“Greetings, Valdrey. I am surprised that you are still on speaking term with this one.” The love goddess pointed to Syann. “I have heard tell that she craves mortals now, especially those with elven blood.”
The Lord of Victory said nothing, though it was clear he didn’t care for the remark.
“I warn you now, I am in no mood for you today, Valintina.” Syann did her best to keep her tone even, though she wanted to slap Valentina’s conceited face.
Valdrey pursed his lips and took a step back, glancing at Airius in hopes he would intercede.
The God of the Dawn put his hand on Valentina’s shoulder. The goddess shrugged it off, apparently unable to keep from going on. “So you are warning me now? I don’t know who you favor more, Syann, your mother or my dreadful brother. I mean really, you had us all fooled into thinking you were different from those who spawned you, but it’s clear now, you are their child.” She shook back her silky blonde hair and regarded Syann with her sparkling blue eyes. “You’re no different than those two villains. Violence is always the final solution. If you don’t like what someone says, beat them till you do.”
“You don’t know anything about Helana and I, she is my daughter. Stay out of it or you’ll wish you had.”
Valintina held up a finger. “Don’t do something you will live to regret, niece.”
Syann had enough of her aunt’s insults. She stepped aside to let the trio pass. She didn’t need a confrontation, not now.
Valintina glanced over her shoulder and batted her eyes. “We are going to announce Helana and Tobiah’s engagement to the queen. Soon the dear girl will have a mother she can count on. You’re welcome to come along if you can keep a civil tongue.”
Syann grabbed Valintina by the arm and spun her around. “You’re going to do what?”
The love goddess’s lip curled and she jerked her arm away. “They are to be married within the month. Didn’t your daughter tell you? And I thought the two of you were so close.”
“No,” was all she could manage to get out. Rage filled her brain, Valentina’s peacock son would never have Helana. She wouldn’t allow it.
Tobiah stepped between Syann and his mother.
“There is no reason to be angry, Syann, and no reason for you to ever lay hands on my mother. No one here is going to put up with the savagery you have shown your daughter. I have spoken with Helana, and now she won’t either.” He looked down at her with the same smug expression his mother bore. “Everyone knows that the Reaper has pulled your family down into the muck of brutality and barbarism, and your wicked mother is little better. It is not your fault that some of their unsavory traits were passed down to you. It is my sincere hope that Helana and my union will return some of the divinity and virtue your family has lost. You are in desperate need of some decency restored to your name.”
The silver sword hissed from its scabbard and Syann plunged its razor sharp blade into Tobiah’s abdomen. Staring at her wide-eyed, the God of the Arts fell to his knees and stared up at her in disbelief.
Valintina screamed frantically at the sight of her son’s blood. Syann drove her fist into the elder goddess’s open mouth, sending Valintina to her back. Pulling her sword from the wounded god’s body, Syann raised her blade to strike again. Tobiah lifted is arm in a futile attempt to protect himself from her fury.
Before she could strike the blow, Syann felt strong hands on her. Valdrey had grabbed her from behind and Airius from the side before she could split Tobiah’s skull open and see if there was any decency in there.
Syann managed to slam Airius into the wall, breaking his grip, and delivered a back kick to Valdrey’s groin. The Lord of Victory jumped back, clutching his manhood. Fumbling with his cloak, the god drew Fate’s Hand from it scabbard and raised it to guard.
Her eyes narrowed. “Let us see how you and that sword fare against the daughter of death.”
“Syann,” was all he managed to get out before she was on him. Valdrey retreated from her onslaught, barely succeeding in parrying her lethal attacks. Step by step, she pushed him back, so intent on destroying Valdrey that she forgot about the others.
Airius grabbed her from behind and pinned her arms to the sides. Valdrey moved to strike her with his fist, but Syann pulled her legs up and kicked out, catching the god in the chest. Reeling backward, Valdrey tripped and sprawled out on the stone floor.
“What is going on here?” The battle ceased at the booming voice of Queen Hesperina as it echoed in the corridor.
Glancing down at Tobiah and Valintina, she called out to Galames, who had followed her from the throne room. “Find Celestia quickly.”
Fearlessly, Hesperina walked up to Goddess of Justice and took the bloody silver sword from her hand. “What have you done, Syann?”
“Stop all the screaming,” Hesperina shouted. “I will ask the questions, and you two will answer one at a time.”
Syann grew silent, as did Valintina. The Goddess of Love was having a difficult time making Hesperina understand what she was saying. Valintina’s thick sensual lips had swollen to enormity. Self-healing was a power few of the pantheon possessed, and Celestia was still attending to Tobiah, so Valintina had to suffer the humiliation of looking like a duck till the Goddess of Healing could arrive and see to her injury. Her unintelligible ravings would have been funny if the situation hadn’t been so grave.
Others had joined the queen in listening to their story besides Arius and Valdrey. Galames, Kendarin, and Soren looked on as Hesperina questioned them.
Much to Syann’s dismay, Helana had arrived. Her face was a mask of hatred and embarrassment. She had shamed her daughter, and most likely would never be forgiven for it. Syann loved Helana and would never disgrace her daughter intentionally, but given the chance to do it over, she would make sure her first blow killed Tobiah.
Before they could continue, Celestia glided into the throne room “Tobiah will live, Your Majesty, though he will need some time to fully recover.”
“Thank you, Celestia. Please stay, if you would, and tend to Valintina when I am finished with her,” Hesperina said.
The Goddess of Healing inclined her head and took a place at the back of the room near one of the thirteen columns that supported the ceiling.
Hesperina was silent while she finished listening to their accusations. Afterwards, she allowed both Valdrey and Airius to describe the incident. Syann was surprised that neither lied about what happened. When they completed their account, the queen raised her hand. “I have heard enough. Syann, you know I have strictly forbidden direct violence between the gods of this mountain. I made clear that if hostilities occurred, champions would settle the affair.” The queen stood and came down the dais, coming face to face with her. “Tobiah wasn’t even armed. I am very disappointed in you, Syann.”
The Goddess of Justice lowered her eyes. She had no excuse for her action, at least none that would make a difference.
“You will be held here at the mountain till I decided what to do with you. If you agree to stay in your quarters, I won’t have you chained in the lower levels.”
Syann nodded her agreement.
“Galames will see you to your room.” The sun god took his place at her side and gestured towards the golden doors. She would not be able to manhandle the elder god as easily as she had Valdrey and Airius.
There was nothing to do now but obey Hesperina’s orders. In a way, she was glad for it. Maybe her disobedience would pull the queen’s attention away from trying to discover the terrible secret she carried. If it ever came to light that she withheld information about her father’s reemergence, Hesperina would do more than send her to her room.
* * *
She stuck her head through the door to make sure the archmage was inside; slowly stepping across the threshold, Tragedy took care not to catch her gown in the heavy ironbound door. The magical energies swirling around the room pounded inside the diminutive sorceress’s head as the door swung shut behind her.
The room was of a simple circular design. Its rough stone blocks had been covered with a thick mortar and smoothed, leaving no sign of the common stonework. Even the ceiling had been subjected to the tedious process. The round chamber was devoid of furnishings or decoration. The only fixture that broke the flow of the large barren room was a small stone well that rose from the center of the floor.
By its look, the small fount could have been transplanted from any peasant village or tiny hamlet on the face of Saree, though it was far from being anything as mundane as a place to draw water.
Tragedy doubted that the portal could ever be duplicated. It had been constructed with stones gathered from all over the world, shards of rock that had fallen from the Heavens, each etched with words of power.
The mortar had been mixed with the blood of thirteen elven virgins and the crushed bones of Volkatra, the great red dragon that had fallen to the God of Death’s mighty hand. The Reaper had taken Volkatra’s head, leaving the massive body lying on the Synsarian plane over a thousand years ago.
She had helped Vanguard in his research and was with him when he discovered the location of the epic battle. Together, they had excavated enough of the famed wyrm’s bones to suit his purposes. It had taken the archmage over a year to construct the well, even after he recovered all the rare components.
Tragedy hated the thing. Vanguard had changed after he began speaking with his dark god through the powerful gateway. He had become secretive and withdrawn, spending much of his time alone. It really wasn’t the well that troubled her, but the strange liquid that filled the magical basin. What it was and where it came from was a mystery to all of them, including Vanguard.
The wizard claimed the dark god he served had filled the well after it had been constructed so they could speak to one another, and one day it would be a conduit to bring the thing that dwelled in the darkness into this world.
Despite a few fundamental differences of opinion, Tragedy was loyal to Vanguard and the Circle, but she wasn’t sure this self-proclaimed deity was something to be meddled with. The more Vanguard spoke to them about it the more she was convinced the thing on the other side was leading them down a path of damnation. Not that they hadn’t taken their own steps down that road, but this time, it was different. Now the Circle was being led. Conquest and war had never been on their agenda. They had always been the hand behind the curtain. Since Vanguard had found his god, everything was changing.
Her footsteps echoed as she cautiously made her way across the room. To the untrained eye, the walls, floor, and ceiling were blank and untouched, but it was all an illusion. Rubbing her fingers together, the sorceress cast a simple spell that exposed the chamber’s enchantments.
The room lit up, glowing with archaic symbols, magical ciphers, and codes that covered nearly every square inch of the room. The web of complex wards and protection spells were written in a script of characters so ancient, none had seen its like for thousands of years. None of the Circle was allowed in the room unless summoned, and the penalty for violating the order was death. Only the Circle’s founder knew what the magical inscriptions meant, and he shared the information with no one.
Vanguard stared down into the thick blackness of the well, his eyes like pieces of onyx as he gazed unblinking into the cryptic water. Shivering a little, she silently moved to his side. He was in communication with his god and she wasn’t about to interrupt their silent conversation. Folding her hands in front of her, Tragedy waited a few moments until his deep set eyes returned to their normal state. He had shaved his head since she left for Trimenia, and he wore his long gray beard forked now. The look was much more menacing, especially with his height and the dark cloak he sported. She decided not to comment on the wizard’s altered appearance or his communing with the dark god. There was no need for her to know what strange and terrible things the deity of the well had spoken to him.
“Tragedy,” he said, his voice deep and low.
She gave him a slight bow. “You summoned me?”
“Yes, I was told you returned from you trip. How is Trimenia faring?”
“The last of the rebels are in the south and will most likely be destroyed in the spring. Serban will declare himself king after they are defeated and the royal family have all been dispatched. For now, things are moving forward, though there have been some unforeseen developments since last we met with the noble corpse.”
The archmage put his hands on the top of the well, resting his weight on the magical stone. It was clear his mind was elsewhere. “Tell me about these developments.”
“The Slayer is in Trimenia; his wanderings have brought him into contact with the rebels.”
“Do you think he will present a problem for us?” the archmage asked casually.
She wanted to tell the truth—she well knew Kian would somehow interfere, it was his nature—but her mouth spoke the lie. “I don’t think so. He is traveling north. When the snow breaks, he will more than likely leave Trimenia, or so I am told. I am not sure where he is headed. My guess is that he is just passing through the kingdom.”
“Then let him be, that creature is a bane to anyone that crosses its path. What about Serban?”
“The filthy thing is just as arrogant and boastful as you told us he would be. He had the audacity to threaten us. I had to swat him a bit before he would give an ear to what you had ordered. I gave him instruction on how to proceed, and reminded him who truly ruled Trimenia. I doubt he will heed any of it. In fact, I think he will do the opposite of what we suggested just for spite. The vampire is willful, overconfident, and a bit mad. He is very lucky he faces only a handful of peasants.”
Vanguard took in a deep breath and looked into the well. “Alexis Serban is everything you said, though he is also cunning and unafraid. The nobleman will do anything for power, but fret not about him, child. Alexis’s usefulness is almost at an end. In fact, I had hoped when the time came, Malaiss in all his self-righteousness would destroy the baron for us, but that is not possible now.”
She said nothing; the vampire lord had been an ally of Vanguard’s since before the Circle was formed. Tavantis’s destruction of the famed blood drinker had more than angered the archmage.
Vanguard despised the crazy sorcerer, although it was not his fondness for Malaiss that incensed him. It was the fact that the Lord of Vampires’ demise had come at Tavantis’s hand. Few could provoke the master of the Circle like the half-breed wizard. Tavantis had a knack for enraging those he came in contact with, and he had honed that natural ability to a fine edge.
The archmage stood and stretched to his full height. Pulling at the forks of his beard, he looked down at her. “Let the situation in Trimenia play out for now. Serban was a risk from the beginning, and that barren land was never our first choice, only one of convenience. My inquiries in Abberdon have proved fruitful. The baron’s hold on Trimenia has become somewhat less than paramount.”
“You spoke with the King of Abberdon?”
“Not in person, though it was clear to my emissaries that Haken Taylin is nothing like his brother Havalon. The former King of Abberdon was noble and strong in his faith, while Haken is neither, and more than happy to deal with us.”
“So Havalon’s brother’s is not an ally of the Church?” Tragedy inquired.
“Haken plays at being a devote member of the pope’s colossal flock, just as the pontiff plays at being the shepherd of Saree. Neither man is what he pretends, but they both can be very useful to us. Havalon may have been a true king and a man of honor, but his brother is nothing of the kind. Hakan is a conniving weasel, greedy, arrogant, and cruel. It will take little to manipulate him, and if we have him, we can tweak the strings of the pope. How could Ammiel turn his back on one of the Church’s most staunch supporters?”
Tragedy sighed. How many nobles had the Circle corrupted? Even she didn’t know. War would come, Vanguard would force it, and when those that were left were clearing the battlefields of their dea
d, the archmage would strike.
The future held nothing but blood and death for her and the son Kian had given her. There was little choice but to finish what she had started. “What do you want done with Trimenia?”
“Proceed as we planned, though if things take a turn for the worse, there is no sense risking much for the kingdom, especially now that we will soon control the King of Abberdon. Do as you see fit in Trimenia, Tragedy. Serban and his country are of much less importance to me now.”
Tragedy bowed and left the room. Closing the huge door, she found Misfortune waiting outside in the corridor.
The violet-eyed sorceress had bathed and changed clothing since they had returned to the fortress. Her hair was in loose pigtails and she wore a close-fitting sleeveless silk shirt with a tight pair of leather trousers. She could smell the rose water Misfortune had washed in, and the hint of perfume. Jasmine, she thought.
“So how did it go?” her friend asked.
“He told me to deal with Trimenia as I saw fit. He has designs on Abberdon now. King Hakan is more to his taste than the undead baron.”
“And Abberdon is much closer to Bandara,” Misfortune added.
Tragedy nodded. “That would be my guess.”
“So we are free then. I say let that piece of dead meat in Trimenia do whatever he will. I am convinced he is an idiot. We should take a trip to the south, maybe to Bashod or Kahira?”
Tragedy smiled at the idea. “I don’t think we have the luxury of traveling for pleasure right now. Besides, there are still some things I want to deal with in Trimenia.”
“I wish we would have become entangled elsewhere. My wardrobe is more tailored to the southern climates.”
“Your wardrobe is tailored for the whore houses of Pantorini.” They both grinned as Misfortune struck an overly seductive pose.
Tragedy touched her friend’s cheek. “Warmer weather does sound fine, but there is something of a personal matter I want to handle in Trimenia.”
Misfortune raised her eyebrows. “The Slayer”
The Star Of Saree Page 21