The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith)

by RJ Blain

  In its place was the Heart of God, and Blaise’s bone sang out to him, pleading to be reunited with him once again.

  ~*~

  Terin escaped the press of people by wandering the promenade, pretending he wanted to be there when all he desired was somewhere quiet to be alone. Mimicking the Citizens around him, he leaned against the iron rail and stared out over the neighboring mountains to the west. Ribbons of red and gold lit a towering column of white clouds fringing where the sky faded to the indigo of night. The promise of an evening storm blew over the plateau, cold and heavy with rain.

  One by one, the men and women watching the sunset retreated from the promenade. When the first flashes of lightning streaked across the horizon, the rest fled. Terin pushed away from the rail, walking along the fence, pretending to follow the lead of the others. Instead of heading into the city, he skirted the cliff’s edge until he found a spot to watch the encroaching storm in solitude.

  Zurach hadn’t lied to him. The man’s superior tone and expression haunted Terin. The memory of the Citizen’s words chilled him more than the wind. The first drops of rain splattered against his face and sent shivers running through him.

  Zurach hadn’t lied to him. Terin’s master wanted him back, but for what reason? Why?

  Disbelief warred with another emotion, one which formed deep in his chest. All he’d ever done was fail. He couldn’t remember the last time he had pleased his master. He couldn’t remember his last success.

  Yet, despite that, his master wanted him back. Not only did his master want him back, he wanted it bad enough to face the Emperor’s wrath. Thunder boomed and shook the ground, and the sky turned white from the bolt of lightning forking down. It crashed to the ground far below. Terin blinked away the spots dancing in his vision.

  The rain fell harder, plastering his hair so it fell in his eyes. He had found an answer in his prowling of Upper Erelith City, but it hadn’t helped him. The truth didn’t give him an idea of what he should do. It didn’t convince him to return, branded once more as a failure. The fact that his master did want him back eased some of the tension cramping his muscles.

  The thought of returning to Zurach made him shudder.

  Terin sucked in a breath and twisted around to stare along the promenade. If he returned to his master with the papers he’d been ordered to retrieve, he wouldn’t be a complete failure. If he acquired what his master had sought, he might escape with a light punishment.

  If he got caught a second time, he wouldn’t make it back to his master at all, but he couldn’t quell his desire to return with something—anything—to prove himself, his sincerity, and his obedience. With a little effort, and a little luck, he could find the papers and cross the city before the dawn lit the sky.

  It was as if a great and invisible weight lifted from his shoulders. Terin lifted his hand to his throat and breathed out a relieved sigh. The cold of the collar around his throat pressed against his burned skin, but it didn’t punish him for his thoughts.

  Zurach hadn’t lied to him about his master, but he had lied.

  Zurach wasn’t his master. Zurach didn’t control his collar.

  He drew a deep breath and slapped his cheeks. This time, he wouldn’t fail. He would do what his master had ordered him. He would steal the papers, and no one would die.

  Not even him.

  Terin paused at the thought. While dying offered him escape and freedom, he couldn’t quite grasp hold of his past wish for death. It offered him nothing but an end.

  The back of his right hand itched, pulling him from his thoughts. He scratched at it, and stared at the last scraps of the sunset as the storm surged across the sky, devouring its light.

  Pivoting on a heel, he stalked toward the estate of the Citizen he’d failed to rob.

  This time, he wouldn’t fail.

  ~*~

  Blaise leaned against the wall near the sanctuary doors, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited. There was one thing left for him to do, but the words he needed to Speak stuck in his throat.

  Once he began to Speak, he wouldn’t be able to take back the words, and he would be committed to paying the price, no matter what it would be. He drew a deep breath and ducked his head down. It’d been easy to act all aloof and make a stand, but since he needed to put everything on the line—even his existence—he hesitated.

  The forbidden words were on the tip of his tongue, waiting for him to say them. If He didn’t want him to succeed, the next words out of his mouth would erase him as surely as being devoured by Lucin who lurked within the Hand of God.

  Sweat beaded on Blaise’s brow, cool against the heat of his skin. He closed his eyes and began to Speak. The scripture to reveal secrets, in reverse, came out as a warble, but instead of carrying with it the beauty of birdsong, the sound of his voice chilled his blood. Shivers ran through him. Blaise felt something tug at his chest, as if invisible fingers sought to tear his heart from him. The last sounds of the forbidden words came out as a wheeze, forced out through his tight, aching throat.

  When he fell silent, something snapped within him and the tension flowed out of him. The wall he leaned against kept him from falling. His fear manifested as a quiver in his gut.

  How close had he come to wiping himself from existence? Blaise’s muscles and nerves tingled, and he couldn’t dispel the feeling that he’d been stretched out and crumpled back together again. The human shell he wore didn’t fit quite right, as though some of his essence had leaked out along with the forbidden words he’d Spoken.

  Blaise panted and wiped his face with the sleeve of his coat. While he was aware of his arm, his eyes refused to acknowledge its presence. He straightened and drew long, deep breaths until his heartbeat settled and he stopped wheezing.

  Holding out his hand in front of his face, he tried to make out the outline of his fingers, but all he could see was the rows of benches and the dais on the other end of the room. He nodded with satisfaction. If the mortals didn’t know he was there, he could slip away. If he could escape the church unnoticed, the risks he took would be worth it. The Erelith Church of God didn’t need him.

  He stared through his hand at the sanctuary and let out a relieved sigh. If he couldn’t see himself with his heightened sight, no one could.

  Not even another divine.

  He lowered his hand and considered the church. Without him, the Erelith Church of God would endure. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t be the first or the last time God’s faithful changed the nature of their worship.

  The doors of the sanctuary slammed open. Blaise flinched and stared at the edge that’d crashed into the wall a mere inch from his shoulder. Frolar stormed through, halting with one foot in the room, the other still in the hall. The man’s breath came out in ragged bursts. “Blaise?”

  Blaise’s name echoed hollowly in the room. He bit on his gloved finger to keep silent, uncertain of just how well the forbidden words would disguise him from other Speakers. While he thought it would, he’d learn for certain in moments.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Frolar? What’s going on?” the Archbishop asked from the hallway. Like Frolar, Alphege gasped for air. The man pushed by Frolar and took several steps forward before turning around. “Where is Blaise? I thought you said he was here?”

  “Did he leave?” Frolar asked, twisting around to face those behind him.

  “No,” one of the soldiers replied. “It’s been quiet.”

  “He was muttering those prayers of yours not that long ago, doing whatever it is you folks do in there,” the other said. “Been quiet for some thirty minutes now.”

  “Are you certain no one left?” Alphege demanded.

  “I’m certain, Your Holiness,” the first of the soldiers replied. “The doors have been shut the entire time.”

  “He has to be here,” Frolar said, disbelief in his tone. The bishop stepped forward, looking around the room with a pale face and wide eyes. “Where else could he be? There’s no other way o
ut of here.”

  “Check everything,” Alphege ordered. The Archbishop crossed to the dais and took the stairs two at a time.

  “What is going on now?” the Emperor boomed out.

  “It seems the Heart of God has been restored to us,” Alphege said, lifting up the staff. Blaise grimaced as his bone howled its outrage. While faint, he heard Aurora weeping.

  “Where is the Red Bishop?” the Emperor demanded.

  Blaise felt his brows rise. He’d been called many things, including egotistical, inhuman, and aloof, but “the Red Bishop” was a new name. He resisted the temptation to touch the red gold of the buttons on his coat.

  “Where is Bishop Blaise?” the Emperor asked in a whisper. The man’s tone was so cold and unforgiving that Blaise tensed. It was the same snarl as an angered wolf, or a hunting cat set to pounce on unsuspecting prey.

  Frolar walked between the benches, crouching down to look underneath each row, working his way to the dais. “He’s gone. How can this be? I thought…”

  “You thought what, Bishop?” Alphege asked.

  “I thought I felt him near. I thought I felt him.”

  “We all felt something,” Alphege soothed. “But it didn’t feel like Bishop Blaise to me. We are all worn and tired. Still, he isn’t here, and the Heart of God is. This doesn’t bode well.”

  “What do you mean?” General Horthoe asked from the doorway. The gray-clad man strode across the sanctuary. “Someone definitely cleaned up in here.”

  Alphege sighed. “It seems like he saw to the dead. Then, he did the unthinkable. That fool. That blessed fool.”

  “I hope you have a good explanation for this,” the Emperor snapped.

  “I should have known better,” the Archbishop admitted. “I should have insisted he not be left alone, not even for a minute. May God guide his soul to the Garden. The fool sacrificed himself to restore the Heart of God.”

  “We need him,” the Emperor snarled. “It was your duty to keep him safe. We can’t use him if he’s dead. Need I remind you of this, Archbishop?”

  Alphege lifted up the Heart of God, descended the stairs with his ceremonial coat sweeping out behind him, and tossed the staff. The Emperor caught it in a hand. “Do you need a dead man when you have the true Heart of God, Your Imperial Majesty? Plans change. While he isn’t the Red Bishop, I assure you, Frolar is respected enough to do what needs done. And, unlike with Blaise, you won’t have to worry about any uncertainties with his cooperation. Frolar, you’ll work with us, won’t you? It’s for the sake of the Church, after all.”

  Frolar bowed his head. While Blaise didn’t hear Frolar weeping, the bishop’s despair soured the air. Unable to comfort Frolar in any way, Blaise pushed away from the wall and strode through the opened doors.

  He didn’t look back.

  ~*~

  A figure leaned against the gate blocking the way to the steps traversing the cliff. Terin sucked in a breath, and the cold of the air and of recognition froze him in place. He forced his trembling hands into the pockets of his coat. The rain hammered down on him, streaming water over his eyes. Lightning illuminated the roiling clouds.

  In the glow of the storm, Zurach’s golden hair gleamed red. The man smiled, clapping his hands together. “You, boy, are quite resourceful when you decide to be. You surprised me.”

  Zurach met his eyes and the man’s expression darkened. “I don’t like being surprised like that.”

  A lump formed in Terin’s throat, and he tried to swallow it back. It cut off his breath. He wanted to blame the rain and wind for his shivering, but he couldn’t escape the fear forcing him to focus all of his attention on the man in front of him.

  “Did you really think you could escape from me? I admit, you gave me quite the chase. My patience has worn thin with you. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but the only one who decides what you do is me. Do you understand?”

  The lightning bathed the wet cobbles in a crimson glow. Blue and red sparks skittered over the stones, crawled over his boot, and vanished, leaving behind a tingle that raced up Terin’s legs.

  The thunder boomed. His heart lurched in his chest before hammering a rapid beat in his ears. Then, he drew a breath and exhaled. When the last of the air fled his lungs, he breathed in once more. Terin stilled and stood straighter. A sense of calm spread from his chest, and his pulse no longer throbbed through his head and throat.

  “I belong to my master. You come between me and my master’s wishes,” Terin said. He didn’t quite growl the words, but there was an edge in his tone that promised something more than words.

  It was his voice, but all thoughts had abandoned him from the shock of him saying such things to a Citizen. The fear of the collar’s wrath spiked, but it too died beneath the soothing cool that spread through him.

  “What did you just say to me?”

  Once more, Terin’s mouth moved without his direction, and the words spilled out of him. “You’re in my master’s way.”

  Zurach stared, his mouth hanging open. The storm quieted, as if it waited for the man’s reply. “How dare you?”

  Red and blue flashes of light accompanied the roar of the thunder.

  “My master desires it.” While it was Terin’s voice speaking, he had no control over his mouth. Fear roused within him once more, but it was pushed back and frozen by the rain numbing his skin. The calm took him, soothing away everything until he drifted in his own body, unable to do anything other than meet Zurach’s gaze.

  “Of all of the times to decide you want to be a man, it’s now. Unbelievable. Why? Why now?” Zurach asked.

  “My master desires it,” his voice repeated. Terin marveled at the words coming out of his mouth.

  Were they the words Terin had wanted to say all along, but had been too frightened to? Part of him wanted to turn and run. The rest of him refused to give any ground, not even flinching when Zurach’s lip curled up; the man’s words were drowned out by the storm.

  They stared at each other.

  “Didn’t I tell you that you’ll be killed for your failure, boy? I’m being generous. I’m willing to ignore your disobedience. Put this little incident behind us. My offer still stands. Work with me, and I’ll set you free,” Zurach said.

  Terin didn’t reply. He didn’t know why or how, but he knew the man lied. He knew, and it awakened his anger, which burned away the vestiges of his fear.

  “You don’t have a choice, damn you! I know the commands for your collar. You’re mine now, one way or another. I was being generous. I don’t have to be.”

  When Terin said nothing, Zurach’s face contorted with rage, and a flash of lightning bathed the man’s face in the red of blood. The ground shook beneath Terin’s feet.

  The collar woke, and it seared all thought from his head. Red and blue lightning fell from the sky in a column, engulfing the fence. Zurach shouted a curse and jerked away from the cliff’s edge.

  Terin’s knees hit the cobbles. Tension built in his chest, closing off his throat and darkening his vision. The rage intensified, but the burning of the band encircling his throat held it at bay. He clawed at his neck and struggled to draw even a single breath.

  “How?” Terin wheezed out the question before the collar robbed him of the ability to speak.

  Zurach stepped forward and knelt before him. Terin struggled to move, but his every muscle froze in place, and his nerves burned from the collar’s influence over him. The man reached out and placed a finger under Terin’s chin. His head was forced up.

  “How did I take control of my collar? How did I find you? Or, perhaps, did you have another question for me? Well, you’ve lost your chance, boy. I’m no longer in the mood to be generous.” Zurach smiled when Terin didn’t—couldn’t—reply.

  “You must feel like you’re burning alive right now. You’re steaming. Obey me, and I’ll make the pain stop. All you have to do is say yes. Nodding is fine, if you can’t speak. I’m a reasonable man. So long as you do e
xactly what I say.”

  The cold of steel brushed against his throat and Terin flinched. “Just demand he locate the Eye of God for us so we can be done with him,” Emeric snapped out, the man’s voice coming from behind Terin’s head.

  Zurach reached up and stroked Terin’s cheek. “Don’t be hasty, Brother. I’ll get the Eye for you one way or another. I gave my word, and I always keep my word. You know that.”

  Terin’s chest ached from the need for breath, and darkness narrowed his vision until the brief flashes of light from the storm above was all that filtered through the haze. The hand on his shoulder kept him from slumping to the ground.

  “He’s going to die if you don’t relent. I could just run him through if you’re just going to play with him like that. Torture him later if you want. Don’t forget why we need him in the first place.”

  “Do you want to die, Brother?”

  The blade pressed closer to Terin’s throat before it was pulled away. “No need to get nasty.”

  “Fine. At ease,” Zurach ordered. “I’ll give you one last chance, boy. There’s something I want from you, and you’ll help me get it.”

  Terin choked and gasped for air, the chill biting at his burning lungs. Something shifted in his chest, as cold as the sword’s blade and the storm. It clawed its way up his throat and soothed the pain still radiating from where the collar had burned him.

  “What do you want?” Terin asked, powerless to stop the words from emerging. Once again, the words were spoken in his voice. But it wasn’t him.

  He didn’t want to say anything at all.

  “You heard my dear brother. I want the Eye of God,” was Zurach’s solemn reply.

  “What makes you think I will help you?” The words spilled out of Terin, and there was a sharp tone to them, sharper than anything he’d ever managed to say on his own.

  Zurach reached out, and the man’s fingers squeezed around his neck. “You’ll help me because I will force you to help me. Don’t worry, your task is simple. I just need you to be the bait. Between you and the Hand of God, I’ll find out, once and for all, if the legends are true.”