The Last Goddess

by C.E. Stalbaum

  ***

   

  Tryss slowly dragged herself to a knee, her hand still pressed against Rook’s cooling cheek. He was dying. The man she had met less than two weeks ago—the man whose charity and compassion had kept her alive—was going to die to save her. She never even had the chance to tell him who she really was. He certainly wasn’t aware of the mistakes she had made, or how her own actions a year ago had guided them towards this moment. And yet here he was, broken, granting her the gift he had been given all those years ago—the gift of life.

  She wanted to cry, to wrap her arms around him and beg him to take it back, but instead her hands balled into fists and her sorrow hardened into rage. She didn’t deserve this chance—of that she was absolutely certain. But she was just as certain that now that it had been given to her, she wasn’t going to waste it.

  The rubble burst aside, and her brother’s eyes shot open when he saw her. “What?” His eyes fastened on Rook’s body and he drew in a deep breath. “No…”

  “Another casualty of your madness.”

  Kastrius shook his head. “What a waste. Only days ago I thought the Kirshal would be our salvation. I thought we would need her power to bring about the Restoration.”

  He flicked his hands to the side, and the remains of the scaffolding blew apart in all directions. A swirling aura of dark energy once again gathered at his fingertips. 

  “As it turns out, I don’t need the power of a Messiah,” he told her, smiling again. “I wield the power of the Gods themselves.”

  “You wield that which doesn’t belong to you,” Tryss said quietly, brushing her hand across Rook’s lips and then bringing herself to her feet. “You’re a parasite, Kastrius, a petty, blood-sucking monster.”

  “Strong words, sister. You should have been dead twice now. I wonder, will you let the Flensing destroy you again, or will you finally realize the futility of your pathetic ideals?”

  “I will not Defile,” she told him. “Not even to stop you.”

  Kastrius smiled. “Then it’s time for you to die.”

  He lowered his hands forward, and tendrils of dark energy wrapped themselves around her. The air hissed and popped as he ripped the life from the very soil around him. The vines on the nearby buildings blackened, and she could feel the Fane crying out in agony as he called its power to him.

  “Kneel before my power!” he cried out, his eyes glimmering manically.

  Tryss shook her head. “No.”

  She opened her palm, and with a brilliant flash of white light, his spell vanished. The violet tendrils wisped away like smoke caught in a gale, and the blackened vines on the walls returned to a healthy green.

  Kastrius staggered backwards, his mouth falling open. “What? How…”

  He roared and thrust his hands forward to strike again—

  And nothing happened. The air didn’t hiss and no energy gathered at his fingertips. He simply stood there, eyes agape in horror.

  “I…” he gasped. “How…?”

  “You take what doesn’t belong to you,” Tryss said. “Now it’s time to give it back.”

  She grabbed his arm and threw him to the ground. He tried to struggle away, but she held him firmly in her grip as she stretched out with her other hand to touch Rook.

  “One life for another,” she whispered. “That’s the way it works.”

  Kastrius screamed. Blood seeped from his nose and mouth, and his flesh turned completely white. He thrashed in agony, but his fate was already sealed. Within mere moments his shrieks turned to whimpers, and with a final breathless gasp, he collapsed to the ground.

  Tryss turned back to Rook, the power of the Kirshal—the power of Edeh—welling inside of her. The color returned to his cheeks, and his eyes regained the focus as he greedily drank in breath after breath.

  “Easy, easy,” she soothed, propping him up into her arms.

  He blinked, licking at his dry lips and shaking his head. “What…”

  “It’s all right,” she told him, running a hand gently through his hair, “everything will be all right now.”

  “No,” he groaned, “I should be dead. I shouldn’t be here.”

  “That’s twice now. It’s almost as if someone up there likes you.”

  He turned to her brother’s corpse. “How…how could you do that?”

  “It all makes sense to me now,” she whispered. “The Fane, the Kirshal, the power over life and death…”

  Rook shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to,” Tryss said, and then leaned down to kiss him.

  Epilogue

   

  Nathan Rook stared out over the palace balcony as the first light of dawn shone across Haven. The fires had been extinguished and much of the physical damage had been repaired, but then, no one had really been worried about a few burned buildings. The deepest wounds had been suffered by the citizens themselves, and unfortunately he knew full well the worst was yet to come.

  It had been almost two weeks since the Unity Day massacre, and the days had rapidly grown shorter as autumn reached its full stride. The Assembly of the Six Gods, an institution praised by its founders to be the herald of peace across Esharia, had been absolved. The foreign embassies, once filled to the brim with diplomats from every country in the world, had been abandoned. And much of the Darenthi Senate, a body that centuries before had inspired a wave of democracy across the continent, had been crippled. 

  History was riddled with tales of great suffering wrought by dying empires. As a boy listening to his father tell tales of such ancient kingdoms, Rook had often wondered what it felt like for the people who had to live through such turbulent dissolution. Often their cultures were assimilated by larger powers, though sometimes, as had been the case after the fall of Septuria, dissident factions had splintered off to form their own identities.

  Ultimately, that might be the fate of the Darenthi Republic, but Rook held out hope that it wasn’t finished quite yet. It was an odd thought for an Ebaran man who had spent his life hearing about the evils of a militaristic neighbor, but he couldn’t help it. Despite all the cultural differences between their peoples, his time in Haven had taught him one very important lesson: no matter what country he lived in, people were still people in the end. And for all their greed and corruption, they still shared basically the same dreams, hopes, and fears. All life was connected.

  He smiled and leaned down on his elbow. He would be lying if he said recent events hadn’t changed his perspective more than a little bit. It wasn’t every day a man got to walk around with the soul of a goddess inside him. And it wasn’t every lifetime that he was given a second—or even third—chance to make the best of it.

  “Do you think Haven will recover?” Tiel Aranis asked from beside him. For the first time since Rook had met him, the young man had eschewed his robes for real clothing and a full length leather jacket. It looked good on him.

  Rook nodded. “Eventually, but not without a struggle.”

  “I heard some of your people mention that they thought the Balorites planned to attack the city before winter. Others said the Ebarans had already gathered a force at the border.”

  “Hear everything; trust nothing,” Rook said, quoting the old axiom. “It’s an important lesson if you’re going to work for me.”

  Tiel frowned. “So you don’t think the Balorites will attack? They’ve already claimed Sandratha.”

  “We don’t have enough information. We’re not even completely sure who’s leading them right now.”

  The monk turned back to look out across the city. “It’s hard to believe a month ago I was working as a second-rate sage just over there.” His lips thinned into a tight line. “It’s even harder to believe I’m the last one.”

  “You don’t have to be,” Rook told him. “I think as long as the Kirshal lives, the Kirshane still have a purpose. I have a feeling the Empress will agree with you.”

  “I gue
ss we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Find out what?” a voice called from behind them, and the two men turned nearly in unison.

  Rook had always thought a sovereign should look both elegant and powerful, and the Empress managed to be both of those and more. Her royal gown was nearly the same cut as the one they had found her in before, a billowing white sari-style skirt and halter trimmed with silver. Her red-blonde hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and her tattoos were as intricate and striking as ever. At first he was surprised she had chosen to keep the design of the original outfit, but he understood it was all part of the image she was cultivating to rally her people—an image that was, unlike so many in politics, quite accurate.

  She was the Empress of the Darenthi Republic, but she was also the Kirshal. The soul of Edeh resided within her, and she had vowed to use it to restore a badly broken world—or die trying.

  “Eminence,” Tiel said, dropping to a knee.

  She smiled faintly. “I told you weeks ago to stop calling me that. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “How about ‘Your Majesty,” Rook asked.

  She waved a hand dismissively. “Selaste will do fine.”

  He grinned. “It’s a pity, you know. I rather liked the name Tryss.”

  “I can be both. But the people need the Kirshal more than they need an Empress,” she told him. “For now, at least.”

  She gestured for them to follow her over to the table and chairs already arranged on the balcony. An elderly man quickly scurried in behind her carrying a plate of fruit and freshly brewed tea.

  “I apologize for making you wait so long,” she said, sitting down and crossing her legs. “I really thought I could get out of that meeting sooner.”

  “It’s no trouble at all. I know you have a lot on your plate, so to speak.”

  Selaste grunted, turning to the old servant. “Thank you, Lepton. Can you please make sure no one bothers us?”

  He nodded. “Of course, my lady. But the representatives from the Stonemason’s Guild are supposed to be here soon.”

  “They can wait,” she told him. “A little while, anyway.”

  He glanced between the three of them and smiled. “As you wish, Empress. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “So, I know I’m not the only one who’s been busy,” she prompted, sipping at her tea. “I’ve wanted to speak with you all week.”

  “I think Tiel’s question is the most pressing.”

  She nodded. “You want to rebuild the Kirshane, then? I’m sure the Edehan priests at the temple would be more than willing to help. Perhaps you could even work together and—”

  “That’s not exactly what I had in mind, Your Maj—er, Selaste.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “The Kirshane were meant to be an order of guardians,” Tiel explained. “We shielded the world from Defilement and maintained the lore and legacy of the Kirshal. Given all that’s happened, I can’t think of a better time to take up that cause again.”

  “I’m inclined to agree, but how, exactly?”

  Tiel glanced briefly to Rook, then back to her. “I wish to be your bodyguard.”

  Selaste blinked. “You realize the palace is drowning in guards.”

  “Yes, but not the kind I’m talking about,” he explained. “Whether you like it or not, you’re a religious icon now. The people believe you are their Messiah, and they want to rally around you. Such a grandiose figure shouldn’t be protected by mere swords and armor—you need something better. I think I can do that, and I can teach others to do the same.”

  “Mostly he just doesn’t want to work for me,” Rook said with a half-grin. “Apparently I don’t pay well enough for him to put up with all the vice and heathens.”

  “I never once said that,” the monk protested.

  Selaste laughed softly. “So you think it’s important to make a show of it. That’s definitely not an observation I would have expected from you.”

  Tiel shrugged. “The people want to embrace you as their Messiah, but many have doubts. Those that are familiar with the legend will expect the Kirshane to be involved. I’m not sure they need to know what actually happened to the order…at least, not all of it.”

  “You’re probably right.” She clasped her hands together in her lap and nodded. “Well, I think it’s a good idea. I’ll have to introduce you to the new captain of the guard and get you a room, but that won’t be a problem.”

  He glanced furtively between the two of them. “I’m…glad to hear you say it. I really wasn’t sure what you’d think.”

  She smiled tiredly. “Right now I need to surround myself with people I can trust. I think you might change your mind once you see what life around here is actually like, though. The vultures are circling; a lot of people expect the Republic to fall apart any day now. I never paid much attention to politics growing up, much to my mother’s chagrin, but I think it’s even worse now than it was before.”

  “All the more reason to convince them that you’re the Kirshal. Once they recognize that, they’ll fall into line.”

  Rook chuckled. “You’re definitely going to be in for a few surprises, kid.”

  She reached out a hand to shake Tiel’s. “We can talk more about it later, but right now I’d like to speak to Rook alone.”

   “Absolutely,” he said, standing and half-bowing. “And thank you again.”

  “Thank you,” she told him, squeezing. “For all you did for me before. I don’t think I ever had the chance to tell you that.”

  His cheeks reddened, and he nodded his head awkwardly. “Good day…Selaste.”

  Rook grinned the whole time the young man walked back into the palace. “He’s learned a lot these past few weeks, I imagine.”

  “We all have,” she said softly, leaning forward. “And speaking of belated thanks—”

  He raised a hand and shook his head. “The way I figure it, we’ve both done a lot for each other. Why don’t we just call it even and start from there?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “I meant you should really be thanking me. I did save your life.”

  Rook’s mouth opened but nothing came out. He didn’t think she was serious, but her face was set in stone…

  Selaste laughed and stood, offering him a hand and escorting him over to the railing. They looked out across the city together.

  “A part of me still doesn’t believe any of this has happened,” she said softly. “I’ve lived in this building for years, but it still doesn’t feel like home. It’s almost like the memories are fake.”

  He nodded. “To tell you the truth, I’m mostly just annoyed I didn’t recognize you when we first met. I called myself an information broker when I couldn’t even identify the crown princess…”

  She smiled coyly, her turquoise eyes glittering in the encroaching moonlight. “I’m actually glad you didn’t. Things could have gone worse.”

  “Perhaps,” he said neutrally. “In any case, you have a lot of big decisions ahead of you.”

  “And bigger problems,” she agreed. “I need to know who’s leading the Balorite resistance in the capital. I know General Thorne says she killed Veltar herself, but we never did find his body.”

  “Speaking of big decisions, I was surprised you chose to promote her.”

  “My advisors weren’t thrilled about it, but it was the right move politically,” she replied, a bit too defensively.  “The military is already fractured, and she gives us a chance to secure the loyalty of officers who supported Bremen. Besides, she’s as qualified as anyone else.”

  “It wasn’t a criticism, just an observation,” Rook told her. “But you will have to get used to people disagreeing with you.”

  She sighed tiredly. “I know; I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day. Actually, they’ve all been long days.”

  He thought about putting an arm around her but decided against it. It would make what he was about to say even more difficult…
for both of them.

  “For what it’s worth, I think it’s the right decision. Though if I were you, I’d make sure Tiel’s room is far away from hers.”

  “Probably wise,” she agreed, folding her arms over the railing. “You know why I wanted you to come here.”

   Rook pursed his lips. Yes, he knew exactly what she wanted, and it was one of the reasons he had been putting off this meeting as much as possible.

  “The city’s changed,” he said softly. “I set up shop here because of the Assembly and the climate it created. With that gone, a lot of my contacts are going to leave, too. And it’s not like we have a base anymore, either.”

  “So you really are thinking of leaving?”

  “It crossed my mind. There are certainly safer places to be right now.”

  Selaste stared out at the city in silence for a few minutes before finally taking in a deep breath.  “You know, back at the monastery, you said you wanted me to work for you.”

  He nodded. “The offer’s still open, for what it’s worth. I doubt it pays as well as Empress, though.”

  She turned to face him, her eyes locking onto his. “Why don’t you work for me instead?”

  “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much of a bodyguard,” he told her. “Besides, it looks like Tiel has that covered—”

  “Don’t,” she breathed, putting her hand on his arm and squeezing. “You know I need help. I’m not a politician, and I don’t think I ever will be.”

  “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “It can be sometimes and you know it. I’m in way over my head here, and like I told Tiel, I need people I can trust. Some of your contacts might end up leaving, but I’m sure you’re still one of the most connected people in the city. I need that. I need you.”

  “I’m a businessman, not an advisor,” he told her. “Besides, I’m not even Darenthi.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “Some people will, and Tiel was right: appearances matter a lot right now. You’re supposed to be the Kirshal, and you don’t want to make it seem like you’re sleazing around with the criminal underworld.”

  Selaste shook her head. “Why the excuses? I thought you’d want to stay.”

  Rook drew in a deep breath of his own. Somehow, standing in front of a mirror arguing with himself just wasn’t the same as looking into her pleading eyes. It wasn’t that he wanted to abandon her—not in the slightest. He wouldn’t deny the connection he’d felt with her since they had first met, let alone with when they had shared the spirit of a goddess. But this wasn’t about him…not entirely. 

  “I have a responsibility to protect my people,” he said softly. “When Marek first showed me that coffin a month ago, I made a choice—a selfish, foolish choice. Now I’m not saying I regret it, but I do need to learn from it. My curiosity nearly got a lot of people killed, people that depend on me to keep them safe. I can’t just turn my back on them.”

  “Why do you have to?” she asked.

  “Because…” he sighed and turned away, his prepared speech dying on his lips. He could feel her eyes on the side of his face, and it was all he could do not to turn away completely. This really shouldn’t have been so hard. He had gone over it in his head a thousand times already, and his reasons were solid. He needed to take a step back and get perspective again. He had made a life out of remaining distant and objective, and there was no reason to change that now.

  No, that wasn’t true—he did have a reason. He was just terrified to admit it.

  “Because Van was right,” he said softly.

  “What?”

  “Back in the woods south of Haven, he said I was acting stupid for a pretty face. Well, he was right. I can’t trust myself when I’m around you.”

  Selaste placed a hand on his cheek and tilted his head to face her. “Why?”

  Rook swallowed heavily. “I thought I was making a mistake before when I started to fall for an amnesiac. I didn’t know who you were or where you had come from. You could have been a Balorite or a charlatan or maybe even the Messiah.”

  “But now you know,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “Now I’ve fallen in love with the Empress, and I think that’s even worse.”

  “You’re saying you love me?”

  “What I’m saying is…” he trailed off. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time. I haven’t wanted to be with someone so badly it almost makes me scream. It scares me…I’m a different man when I’m around you.”

  A coy grin pulled at her lips. “Noble and self-sacrificing?”

  “Yeah, that,” he murmured.

  She took his hands and slowly placed them around her waist. “I happen to like that man. I think you do too.”

  He traced his hands along the bare skin at her back as he looked into her eyes. Eventually a smile tugged at his lips. “I like your gown, by the way. It looks…”

  “Good?” she asked.

  “Great,” he told her.

  Her smile widened, and she pulled him in close enough that he could taste her breath. For the last week, his mind had been screaming at him to get away, to put some distance between himself and everything that had happened. It had been so easy to forget the way he felt back in Jehalai when he kissed her lips and brought their bodies together. He still hadn’t known who she was, but he had been absolutely certain that he wanted to be with her.

  Now, being so close to her again, he realized that nothing had changed. It didn’t matter if she was the Empress or the Kirshal—or both. It didn’t matter if this city was about to be right at the center of another war, or that his people might leave to go somewhere else. All that mattered was that he was close to her.

  He leaned in and kissed her. He wasn’t sure it was actually possible to fall in love with a person you didn’t really know, and in many ways, she wasn’t even the same woman she had been just weeks ago. But he was quite certain that right now, there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be.

  “Don’t you have another meeting?” he asked eventually, pulling away just enough to speak.

  “They can wait,” she breathed, running her lips across his neck. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Rook thoughts turned briefly to the others. Van would stay, for sure, and Rynne probably would too, but the rest of the organization might crumble. But he finally admitted to himself that it was all right. He had come to Haven to escape the pain, after all, and perhaps it was time that he embraced the cure. One way or another, this is where he belonged.

  “No,” he said, bringing their lips together again, “I’m not.”