Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2)

by India Drummond

  Dul Strom, a senator Graiphen had met but did not know well, cleared his throat. “Of course. Still, for the sake of the people, we must observe the ceremonies.”

  “You wasted no time,” Braetin said through Graiphen’s voice.

  Nassore’s gaze locked on Graiphen, and then he smiled. “Leave. At once.” He waved at the senators.

  “But your highness, we must—”

  With a flick of his wrist, Nassore cut him off. “I will be obeyed.” His voice was cruel and sharp.

  The Dul who had spoken put his hands to his neck as though he was choking. He coughed and croaked.

  “Take him away from here,” Graiphen said to the others. “Remove him or he will die.” He did not speak out of pity, for he had no particular affection for the man, but the sight of his suffering was beginning to excite the Spirit within Graiphen, and he did not wish to be sidetracked.

  When the senators had gone, Braetin’s presence infused every part of him. “You betrayed me,” Braetin said.

  Nassore’s lips curled into malicious grin. “I did as you would have done.”

  The Spirit thrashed within Graiphen’s body. “You speak falsely. I did not bring you into this realm to betray you.”

  Nassore sat, his eyes black with the presence of Pang. “No, you brought me here to save yourself. And I did save you.”

  The thorns in Graiphen’s joints throbbed with pain, which she fed on. The weaker he felt, the stronger she became. “We agreed to divide this world, but I know you have been working against me, and now you have claimed the Talmoran throne. Don’t think I will give up my nest easily.”

  Pang’s laugh sounded disjointed coming from Nassore’s mouth.

  Idly, and from a distance, Graiphen wondered how aware the prince was of what was happening to him. Had he ever had a chance? Graiphen doubted it. Yet the Spirits seemed to possess those who offered themselves. Was this a limitation of theirs, a strange courtesy, or was it simply easier to take the willing? He pondered that thought while the rage of his goddess coursed through him.

  “This world is big enough for the both of us to feed for a lifetime,” Nassore said.

  “You plot against me. I see it in this one’s mind.”

  “I protect my own interests,” Pang said. “As would anyone.”

  “You used my servant, tried to win his loyalty. I know what you offered him, that you forecasted my demise.”

  “I may have predicted it, Braetin, but that does not mean I wish for it. Do you think I don’t remember the terrible end of our last venture into this rich world? What we suffered? But now we are both working toward the same ends, to anchor ourselves here. As long as our children live, we cannot die. If only our brothers had known that secret, none of the tragedy that befell us all would have occurred. We could have dealt with Eurmus when it was still easily done. I have taken the throne so I can do what we couldn’t do before. Every child of Eurmus will die if I have to scour every nation to find them. Then we shall both have our revenge.”

  Braetin rested for a moment. Graiphen could feel her thoughts far away, and he gasped air in relief.

  Nassore tilted his head. “She has left you?” he asked Graiphen.

  “She is thinking.”

  Nassore’s brow furrowed. “Why? What has she…” His eyes flashed angrily. “Braetin, you have not bred with these creatures, have you? With his children?”

  Braetin did not respond.

  “If you mixed your essence with that of Eurmus’ spawn, then know that I will eliminate them too. His offspring must be eradicated. Only then can we destroy him.”

  Graiphen felt the slamming of Braetin’s energy back into his body. “You will not touch my children!”

  “And they worship you as the one who exacts revenge. They call you the Spirit whose realm is fear, nightmares, and betrayal. You are aptly called, then, for you have not only betrayed me but our entire race. It is you who have given the enemy a lifeline. Do you not understand what this means?”

  Graiphen cried out as the thorns began to burn with Braetin’s rage.

  Nassore stood, his expression flashing with fury. “Your children will die at my hands. Every one of them who bears even one drop of Eurmus’ blood.”

  The candles in the room flickered and the gauzy curtains whipped back as though a stiff breeze had snapped into the room. Braetin’s presence throbbed within Graiphen’s body, anchored at the thorn in his heart.

  Braetin raged. “I will see you die first, in pain and torment. First your vessel, then your son, then your true body residing on our world. You believe me to be weakened, but the truth is to the contrary. My children feed me even before they leave the womb, and I am stronger than I ever was.” In Graiphen’s mind echoed the command: Kill her.

  Moving without possibility of disobedience, Graiphen removed the knife from his robe, the same one he’d used to kill Seba, the one the guards had politely returned to him after he was freed from his prison cell.

  Nassore’s eyes widened in the moments before Graiphen reached him. “No,” he said, backing away. “We do not harm one another. We had a pact. This world is big enough for both of us. We have said that many times. You can make new children by the hundreds and thousands, ones without the taint of Darkness.”

  Graiphen did not stop, his movements directed by his goddess. He was bigger and stronger than Nassore. Even if he was older by decades, his strength was battle hardened and fueled by Braetin’s fury.

  With a scream, Nassore called for his guards.

  ∞

  Korbin smiled politely at the three senators when they came scurrying out of the Chamber of Days as he approached. Their irritated chatter came to an abrupt halt when they saw him, telling him the source of their annoyance must have been his father.

  After a couple of perfunctory nods, they continued down the corridor and out of Korbin’s sight. He’d heard one of them mutter that the way they had been treated was an outrage, an insult to the senate itself. They were gone before he could make out exactly what had happened, though.

  Presenting himself to the guards, he said, “I am Dul Korbin Ulbrich.”

  “Yes, Dul,” one of the guards said. “We know you, of course.”

  “My father requested that I attend his meeting with the new emperor.” He made a move toward the door, but the larger of the two men stepped in front of him with an outstretched palm to block his way.

  “I’m sorry, Dul. His highness said no one may enter.”

  Korbin muttered to himself. He knew it would be futile to insist. If Nassore had said no one, there would be no getting by. For a moment, he considered trying the garden entrance, but in the end, decided he would wait.

  Sudden, raised voices from within told him the confrontation was in full swing. The doors were heavy and the walls thick, so the exact words were difficult to make out, but the tone was unmistakable.

  Korbin stood a few steps away from the guards, debating with himself. He couldn’t storm past and he couldn’t accuse his father of plotting to murder Nassore, even though he felt pretty certain that’s what he had in mind.

  A roar came from behind the closed door and Graiphen screamed, “I will see you die first, in pain and torment.”

  The guards looked at one another as the shouting within continued.

  Korbin stepped forward. “You have to go in. Now.” He understood their hesitation; Nassore was volatile. If they’d seen even a glimmer of Pang’s presence, or Braetin’s, for that matter, they would not interfere unnecessarily.

  “But—” The guard’s words were cut off by Nassore’s cries for help.

  Hands on their swords, the two guards pushed open the door and rushed in. Korbin followed on their heels and edged to the side of the room unnoticed.

  Graiphen stood over Nassore, a knife flashing in his hand. Before the guards could stop him, he pulled it across the prince’s throat.

  In the instants that followed, the room filled with darkness, stopping the guards in t
heir track. The voice of Pang screamed, disembodied and thrashing.

  Korbin was buffeted against the wall and the guards were held at bay as a swirling shadow whipped around Graiphen’s body, his red robes snapping like sails in a sharp wind.

  A forlorn howling filled the room as the shadow churned through the air around Graiphen. When the darkness entered his body, he shouted, his head thrown back.

  The guards stood, frozen in terror as Graiphen’s face contorted.

  Korbin stepped forward. It was difficult to watch the torment as his father was possessed by two Spirits.

  Graiphen thrashed, the knife clanging to the ground. His throat opened in a strangled cry, his arms outstretched.

  “Father!” Korbin cried.

  Slowly turning, Graiphen faced his son. His eyes were full of horror, his features frozen into a pantomime of agony.

  “Get back!” Korbin shouted to the guards as he inched forward.

  White foam appeared at the edges of Graiphen’s mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head.

  Korbin rushed forward and grabbed him. He could feel the force of the two spirits within flailing in the human shell. He wrested Graiphen to the ground. “Father!” he cried. “What do I do?”

  The look Graiphen gave him said it all. There was no hope of redemption. This was the end. “If you want to kill a Spirit, all its children must die first,” he whispered. “Now do me one last kindness. Take the heart thorn first. Quickly.”

  After only a small moment of hesitation, Korbin reached into the red robes and found the thorn at Graiphen’s chest. With one firm movement, he pulled.

  Blood bubbled from the wound. Just before the light dimmed in his eyes, Graiphen smiled. He started to speak, but only a rasp of air came out.

  His father’s corpse jerked once, hard, and the black presence of Pang swept out again. It swirled around Korbin, causing him to drop the thorn. He felt the sickening weight of her essence pressing against him, then a hard slap of anger and frustration before the shadow popped out of existence as though it had never been.

  Korbin looked down at his father with sadness. The body now seemed but an empty husk.

  His thoughts flashed to his mother, and he wondered if she would like Graiphen more in the afterlife than she had in the realm of the living. Knowing her, she would welcome him with open arms.

  “What do we do?” came the voice of one of the guards from the doorway across the room. “I don’t know how to explain what happened here.”

  “My father killed Nassore,” Korbin said, his voice barely above a whisper. “They had a meeting and they argued.”

  “But the smoke. The voice of the goddesses,” the guard continued from behind Korbin.

  “We saw no smoke,” he said firmly. “My father believed Prince Nassore was responsible for the death of Emperor Jorek. In an unhinged state, he sought revenge.” Korbin hung his head.

  “And you tried to save the prince. You killed your own father to try to save him, but it was too late.” He nodded as the story took shape.

  Korbin closed his eyes. “Yes, it was too late.”

  Chapter 32

  The four conduits sat in a circle in the center of Octavia’s bedroom, and as they meditated together, she drank in the refreshing and solid strength of their presence. She felt acceptance and a kinship she hadn’t experienced since her sister-conduits and mentor had died in Vol the previous year.

  These three were not people she likely would have chosen to be friends with. Betram was pushy and condescending. Gysella seemed narrow-minded and sour. Something about Senne Treviia seemed closed, despite having the most agreeable disposition of the three.

  Still, within them, she felt something that called to her, something that felt like home. She might be a Talmoran citizen now, but her heart was Kilovian. She knew other Kilovians, back in Vol, and they didn’t impart the same sense of belonging in her. She wondered how much was the blood of Eurmus in them calling to the same in her.

  Perhaps this was why she’d found her trainee, Liara, to be so unsuitable, despite being willing and eager to learn. Maybe Liara didn’t possess the blood of Eurmus. Octavia closed her eyes, hopeful that Braetin also didn’t like the taste of Liara’s blood. Although it was abhorrent to her that any conduit should be forced to bear the children of Braetin, she couldn’t bear imagining the torment happening to one she felt personally responsible for, one who had trusted her.

  As these thoughts came to Octavia, she acknowledged them and let them float by, then returned to the cleansing ritual of the mind that the four engaged in together. Once they finished the process, she looked at the others one by one.

  She opened her mouth to ask what they should do next but was interrupted by a pounding at the door.

  “Octavia, let me in.” Korbin’s frantic voice came from the other side.

  She leapt to her feet and went to the door, heaving it open. “What’s wrong?” she asked, but the pale cast of his skin spoke volumes. “What’s happened?”

  He fell into her arms and wept on her shoulder. “He’s dead. My father.”

  The other conduits stood, and one of them closed the door behind Korbin as Octavia held him. Finally, she led him to the couch. “You must tell me everything. Was it Pang?”

  “No,” he said, his eyes dark and hollow. “It was me. I killed him.” His shoulders shook as he cried silently.

  Betram waited a moment before speaking. “I understand this is terrible, but we must know what happened.”

  Although the story was at first confusing and disjointed, eventually with some probing questions, Korbin managed to get it out.

  Treviia touched his sleeve. “You did the right thing, what he needed and wanted you to do.”

  Octavia felt a mix of emotions. On one hand, Pang was gone, sent back to the realm she came from, and for that, Octavia was grateful. With the threats the Spirit of Light had made to Braetin, Octavia hoped the shadow goddess wouldn’t feel motivated to bring Pang back. Otherwise, Graiphen’s sacrifice would mean nothing.

  “Tell me again what your father said at the end,” Betram said.

  Korbin wiped his eyes and spoke with a hoarse voice, as though repeating the story again was even more painful than the first time. “‘If you want to kill a Spirit, all its children must die first.”

  Treviia’s small eyes lit up as though an idea had occurred to her. “Where is the book?” she asked, glancing around the room. “Child of Darkness.”

  Octavia retrieved the book from the small table near the door and handed it to the other conduit.

  Treviia flipped through the pages. “I skimmed through most of it, although I confess I didn’t read closely. But I recall a passage…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes scanned page after page.

  While they waited, Octavia held Korbin’s hand and squeezed it. His heartbreak was almost palpable, and she understood. He and his father had left so much unfinished. She knew that despite his anger, Korbin had hoped to reconcile, only to have that hope dashed time and time again.

  “Here!” Treviia said, excitement in her eyes. “And the eight imprisoned Darkness, knowing they could not end him as long as his children lived. They gnashed their teeth in frustration, for from behind the veil, those children were out of reach.”

  Octavia sat with her grim thoughts.

  Betram interrupted. “You know we have to do it. Even with Pang gone and even if you find a way to send Braetin back to her own realm, none of it will mean anything unless we kill them all. They must be stopped from ever returning. Otherwise, what will stop their priests or even Zain himself from summoning the Spirits over again? If we do not put a final end to those creatures, they will continue to return to this world to feed on us.”

  Gysella pinched her narrow face in disgust. “Are we now assassins?”

  Octavia breathed in. Hadn’t she said much the same thing before? But she couldn’t hide from what she must do. “If we do not, Pang will return. To assume that Zain will not know
how to summon her back is foolish. In fact, he may be doing so already.”

  “I thought Trinity said only one portal could exist,” Korbin said.

  “Maybe, but I would not like to assume there is no way. And Zain is not without power or resources. His mother isn’t dead, only temporarily evicted. He will do everything he can to seek revenge and restore her to power.”

  “I don’t like the idea of killing.” Treviia blinked slowly, then closed her eyes again. “But we must do what we must.”

  “He won’t be far,” Betram said. “His mother would have wanted him close.”

  “Without a trace of his blood, we cannot seek him,” Gysella said.

  Octavia steeled herself with determination. “Then we make him seek us.”

  “How do we do that?” Betram eyed her.

  “When I was in the temple of Braetin and wanted to speak to the goddess, she responded immediately to an offering of pain. These creatures are powerful and clever, yes, but they are also like wild animals, unable to resist certain lures. It could be Zain will respond to enticement. Although he is part human, he is barely removed from his mother’s influence and more like her than his human parents. He has no sense of restraint.”

  Treviia’s wide face paled. “Pain? What kind of offering are you suggesting?”

  Octavia shook her head. “Not pain. That was Braetin’s weakness. No, Pang feeds on pleasure, or more the rapture.”

  Betram narrowed his eyes. “Yes. They feed on human emotions.”

  “Yes, and those willingly given seem to feed them best. There is power in the offering.”

  “But what do we do once we attract him here?” Gysella asked.

  “We bind him,” Betram said. “We take some of his blood and bind his powers with it.”

  Treviia’s voice shook when she asked, “Do we even really know what his powers are?”

  “Some,” Octavia said. “I have felt his influence. It’s like he can control the blood of others without even needing to draw it. He changes people’s thoughts. He made a puppet of Nassore even before Pang possessed the prince. Her entering the boy’s body was merely to give her absolute control.”