pang has returned and is possessing him?”

  “Possibly.”

  “My father would know,” Korbin said.

  She didn’t want to say what her worst fear was. The young man looked like Korbin. Too much so. “Possibly,” she repeated. “They adore him. Zain, I mean.”

  Korbin looked distant, as though turning over troubling thoughts. “We should return to the palace. I wonder if the emperor knows about this.”

  “I hope we’re wrong.” She knew in her heart that she wasn’t, though. The discordant chant continued, growing louder and louder. Having confronted Braetin before, she had to acknowledge the Talmoran gods were real. This Zain could be the son of the Talmoran goddess, as the stranger had claimed. But could he also be Korbin’s brother? She couldn’t shake the startling resemblance.

  Suddenly Trinity’s image and voice echoed through her mind. Her sister appeared. Soft, gentle, but serious.

  “The realm of men is in danger from the one you know as Braetin and the others of her kind.”

  “The eight Spirits of Light and Shadow?”

  “Yes. They do not belong. They were driven back before, but at great cost. The temple of Braetin has been lured into recalling their goddess, and in doing so, have i
nvited terrible things into the realm, things that will, in the end, cost all of humankind. They may be the destruction of the One.”

  Her nightmares. The voices that haunted her. How could she have forgotten? Octavia felt as though a million shards were coming together to form a whole picture. Trinity. Octavia had seen her when she herself died. I died and was sent back. Her skin went cold.

  “Octavia?” Korbin caught her as she collapsed.

  The sky above was clear and blue and voices buzzed, but Octavia couldn’t make out what they said as her view began to darken. Her last thought before losing consciousness was not only were the Spirits of Light and Shadow going to retake this world, but the people of Talmor would invite them to. The people would lay the road that would lead to their own destruction.

  Chapter 12

  “I’m sorry, Senne, but you can’t go in.” The man sitting at the desk looked scandalized that Octavia would ask to see the emperor without an invitation.

  “It’s urgent.” She still felt a touch lightheaded after collapsing. Because Korbin didn’t know the city well, it had taken him a little while to find a carriage to return to the palace. The afternoon had worn on, and although she’d recovered from the shock, she felt surprisingly unsteady.

  “Octavia,” Korbin said. “We should leave a message and come back when the emperor has time for us.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “The emperor brought me here because he wanted my advice. My advice is that he see me now.” She crossed her arms and gave the man a level stare.

  “I’m sorry, Senne,” he repeated. “In time, you will learn how things work. One does not insist on seeing the emperor on a whim.”

  “A whim?” She stepped back. “A whim? If it was Dul Facime or Dula Merria making the request, saying it was urgent, would you accuse them of being whimsical?”

  “Forgive me, Senne.” The man looked anything but repentant. “I understand your frustration. Still, I have to obey the commands given me.”

  A growl of frustration filled her throat. “Fine.” She turned to leave.

  “There is one thing, Senne,” he said. “I’ve been asked to send you a message.”

  She looked back and saw the man proffering an envelope.

  “Your arrival saves me from having to send a steward.”

  She accepted the envelope and opened it on her way out. As she and Korbin made their way down the broad stair at the center of the palace, she read the script. “I’ve been assigned a researcher. I’d nearly forgotten.” She explained to Korbin about wanting to know the origin of the phrase Child of Eurmus and the emperor’s offer of help.

  “We’ve never really talked about some of the things that happened at the temple, what exactly Braetin said to you.”

  They arrived at a landing where the stair split into two. Below was a grand entry. They stopped and Octavia looked at all the paintings on the walls. Their eyes seemed to follow her. “I know I’ve been distant since I woke after...”

  “It’s all right, Octavia. I know how much you’ve been through.”

  She turned to him and studied his face. He was handsome, and his eyes crinkled with the concern etched on his brow. “I died that day. In the temple.” She felt the weight of the painted stares and took a moment to breathe. She’d never told anyone what happened. “I saw Trinity, spoke with her.”

  Korbin’s face didn’t reveal whether he believed her or not. He just listened, waiting for her to go on. Reaching out, he briefly touched her sleeve.

  The sound of footfalls hushed her as a steward passed them on the stair. He rushed by, and his hurry drew Octavia’s attention. He moved as though frightened, and Octavia realized she rarely saw servants use this staircase.

  “Something’s wrong,” Korbin said, echoing her thoughts.

  “What do you think it is? Your father? This man Zain?”

  Korbin shrugged, but the look of concern didn’t leave. “Impossible to say. It could be anything.”

  Another steward followed a few moments later. Although he didn’t run as obviously as the first, he looked focused.

  “We’ll just have to wait to see. What else does your letter say about your scribe? Where can you meet him?”

  She looked at the paper again, but her thoughts were elsewhere. “It says I can summon him through the library curator when I’m ready to begin work.” The emperor had done as he said he would, but she still had not contacted the Sennestelle. The task weighed on her already heavy thoughts.

  “Is there any way I can help?”

  Just as she opened her mouth to answer, a commotion came from up the sweeping stair. The first messenger came rushing back down. Instead of moving on, however, he stopped at the landing and bowed. “Senne Octavia, his imperial highness wishes you to meet him in the Chamber of Days immediately.”

  “Of course.” She felt a swelling of triumph. She would have her answers. “Show us the way.”

  The steward hesitated. “Only you, Senne. The emperor did not ask to speak with Dul Korbin.”

  She crossed her arms. “I am the emperor’s advisor and Dul Korbin is mine. He’s coming with us.”

  Unlike the man upstairs, this steward seemed cowed by her oft-practiced look of command. “Yes, Senne.” He gestured down the stair on the left. “This way.”

  He led them toward the room where she’d first met the emperor upon their arrival, but instead of going in, they passed it and went just beyond. The second room was no less opulently furnished, but instead of a line of chairs facing outward, this room contained a square of comfortable seating. One chair was clearly more ornate than the others.

  “The emperor will be attending presently,” the steward said before bowing and leaving.

  When he had gone, Octavia murmured, “I’ve been a guest in many houses in my time as a conduit, but this is by far the strangest.”

  Korbin breathed a small laugh. “I can imagine.”

  Within a few minute, the door swung open. Emperor Jorek strode in, followed by his son Nassore. He gestured at the chairs. “Sit.” He glanced at Korbin, seeming to note his presence.

  The emperor took the largest chair and his son the one beside him. Octavia and Korbin sat across from the pair. “I’ve been informed that…” He paused as though searching for words. “Someone identifying himself as a demi-god is coming here. The temple of Pang endorses his claim. He demands to see me. Demands. What do you know of this?”

  No one made demands of the emperor. She wondered what had happened that made him snap into action so quickly.

  Octavia looked at Korbin, then back to the emperor. “His name is Zain. We saw him for the first time today at the square, not two hours ago. The people there seemed to believe him to be the son of Pang. They claim he has performed miracles. The entire city was abuzz by the time we were able to get a carriage to return here.”

  “What were you doing at the temple?” the emperor demanded.

  Octavia raised an eyebrow. “Is that really what you want to ask me?”

  For a moment, both the emperor and his son looked affronted, but then Jorek breathed deeply. “No, you’re right. The messages I received today were, I admit, shocking.”

  “I understand.” Octavia tried not to think about her own reaction to realizing the truth: passing out in a public square. “I can tell you everything I know of the Spirits of Light and Shadow, but you might not believe me. All I can offer is the truth. What you do with it is up to you.”

  The emperor inhaled deeply and then sat back, seeming to have recovered from his earlier surprise. “That’s all I expect of any advisor: the truth as you know it to be.”

  Octavia nodded. “The Spirits of Light and Shadow are entities of another realm. I do not know how they came to be in this realm in the first place, but I do know that centuries ago, followers of the One, those Braetin called Children of Eurmus, drove the Spirits away and either closed off whatever means they had of returning or weakened them so much that they dared not return, at least
not immediately.

  “Although the worship of the Spirits continued, their influence has waned substantially. Within the last year, although I can’t be certain of the timing, priests of Braetin were able to call her forth again. I assume Pang soon followed. I have no personal knowledge of this. However, given what we saw today, it seems likely.”

  Nassore looked to his father. “This is sacrilege,” he whispered fiercely.

  The emperor held up a hand but spoke gently. “That does not stop it from being true.” He turned back to Octavia. “Why were the Spirits driven away? Was it some effort to weaken Talmor?”

  “I do not believe so, your highness. I believe these Spirits to be interlopers. Parasites that exchange the adoration of the people, which they feed upon, for power, which they bestow on the most devout of their followers.”

  A chill filled the room as silence descended. The emperor looked to his son. “I want you and Dul Korbin to wait for me in the audience room.”

  “Father—”

  Jorek cut Nassore off with a look. “Go. I need you to greet our guests on my behalf to give me a moment to speak with Octavia. Offer no reason for the temple or this Zain person to take offense. I will be attending shortly.”

  The prince stood and bowed to his father. “As you command.” He strode to a side door and exited.

  Korbin likewise stood and bowed before casting Octavia a look that conveyed both worry and reassurance simultaneously.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said softly.

  The emperor gestured toward the door Nassore had taken. “If you please, Dul Korbin.”

  “Of course.” He bowed again and followed after Nassore, leaving Octavia and the emperor alone.

  When they had gone, the emperor visibly relaxed. He smiled at Octavia. “You are a remarkable woman.”

  “Your highness?” That was not what she’d expected him to say.

  “I share your concern about this man Zain. Do you think he is what Graiphen claims?”

  Graiphen. So it was he who sent the demand to the emperor? That explained why the claim was being taken seriously. “I’m afraid he may be, yes. I detected Zain’s power myself. He is not one to be underestimated.” After a moment of hesitation, she said. “There is one thing you should be prepared for. Zain looks… very like Korbin.”