The Last Whisper of the Gods Saga: Stories from Ayberia

by James Berardinelli

  She didn’t miss the reproachful glance Bartholemu shot the prelate. Not the kind of look one would expect a lowly priest to cast in the direction of his ultimate superior. Bartholemu helped her to a chair and put a goblet of ruby wine in her hands. She drank from it greedily, trying to bring moisture to a mouth that had suddenly gone dry.

  “You’ve told her then?” asked Bartholemu. Apparently, he had just now come back. “Everything?”

  “No, not everything. I read her Ferguson’s missive surmising the truth about her parentage.” Turning to her, he continued, his words burning with intensity. “Listen carefully, Your Highness. After Queen Myselene retook Vantok and Ferguson’s scroll was brought to me along with his other possessions from Sussaman, I investigated his assertion. Your actual birth occurred four weeks after the officially recorded date, making it impossible for Azarak to have been your father. Indeed, the only ones in camp close enough to have sired you were Sorial and Chancellor Gorton. Your mother is a shrewd woman and would have recognized the potential benefits of having a wizard as the father of her child. And Magus Alicia was conveniently absent from the camp during the precise period when the conception would have taken place. The evidence is conclusive: you are the daughter of Magus Sorial, his only child.”

  And now so many little things - offhand comments, whispered remarks - made sense. Lavella’s demand that she had to visit the portal… unreasonable unless her lineage could be linked to someone with proven magical capabilities. The knife in her boot sheath… not the weapon of a king but quite possibly that of a wizard who had grown up as a stableboy. Comments by long-time servants about how little she favored her ‘father.’ She didn’t doubt the veracity of Belmar’s conclusion. He was a sober, rational man and if he believed it, it was most likely true. And he had no reason to lie. But the implications…

  “We don’t know if you can be a wizard and neither does your mother or Magus Lavella. To find out, you would need to visit the portal. If you went with them, it’s likely you would never become queen. Your mother would, in all probability, outlive you. Wizards have shortened lifespans. Fifteen, twenty years would be the best you could hope for. Sorial and Alicia lived less than two, although the war hastened their ends. So those are two of your options: princess or possible wizard. The third is for you to join us. Regardless of whether you can be a wizard or not, your blood is rich. Not as rich as your grandmother’s but, if matched with that of suitable mate, potentially strong enough to sire a new generation of wizards. Wizards who, under the Temple’s guidance, would grow to lead humanity in the right direction. Wizards with the nobility of soul and purity of heart to form a cabal that would guide, not dominate.”

  Shaken as Kara was, her wits weren’t addled. “Who is Bartholemu?” She had asked the question repeatedly; she suspected the time had come for an answer.

  He moved in front of her, filling her field of vision. His eyes captured hers and a finger gently brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. “My father is Duke Aragos, brother to Lady Evane, mother of Magus Alicia. I am her cousin and also a relation of Magus Lavella. My bloodline is strong, although perhaps not as strong as yours. If you’ll have me, I would be your husband and provide you with many fine children, some of whom would hopefully populate the next generation of wizards.”

  Kara was beginning to feel lightheaded and it wasn’t just the circumstances. She glanced down at the half-finished goblet of wine and a terrible suspicion formed. She swallowed and tried to say something but the words died in her throat. Her eyelids began to flutter as if weighed down by stones. She swooned. Bartholemu supported her before she could fall.

  The last words she heard before blackness swooped in were Belmar’s: “Let’s take her to the Cave of the Magus. The Watch is distracted by the fire at the inn. We can move now. Use the tunnels. Be quick and silent.”

  * * *

  “Missing? What do you mean, missing?” Myselene was unable to keep the panic from her voice.

  “No one knows where she is.” Rexall was out of breath. He had been running all around the city for the past several hours, trying to track down Kara’s whereabouts. In the beginning, he had thought this might be another instance of her slipping away from her guards but it appeared that they too had disappeared.

  “That isn’t possible. Someone must know.”

  “The last time anyone saw her, she and her protectors were going into the temple for her regular lesson. They haven’t come out or at least no one has seen them come out.”

  “And you’re just bringing this to my attention now?”

  Rexall sighed. There were times when the queen thought everyone around her was incompetent. “As soon as the first report reached me, I put the entire Watch on alert.” Admittedly, that had happened later than it should have but many of the city militia’s efforts had been focused on tracking and apprehending those responsible for burning The Wayfarer’s Comfort to the ground. “I went to the temple myself and interviewed a number of priests. Some had seen her but none since this morning. They were perplexed that she was missing; most thought she had left in due course by one of the secondary entrances but no one had seen her leave.”

  “What did Prelate Belmar have to say?”

  “I wasn’t able to see him. According to his secretary, he was ‘indisposed.’ I was told the same thing about the priest who normally conducts her instruction, Brother Bartholemu. After ordering an armed invasion of the temple, I thought it best to provide a report to you in person. That ain’t an action to be taken lightly although, considering the circumstances, it’s warranted.”

  Alarm made Myselene’s voice harsh. There were only two possibilities she could think of… “Either there’s been a coup in the temple and she’s become mixed up in it or she’s been kidnapped.” She didn’t know which was more likely. Taking the princess captive seemed an uncharacteristically rash move for someone as risk-averse as Belmar but he had studied under Ferguson and this was the kind of maneuver the previous prelate might have made. Biding his time, waiting for the right moment, playing the long game…

  “A coup ain’t likely. The non-political factions in the Temple support Belmar and the political ones may be under his direct control. We may have underestimated his zeal and ambition.”

  “So you think he was behind the fire at the inn?”

  “It provided an excellent distraction and gave them several hours they might not otherwise have had. Our resources were directed elsewhere at precisely the moment Kara disappeared. I think Belmar, Bartholemu, and his inner circle have taken the princess and we can make some shrewd guesses as to why, considering the timing.”

  “How could they know?”

  “As closely guarded as the secret was, someone with insider’s information could have assembled the puzzle. I know you and Sorial were discreet but some suspected you ‘enjoyed’ each other’s company while Alicia was away. I’m sure you tried to be quiet in your tent but some sounds can’t be completely muffled. I knew what was happening and I’m sure others did as well. Combine that with Kara’s actual date of birth…”

  “What could Belmar possibly hope to gain from this? It doesn’t make any sense. Even if he knows about Sorial, how could it benefit him to take her? He couldn’t get her to the portal. I have it heavily guarded.”

  “We’ll be sure to ask him as we slip the noose around his neck.”

  “What’s being done now?”

  “The Watch is split. Half is going door-to-door through the city. The other half is scouring the Temple. If she’s in Vantok, we’ll find her.”

  “If?”

  “Belmar knows this is how we’d react when we realized she was missing. Unless he has a very good hiding place, he’s not in the city anymore. Where he’s heading is anyone’s guess.”

  “Bring me Rotgut, the Watch commanders, and Lavella.” An icy fear had gripped Myselene’s heart at Rexall’s words. If Belmar was working from a script authored by Ferguson, Kara’s life was
in peril and, if she was no longer in Vantok, there might be nothing the queen could do to save her daughter.

  Chapter Seven

  Hands on his hips, Belmar looked around the cavern with a grunt of satisfaction. Going forward, this would be known as “The Cave of the Magus.” It would be a place of worship and reflection for members of the new order. Important rituals would take place here under the watchful eye of a giant bust of Magus Sorial, which was nearing completion. Cut into the rock face of one wall, the portrait of The Lord of Earth was in bas relief, an exaggerated depiction suggested by the few paintings that existed of the wizard. Belmar didn’t remember Sorial clearly - the lad had, in his opinion, been rather unremarkable in his physical appearance (at least until he took to wearing a mask to cover up a facial injury) - so the accuracy of the carving wasn’t of paramount concern. If people were told it was Sorial, they would believe it was Sorial.

  He would be the next god. After a long deliberation, Belmar had decided that the best way to advance Ferguson’s plan was to legitimatize the cult of Sorial, taking over as its leader and throwing the weight of the Temple behind it - or at least as much weight as he retained after his inevitable ouster. Kidnapping a princess would cause him to be branded an outlaw and he would almost certainly be excommunicated. If captured, he faced the executioner’s ax or noose, depending on how charitable the queen was feeling. Like Ferguson, he was risking everything for the continued survival of the race. By accepting a position of leadership, he had agreed to the risks associated with it. To act otherwise would be a betrayal of his vows.

  From a personal standpoint, Belmar didn’t believe in Sorial’s godhood. Over the years, he had encountered the wizard several times and the young man had seemed like what he was: a peasant unexpectedly elevated to a position of power and respect. After the war, Sorial had mysteriously disappeared. Some had reported seeing him in Vantok shortly after the queen had retaken the city but, after that, there hadn’t been any credible sightings.

  Rumors abounded about his fate, the most popular being that he had been bodily assumed into the heavens. Belmar discounted that. He believed Sorial had been experimenting with the portals and those experiments had killed him. The truth was carefully guarded - he suspected only a handful of people knew, including Myselene and Lavella (and perhaps no one else). Magus Alicia had disappeared at the same time, indicating that she had likely shared her husband’s fate. Whatever the case, the wizard’s purported divinity served Belmar’s ends. Sorial was a revered and popular figure; to be associated with him offered few negatives.

  Belmar wasn’t necessarily comfortable with the ceremonial aspects of what he was about to do. He would have preferred to act as Ferguson had with Sorial’s mother and father: provide them with the privacy of a windowless cabin for several weeks and allow them to do what was necessary for her to conceive. Unfortunately, the cult he had associated himself with had more earthy expectations. They wanted pageantry and this limited his choices. What he had planned recalled the primitive celebrations of centuries ago when sects worshipped the base gods instead of their noble brethren.

  He wondered if Princess Kara would balk. He sincerely hoped she would see the wisdom of joining them, not only for her own happiness and well-being but for the future of wizards and humans. If she didn’t… Belmar detested the thought of forcing her to participate. Rape was abhorrent to him, a violation not only of the body but of the spirit. Nevertheless, willing or not, she (like all of them) would do what necessity demanded. He wished circumstances had provided him with the opportunity to forge a more lasting bond between Kara and Bartholemu. An attraction existed, but was it enough? Would Kara throw aside the chance at being either a queen or a wizard in exchange for a permanent liaison with a man she hardly knew? It had worked with Sorial and Alicia but that romance had blossomed over a span of years.

  Bartholemu’s arrival interrupted Belmar’s musings. Never having seen The Cave before, he was duly impressed by the workmanship going into the carving. “Did he look like that?”

  “Don’t rightly remember,” admitted the prelate. “He was a humble lad, preferring to hide his face rather than reveal it. Toward the end, he wore a mask. But the artists tell me they based the carving on the most accurate representations they have and its likeness has been verified by some few who knew him.”

  “Will it happen here?”

  Belmar nodded. “Wish it could be more private but for the first time, there needs to be a ceremony. You know that. Subsequent encounters, and there will have to be many, can be less public. We can’t stay here, anyway. For a time, until we make an accommodation with Queen Myselene, we’ll be hunted.”

  “Why a cave?”

  “Sorial was the Lord of Earth. Caves and underground places were his domain.”

  “Did he come here?”

  Belmar shrugged. “Not so far as I know. He might have. But this was chosen more because of its location than because of any suspected association with the Magus. We were lucky to discover this warren of catacombs when we were extending the escape tunnels from the temple. We’re closer to their roaming guards than anyone suspects.”

  “Is she down here?”

  “In the waiting room, sleeping. You can join her if you wish.”

  Bartholemu nodded his assent. It was time to learn whether he and Kara might have a future beyond the connection that Belmar would enforce.

  * * *

  Never before had Kara experienced darkness this pure, this unfiltered, this suffocating. Although still woozy from the effects of whatever they had placed in her drink, she was aware enough to recognize that she was underground. The scent of earth was as pungent as if it had been jammed into her nostrils. It was unnerving but her mind was so filled with other thoughts that she was barely aware of the discomfort.

  Processing everything Belmar had said was almost too much to ask. Putting aside the possibility that he was either lying or deluded, it meant that not only was it possible she could become a wizard but that her father was the man so many people revered as a demi-god. She didn’t know how to feel about that. She considered how little she knew about the historical Sorial (as opposed to the exaggerated hero of ballads and campfire stories). Now she wished she had paid better attention to her history lessons about the war. She knew that Myselene and Sorial had spent time alone together during the campaign to enthrone her in Obis. That wasn’t proof of anything but Kara could understand how an intimacy might have developed.

  If it was true, she could understand why her mother had lied. More than anything, she would like to discuss this with the queen but, if her suspicions were correct about Belmar and his intentions, she might never see Myselene or Vantok’s court again. The third “choice” had become a mandate. She didn’t know how to feel about that either.

  And Bartholemu? A cousin to Magus Alicia? No harder to accept, she supposed, than that she was the secret daughter of Alicia’s husband. Was Belmar trying to recreate the past? Was Bartholemu his accomplice or his tool? The idea of giving herself to the young priest didn’t revolt her. In fact, a part of her was excited by it. But the sense of betrayal hung over everything like a dark storm cloud. She wondered if she could love him. More importantly, she wondered if she could trust him. The latter was more important that the former.

  Nearby, she heard the sound of stone scraping against stone. Her eyes quested in the blackness for a hint of light but there was nothing. Yet she knew she was no longer alone. Even before she heard the other person breathing, she could feel his presence. She waited in silence, inhaling as shallowly as she could, not moving at all. If she couldn’t see, neither could he. When he spoke, his voice sounded unnaturally loud.

  “How are you feeling?” Bartholemu asked.

  “Like I got hit over the head with a club.” Her temple throbbed and her stomach felt queasy. The stench of stale vomit on her robe indicated she had probably thrown up while unconscious. The only other time she had felt like this was after sneaking too m
any goblets of the Ambassador of Syre’s “special ale.”

  “If it’s any comfort, I argued against that. But Prelate Belmar said he didn’t know what your state of mind was and it would be easier to move you if you were unconscious.” To Kara, he sounded less certain here in the dark than he had when sitting across a table from her acting as her teacher. His voice betrayed his uneasiness; the age gap was no longer as daunting.

  “You knew all along…?”

  There was a lengthy pause. “Yes. Prelate Belmar explained his vision when he recruited me. And it wasn’t just about doing my duty and serving the people of Ayberia. When he showed me a small portrait of you…it took my breath away. Kara, you’re beautiful. The idea that you could be my wife, that we could raise children together… It was all the inducement I needed.” Kara detected earnestness and sincerity in his words. Or at least that’s what she thought she heard. But she could no longer be sure - not in these circumstances.

  During their conversation, he had moved toward her. He was very close now, so close she fancied she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. Her nape hairs stood on end. She wondered if he was going to kiss her and, if he did, what she would do. Her mind was angry and confused but her body was responding in subtle ways that were foreign to her.

  “So this is really what you want?” she asked after a lengthy period of silence.

  “Yes. I wasn’t sure at first. But, when I think about it, what was there for me on the estate? An arranged marriage, a comfortable life, children…but all without meaning. That’s why so many people despaired when they learned the gods were no more - they thought meaning was gone. But it’s not. Belmar taught me that.”