by Devon Vesper
Once he broke through Kaphir’s defenses, which were sorely lacking for someone as old and powerful as the Sovereign Priest in front of him, Valis started discreetly probing.
Images flooded Valis’s mind. They flew past his consciousness so fast Valis could barely keep up. All the while, Valis stared into Kaphir’s eyes, watching the confusion cross his beautiful face.
Then something caught Valis’s attention. He saw a hand press against a magic door. Valis forced that image to come and play out. He watched as Kaphir opened what looked like the vault in Avristin, and as he entered, Valis’s stomach roiled. All ten god jars were in their place on the shelves of Avristin’s reliquary vault, all with identical patina that said they were all the original god jars. The shelves they resided on were set into a wooden frame in the shape of a man, the shelves segmenting the silhouette from where the ten gods were created—Phaerith at the head, Qos as the neck, Karei and Vorik the left and right shoulders, Sotec and Xysoz the left and right arms, Asenth the chest, Delys the abdomen, and Dapen and Racal the left and right legs.
All ten god jars were brighter than Valis remembered them from his limited time in their presence. In his time, the glaze had yellowed with age. These were bright white, as if they were all new, or at least, newer than what Valis had seen with his own eyes.
Kaphir closed a door behind him and walked silently to the jars. His fingers skated over each jar before he plucked Qos’s from the frame and carefully set it inside a satchel he had stuffed full of soft clothes. He covered the jar, making sure nothing was visible, and adjusted the strap that ran from his left shoulder to the satchel hanging at his right hip.
Getting out of the reliquary vault and into the reliquary was easy. No alarm had sounded, no one questioned his presence, the guards knowing him intimately due to his former relationship with Thyran.
Valis tried to hide his reactions. Everything played out from Valis’s first vision when he had just entered the monastery. Thyran had shown him the jars. Valis touched the neck jar—Qos’s jar—and fell into a short vision. It was then that he learned that the jar he had touched was a placeholder so that none would question the real jar’s absence.
Tossing that memory aside, Valis tried to find any vulnerability in Kaphir’s defenses.
That was when Valis heard Thyran’s voice.
Valis stopped the rush of memories and honed in on his mentor’s voice. Thyran looked exactly the same as he had when Valis had last seen him before leaving Cadoras to rescue his adopted father.
A scene that surprised Valis made him fight off a fierce blush. Thyran and Kaphir moved as one, their arms and legs entangled as they made love. Sweat glistened on their toned bodies, turned gold by the low light of the oil lamps. Those lamps cast shadows over their bodies that flickered, giving them an ethereal appearance as Thyran grasped both of their erections and pumped his hand with purpose.
“Come for me,” Thyran whispered, his voice husky with need. “Look at me. I am all you see.”
“Forever,” Kaphir moaned. Then he shattered, spurts of cum striping his abdomen and chest.
The scene shifted to an argument between them. Thyran’s piercing blue eyes held an anger that Valis had never thought Thyran capable of. They were flinty, stone-hard, and made Valis inwardly recoil.
“For the last time,” Thyran ground out, “I said no. You are not qualified to be the Sovereign Priest. Please stop asking.”
Valis could feel Kaphir’s hurt like it was his own. “Do you love me at all, Thy? I have never seen you so cross.”
“Oh, please excuse me for being angry at you chasing off those who rightfully should have the title you covet.”
“If you loved me at all—”
Thyran turned, but not before Kaphir had seen Thyran’s face morph into a mask of utter disgust. “I cannot love a man who desires and chases after only power. The fact that you have been hounding me for this position for years is just one of the factors that makes you unqualified for such a position.”
He turned back around, his eyes cold as the northern glaciers. “Grow up, Kaph. You have my answer. I won’t be changing it.”
Kaphir’s sharp inhale sounded suspiciously wet. It made Thyran’s eyes soften just a touch. “You never did love me, did you?” he asked, his voice shaking with the intense emotions that tore at his heart. “Never… All these years…”
“I did once,” Thyran admitted. “But that was before you became a power-hungry priest with an entitled attitude. I can’t abide that. It isn’t fair to either of us.”
Valis felt a yank, and when he focused on Kaphir—the present Kaphir who stood before him, staring down at him with a wicked sneer—Valis had to fight not to shrink away.
“You clever little bastard,” Kaphir said. Blood suffused his face in his growing rage. “How dare you?”
His shout had every person in the room stilling. The hands that held Valis down in his kneeling position shook with palpable fear. Valis stared defiantly into Kaphir’s eyes, and just as he was about to say something snide, Kaphir backhanded him hard enough that he dislodged the priests’ grips on his shoulders and arms. Another blow, and Valis felt the magic behind it. It sent him sprawling over to where trembling priests held a broken Tavros bound in those terrible, painful mitts.
Without thinking, Valis got to his feet and absorbed the mitts that kept Tavros’s magic at bay. He stood with his back to Tavros, shielding him with his body. With a bare bit of will, he threw a double shield over himself and Tavros, making sure both shields remained invisible. The outer shield was made from his holy gold magic and the inner shield from the black. It would have to do. He had to keep the priests at bay until Tavros had a better handle on his pain.
He spared a thought to break into Aryn’s mind. Can you cast an illusion of me just outside my shield?
Aryn only took a moment, but instead of replying, Valis saw his and Tavros’s illusion doubles. The moment it appeared, Valis added parameters to both shields, turning Tavros and Valis invisible.
Valis turned around and cast a spell to take away his husband’s pain. Then, with a quick jerk, set Tavros’s arm and started healing the break.
“What are your plans?” Tavros asked.
“Making it up as we go,” Valis admitted. “My only concrete plan is to survive this shit and go home with the last god jar and as many of our men and women as we can keep alive.”
“You think we’ll lose many…”
“I think we must be ready for anything. Now, are you ready?”
“I am.” Valis helped him off the floor, then hurriedly helped Tavros into his armor.
“This is it,” Valis said. He watched as the Sovereign Priest of Qos seethed. For the moment, he was too furious, too emotional to do anything other than stare at Valis’s illusion with such hate that Valis could almost feel it seeping into his skin down to his soul. “Tavros… this is it. We either leave here with the god jar and our survivors, or we die right here.”
“By your side, love,” Tavros promised. “Always.”
Valis turned his attention back to Kaphir just as the Sovereign Priest of Qos took control of himself again.
“Oh, child… I shall greatly enjoy breaking you.”
“Good luck with that,” Valis said as he reinforced his shields. Aryn’s illusions winked out, and with a breath, Valis molded his shields to his and Tavros’s bodies. Then he spared a thought to double-shield his and his husband’s minds. The moment he was done, the doors to the false hall of communion slammed open, and Valis saw a flash of silver armor.
“Valis!” Cassavin cried, her voice shrill with worry. “I can’t see them!”
“They’re alive,” Shyvus cried. “All in!”
Valis drew on his magic and threw the first bolt, right at Kaphir’s forehead.
It was time.
Chapter Twenty
“Get down!” Valis called over the din of battle. The soundproofed shields made it so only Valis’s army could hear.
He could almost feel everyone obey him. The moment they ducked, Valis sent out a series of concussive blasts in every direction at once. Only a few black-robed priests had fallen. The rest remained standing, including Kaphir. The Sovereign Priest of Qos flared a black shield up, snapping it into place with a roar of pure rage. His emerald green eyes lost the veneer of kindness and showed his true nature. He may have been a good man once, but now, Valis could see just how Qos’s taint had transformed him into a monster wearing human skin.
Valis’s stomach pitted. Not nearly enough had gone down with his concussive blasts, and that was one of his more powerful spells.
“What’s your plan?” Tavros asked. They both sent mage bolts flying across the replica hall of communion. The darkness that prevailed muted the golden flares of magic.
“I don’t have one,” Valis said through gritted teeth. “My only plan right now is to stay alive and kill these bastards.”
“How’s your magic?”
Valis shook his head. “It’s there and flowing, but I can’t do the rapid phasing.”
“Fuck.” Tavros groaned. “We could have used that right now.”
“Yeah.” Valis felt the air change. He grabbed Tavros and dove to the side as the Sovereign Priest of Qos sent a fucking fireball at their heads. They hit the floor just in time for it to explode on the wall behind them.
“A fireball? Really?” Valis squeaked. “Really?” He’d seen lightning, but never fireballs. What the fuck was this? Was this a variation of the pyre spell? How…? He couldn’t think of that. Not here. Not now. Not until this shit was done.
Valis shot to his feet, again grabbing Tavros and bodily dragging him away just as another fireball exploded and blackened the floor, setting the blood-red carpet on fire.
He glanced up and locked eyes with Kaphir. The man had a manic smile on his face. His eyes lit up with a terrifying glee that made Valis want to find somewhere safe to hide.
The only thing with that, though, was if he didn’t get Qos’s god jar purified and returned to the other nine, Sovras would become a terror. Then there would be nowhere in the world where they would be safe. The seed of evil or the seed of love, none would withstand Sovras’s wrath.
One of the robed priests let out a demented howl that sent shivers up Valis’s spine. He’d never heard anything like it. He turned toward the origin of that voice just to have a ball of light burst against his shield.
The shield, molded to their bodies, did nothing against heat or cold.
Valis screamed as another exploded against his cheek, scalding it with heat that could rival Korvan, their master armorsmith’s forge. The light from it blinded him. Another flare of heat forced Valis to stumble back. Tavros shouted as they both went down with a clang of armor and pained grunts.
“Get up,” Valis growled. He hauled Tavros up with him by the armpits of his breastplate and shoved him out of the way. Another fireball came. It missed Tavros. Valis went down with a scream of pain. It felt like his skin had melted off, sticking thickly to his armor padding. He couldn’t bear to touch his face, afraid of feeling muscle and bone instead of his normally smooth skin.
Valis felt someone jerk him to the side, and he went down with a crash that was muted by the thick carpet. When he recognized Tavros’s scent and presence, Valis hurriedly poured his magic into his body, healing the burns as fast as he could.
The moment Valis’s eyes cleared, he shot to his feet and lifted his right hand. Pushing all his power into it, he unleashed it as golden streaks of lightning. They flashed and arced, going from one black shield to the next.
In the next breath, Valis thrust his left hand up, and black streaks arced overhead, following the paths of the shield breakers.
He knew he succeeded in killing a good number of priests before he even saw what happened because Kaphir screamed, “You caustic little bastard child!”
In any other situation, Valis would have laughed at that. Now, though, he sent out his pyre spell with the parameters to only hit those with black magic. Only a few went up in flames like enormous candles. It wasn’t enough. There were still too many. They swarmed like flies on a bloated carcass.
His army held their own. They kept most of the masses of Qos priests occupied. With them doing their job in keeping the priests busy now that they were more frantic than focused, Valis narrowed his attention down to only Kaphir.
“You won’t escape me,” Kaphir said. His normally smooth, soothing voice that sounded like it would be beautiful lifted in song, came out a low, gravelly growl.
“Don’t plan to,” Valis said as he sent a series of mage bolts. They hit Kaphir’s shield and dissipated. It looked almost exactly how Valis’s shield absorbed magic into his own magic pool. “Escaping isn’t the plan. Killing you and your followers, however…”
The fact that Kaphir siphoned Valis’s attacks straight into his magic pool just like Valis often did meant Valis was only fueling him. Tavros sent a spike of gold, and Valis watched with a sinking heart as it, too, absorbed into Kaphir’s shield.
“Stop,” Valis said, making sure their shields were soundproofed. “He’s absorbing our magic. We need another plan of attack.”
“What do you think?”
Valis snatched Tavros to the side just as another fireball sailed past, singeing Valis’s skin. Valis briefly wondered why his hair hadn’t caught fire yet. Then he shoved Tavros out of the way again before his lover recovered from the last jolt off his feet.
“Keep moving,” Valis said. “We can’t fight him standing still.”
Valis dragged Tavros behind him like a flag. As they ran, he ducked another fireball and let his black magic spread out like a carpet, invisible to anyone but him. He slipped it under everyone’s feet, wrapped it around their enemies’ ankles in a loose hold.
“You have a plan,” Tavros accused. “I can almost see it.”
Valis dragged him along. Just as he changed trajectory, he sent out a series of six concussive blasts, blowing the reliquary doors off their hinges, sending them flying into the room, bouncing off tables and bookshelves before skidding across the floor and coming to rest at the back near the vault.
Kaphir let out a chilling shriek. Apparently, he’d liked those doors. Valis couldn’t care. He dragged his husband toward the reliquary and slammed into the wall as a concussive blast knocked both him and Tavros off their feet. Valis grunted as his head hit the far wall. His vision blurred. Tavros called his name, but he sounded too far away.
“Fuck!” Tavros called Valis’s name, but he sounded farther away than he was just a second ago. How much time had passed? What happened?
Valis sent gold magic into his head. He healed the concussion as best he could while his stomach roiled with nausea from the precognitive pitting that slammed into him at the same time. He swallowed down the bile that kept gushing up his throat.
“Valis!”
Light exploded, blinding Valis the moment his vision cleared. He covered his eyes, but not before he saw a slender man in Avristin’s uniform. The slip of a boy had glossy black hair that floated around him. When he looked up again, among the spots that lingered, he saw Aryn lying on the floor, his chest heaving. He coughed, blood spattering over the pristine white of his tunic. Some dribbled down his face from the corner of his mouth.
He glanced over at Valis before his face went slack, and his eyes stared into nothingness.
Valis roared in agony. But just as he lurched to his knees to get to the boy, Aenali appeared next to Aryn’s head. “He’s not dead. Keep fighting. I’ve got him.”
And for as young as she was, Valis didn’t doubt her. He nodded, and in the next breath, she straddled Aryn’s chest, and the two of them disappeared just before another fireball crashed into where they used to be. Valis had to believe her that Aryn wasn’t dead. If anyone could bring him back…
Tavros hit the floor next to him, skidding until he hit the wall Valis had just smacked his head on. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Valis said. “I’m mostly healed.”
“Fuck, you scared me.” Tavros checked where Valis’s skin had split when he’d cracked his skull against the stone wall. All that was left was drying blood matting his hair. “Aryn took the hit meant for you.” Tavros glanced over with tears in his eyes.
Valis shoved himself to his feet and helped Tavros up. “Aenali said he’s going to be fine. Trust in her.”
Tavros stumbled to his feet and nodded. “Always.”
Their moment of peace shattered as a fireball burst against Tavros’s shield, followed by a series of six concussive blasts that kept Valis and Tavros pinned against the wall. Valis held back his scream of pain. Tavros couldn’t. Valis was terrified to look, but when he turned his head, Tavros was flushed from the heat. Sweat beaded over his brow. Blisters burst and wept clear fluid down his face, mingling with the sweat to run rivulets down into his neck guard and dripping off his chin onto his breastplate. Valis could only imagine how he looked. He couldn’t focus on that now. He jerked Tavros with him while he shoved gold magic into healing them both. He turned sharply, putting the wall between them and everyone else, even if for only a moment.
“Get them!” someone cried. “They’re in the reliquary!”
“Good luck with that,” Valis murmured under his breath. He clenched his left fist and jerked it up. He peered around the wall to watch as the invisible tendrils of his black magic mist solidified around the ankles of every black magic user in the replica hall of communion. Another jerk of his hand, and they all shouted as Valis jerked them off their feet. He lifted them to the domed ceiling and dropped them. He heard the crack of bone as necks snapped and skulls caved in. The cries of agony of the living rent the air with misery.
But when Valis looked again, there seemed to still be too many.