The Nesilia's War Trilogy: (Buried Goddess Saga Box Set: Books 4-6)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Then pray Freydis is as strong as she seems, for only she looked into your eyes and saw the truth of what lies beneath.”

  “I’m going to get out of here,” Sora threatened, “and I’m going to destroy you.”

  Nesilia’s cackle filled Nowhere, Elsewhere, and beyond. The trees seemed to dance gleefully on the wind, but the smell carried upon it was death. And all around the pit, the Drav Cra eyed Sora as if they too heard it.

  “There is no out of here,” Nesilia said. “I am you, and you are me, bound in Elsewhere and Pantego. You are a goddess, Sora. In time, you’ll embrace it, or you’ll wind up drowning in darkness like my brother and all those who opposed me long ago.”

  XXXI

  THE KNIGHT

  Torsten, are you sure about this?” Lucas asked as they delved deeper into South Corner. The stench was even worse than it had been days ago. The crisp night air only seemed to augment it. And with all the construction, even more citizens had been displaced to cluster together in group-homes, churches, and worse.

  “How many times are you going to ask?” Torsten said, scratching his brow.

  “Until we turn around,” Lucas replied.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were protecting our friend, Mr. Tehr.”

  “I’m not, I swear… I just…”

  “Relax, Lucas. I’m only joking. Yes, I am capable of jesting.”

  Lucas exhaled in relief. “Well, I know what he’s capable of too. Everyone here does. He had enough support before the cultists. Now, he feeds and houses them. Rebuilds homes and shops. Every eye in South Corner is his.”

  “There is only one Eye we need be concerned with.”

  “Can’t we just think this plan through? My parent’s place is around the corner. They aren’t only bakers. My mother could whip up a stew for supper that would change your life.”

  Torsten stopped. “Do you see what I’m wearing, Lucas?” he asked. “I am not your commanding officer today. If a warm dinner and the love of your parents is what you want tonight, then by all means. But it was men like you who saved them and so many others the night of the cultists’ riot. Not Valin, you. And I think it’s about time we dug his claws out of this place even if only a little, don’t you?”

  “I…” Lucas sighed. “I do. I only hoped to live long enough to be a Shieldsman—”

  “And see you parents’ faces when you tell them?” Torsten finished for him. “You will yet, my boy. Iam is with us tonight. Can’t you feel it?”

  “How do you know?” Lucas asked.

  “Because he has to be. Now, come on, it’s this way, isn’t it.”

  “It is.”

  Lucas took his arms, and they turned down another street. Torsten had no doubt Valin continued to provide for the needy, not out of kindness, but because the needy were his weapons. Torsten knew the man could influence a riot against the Crown at any time with nothing but the promise of richer foods. In fact, Torsten was convinced Valin had inspired the one by the markets.

  They passed by the clamor of the Grove Street Church, not far from the Vineyard. It was so alive with commotion, so packed with refugees it sounded like a tavern. Torsten guessed the place had never seen so many occupants for one of Father Bristol’s sermons. Now, the man was off in Hornsheim, and his humble chapel stunk like Elsewhere. Torsten battled the urge to vomit at the smell of shog, rotten food, and body odor.

  “It seems the wickedness of the Buried Goddess will never fade,” Torsten said.

  “It could’ve been my parents in there,” Lucas said.

  “It could have been any of us. Sir Davies, Liam, they were all right. South Corner needs a man like Valin Tehr to keep the order, but also to keep it down. A purging fire destroyed this place, and maybe it’s time everything changes.”

  Lucas stepped in something squishy before he could answer, and gagged.

  “What is it?” Torsten asked.

  “Feel blessed you can’t see,” Lucas replied. “C’mon, the Vineyard is just ahead.”

  A few steps away from the crowded church, the smell didn’t get any better. Silence filled the air, and all that could be heard was trash and refuse blowing along the streets. Outside, people crowded the streets, begging for scraps from Valin’s table before they were ordered away.

  “Ey, you!” a guard barked at them. “Off the streets. There’s a curfew in place.”

  Torsten knew that, of course. By order of the King’s Shield, not even the cleanest of beggars was permitted to sleep on the streets. It was a mandate he himself had sanctioned. He didn’t blame the poor souls of South Corner who’d rioted for getting Oleander killed—they couldn’t have known Dom Nohzi assassins would arrive—but he did know the violence angry groups were capable of, especially under the influence of a man as powerful as Valin Tehr.

  “Ah, my apologies,” Torsten said. “My friend here was just taking me to his house to have a night under a roof.”

  “You spent too long in the castle, Danvels?” the man said. Only then did Torsten recognize his voice as belonging to the guard captain of Dockside. They hadn’t yet had time to look into replacing him. “Your folks’ place is the other way.”

  “Oh, that’s right, sir,” Lucas said. “So much training, my brains been in a fog.”

  “Sir?” Captain Henry chuckled. “You’re going to be a Shieldsman for Iam’s sake. You know, I was in training for it once. Under Sir Unger, actually. Apparently, I didn’t have what it takes, so you lot shoved me into this foul, shog-stained place.”

  Torsten honestly couldn’t remember that. At the height of Liam’s reign and constant warring, many passed through the Order. Even more weren’t worthy of it. “The King’s Shield isn’t for everyone,” Torsten said.

  “Hey, I’m not complaining. There’s always something to do in Dockside. Up in the castle all day, I think I’d go mad from boredom. Well, until lately that is.”

  “The Crown thanks you for your longtime service, Captain,” Torsten said. “Now, if you don’t mind, we really must be going.”

  “Try to be quick about it, aye? There are more muggings these days than ever before. And killings, it turns out.”

  “Thank you,” Torsten said. “Good to see you again.”

  Lucas tugged on Torsten’s arm, but they only made it a few steps before Captain Henry shifted back in front of them.

  Captain Henry grabbed their wrists together. “You both were there when the Queen was killed, weren’t you? Any idea what in Iam’s name happened?”

  “We’re still trying to figure that out,” Torsten said.

  “Oh, c’mon. I’ve heard rumors about monsters. Others say it was the Black Sands.”

  “Captain, just walk away,” Lucas said under his breath.

  “Why is it everyone always asks me to walk away when things start to get interesting?” Captain Henry said. He released their wrists and circled them.

  “Captain, please,” Lucas said. “We need to go.”

  Torsten raised an arm in front of Lucas and stepped forward.

  “You ain’t headed to mum and dads, are ya?”

  Neither answered.

  “You’re heading down to the Vineyard again, aren’t ya?” Henry said.

  “It is not your business where we’re going,” Torsten said.

  Captain Henry wound his way back in front of them. “C’mon, is the Shield finally making a move on Valin Tehr? That bastard’s been shogging on us for so many years I’ve lost count.”

  “I only seek to meet with his friends…” Torsten swallowed back the lump in his throat. “In private.”

  Captain Henry snickered. “Well, why didn’t you say that from the beginning? You wouldn’t be the first Shieldsman wanting a taste of the Vineyard.”

  “Valin offered me a deal,” Torsten said. “It’s only right to look into it.”

  “Well, the worm’s up in Old Yarrington right now, but his place is fuller than ever.”

  “How do you know that?”
/>   “Valin Tehr watches our every move. We watch his. It’s the way of things down here.”

  “Well, Captain, you can do the Crown a favor and keep an eye on this street,” Torsten said. “Make sure nothing out of the ordinary goes on while we’re inside? Oh, and I think it’s time we reconsider having a loyal man like yourself in the Shield.”

  “Me, a Shieldsman?” Henry said. “I gave up that dream a long time ago.”

  “The kingdom needs more loyal men.”

  “Well, Sir, in that case, I’ll keep this street as clean as our virgin king.” Torsten’s jaw dropped upon hearing a Glass soldier speak like that. The captain must have noticed because he quickly said, “Sorry, Sir. Only way to get people to tell us a damn thing down here is to talk like them.”

  “That’s all right,” Torsten said. It wasn’t, but he didn’t have time to scold soldiers. “Thank you, Captain. Keep up the good work. And I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anybody you saw us down here.”

  “Saw what?” Henry laughed, then pounded his chestplate in salute.

  Torsten offered an appreciative grunt, then pulled Lucas along.

  “Oh, and Danvels,” Henry said before they were gone. “I still haven’t paid your parent’s a visit like I’ve been meaning to. You know what, maybe I’ll head over there, see what she has in the oven.”

  “It’s night,” Lucas replied. “They’ll be closed.”

  “Oh. Right. Well, maybe in the morning. Enjoy, gentleman.” He strolled away, whistling.

  “I don’t trust him, Sir,” Lucas said to Torsten. “As I told you last time, I always got a bad feeling from him. I should’ve looked into replacements sooner.”

  “Do you think he’s in Valin’s pocket?”

  “If he’s not, he spent way too much time patrolling this street trying to be. Let’s go to my parents and come up with something else. I swear, they can be trusted.”

  “Are you really worried about Captain Henry?” Torsten said. “We’ll be fine, Lucas. Valin can watch us all he wants, but so long as he seeks the favor of our king, he can’t kill me yet.

  “Sir, you know he’s capable of anything!” Lucas raised his voice and yanked back on Torsten’s arm. “Please, you aren’t thinking clearly.”

  “No, boy, for the first time I am. I won’t let evil fester any longer.” He pulled free of Lucas and used his cane to climb the steps up to the Vineyard’s front door himself. “Now are you coming, or not?”

  Lucas exhaled, then followed.

  As Torsten pushed through the doors, a wave of sweat and infidelity washed over him. It sounded much like the church inside, with the altruistic Valin Tehr offering so many homeless a place to lay their head.

  “Hold it,” a thug said almost immediately. Torsten recognized the voice as belonging to the one named Curry, who’d shouted for Abigail so crassly. “What do you want?”

  “Kind sir, I was wondering if the Vineyard was still in… business,” Torsten lowered his voice to utter the word.

  “Not tonight, we’re a bit crowded if you can’t see.”

  Torsten reached up and drew back his hood to reveal his seared eyes. “Ah, my apologies.”

  “By Iam, rotten luck that is.” Curry took a step back, and Torsten heard another of Valin’s men muttering. Even some of the homeless men, women, and children scattered throughout the place whispered.

  “Do you know who that is?” the man said, so low nobody else would’ve been able to hear him, but Torsten’s hearing seemed to get better every day.

  “Sir Unger, Mr. Tehr isn’t here right now,” Curry said.

  Torsten put his arm around the man and led him aside where they could use hushed tones. “I’m not here for Valin. I was hoping I could…” He exhaled slowly. “Spend the night?”

  “Spend the… oh.” Curry snickered. “A Shieldsman like you?”

  “Please, I need it.”

  “Well, Mr. Tehr says the Vineyard’s rooms are only meant to be used to house the people of South Corner for now.”

  “You would deny the slayer of Redstar and our Master of Warfare?” Lucas said, entering the conversation.

  “Hey, it’s not my rule,” Curry replied.

  “Relax, my friend,” Torsten said. “Forgive my aide. We’re all on edge after what happened. Mr. Tehr offered me a night here to help relax. I’ve recently lost a very close friend, and I’d love to take him up on his offer so that I can think about anything else for just a few hours.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Look, I know nobody wants to get into trouble with Mr. Tehr,” Torsten said. “But, if it helps all the same, I happen to be from South Corner.”

  Curry sighed. “I suppose that’s true.”

  “I’m sure there’s more than enough room, ‘downstairs,’” Lucas added.

  “Wait right here.” The two guards left and argued a bit in hushed tones. Torsten couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he waited calmly. He could hear Lucas nervously tapping his thigh with his thumb.

  “You’re doing well,” Torsten said to him. “Just keep playing along.”

  The guards returned. “All right, we’ll make an exception, just for you,” Curry said. “Nobody wants the Master of Warfare to be angry with us.”

  “Ah, thank you,” Torsten said, feigning relief. “I will make sure to let Valin know how helpful you’ve both been. With the position he’s about to be named to, I’ll be spending a lot more time with him.”

  “What position?” Curry asked.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Again, Torsten heard the men whispering to one another, this time sounding gleeful. It seemed even Valin’s own rotten followers were left in the shadows when it came to his affairs.

  “All right, come on inside,” Curry said.

  Torsten stepped forward and found himself being patted down.

  “You do you realize who he is?” Lucas questioned.

  “Sorry, everyone gets checked now,” Curry said. “Thanks to… well… you know.”

  “It’s okay,” Torsten said. The guards eventually found the dagger sheathed in the back of his belt and removed it. “Ah, sorry about that. I thought I told Lucas to change my belt.”

  “No good help out there these days,” Curry said.

  “Sorry, Sir,” Lucas muttered.

  They checked Lucas next, then ushered him and Torsten farther inside. The fire crackling at the hearth was the only thing that masked the stench. Torsten didn’t blame Valin for desperately seeking quarter in the Glass Castle. The place was a pigsty. Torsten didn’t need to see it to know it.

  Lucas had to help Torsten step over a few sleeping citizens. Others coughed, hacking like they were diseased. Torsten actually preferred the brothel as it used to be. This just reminded him of the kinds of places he’d slept in as a boy when his parents were too drunk to know where he’d gotten off to. Or after they’d died, leaving him without a bronzer to his name.

  “So, what’s your fancy, Mr. Hero?” Curry asked. “Jubila’s Glintish like you. Gotten enough men under her spell, she could probably raise an army.”

  “No,” Torsten said. “I was hoping you might have someone fair and blonde…Tall. Someone with a northern look?” Torsten felt grimy just asking, but he had to play the part of a nobleman off to live his wildest fantasies. He had to play to the rumors about him and Oleander which so many likely had heard but never spoken of.

  “Like the late queen, eh?” Curry asked.

  The other guard snickered. “What’s it matter what she looks like?”

  Torsten didn’t answer. His throat went unexpectedly tight.

  “Ignore him. Course we do,” Curry said. “Here at the Vineyard, we got every vintage your heart desires.” He stopped and whistled up toward the second floor. “Ey, Abigail, get your ass down here.”

  Torsten followed the direction he shouted and heard the soft, gentle voice of Abigail helping a sick, homeless boy drink stew. Even in such a place, she found a way to b
e kind. Torsten knew his plan to have her help him one last time was a good one.

  “Abigail!” Curry shouted.

  “All right, I’m coming!” she yelled back. “There you go,” she whispered to the boy. “Just try to finish this, all right? I’ll check on you as soon as I’m done.”

  “I swear,” Curry groaned. “If these girls wanted to be mothers so bad, Iam knows why they came here.”

  Torsten grunted in agreement but clenched his fist. He knew what it was like to have a mother from a brothel. The Vineyard was still a tavern, but she frequented places just like it, sold around by her father and happy to do it so long as they could get their hands on manaroot and forget the world. Torsten was probably pushed out in the basement of somewhere just like this before he was a forgotten urchin.

  “Well, she ain’t the Queen,” Curry said as she approached, “but she’ll have to do.”

  “What is it, Curry, you fat slob?” Abigail asked.

  “We’ve got another special circumstance,” Curry said. “So how bout you put on a smile and show our royal guest a good time.”

  “I… Torsten, you’re back?” she said.

  “I am,” Torsten replied.

  “The slayer of Redstar wants a night to remember,” Curry said, taking no efforts to mask his delight.

  Torsten cleared his throat. “I…” He couldn’t fake it. He had no idea how men came to the Vineyard and did what they did without feeling the mark of sin on their souls forever.

  Abigail sauntered closer and ran her fingers along his arm. “Don’t worry, Sir Unger. I’ll be honored.” She took Torsten’s hand and slowly wrapped it around her waist, pushing so he could feel the shape of her supple thighs. He bit his tongue and went along with it, feeling ashamed. But it was his only option.

  “Your friend will have to stay up here,” Curry said.

  “It’s my sworn duty to look after him,” Lucas said.

  “Even as he gets his jollies off?” Curry chortled. “You Shieldsmen and your honor. Just sit down at the bar. Someone’ll fetch you a drink. And try not to give any of these leeches any.”