Spirits of Light and Shadow (The Gods of Talmor)

by India Drummond

  “We’ll see what tomorrow brings,” Korbin said, standing as well. “Thank you for arranging all this. You’ve been a good friend.”

  “Stay safe.” And with a final word of farewell, Eliam left.

  After a moment, Octavia stepped out of the bedroom. She was dressed not as a Kilovian conduit or a Talmoran servant, but as a merchant-class woman of Vol. Her dark eyes and high cheekbones gave away her heritage, but none would question her. She looked stunning. Korbin was at a loss for words.

  As though both pleased with and annoyed by his reaction, she flushed. “I heard his offer to you,” she said.

  “I won’t leave you alone. It’s our fault you’re in trouble, that your sister conduits are in danger and some of your countrymen have been arrested.”

  She sat in the chair Eliam had abandoned, moving with surprising grace and ease in the Talmoran costume. With her proud bearing, she seemed underdressed, as though she were a noblewoman masquerading as someone of mere middle class, not a fugitive disguised as a merchant’s wife or daughter.

  When she didn’t answer, he said, “I’m sorry we have to stay here. You’d talked about going to see the other conduits. If you want to leave, I understand.”

  “Soon, but not yet.” With a low voice, she added, “I won’t abandon you either, Korbin Ulbrich. One of my people attacked your family. I will find out who and make this right.”

  “How are you going to discover this? Have you recovered from last night?”

  She flushed as though using her blood to protect him had been shameful and something she didn’t want to be reminded of. “Almost,” she said, lightly touching her sleeve where she’d cut her arm.

  He wondered if her magic offered her any help with pain and healing. He hoped so. “Do you think he’ll attack again?”

  “Most certainly. And I intend to be ready. I will protect you as best I can.”

  He thought of the bizarre spectacle of her covering him with her own blood. It had been a strangely intimate moment. “Is there any way I can help?”

  “No. I need to buy a few things, but I should go alone. Your face is perhaps too easily recognized. You’ve been taking too many chances of late.”

  He wanted to argue, but there was little he could do but agree. “Do you need money?”

  “No, but thank you. I couldn’t take another declani from your family. I have more than enough from what you already paid me.”

  He wasn’t certain why she seemed to feel ashamed. She’d earned every coin when she broke the curse on Graiphen, an act which cost her freedom.

  “Very well,” he said. “If you think of some way I can help, let me know.”

  “Don’t worry. Your part is not yet finished. But for today, I intend to weave a web of protection to help when you face your father tomorrow.”

  Face him. Korbin nodded, taking in her odd choice of words, wondering if she knew something he didn’t.

  Chapter 13

  During the day they’d spent hiding in the brothel, Korbin and Octavia talked, took meals together, and rested. She spoke about herself and her beliefs, making some effort to educate him about the nature of the One. The more she revealed, the more mysterious she and her practices seemed. Every sentence out of her mouth made him want to ask deeper questions.

  A few times, she’d flinched without explanation, and he’d worried they were about to be attacked again. When he asked what was wrong, she simply shook her head.

  She’d gone out in the early evening after making him promise not to leave. When he tried to discourage her from going, she gave him a level look that made him regret giving voice to his protective instinct. She didn’t seem to think twice about being seen coming and going from such an establishment, even at an hour when customers might arrive. He wasn’t sure if it was her nature or simply confidence that no one would recognize or question her in her current disguise.

  After an hour of her absence, Korbin began to worry, but he did as promised and stayed put. He paced, barely paying any mind to the meal brought in the meantime. Telling himself he was being ridiculous, he tried to avoid the scenarios playing in his mind. What would he do if she was caught and arrested? Without much hesitation, he acknowledged he’d have to turn himself in and speak up for her. He couldn’t let her be accused of something he knew she hadn’t done.

  He only hoped Eliam would do the same. It occurred to Korbin that perhaps this was why Eliam was helping them. He didn’t want to deal with a situation where he’d have to testify on behalf of someone for whom he’d issued an arrest warrant.

  When she did finally return, she walked in and met his eyes, a look of relief on her face. Had she expected him to leave despite his promise not to, or was this about something worse? As was her way, she refused his gesture of help with the heavy bag she was carrying, instead taking it into the bed chamber, closing the door behind her.

  He stared at the door for a moment, then shrugged. She was independent and clearly had her own way of dealing with their worries. While he waited, he uncovered the dinner and poured two glasses of wine.

  When she hadn’t emerged for some time, he decided to eat. The food was already cold, but for all he knew, Octavia didn’t plan to come out at all. As much as he liked her, he didn’t pretend to understand her.

  He was halfway through dinner when she opened the bedchamber door. She’d removed the Talmoran dress and was once again wearing her Kilovian attire. He couldn’t quite reconcile how different she looked, even more so now that her hair was loose and disheveled, some sticking in a sheen of sweat on her face. She appeared pale, but not as much as she had been at Eliam’s. Korbin knew at once she’d been practicing magic.

  He stood, not sure what to say, and waited for her to speak.

  “Hold out your hands,” she said, her eyes focused and serious.

  He did as commanded, and she reached over and pushed up one of his sleeves. Taking a bit of dark twine from a pouch, she wrapped it around his wrist three times, then tied it off before repeating the same on his other wrist. The twine felt damp in places, and he realized his wrists were smeared with what looked like blood. Once again, she’d given her life essence to protect him.

  One last piece went around his neck like a choker. “Try not to let it get wet or expose it to air. I have a scarf you can use to cover it tomorrow.”

  He searched for words to thank her, but felt none of the ones that came to mind would suffice. Instead he nodded, unable to speak because of the lump of emotion in his throat. They didn’t say much more to each other that night. Octavia looked tired, and Korbin settled into a pensive mood.

  The next day, he arrived at Centennial Square about half an hour before midday, surprised at the large crowd. Octavia’s dark wool scarf covered the lower part of his face. She insisted she would only stay away from the square if he swore to be more careful than he had been.

  He worked his way through the crush of people, keeping his eyes down but trying to observe and listen. The place was abuzz with word of more Kilovians’ arrests.

  He heard his father’s name mentioned more than once from those he would not expect to be interested in politics. It was as though the emperor himself was due to arrive, and Korbin found the heady sense of anticipation almost disturbing.

  Settling into position on the steps of a moneylender’s office facing the square, he stood on a raised platform. A wide column hid him from view. He was surrounded by people and felt certain he didn’t stand out too much. Due to a bitter wind, many were just as covered as he. Those who weren’t looked miserably cold.

  From his vantage point, Korbin could see much of the square. He was surprised to notice that not only was Eliam present, but also most of the Council of Eight. In fact, as he continued to scan that section of the crowd, he realized all of them were there, except, of course, his father.

  As time passed, the streets grew more and more congested until people were pressed in so tightly that leaving would have proven difficult. Onlookers, from hi
gh-born to merchant citizens to servants and the poor, struggled to find a place. Beyond the square, many more hundreds of people filled side streets.

  Trepidation tightened in Korbin’s stomach. What did his father have planned?

  He didn’t have long to chew on the question before a rumbling passed through the crowd. Craning his neck to see around a ridiculously ornate hat worn by a woman beside him, Korbin caught sight of a line of red. Despite the crush of people, the crowd miraculously parted before a solemn row of crimson-robed priests.

  As one person after another realized what was happening, a reverent hush fell over the square. After eight priests came a robed figure Korbin knew at once to be his father, despite the covered face. He recognized the bearing and the broad shoulders. Behind him walked eight acolytes, and behind them, the crowd melded together like a wound closing itself.

  The strange procession approached the stand at the center of Centennial Square. The priests arranged themselves on the platform, two at a corner, with Graiphen in the middle. The acolytes copied the priests’ positions, but they stood on the ground by the crowd, looking outward. Those citizens nearest to them kept a respectful distance, despite the pressing number of people.

  Graiphen waited a moment before throwing back the hood of his robe, revealing his face to the public. The crowd responded with an appreciable gasp.

  “You knew me as Dul Graiphen Ulbrich.” There was a metallic quality to his tone, something unpleasant that demanded attention. “I am now Ultim Qardone Graiphen.”

  A wave of shock went through the crowd, and Korbin felt the pulse of it wash over him. The title literally meant High Brother in the old tongue. Somehow, Graiphen had become the head of the temple of Braetin. Korbin’s mind reeled.

  “I survived a cowardly attack, orchestrated by a petty rival seeking glory for himself.” Graiphen shook his head. “You have heard of the foul deeds done to me by a Kilovian witch, practicing a vile and foreign art.”

  The crowd was enraptured as he revealed what he’d been through, from his incapacity to how he fled to Braetin’s temple. He described how he acted on faith as imparted to him by Her priests, who visited him many times during his illness. They brought him to an understanding of the power and protection the Spirit offered.

  As Graiphen spoke, Korbin turned his eyes to the remaining seven Vollian senators. They glanced at one another, some whispering furiously. Clearly they hadn’t expected this admission of weakness. None looked any guiltier or less surprised than the others; even Eliam appeared not to have known what was coming.

  “I didn’t expect this position. I only went to Braetin to beg her mercy, for shelter from the nightmares which plagued me. The Spirit gave me more than I would have dared ask. One does not associate hope with our mistress’ name. And yet through pain and sacrifice, hope has emerged.

  “For too long, the Spirits have found us wanting. We have turned away from faith and instead have come to worship power, politics, and money.” He spat the last words with disdain.

  “We invited foreigners into our cities, the very same immigrants who brought the false god they call the One.” He laughed with a mocking tone, and several in the crowd picked up the uncomfortable tittering.

  “But,” Graiphen said, his tone silencing the crowd once more. “The faith of a few has protected us from the wrath of the Spirits. Once again, our mistress’ eyes are turned to this realm. Some,” he said, glancing toward the senators, “have grown corrupt.” With a light shrug he added, “Others have remained faithful.

  “I used to concern myself with small things, with money and political power. But through adversity, I have learned of something far greater. I will guide you as we turn this city from a heathen den of carelessness and vice and return it to the glory of the days when all eight Spirits walked among us.”

  The crowd was enthralled, excited, and agitated. Korbin glanced around, wondering if there was any way to slip out. He found none.

  “I give you this one warning, people of Vol. Turn from your selfishness. Return to the worship of your fathers. Our lady Braetin walks this realm once more. She has awakened, and before her time amongst us is at an end, men shall weep.”

  Graiphen lifted his arms to the sky, and the eight acolytes stepped toward the crowd. “Come Mistress!” Graiphen cried. Flames erupted in his hands, and a line of white fire extended to the eight acolytes, who burst into flames.

  Screams of terrified onlookers filled the square as people shoved and climbed over one another to get away. The sense of anticipation exploded into panic. Korbin clung to the pillar next to him as those around him tried to scramble to safety.

  Unable to move, Korbin watched the eight acolytes screaming and writhing in pain. What he’d at first assumed to be some kind of trick turned into an unmistakable and sickening display of death.

  Those on the outskirts of the square escaped first, but not before some near the center had been caught by the acolytes’ fire. The smell of burning flesh and smoke filled the air.

  Looking back to where his father had stood, Korbin found the platform empty and Graiphen gone. When had he vanished? Had he been injured by the fire? How could he have escaped? In the frenzied crush of the crowd, it was impossible to tell.

  Within moments, the square emptied except for the burning corpses of the acolytes, whom no one dared touch, and the bodies of the unfortunate, burned or crushed as people fought to flee.

  Korbin passed a few stunned stragglers. He felt numb with shock, but his feet carried him onward, away from the square and toward the temple complex in the heart of the city.

  He’d been promised a conversation with Graiphen, and he would have one, but he realized now it would unlikely be the conversation he had expected or even hoped for.

  Chapter 14

  Sickening dread filled his stomach, but Korbin pressed on, forgetting the danger to himself or worry that he might be discovered. No one looked his way. Screams and shouts had filled the streets of Vol only a few minutes before. Now the square stood eerily silent as though the city held its breath, the quiet occasionally punctuated by a distant wail.

  When Korbin approached the temple complex, he wondered if Eliam had escaped the chaos. Then his mind quickly turned to Octavia. He hoped she would be safe at the Twining Rose. After today, Kilovians would be in danger of much more than discrimination or harassment. And conduits? All would be in jeopardy, but none as much as Octavia herself.

  With that thought, Korbin rushed into the temple, accosting the first acolyte he ran across. “Where is my father? Where is Dul Graiphen?”

  The acolyte tilted his head slowly, as though nothing of import had happened that day. With his haughty glare, he silently chastised Korbin for his abrupt and disrespectful behavior.

  Korbin didn’t care. “Where is he?” he repeated.

  A peevish look passed over the young man’s face. “Ultim Qardone Graiphen arrived only moments ago. I expect he is in solitary meditation after today’s exertions.”

  After today’s murders, Korbin thought, barely able to keep himself from voicing the condemnation. “He will see me.” Korbin‘s tone of command was one only those born to the higher classes used easily.

  The young acolyte was not swayed. He opened his mouth, clearly prepared to argue, but was interrupted by a distant voice.

  “Ah, Dul Korbin. The Ultim Qardone is expecting you. This way.”

  Korbin didn’t recognize the female priest who spoke. She looked like every other, and he couldn’t recall if he’d seen her at the square. Her pale hazel eyes were alight with an excited glow that told Korbin she had been. The memory repulsed him, more so as he realized everyone at the temple must have been reveling in a spectacle they deemed a victory.

  She gestured toward a side corridor and beckoned him to follow, then turned to retreat into the temple’s halls. Korbin followed, wondering exactly what the priests had planned. Today’s display was a demonstration of power, and he didn’t know how the trick had be
en pulled off.

  But today’s events had only been partly a trick. Eight acolytes had lost their lives, and a few onlookers had been killed, either burned or trampled. That much was painfully real.

  Korbin doubted Graiphen would face charges, even though he murdered those people as surely as if he’d drawn a sword across their throats. Would the Council of Eight dare make a move against the temple? The answer depended, he supposed, on the reaction of the public. He could only imagine the frantic meeting that must be taking place in the senate that very moment, assuming they had escaped the square.

  Korbin had been so lost in his speculation he nearly collided with his guide when they stopped. Fortunately, she stepped aside in time.

  “You’re deep in your thoughts, Dul Korbin,” she said. “I hope you include our mistress’ greatness in your meditations.”

  Staring at her for a moment, he was at a loss for how to reply. Finally, he said, “Those acolytes who died in the square. Did they know what was coming? That today would be their last?”

  She smiled, her eyes bright. “Of course.” Her tone was wistful. “Only the most faithful were selected by our Lady.”

  Korbin tried to hide his disgust. “I would think she would have wanted the most faithful to live, to help spread the word. How can the dead serve her?”

  The priest appeared puzzled at his lack of understanding. “Don’t you see? Their deaths will usher in a new era of devotion, a return to the old ways. Our people will again serve the Spirits as we were intended to. They will walk amongst us again, blessing the faithful with power and glory. Who would not wish for such a meaningful end to life in this realm?”

  Korbin gave the only response he could think of: a respectful bow.

  She appeared pleased that she’d been able to enlighten him. With a graceful motion toward the door, she opened it, then stepped back. “Ultim Qardone Graiphen awaits within,” she whispered.

  When Korbin entered, he found his father, still dressed in the red robes he had worn in the square. He sat on an ornate wooden chair in the center of the room looking for all the world like he fancied himself the emperor. His eyes glowed golden, an eerie reflection of the fire in the hearth.