by Matt Russell
This was something the world had never seen. What was it? His creation pulsed in the air, and suddenly a cascade of lightning flashed at it from the clouds all around in a near blinding cascade. Cassian watched the spell drink in the electricity and grow larger.
"More," he whispered.
The dragon did not need to be given further explanation. It drew in a deep breath and then sent a stream of white fire into the mirror-orb's center. The hum of the spell grew louder as it consumed the primal magic, and when the torrent finally ended, it was the size of a house.
Cassian gazed down through the clouds to the temple below, and then he willed his spell at it. A thrill coursed through him as he observed the rapid descent, for he did not entirely know what was about to happen. The silver orb struck the roof of the church and splashed apart in a thousand different directions like water, and each glob of its strange, viscous mass somehow consumed whatever it touched. He watched in fascination as stone, wood, and metal disappeared in bursts of steam. Cassian could feel what was happing: the temple was being disintegrated in some fierce reaction of magic that tore it into countless trillions of pieces, each far smaller than a speck of dust. This was complete destruction—a return of all matter to its base elements.
The maelstrom continued to splash and spread, but Cassian still had enough control over his spell to keep it from spilling over and killing the people in the streets. Instead, he willed the silver substance into a spinning vortex and drilled downward, obliterating every stone. The church seemed to melt in on itself, and within perhaps twenty heartbeats, it was completely gone, yet the spell was not finished. It tore into the dirt below, into the underlying bedrock, and still further. A vast hole formed in the holy ground deeper than any well. The magic tore further and further until the silvery vortex was a distant light in the murky shadows of the tunnel, and still it went on. Then there came a deep rumble from the bowels of the world as the spell finally seemed to hit something it could not consume. The construction of magic shattered, but in its wake, something fierce rose up, and Cassian stared into the hole he had made in the world and saw the distant orange glow of magma.
“So ends the Nemesai Order,” he whispered, his words coming out as steam in the icy air.
He and Titus glided slowly down toward the burning mass, which seemed to stare up at them like an eye from hell. Had he just created a spell that surpassed those of the first starborn? How was that even possible?
Cassian gazed down, instinctively pinpointing the source. Tacitus stood below with several hundred craith at his back and a small retinue that included his one-armed son.
Cassian hesitated, then replied
Titus landed perhaps thirty paces or so in front of the Emperor and his army, and Cassian quickly dismounted. He took a brief moment to scratch the dragon in the tender spot just behind his left ear and whispered: "You should go. I believe I am about to die."
Titus glared at him, snorting in defiance. It could not yet form words with its mind, but it understood much of what was happening. Cassian gazed into the dragon’s heart and saw it would not leave his side for anything in the world.
"I love you too," he whispered, scratching again. "Let us go and face him together then."
He turned then and locked eyes with the most powerful mortal in the world. Tacitus's magic burned and crackled around him. It was so grand and impossible in its scope. Cassian might have attempted to form his silvery spell a second time in the air and hurl it down at his Emperor, but even if that would have worked against such a powerful elder starborn, it would only amount to murder. What he had done had been done in honor, at least as he saw matters, and the only way to hold true to that was to face Tacitus Adronicus openly.
Cassian took a deep breath and walked forward. As he did, he whispered quietly into the air: "I have avenged you, Mother. You as well, old man." He felt remarkably at peace as he stepped before his ruler, dropped to one knee, and said: "I submit myself to your justice, Great Tacitus."
“Hmm,” the Emperor grunted.
Cassian remained still as ten craith stepped forward and encircled him. He knew he must face what was about to come with all the dignity of a prince.
"You have made some regrettable decisions this night," Tacitus said quietly so that only the two of them could hear. "You realize, of course, that your actions tonight warrant your execution."
"As I said, I submit myself to your justice."
The Emperor projected his voice then so that all in the city could hear him: "Cassian Asango, Starborn of the nineteenth generation, I place you under arrest for the crime-"
She walked, or rather glided forward, and the craith parted to let her through. Cassian rose and turned to her, but the shrouded face was not angled at him. Her attention seemed focused upon the Emperor.
"I beg your pardon, Ancient One, but the young man's actions are not in question," Tacitus said, his tone laced with irritation rather than reverence for the immortal creature. This was not the first time they had met, Cassian sensed. The Emperor sighed and went on: "Asango killed a bishop of the church."
"A holy temple to the gods!" Tacitus said, raising his voice. "There can be no greater crime!"
Tacitus frowned, weighing these words for a moment. Then he said in a loud voice: "You are calling this a religious matter?" The Emperor chuckled and made a sweeping gesture toward Cassian with his right hand, saying: "This is no priest or bishop. Cassian is a heretic! He professes it himself!"
Tacitus shook his head, emitting an impatient chuckle. "Forgive me, but I have no idea what you are saying, and I fail to see how this vague and rather circular argument has any bearing at all on the matter before us."
"What?" Tacitus grunted. "How can that possibly be?"
There was a bewildered silence that passed between Cassian, the Emperor, and the many craith that surrounded them both. Of all the outcomes Cassian had prepared himself for as he took his revenge, this was not one. He stared at The Norn, whose shimmering cloak billowed independently of any worldly wind. Could this possibly be true? The very idea collided with every thought in his mind.
"I am the Messiah," Cassian said, breaking the silence. He blinked and then blinked aga
in. Was this a joke? No, the Norn was incapable of lying. Cassian’s thoughts began to race. He, who had spent most of his life denouncing the gods, was their chosen acolyte? The absurdity of it struck him so hard that he lost control and erupted into a fierce burst of laughter. He cackled so hard his knees wobbled beneath him, and he stumbled onto the stones beneath him.
"This—this cannot be true!" Tacitus said. His voice was utterly bewildered. Cassian gazed at the Emperor, and for the first time, the great man's face seemed to be without its cunning, or its superiority.
"I... am... the Messiah," Cassian said again, exhaling each word.
Cassian stared at her. The moment was surreal. He questioned whether all of this was merely a fantastical construction of his mind, and he was still in the Nemesai dungeon being tortured. Yet the bitter pain of the old man's death was too visceral in his soul to have been imagined. This was real, impossible as it was.
The Emperor turned to him, his wizened face pale as he whispered: "This is insanity."
"It certainly is," Cassian said, finding his voice. For the first time perhaps since his mother died so many years ago, he was too overwhelmed to think. What in the hell did any of this mean?
the Norn said, her shrouded visage aimed at the Emperor.
Tacitus stared at Cassian for a long moment, breathing very deeply. Whatever thoughts were racing through his mind were well beyond Cassian's ability to see, yet still, the man seemed almost… frightened. Finally, he murmured: "No, I will not trample upon the laws laid down by our first emperor. You are free to go, Cassian."
The Emperor started to turn around, but Cassian said: "Hold on." Tacitus glanced back. With a still swimming head, Cassian said: "Bring my conflict with the Nemesai to a close without killing the Bishop. I believe that was your condition for naming me crown prince." It seemed practically absurd to bring up such a matter when issues of divinity surrounded him, and yet he could not help himself. "I believe I have met your requirements."
The Emperor swallowed, his face growing still a little paler. He still seemed unable to speak.
The Norn broke the silence:
Tacitus took a slow breath, then looked at Cassian and said in a voice that was surprisingly cold and distant: "The title... is yours."
"I am profoundly grateful," Cassian said, though he was unsure at the moment of how he felt at all.
Tacitus swallowed and said in a low tone: "I will bid you good evening then, Messiah." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand and muttered: "My craith will see you home if you wish. From this moment forward, they will know you as my second in command, and obey your orders." He turned then and ambled through the army.
Cassian spun to face the Norn, who was standing silently to the side after her world-altering proclamation. "What game are you and your gods playing with me?"
A soft, telepathic laugh whispered out from her, and she replied:
Cassian felt uncertain as to what to say next. Was she an ally? What did it mean that he was Messiah? How could such an absurd proclamation be true? His thoughts swam in a wild frenzy, and he gazed into the eons-old eyes of the Norn and said: "Why did they choose me, or are you allowed to tell me even that?"
Cassian exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. "Do you take pleasure in being confounding?"
He stared at the ancient figure. How many thousands or even millions of years old was she? Perhaps she was correct that he could not conceive what a sentient mind would think and feel after such an eternity. All the same, why not try?
"I imagine that we are the only things that can give you pleasure now," he said.
"To right the horrendous perversions that have taken place in the church," Cassian said, not bothering to hesitate now.
"Are you saying the assumption is wrong?"
"What an irritating set of rules," Cassian sighed. "Why the hell do they exist?"
"What contest?" he said, seizing immediately on the word.
The Norn replied in a quiet whisper that echoed in his mind:
"A fragment of an answer,” Cassian said, frowning. "You told me years ago, when I refused your prophecy, that you would appear to help me three times. I can assume this is the first, which means I will see you twice more. The last time, if I remember correctly, I will ask you to come, and shortly thereafter I will die.”
The Norn only stared at him through the blackness under her hood, as if to communicate that she would not expand upon this point. He might have grown infuriated, but as he continued to roll their first meeting in his mind, a new question emerged. "You told me that refusing to hear you would cost me dearly. If I had not, would Somar be alive now?"
Cassian clenched his jaw. Dozens of questions flooded his mind. Would he have had to fight Dimitris to the death if he had listened to the Norn years ago? How many mistakes and how much pain in his life might be traced back to that single moment of stubbornness? At the same time, he remembered why he had refused. What were the gods to him when his mother's and father's throats had been slit in their name?
"What do they expect of me?”
The Norn evidently did not need to be told who 'they' were in his question, for she answered:
He blinked, staring up at the cloaked figure. "Is that some indirect answer to my earlier inquiries, or should I allow you to give me several dozen more ridiculously cryptic answers before trying to piece things together?"
Cassian hesitated for a long moment, searching deep within himself before he answered: "No."
"More cryptic words,” Cassian said, though inwardly he suspected that this might be the most important thing she had said to him. "Tell me, are you capable at all of speaking plainly with me on any subject?"
el and whispered:
She faded then, her form shifting to translucence and then vanishing entirely from his sight. Cassian sensed no lingering presence of her mind either. The Ancient One was gone as if she had slipped from the universe. He stood there, looking at the still and silent army of craith who were now bound to follow his commands. Around the edges of this small force, many from the city had gathered to catch a glimpse of their newly discovered messiah, or far worse: to fall on their knees. His stomach twisted at the idea of being worshipped with the very blind faith that ran directly opposite to his most profound beliefs, and he wondered if the gods were possessed of a terribly poetic sense of justice.
Chapter 38:
Invoking His Name
Livia sat in quiet stillness on her bed as the morning sunlight flowed in through her room’s tiny window. She had not slept the night before—not since the searing telepathic proclamation that Cassian Asango was the Messiah prophesized in the Enumis. The world-altering message had come to her the same way as the telepathic vision of Asango speaking with the dragon years ago, with tremendous pain. She could still see Hervin stumbling into her room in his night clothes shortly after her agony reached its end, muttering: "Did you hear?" Apparently, from the whispers in the early morning outside her window, everyone had heard, but only she had felt hot irons being hammered into her skull.
"Livia?" Hervin's yawning voice came through the thin wood of her door. "Are you up, my dear?"
She reached over to the table by her bed and rapped her knuckles down in a double knock—their long-established answer of ‘yes’ to questions from across the house.
"Is it my turn to make breakfast today?" Hervin said, still yawning his words.
Livia knocked once: the signal for ‘no.’ In truth, it was his turn, but she felt like cooking. Anything to distract her mind.