by Matt Russell
"I don't know, but plenty of people saw her get into our cart, Father," Simius said. "It won't be difficult for him to figure out if he comes looking."
"If he… c-comes looking?" Baradon whispered, his face going pale. He gazed down at the floor for a long moment, saying nothing.
"Father," Simius said in a calm voice, "I think I know what to do."
Baradon let out an angry laugh. "That is quite good, because I sure as hell do not." The Lord went still suddenly, and Livia noticed that Simius had the look on his face he had gotten before when telepathically communicating. An eerie silence lingered for some time, and then Baradon muttered: "I see your point. Yes, you have my approval." The old nobleman straightened up, cast Livia a hateful look, and then turned and walked from the dungeon.
Simius swallowed, then whispered: "It seems you get to survive the night, my dear." He made a gesture toward the stairway leading up to the inner keep and said: "Come with me, please."
Unsure what to think, Livia stepped toward the young sorcerer. She forced her face to into something at least resembling a calm expression as he led her out of the gloomy dungeon and managed to hold it even as she heard the enormous soldiers moving close behind. An agent of Cassian Asango would not be afraid.
When they emerged from the stairway, Livia glanced at the door leading out, but Simius put his hand on her back and gently nudged her in the opposite direction, muttering: "I'll have a nice room made up for you—better than anything you're used to in that peasant hovel, I'm sure." There was a smoothness to the young man’s tone that almost hid the dark, quaking nerves underneath. "You're going to be our... guest." He sounded uncertain.
Livia clenched her jaw and made her writing gesture in the air.
Simius pursed his lips, then muttered impatiently: "I'm sure I can guess what your questions are. Yes, you are a prisoner. You cannot leave. You should have anticipated at least that much the second you decided to confess to attacking a man of the church in our territory." He sighed. "You'll be well fed at least. We don't really want to hurt you—at least I don't. Still, you'll need to cooperate. I'm happy to have you simply write out the names of the Cassianites. If you do, that sweet old man who adopted you can remain healthy."
Livia tensed and gave Simius as much of a glare as she dared.
He stared back, and his telepathic voice permeated her skull:
Livia stared at him, holding back tears. The only thing she had—her only hope in the world, was to keep her head.
"I'll give you one day to put your hesitations to rest and do as I say," Simius said, returning to speaking with his mouth. "After that, my patience will diminish significantly."
Livia stifled all emotion and lowered her gaze to the stone floor. She could not actually give this horrible aristocrat what he was asking, and that was a deathly serious problem, but at least there was time to think now.
Simius brought a hand up to her cheek and cupped it gently, running his thumb over her cheek in a manner that made her nerves twist. "Asango was very wise to choose you. You're smarter than anyone realizes, resourceful as hell, and probably the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." He leaned in very close to her face and whispered: "I really do not want to hurt you, but I will." The nobleman turned then and strode quickly out of the room, shutting the door and locking Livia inside.
Chapter 39:
Dream State
Kota was running on the wet sand, his powerful strides launching him forward as the salty mist splashed up against his face. He was the beast, ancient and primal. His massive, four-legged form tore craters in the ground as he bounded. Now he was the shamalak, running on two feet, all that vast power focused into a far smaller body. He was both of them, switching back and forth in vibrant flashes of thought and feeling. Every sense told him this was real, and he wanted so desperately to believe it.
Kota considered slipping back into reality. There might be something important to read within the letter. His life as a craith, cold and empty as it was, provided a great deal of valuable sensory input. He had witnessed his old friend, Cassian, hurl down an impossible spell that had utterly obliterated the last Nemesai Temple in the world, and he had heard the Norn's impossible proclamation that Asango was the Messiah. For many hours after, Kota had stood near Tacitus, listening to the man shout at his scholars for answers on 'what the hell' this meant. There had been dozens of interpretations of the Holy Enumis's scant passages on the coming Messiah, and what his role would be. The learned men had failed to reach any meaningful consensus, much to the irritation of their Emperor.
Kota felt his hands close around a neatly rolled scroll, and he decided there was no reason to abandon his dream. He could not command his fingers to unroll the letter, which meant he would not be reading anything. Thus, he drew in a breath of the imaginary, salt-misted air, and tore forward.
For a long time, Kota ran between the tree line and the ocean. The beach upon which he ran was small, and yet, in a way, it went on forever as a landscape he and the beast created together moment-to-moment. At some point in his bounding, Kota felt eyes upon him, and his ethereal body experienced a shiver. More than once, he had sensed the presence of another gazing upon him but had never seen anyone. This mental world did not have other creatures – not even insects or small animals. Kota's refuge was a solitary island in some endless, foggy ocean, and yet... there was something here.
This was an order to all craith, Kota knew. His own 'standard position' was at Tacitus's side at all times, with one notable exception: The Emperor kept him away from Cassian and the other starborn. Kota wondered at times if that was because they might sense whom he was—that they might even be able to save him. Perhaps that was wishful thinking though. Perhaps he was desperate to believe that all of his training—and Gretis's death—had to lead to something more than slavery to a murderer.
A howl came from behind, and Kota whirled as the beast to see a wolf-like creature crouched at the edge of the trees, staring at him. As Kota the shamalak, he blinked his eyes in disbelief, a thrill running through his heart, yet in that instant, the creature vanished. He lunged forward as the beast, covering the hundred or so human paces in three quick bounds to the place where the creature had been standing. There was nothing there—no prints in the sand nor even a scent. Kota, the shamalak, swallowed, a cold feeling of hopelessness seeping through him. Was he going mad?
There was a growl from behind. He whirled around as the beast and saw the wolf baring its teeth at him. He was so overwhelmed by the presence that he failed to act when the thing’s jaws opened and darted in at his foreleg. The bite was quick, and the wolf sprang back, bouncing on its paws in the sand. Kota the shamalak held up his arm and gazed at a series of tiny pinpricks in his bronze skin. Had it even been trying to hurt him? He stared at the wolf unafraid. As the beast, he could rip it to shreds, but this visitor did not seem to fear
that.
The wolf was gone rather abruptly, and Kota sensed motion behind him. He gripped the haft of his sword—which seemed to exist in this world though he could not remember if it had a moment ago—and whirled around to block a strike aimed at his neck.
"Don't lose focus!" Gretis said with a wry grin. She slashed at his side, and he blocked again, his arm moving automatically despite the bewilderment he felt at seeing her here, uninjured and attacking him.
He was the beast again, staring down at the feisty wolf below. It snapped at him once more, but this time his great head came down, jaws open. The wolf leaped backward, and Gretis landed on the sand, the same smirk on her face.
"How are you here?" Kota shouted, realizing that he was himself again.
"I'm not entirely sure," Gretis chuckled. She reached to her belt and drew a dagger. Then her hand moved in a blur, sending the blade flying at his face.
Kota’s right arm snapped up instinctively, and he caught the weapon by the handle. "Is this a dream?" he said. He felt his body start to shift to the beast, but he fought against it, wanting an answer.
"Whose dream?" Gretis laughed. "Mine, or yours?" He felt somehow that he was holding her in human form as well.
"I saw you impaled through the stomach by a demon blade," he said.
"Ah," Gretis muttered, frowning, "I think... I think I remember that." She blinked, lowering her sword a little. "Yes." She stared into Kota's eyes. "Is this death?" She looked around, wide-eyed.
"Gretis," he whispered. It hurt to see her, and yet it was wonderful. He moved toward her, but she dodged back, suddenly the wolf again. She snarled at him, and suddenly she seemed afraid.
"I'm not dead?" Gretis’s voice said. She had vanished and reappeared behind him. He whirled to see her staring down at her own hands, turning them in the air. "Not... not yet," she whispered, "but I can feel myself... slipping away."
"No!" Kota grunted, and he reached out and gripped her hand in his.
Gretis let out a gasp at his touch, and her eyes went very, very wide. "Kota!" she exclaimed as if suddenly remembering who he was. She stared at him, breathing rapidly, and her voice rose: "Gods, what's happening?"
"Don’t be afraid," he said, releasing her hand. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"No..." she whispered, clutching her fist to her chest, "you would never hurt me. I... I made certain of who you were before I trained you."
Kota hesitated, then asked: "What do you remember?"
Gretis blinked and whispered: "Pieces..." She took a deep breath and then muttered: "I think... it's all here, but I can't... sort through it."
"How can you be with me in this place?" he said.
"You drew me here," she answered in a quiet voice, gazing down at the sand, "I was... with Glavius I think."
"Glavius?" Kota said, feeling confused.
"Yes… he keeps talking to me. Sometimes I can focus on it." Another of wave of awareness seemed to flash in Gretis’s eyes as she looked up at him and said: "Gods, Kota, what did the Emperor do to you?"
He clenched his jaw. "Tacitus used magic to enslave me. I am a craith, except that I am not. I still have my soul—my mind, though it doesn't seem to do me any good. All I can do is run around in this dream world while my body carries out his will."
"I see," Gretis whispered. She gazed about again and said: "This is all from you? All of this place?"
Kota shrugged. "I don't know." He shook his head and laughed. "It doesn't matter. You're alive! I can't believe it! Are you in the Onkai Temple?"
"I don't think so," Gretis said, and some of the confusion seemed to be setting back in. "I feel bounces sometimes, like I'm in… a cart. I think Glavius has been talking to me about elves, but I don't know." She glared suddenly. "You're a craith? How? How can that be true? I've read the prophecy about you hundreds of times! I know every word by heart!"
Kota swallowed. "I think the prophecy was wrong. After all, whatever you were trying to tell me about Cassian Asango was wrong. He's just been named as the Messiah!"
"Messiah?" Gretis exhaled, her eyes going wide once again. "Then... then it's true—it's all coming true!"
"What?" Kota said, feeling extremely confused. "You said he could become the greatest evil the world has ever seen."
"He can!" Gretis exclaimed, looking deathly afraid. She shook her head. "Oh Gods, it's happening too quickly! I can't stop any of it, and neither can you!" She put a hand over her mouth.
"Gretis!" Kota shouted, "What do you mean? Cassian is the chosen one of the Gods."
"You don't understand," she almost sobbed. "He is the thrice-blessed one—All Sides have chosen him! First the dragon, now the gods..." She winced as she added: "That means the forces of hell will not be far behind. They will make their play for him soon if they have not already."
As Kota stared at Gretis, he knew her mind was not whole, but she was still the wisest person he knew, and so he put his hands on her shoulders and said: "Please, what are you talking about?"
The woman went still and stared at him with an expression bursting at the seams with fear. "Your friend, Cassian," she whispered, "He is very special. He has something—some strength or quality—that all three sides want." She shut her eyes and whispered: "We're all just pieces on the cornerstone board—me, you, Iona..." Gretis’s face constricted at speaking the last name, and Kota remembered the Nathret hissing it back in the forest. "The other side has its pieces as well,” Gretis went on. “It is a game that has been building up for thousands of years, and it is about to reach a final conclusion." She swallowed. "But Asango... he's different from any other figure on the board. He is going to stand in the middle, as the fulcrum of everything."
"What does that mean?" Kota said, gritting his teeth.
"I... I don't know," Gretis whispered. She opened her eyes and gave him a desperate look. "I do know that the prophecy speaks of a young man driven by deep anger. The forces of hell can prey upon such things."
"They won't succeed," Kota said.
"They've been succeeding for millennia!" the woman said with a shaky laugh. "All those demons you killed—they were men once! That is how the game is played, you see. Neither Heaven nor Hell can act on its own in this world. They require mortals who choose to embrace what they offer." She grimaced. "For most of his life, your friend Cassian has been pushed to despise his own society. I have studied him for years, and I know he tries hard to channel it into noble ideals, but the fuel burning within him is rage."
"We—we should postpone this talk," Kota said. "I want to know where you are. If Glavius is taking you to the elves, then surely, they can heal you. Then you can—"
"Kota," Gretis whispered, reaching up and gripping his forearms, "there may well be nothing left of me by the time I reach the elves. We must prepare for that eventuality."
He felt himself tremble. "No, I just found out you're still alive! I cannot accept losing you again!"
"That is neither my decision nor yours," Gretis whispered, and her image seemed to fade a little as she spoke the words. Her gaze became translucent. "You must be ready to face what comes, Kota. Your fate is tied to Cassian Asango's, and his to yours." Her image faded still further.
"Wait!" Kota shouted. "Don't go!" He tried to grab onto her, but his fingers passed through as if she had no substance at all.
"The darkness is coming for him," Gretis said, her voice a distant whisper in the wind. "As long as he lives, he will never be free of it—of the temptation." Her form vanished completely, but her voice continued on a few heartbeats longer: "It is too much responsibility for any mortal to bear. You must be ready to stop him, Kota… if you can.”
"Gretis!" Kota shouted, though he knew she was gone. He was alone again and more confused than ever. What did it all mean? How could he stop Cassian? He was a craith, enslaved to the Emperor and unable to so much as blink his eyes of his own volition. Even if he gained control again and possessed all the powers of his
animus, could he really hope to prevail against Cassian? He had watched his old friend hurl down a spell that had obliterated stone and earth and torn into the heart of the world...
Kota swallowed and gazed around at the oasis his mind had created. It was only a fantasy. Gretis was on the verge of death, and he could do nothing to help her. That hurt more than anything else. Perhaps Glavius and the elves could save her, but all Kota could do was hope. Here and now, he was powerless and alone, and the solitude had never felt more crushing.
Chapter 40:
Convergence
Cassian sat at the desk next to his palace bed, finishing his second read-through of the eulogy he had prepared for the old man. He was fully dressed in the regal attire picked for him by imperial attendants. An arm’s length away on his nightstand rested the golden laurel that Tacitus had sent him to signify his ascension to the rank of crown prince. Cassian wondered vaguely as he reached out and brushed his fingers over the surface of it if any of the Bishops of the church would be sending him additional icons. Was there any sort of protocol for a Messiah?
"And he shall be the righteous sufferer," Soulic quoted the Enumis as he walked into the room. Cassian cast a quick scowl back over at his servant, which of course only encouraged him. Soulic had taken to memorizing every passage he could find that pertained to the Messiah.
"Does it say anything about him murdering his impudent servant?"
Soulic's grin widened, and with a sweep of his hand he said: "His purity shall be tested many times, for his is the burden of all mankind."
Cassian rolled his eyes and returned to his document. Evidently, though, the Sansrit warrior was in an especially talkative mood this morning and would not be deterred by something so simple as being ignored. He moved to Cassian's side and stared down at the words.
"I've never seen you actually write a speech before," the Soulic said, leaning over his shoulder. "You just sort of start talking and something that's at least passably eloquent comes out. It's one of the few things I genuinely admire about you. What's wrong? Has the pressure of becoming the most important religious figure in history unnerved you?"