The Last Goddess

by C.E. Stalbaum

  Chapter Seven

   

  Dawn eventually broke over the Haven skyline, and Andar Bremen looked out upon it with disgust. In thirty years of service within the Republic military, he had endured his share of defeats. As a young man serving on the front lines, he had watched most of his unit die during a failed cavalry raid on Kenshara. As a major a decade later he served in a brief and disastrous excursion into the Sylethi forests. And as a full general during the last war, he had been present when both the Gudan and Tal Karoth outposts had fallen to early Ebaran pushes.

  But none of them had ever caused him to lose hope, and ultimately the victories outpaced the meager setbacks. This time, however, the consequences were more than a handful of lost lives—it might have meant the loss of the gods themselves.

  Bremen continued to stare at the crimson smear on the horizon as rhythmic booted footsteps approached him from behind. He waited until she was almost on top of him before turning.

  “Report.”

  Major Thorne stood at full attention, though her face was flushed with anger. “The second team found nothing, sir.”

  “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

  “Signs of battle,” she corrected, “but no bodies. The Kirshal’s coffin has also moved.”

  “Abalor’s eye,” he swore, spinning back around. This wrecked and abandoned building wasn’t very tall, but it did have the benefit of a clear view past the Haven walls to the east. He’d always considered the view something of a consolation prize for the fact they couldn’t maintain a real outpost within the city. Right now that platitude seemed especially hollow.

  “I don’t understand how a few smugglers could kill our entire force, sir. They must have had help.”

  “From whom?” he asked. “No, the fact of the matter is that we underestimated this Rook. It’s not a mistake I plan to repeat.”

  “Prince Kastrius has been attempting to contact you for hours,” she said. “He won’t be pleased.”

  Bremen snorted. “The prince’s happiness is not our priority.”

  “What about Senator Veltar?”

  “He will take it as further proof that we are on a kreel’s errand.”

  He could feel her shuffle inside her armor. “Have you considered that he may be right, sir?”

  Bremen closed his eyes and clenched his fists together. “If you were any other person, you would feel the back of my gauntlet.”

  When she didn’t reply, he turned back to face her. She remained standing stiff-backed, perfectly content to wait for his judgment. If he had struck her, she wouldn’t have even complained about it. It was a loyalty possessed only by those who had faced death together. He knew he could never make her understand this, at least not fully. She had never opened her heart to the wisdom of the gods, and she couldn’t see beyond what was right in front of her.

  “All is not lost, Major,” he said, straightening himself and letting out a cleansing breath. “I believe Abalor himself has given me a sign.”

  “Sir?”

  “While I meditated during the attack, I felt…something. It was like a faint glimmer of light flickering in the darkness of the Fane.”

  Thorne’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

  In addition to her lack of piety, she was also not a mage—not even a krata like himself. Like most other raw torbos, she had no understanding of the Fane’s majesty or its power. It was unfortunate she came from such a poor family; she was certainly clever enough to have made a respectable krata at the very least. Most Darenthi officers had at least some basic training in magic. 

  “I believe Abalor was granting me a vision of the Kirshal,” he explained. “For one brief moment, I knew exactly where she was. Then just as quickly it was gone.”

  “I…see, sir.”

  He smiled. “I realize how it sounds, but we are talking about the power of the Gods here.”

  “I wasn’t aware magi could track each other like that.”

  “Any weaver can be attuned to an object laced with varium—that’s functionally how sending stones work. But this is different: the Kirshal bears a fragment of Edeh’s soul, and Abalor is pointing me to it.”

  “I will take your word for it, sir,” she said neutrally.

  He grunted. “In the meantime, we have other preparations to make.”

  “What are your orders?”

  Bremen turned back to the horizon. “They’ve gone to ground, but they can’t stay there forever. Whatever else he may be, Rook is still an Ebaran businessman at heart. He’ll be trying to find another buyer.”

  “I can’t imagine what other use he would have for her,” Thorne agreed. “But our resources are limited. I can have our agents watch the black market and hope they get lucky, but what if he attempts to sell her to the Empress? Or to one of the temples?”

  “He is obviously a clever man, which means he’ll recognize the danger she represents. He can’t afford to start a bidding war without exposing himself—at least, not while he’s in the city.”

  “You think he’ll try to move her?”

  “If he hasn’t done so already,” Bremen said softly. “He’ll likely take her to Ebara to get some distance from the factions here. He might even attempt to sell her to one of their plutocrats.”

  Her lip curled in disgust. “What would they want with her? I doubt they believe in this…legend.”

  “No, but they are opportunists,” he told her. “In any event, when he does leave the city, he’ll have to cross the Wall at some point. We can stop him there.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Watching the main gate will be easy, but they could also attempt to move through the Breach or head farther east to one of the other gates near Tal Karoth.”

  “He won’t take the main gate, not with a full garrison there. He’ll try the Breach or possibly Tal Karoth, depending how patient he wishes to be.”

  “We can organize our men, but as you know our resources are quite limited. We would also have to be wary of the Empress’s forces noticing us.”

  He nodded. “Muster what you can. I will speak to Veltar as well—I know he has some loyal people stationed there.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “If I may be so bold, what are you going to do in the meantime?”

  “I need to inform the prince of what has happened. After that…” he turned back to the horizon again. Every failure was also an opportunity, the old saying went. It was mostly rhetorical nonsense, but there was a grain of truth to it. In all the years and all the battles, Bremen knew that a worthy enemy was rarely defeated in a single blow. It made the ultimate victory that much more satisfying in the end.

  “I will meditate and attempt to find her again,” he said. “But regardless, you and I must be ready to begin our hunt.”

  Thorne smiled. “I look forward to it.”

  “As do I.”