Godfire

by Cara Witter

  She knew things. Things even her father didn’t know. This alone should have been enough to command his respect, but she’d kept it a secret, fearing his wrath.

  “I’m glad you’re safe, at any rate,” Diamis said. “If you had been killed by that bolt, I don’t know what I would have done.” He turned toward her, and she scooted backward another involuntary step, almost to the door, but still he approached. She tried not to flinch as his hand reached for her face.

  Her father had never hit her, but sometimes even his soft words felt violent.

  “Trouble yourself no more with Tehlran,” he said. “Trust that I will take care of it.”

  Daniella held in a shudder. “Of course, Father.”

  “Good. You may go.” As suddenly as he had approached her, he turned and sat back down in his chair. Daniella left the study, her breathing shallow.

  She hadn’t been in the tunnels in years. She couldn’t remember the way to the chamber. But if she went back, she could return and show her father, escorting him confidently through the passages he had never known were in his own castle.

  Earn it.

  Gods damn it, Daniella was going to try.

  Fourteen

  Daniella stood at the bottom of the main castle staircase, watching her father enter the throne room, fashionably late to hold court. He enjoyed keeping the nobility waiting when they came to air their grievances. He’d always said it helped them know their place.

  While he was holding court, Daniella knew exactly where her father would be. The door closed ponderously behind him, and the guards moved into position before the doors. Daniella took a deep breath to force her frantic heart into some semblance of calm.

  Time to act. She stole down the hallway behind her. After a quick look around to make sure there were no servants or guards about to see her, she lit the candle of her lantern on one of the wall sconces and pulled aside the tapestry that obscured a tiny, nearly invisible rune.

  Her hand trembled as she reached for it. She brushed her fingers across the etching, held her lip hard between her teeth and traced the second rune on top. Her finger remembered the shape of it easily. She felt the magic, a tingling sensation flowing from the tip of her finger to her hand and up her arm. Then she shuddered and removed her finger from the stone; the feeling instantly vanished.

  The rune she had traced with her finger, however, lit with a blue fire that spread through the etched lines. She threw one last look about her to confirm that no one else had seen the glowing runes or would witness the even more astounding sight to follow. The flames in the torches snapped; the soft sound of distant servants’ chatter drifted from another hall. She was alone, for now.

  Daniella picked up her lantern and tucked her hair behind her ear. She sucked in one deep breath and walked directly at the stone wall. She felt something like an icy mist along her skin.

  And then she found herself inside.

  The passageway was exactly as she remembered—cold, dank, and narrow. It felt smaller than it had years before, although Daniella couldn’t have grown more than an inch or two. The walls were rough, and a mildly foul odor of rot and trapped air filled her nose. Just for a moment she was sixteen again, being pushed through the tunnels at knife point by a man who would raise a dead body . . . and then kill it again.

  I am returning. She had found the same words in the Chronicle, once, and had shut the book immediately and never returned to the passage.

  Something lurked at the center of the castle, floors above. Something that the Drim had come to converse with.

  And once she had proof, her father would surely want to hear about that.

  Daniella walked carefully down the passageway, although there was little on the ground that would trip her. Searching along the walls, she found the paths that she’d traveled that night and went up the two sets of stairs. She was grateful for the lantern in her hand, the comfort of even the most tremulous light in the pressing dark.

  She found the entrance to the chamber sooner than she wanted to.

  Daniella scanned the wall with the lantern until she found the rune and forced herself to copy over the second part. It didn’t matter how much her fingers trembled. She could have done it in her sleep.

  I can do this, she thought. I can.

  The body of the guard would no doubt be inside. Would it have been reduced to bone after all these years? Would worms have been able to find it, or would the flesh have withered?

  Daniella stepped through the wall, letting the cool mist wash over her. Inside, as before, the first thing she saw were the four pedestals, casting long shadows by the light of her lantern.

  The room seemed empty, but for them and the seal at the center. Atop the seal, there was no body, no remains, no trace of the guard who had died there. She couldn’t even see a stain of blood over the stones, though there had surely been enough of it to have left a mark.

  A deep chill went through her. What did that mean?

  She knew now that she could find the room again, bring her father to it. But what proof of her story did she have when there was no body? Still, she’d better have a look around. She probably should have years ago.

  Daniella stepped towards the first of the four pedestals, avoiding for now the large diagram in the center of the room, where the body had stood. The pedestals were short and squat, and Daniella brought the lantern close so that she could read the runes written across the edge.

  Mirilina bid the waves farewell; the rain wept from Her cheeks.

  Daniella recognized the line, of course. It was a reference to Mirilina’s sacrifice to stop Maldorath. One pedestal, most likely, for each god. She went to the next pedestal and found her guess confirmed.

  Nerendal’s light set free in the sky, the beacon of His departing.

  She determinedly walked as close as she dared to the large diagram etched into the floor. She was hoping her greater knowledge of Drimmish would help her to translate the runes this time, even though she was already certain she knew what it was. But she still didn’t recognize the markings.

  And then something caught her eye against the wall to the side of the entrance. She hadn’t seen it when she’d come in, because it had been behind her and low to the wall.

  A dark shape lay in a heap on the floor.

  A body. Her breath caught. Could this be what was left of the guard? Had he somehow crawled his way to the wall before he died? No. Daniella had huddled in this dark room for hours after the Drim had left, afraid to move, afraid to make her way through the passages without a light.

  Daniella approached the body, her skin crawling with every step closer, every step which shed more and more of the soft lantern-light.

  It wasn’t the guard at all. It was a boy, flesh intact, lying on the ground, his skin dead and painted with runes. Unable to tear her eyes away, Daniella recognized him.

  It was the same boy she’d seen in Tehlran’s palace in Andronim. Not a person who looked like him, but an exact copy, with the same features.

  Daniella stepped reflexively backwards, and her back hit the closest pedestal. The lantern fell from her hand, the candle rolling free of its holder and onto the stone. She gasped and grabbed for it, desperate not to be left here in the dark. Again.

  This couldn’t be right. She’d come by boat and arrived only this morning—how would the body have gotten here faster than her? Unless it had been in stowage on the very boat that she’d taken from Drepaine, sent from Tehlran to her father.

  But, by the gods, why? And how were they keeping him so well preserved?

  Daniella picked up her candle while the light still flickered. But as the clatter of the lantern falling faded from the stones, it was replaced by the sound of a man’s voice, muted, echoing from the other side of a wall—not the one she’d come through, but the one opposite it.

  Her heart froz
e in her chest.

  Someone was coming.

  Daniella grabbed the lantern and blew out her flame, plunging the chamber into blackness as she scrambled for the pedestal farthest from the voice. A small light flickered to life behind her, casting the same dark shadows that her lantern had cast against the far sides of the pedestals. Daniella hid herself entirely within one of the shadows, out of the sight of the newcomer. She pulled her skirt up around her legs so that no scrap of telltale fabric lay in the light.

  Boots echoed against stone. More than one pair. A trembling orange glow cast around the room.

  “Cozy,” remarked a man’s voice. Daniella’s eyes widened. She’d recognize that voice in any context.

  Erich. He knew about this place?

  She wasn’t going to impress her father with her knowledge after all. She was only going to be horrified by his.

  “It isn’t meant to be a sitting room, General,” another voice replied, and Daniella recognized that one, too. Lukos, the Vorgalian mage she went to so much effort to avoid.

  The men crossed the room. Daniella shifted with the shadow as they approached the dead boy. She could see them now, though here in the shadow, they might not notice her unless they searched.

  Both men had their backs to her, and Lukos still wore his purple hood. In his hand he held a small curved blade decorated in red-tinged gold. He unwrapped a bundle he held in his hand, containing an object Daniella strained to recognize.

  Then Lukos held it up to the light. It was a vial of dark liquid. Tipping it against his fingers, Lukos poured some against his skin, causing more blood to drip down onto the body of the boy.

  Daniella bit down on her knuckles, focusing on the pain rather than her cold sweat. Lukos bent over the body and began to speak, hissing in a language Daniella had never heard before.

  And then Daniella wished she’d hidden out of sight, so that she wouldn’t have witnessed what happened next. The boy from Drepaine twitched and his limbs drew him up off the floor. Erich watched impassively, his hand resting naturally on the hilt of his sword.

  Lukos emptied the rest of the vial into a small bowl. The chanting died off as boy opened his eyes, and even in the dim light Daniella could see that they were completely black.

  Daniella felt sharp pain in her fingers, but flesh dug into stone was too mundane to tear away her attention. Blood magic. And Erich was in on it.

  Gods. How many others knew?

  Then the boy opened his mouth and spoke. “My lord,” it said, “I trust Daniella returned to you safe. I’ve not yet been able to ascertain if the purpose of her mission in Drepaine was fulfilled.”

  A chill ran all the way through her body at the sound of the boy speaking. His voice was raspy and dry, pitched somewhere between a child and man—and yet somehow neither at all.

  Erich took a step forward. “Lord Diamis preferred that you meet with his sword arm today. I’ve information from General Raske about the movements of the troops at Jekti.”

  A pause. The boy’s eyes remained steadfastly unblinking. “General Dektrian.”

  “Precisely,” Erich said.

  Daniella squinted into the dark. It sounded like he was talking to someone who had seen her recently. Someone who had seen her in Drepaine.

  And knew the purpose of her visit, which should only have been to avoid Erich. Shouldn’t it?

  Erich chuckled, though it lacked humor. Something she could have said of Erich generally. “First, what is the report?”

  A report.

  Gods. Were there two of this boy, one here and one in Drepaine? Twins, perhaps, murdered and used to speak at a distance? Blood and flesh, being used to talk through this boy-vessel at her father’s request.

  No wonder her father hadn’t seemed truly concerned about Tehlran’s blood magic. He’d been making excuses, covering for his own actions.

  Lord General Diamis, who disdained all deviant magics, was hiding the fact that he was a blood mage.

  “Things are going as planned,” the boy said. The boy stood stiffly, only his mouth moving as they shaped words that were not his own.

  Erich arched an eyebrow. “What you are saying is that you have nothing new to report.”

  “Are the troops in place for the southward invasion?” the boy said.

  “Not yet,” Erich said. “The amassing force at Jekti needs to draw more of the Mortichean troops northward before it’s safe to gather there. You are to draw all the attention northward that you can. This is not a request.”

  Daniella’s fingers pressed harder against the pedestal. Diamis and Tehlran were preparing for an attack on Mortiche. Tehlran would send his troops to the pass at Jekti, and Erich would attack from the south, avoiding the mountain range which made it impossible to invade over the long border between Sevairn and Mortiche.

  Andronim and Sevairn had both had their share of border disputes, but no one had taken Mortiche since the Banishment. The mountainous border and the swamp to the south were all but impassible.

  “Certainly, General,” the boy said. “It’s an honor to hear from you personally.”

  Daniella blinked. Tehlran didn’t seem like the sort of man who would think it an honor to speak with Erich. Did he also have someone else talking on the other side?

  Erich gave a nod to Lukos, who lowered his blade. The boy’s body dropped to the floor. Daniella startled at the movement, but was able to remain silent, her jaw clenched so tightly that it hurt. Lukos returned the blade to the leather belt at his waist. The bowl remained in his hand as he turned to face Erich, and Daniella shifted around the side of the pedestal out of their view, not daring to peek out while Lukos looked in her direction.

  “Is that all?” Lukos asked.

  Daniella heard the noise of Erich’s boots pacing toward the far wall. She swallowed. What would Lukos do next in here? If he discovered her, he might kill her. Or take her to her father, which would likely be worse, after what she’d seen.

  “Not quite,” Erich said. “I was hoping that I might convince you to teach me some of your craft. I’ve learned a few things from my men from Remalia, but not enough.”

  Daniella suppressed a shudder. Erich not only knew about the blood magic, he was learning to use it. How long had she slept beside a man who was dabbling in dark magics? It made her proclivity for runes look as tame as a preoccupation with embroidery.

  Lukos laughed. “Teach you blood magic? Do you think Mortiche is so strong that you’ll need it?”

  Erich’s tone hardened at the insult. “I have other needs for it.”

  “You want to control the girl,” Lukos said.

  It wasn’t a question. Daniella’s heart climbed into her throat. Erich didn’t deny it.

  He wanted to use blood magic to control her? Could he do that?

  Of course he could. Anyone with her blood and enough knowledge would be able to manipulate her thoughts, her actions, like a puppeteer pulling on strings.

  Erich didn’t have access to her blood, did he? She thought back over the time that they’d been together, but it was impossible to know. One cut dabbed by his handkerchief would have been enough. At the time she would have trusted him to burn it.

  Gods. Had she been so stupid?

  When Erich didn’t respond—at least not audibly—Lukos grunted. “I’d love to give you a discourse on the finer points of romancing a puppet,” he said. “It’s usually done with another mage as proxy, as it becomes disorienting, watching yourself through their eyes while they pleasure you. Not everyone likes the idea of a third pair of eyes invading their fantasies, but—”

  “No,” Erich said. “No, I’ll control her myself.”

  “You won’t,” Lukos said. “She can’t be controlled.”

  And though she’d never wanted to be within an arm’s length of the man, Daniella could have hugged him.


  Erich paused. “Because her father won’t allow it?”

  Daniella no longer felt the stone beneath her fingers, beneath her legs. Erich wanted her, she knew that. She believed, not that he loved her, but that he’d become personally obsessed with her beyond what her father had wanted.

  But she’d never imagined he’d go to such lengths, turn her into a soulless body, nothing more than a toy.

  The thought that she’d ever let him touch her made her ill.

  The lantern shifted, and Lukos’ body cast a shadow against the wall, his hooded figure shaking its head. “Because she’s not a girl,” Lukos said. “She’s a weapon. She can’t be controlled by you, or me, or her father. Not if you had pints of her blood. Gallons of it. Her father will make her bow to him when the time comes, but not to be your bedmate.” Lukos snorted. “Though bedding a creature like her would be quite the experience.”

  Daniella stared into the dark, her mind clouding over.

  A weapon? That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Her eyes burned, but she couldn’t blink.

  Somewhere deep in her mind, a sick voice hissed at her. That’s why no one respects you. Because they know.

  Erich took a step back, entering Daniella’s vision again. He put his hand on his sword, and for a moment, Daniella thought he might draw it on Lukos, both for refusing him and for insulting her. She held her breath, wondering what Lukos could do to him, whether the great Erich Dektrian could best him.

  At that moment, she wasn’t sure which one to be more afraid of.

  Erich turned away from Lukos and stared off into the dark, toward Daniella. She tensed, and for a moment she thought he must have seen the outline of her there in the shadow, he’d been staring for so long.