ha and Beta what had that disrespectful old bastard been trying to tell me?
He actually made me wonder if maybe we had it all wrong, if maybe it was the Alphas, the Ka’Amok, who should succorund us. Of course, I didn’t dwell on it long, what a totally ridiculous idea that we of the pantheons are actually the inferior race…
—From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’
Chapter Seventy
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Interlude.
Journal Entry 40: Spring, 1102 New Ivaneth Calendar.
If I thought I’d survive, I wouldn’t waste the moments taken to record this entry. We’ve confronted Hecate and failed to do more than annoy her. We’d be dead if her lust for the Garmtur hadn’t overridden her hatred of us.
I feared we’d lose Bannor if Hecate captured Sarai. I was right. Even Mother couldn’t stop Bannor. Not even avatars have bested Euriel like that. If Hecate gets control of Bannor, who knows what will happen. She, like all of the gods, has forgotten what her relationship is to savants. If by some strange twist she does manage to merge their Alpha and Beta aspects, she will become like Gaea’s initial progeny—a first-one. Even other gods will become her prey.
We hope to save Bannor and Sarai, but we’re prepared to kill him in order to prevent Hecate from getting the Garmtur. Otherwise, she may destroy everything.
Should this log reach you, Azir, be well my brother, Mother and I send our love.
—Wren
End of Interlude
Bannor leaned into the biting cold wind as gusts buffeted him and his flying mount. Tears ran down his cheeks seeming to turn to ice on his skin. Bomarc’s powerful wings thrummed steadily, driving them toward the black rift created by Hecate. Somewhere near the leagues-high spire, he would find Sarai. Iron gray clouds boiled around the blackness, spikes of lightning flicking between the thunderheads. Hecate had brought Hades with her when she came to Titaan. Scoured by storm winds and gouged by flooding, the landscape looked decimated. No living thing moved below.
He glanced over his shoulder. Two white dots glinted in the night. It must be Laramis and Irodee. Burdened by the paladin’s heavy armor, and the Myrmigyne’s huge size, their mounts could not catch up. He didn’t want them to. No true friend would even suggest he sacrifice Sarai’s life for some ‘greater good’.
It was not an option.
He would deal with Hecate in his own way. Kalindinai’s magic circle had brought the Garmtur alive in him, letting him see into himself. He learned that savants were avatars of the Motherforce. Instead of being hands and eyes of gods, they were living expressions of the laws that governed the cosmos. The Garmtur embodied nature’s tendency toward change. His Nola caused the changes he desired by rearranging the rules.
When he wished Sarai to have the strength to fight Rankorhaaz, he hadn’t changed Sarai. He altered the rules governing her existence. He now knew the most minute applications of the Garmtur affected the entire cosmos. Every thread in the pattern was intertwined. His power let him dance across that spider’s web, terminating filaments, altering their relationships and creating new ones. Other savants represented the laws of cosmos. He was the keystone. The book where the laws were manifest.
That’s why Hecate wanted him. He’d felt her need. His power could unbind the rules of her very creation, and make her able to meld with an alpha aspect she wasn’t meant to be a part of. The longevity of immortality and its static nature had made her desperate to become something greater than she was.
The sons and daughters of the First ones, these beta aspects did not change—indeed they were not meant to. If what he had seen in that brief moment of clarity was true, they were never meant to be at all. They were a transition creature, a phase between states, much the way a cocoon was between fuzz-muncher and a flutter-bug. Somewhere in time, the savants and the gods were split out of the first-ones. The gods were ageless and continued unchanged. The savants though, changed and evolved, somehow dying and being reborn in subsequent generations. How the Alpha blood had entered his family he could only guess. He only knew now that he was cursed with that legacy, and Hecate wanted it with all her immortal lust.
What happened if Hecate, a being of already incredible power, somehow gained the nearly limitless potential of the Garmtur? She had already been corrupted by having the power of pantheon lord. Attaining the status of something greater than an immortal certainly wouldn’t make her any more sane or benevolent. Bannor, I can see myself. He thought of Wren’s words as she lost her grip on the Garmtur. How close had she come to destroying everything in existence? Wren, who loved life, who did care whether people lived or died, had almost done that. What would this insane goddess do?
He couldn’t waste time contemplating it now. He must save Sarai. He would deal with the consequences.
As would Hecate.
He glanced back again. There were six dots now, no doubt the Queen, Euriel, Wren and Janai had joined the pursuit—for all the good it would do them. Shouldn’t there be seven? Where had Wren’s Father gone before the fight? It didn’t matter. He hoped to have ended this conflict by the time anyone else reached the spire.
As he and Bomarc drew closer to the rift, he made out what looked like motes spiraling around the blackness. As the distance lessened, he recognized them as hundreds of demons circling around the giant opening. Where the blackness touched the ground, a great rip appeared in the land. Two ridges spread out from the edges of the chasm stretching for almost a league. Figures milled like insects in the valley, like hive bugs at the mouth of their sand hillock.
Bomarc whinnied, sounding angry and agitated. No doubt he smelled demons. Bannor didn’t blame him for hating the creatures; he himself hated them and their mistress.
East of the trench, a bright light flashed, like something glinting off metal. After the flashes came twice more, he assumed they indicated where he should land.
His heart beat faster, and his insides churned. He must get Sarai away from Hecate. He nudged Bomarc toward the flashes and the great winged steed complied.
The storm turbulence abruptly ended as they cut across the plain toward the signal. The icy air warmed, and the odor of sulfur became strong.
His mind flashed through what he must do. He had no clear plan save to bargain for Sarai’s release. He knew Hecate’s treacherous nature; he would need to find a way to bind her with the Garmtur’s power. How that might be accomplished remained hazy, but as long as he could change the rules, there would be a way.
The area where the flashes originated appeared open. Vegetation looked sparse, a few bushes and some sapling-sized trees. He circled the area, seeing nothing suspicious. Strange that he’d come this far without being challenged. Hecate might have been certain he’d come, but could she be sure how he’d arrive?
They landed on higher ground where even the limited plant life lay a stone’s throw away. Bomarc snorted and tossed his head, powerful wings flicking nervously.
Bannor dismounted and patted the powerful animal’s shoulder. “Thank you. I don’t know how I will repay you, but I will.”
Bomarc’s head dipped, and he nudged Bannor with his nose. Intelligent gold eyes blinked at him.
He rubbed Bomarc’s muzzle and scratched behind his ears.
A familiar voice spoke behind him. “My One, you came.”
Sarai! Bannor’s heart jumped. He whirled to face her. His chest tightened as he took in the familiar violet eyes and silvery hair. Her pale cheeks were flushed, the glow of her eyes faint. Otherwise she seemed uninjured. Not even her clothing looked mussed.
“Sarai!” He rushed forward a few steps and stopped. Why was she alone? If she’d engineered an escape, she wouldn’t be in the open.
She frowned. “What’s the matter, my One?”
“How—?” his voice caught. Relief and concern washed through him like storm waves. Could this be a trick? “How did you get away?”
Sarai stepped toward him. “It’s simple, my One. She let me g
o.” She seemed so calm. How could that be? She’d been Hecate’s captive.
A chill shot down his spine. “Why?” He glanced around, his already-pounding heart doing a double beat against his ribs. Winged figures darted through the darkness at the edges of where he could see. None came closer, remaining a good distance off. He viewed her with his Nola sight. Everything about his mate looked right. It felt wrong.
“Does it matter? I’m here!” She took hold of his arm before he could flinch. Her hands felt warm and dry. His flesh prickled beneath her touch. He smelled the tangy fragrance of her. Everything was right—it must be Sarai.
Bomarc nickered. Hooves scraped the parched ground. Bannor glanced back at the winged horse. The animal’s gold eyes gleamed. It tossed its mane and snorted. “I’ve got to get you away from here.”
He pulled Sarai after him toward Bomarc, but she resisted. “I can’t leave yet.” Her tone made the hair on his neck stiffen.
The icy feeling came back, only stronger now. More demons fluttered in and out of visibility. “What’s wrong?”
The lines of her angular face tightened and her body stiffened. She spoke in a flat tone. “We have to resolve matters of the Garmtur.”
Bomarc made more noises. Growing more agitated.
Bannor felt as if he couldn’t get air anymore. He choked. “The Garmtur? Forget that. Let’s go!” He pulled on her arm again, but Sarai stayed planted as though she’d taken root. “What’s wrong with you!?”
The scowl on Sarai’s face faded. Her features softened. She swept a few strands of hair from his face. “Nothing is wrong.” She gave him a radiant smile, and then pulled him down so her lips touched his. She stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, her warm breath moist on his cheek. “I made a bargain so we can be together forever, my One.”
Her words made realization shoot through him like lightning. He shoved her back. “You’re not Sarai!”
The accusation barely fazed her. “Of course I’m Sarai.”
Bannor’s hands clenched and unclenched. What could he do? Every sense said she had to be Sarai. Instinct told him otherwise. Even his Nola showed nothing unusual. That made it worse.
“Bannor, I can prove it.”
His stomach twisted. “She’s done something to you. Odin.”
“We can be free. We’ll never be threatened again.” She reached out to him, but he backed away.
Sarai frowned. Shadows danced at the edges of the bright aura he usually saw around her in his Nola sight. “My One, don’t you trust me?”
Her heard the disappointment in her tone. Much as he wanted to believe, this wasn’t Sarai. Then, the answer came to him, and a vise closed around his chest. “You’re Hecate.”
Her glowing eyes narrowed. Her voice took on a sharp edge. “What are you saying?”
Bomarc’s wings whooshed behind Bannor. His nickering turned angry. The way the great winged horse was acting, and her indirection made his convictions stronger. “You are Hecate.”
She sighed and folded her arms. The violet light of her eyes flickered out, and they turned black. Her silvery hair shimmered to become the milky white. Everything else about Sarai remained unchanged. The smile she gave him belonged to another—Hecate. It felt as if he’d been wrapped in sheets of ice.
Her words made it worse. “You’re half right, my One.”
A lump hardened in his throat. “Half?”
“I found I couldn’t usurp what Sarai already possessed. She owned your love. The rules of binding prevented me from wresting you from her. Your essence had to be given or shared willingly. She’d do neither. So, my dear sweet One, I did the only thing I could do—I became Sarai.”
The ice in his bones turned to fire. Was there nothing this creature would not do to get her way? Needles of pain pricked his temples. His voice came out cold and hard. “Get out of her body.”
Sarai/Hecate gave him an ingratiating smile, the forced expression someone used when tolerating a petulant child. A sulfurous wind whipped around them, and fat drops of rain spattered on the ground. She looked up, letting droplets run down her face, obviously enjoying the sensation. Her gaze returned to him, black eyes locking with his. “No.”
The frustration burned like acid in his throat. Hecate knew he wouldn’t kill Sarai to get at her. She had plotted this from the beginning. The goddess had her shield. She meant to use it. “Damn you! She didn’t hurt you. You want what I have—deal with me!”
She twirled a length of silvery hair around her finger. Her motions looked languid and relaxed as if she possessed all the time in the universe. The rain continued, but it no longer touched her. She seemed to consider her words carefully. She stared up at him through her long eyelashes, a peculiar smile twisting her lips. “I am dealing with you. Stop blathering, and you might hear what I have to say.”
He spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ll listen when she’s free of you.”
She ran a shaky hand through her silvery hair. He saw the tension in her jaw. Mortals did not speak so to gods. No doubt Hecate had never heard a rebellious word in her millenniums long life. “Listen to this, Garmtur.” Her voice, Sarai’s, sounded forced, held just above a growl. “You tire of running. I tire of waiting. You want freedom. I want—Tan’Acho, the ascension, to step beyond the bindings of pantheons to become as a first-one. We can both have what we want.”
He wiped at the rain dripping down his face, feeling the cold moisture soak through his tunic to his skin. “Can we?” He rasped. If she hadn’t been wearing Sarai’s face, he would have slapped her. “Look at this!” He gestured to the rift stretching into the sky above them and to the decimated landscape. “This is not what I want!”
She looked around. Her brow furrowed, as if she’d noticed it all for the first time. “So—I’ll fix it.”
He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Maybe the gods could go insane. “Just like that.”
Her gaze never wavered. “Just like that.”
“What about the people who’ve died? The innocents?”
A perplexed expression came over her face. “What of them?”
“They’re dead! You killed them!”
“They were lucky. At least they stayed dead. Dying isn’t so bad, it’s the waking up afterward…” Her voice trailed off. The pained look on her face, Sarai’s face, made him want to hold her. Then he remembered what had taken over the body of his love. She did not deserve pity.
His mind flashed on the tone she had used. Lucky. As though she admired a mortal’s ability to die. She certainly appeared to enjoy spreading death. Did she really think she was doing the world a favor by killing everything?
He must think. He couldn’t attack her while she possessed Sarai’s body. His heart beat faster. He must get this insane thing out of her. He felt a twinge. Wren and the others were close. His bond to other savants had grown more sensitive with his awareness of the Motherforce. Things would come apart soon: the rift, the world, the Garmtur.
Damp strands of hair ran in his face. He shook his head, blinking away the rivulets. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the dark maw of the rift. The sight made his keyed up body tense. So little time. What if some part of this static being meant by its creators to go unchanged was altered? Birth and death. What had she said? Dying isn’t so bad, it’s the waking up afterward…
“All right,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”
She pushed a hand through her pale hair. She smiled. The look on her face was serenity itself. How could something so evil be so inviting. “Nothing hard, Bannor, my One. All you must do is love me.”
* * *
Insanity. Who is really qualified to judge what is sane—or for that matter moral? Order must be maintained in order to ensure productivity. Chaos must exist so that order can be imposed on it.
Some of us must lose our sanity in order to find that shining clarity of thought and purpose that makes us the geniuses that history hails so brightly…
—From the De
driad, ‘musings of an immortal’
Chapter Seventy-One
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Bannor stared into the ebony eyes looking from Sarai’s face. Flashes of lightning made shadows dance across her skin. Clouds rushed across the sky their edges fraying as they passed across the periphery of the league-high pillar of darkness that was the opening into Hades. Spatters of rain made his skin prickle. The wind blew Sarai’s hair, making the strands whip and dance. Talons seemed to close around his heart.
He had come here at Hecate’s call, hoping to resolve their conflict. A solution seemed further away than ever. His mate and Hecate were now bound into one form. The person he loved most and the one he despised above all had become the same person. If he destroyed the goddess, Sarai died with her.
What did Hecate say she wanted? Did he hear right?
“What?” he choked.
Hecate/Sarai’s smile never wavered. “Love me.”
Love. Men and women spent a lifetime understanding that word. Could she have picked two words with more nuances? She couldn’t know what she asked. Lifting a mountain would be easier than loving the moon goddess. She had hurt Sarai, killed his friends and pursued him all across Ivaneth. Hate her, yes, but love..?
He studied Sarai’s—Hecate’s—expectant face. Her body trembled. Could she be that naïve? “Love you?!” Bannor let out. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”
She moved to him, arms circling his waist and pulling him close. “Let us become reacquainted. Bannor, I can make all your fantasies true.” Her breath smelled sweet. The rain no longer touched him now that she stood close. She felt warm and pliant as she kissed his neck. A rush of energy quickened his pulse. Waves of heat washed through him. Now, he sensed the immense potential of the immortal hiding in that slender form. It might be Sarai’s body, but the creature in control was not his mate.
Bannor realized that Bomarc had suddenly gone silent. He glanced to where he last saw the great horse. A greenish glow was fading; in the faint light he saw the equine shape coalescing into a humanoid silhouette.
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