The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith)

by RJ Blain

  Instead of the violence he expected, the night quieted to the soothing patter of rain on stone. Without the wind, Mikael’s scent faded away to nothing. Blaise stiffened, drew a deep breath, and hissed a curse when he couldn’t pick up the trail in the stagnant air. He stomped on the cobbles, and they shattered beneath his hooves and talons.

  Without the scent, Blaise didn’t know where to look. He hissed out another curse, then stilled.

  Had nature been trying to guide him all along, driving the scent to him? He lifted his foreleg, and then set his hoof down with a click on the broken stones. A suspicion nagged at him, but he didn’t dare voice it. A breeze stirred, and he sucked in a breath.

  The scent was there, but so faint he couldn’t distinguish any more than the fact that it came from a divine.

  ~Where?~ he asked again.

  ~Come. Come,~ the wind cried, and a breeze tugged at his feathers. When he didn’t move, a gust blasted at him, whipping against his flanks. Blaise hissed, but broke into the rolling canter of a horse. Each stride lurched, and he clamped his wings to his sides to keep from tripping over them. While he wasn’t much different in size, and the mortal creatures had been fashioned—at least a little—in his image, his talon-tipped, split hooves were made for landing, for slashing, and for fighting, not for running.

  He’d been born to fly, but he didn’t quite dare test nature’s benevolence. Being cast down to Lower Erelith City wouldn’t kill him, but he didn’t look forward to how long it would take for him to recover.

  If he fell, he wouldn’t be able to save anyone, not Mikael, Lucin, or the people of Erelith, and he couldn’t accept that. Worse yet, he doubted he’d heal enough to move before the humans found him.

  Blaise ran.

  ~Come,~ the wind cried, guiding him through a maze of side streets, cutting across the trade district. While a few windows were lit with flickering candles, most of Upper Erelith City remained dark and quiet. Extinguished lanterns swayed on their poles. When he turned a corner and stepped into the light of one of the few still lit. The wind blew it down from its pole and it shattering on the ground.

  Blaise skidded to a halt and twisted to avoid the hot oil steaming on the cobbles. Snorting at the stench, he charged forward, hooves and talons slipping on the cobbles as he changed directions at the wind’s urging.

  “What the—” someone cried out.

  Blaise caught a glimpse of gray before crashing into a human. His hooves slipped out from under him, and they went down together in a heap. The scent of fear flooded Blaise’s nose, and his mouth watered. The sweet, metallic tang of fresh blood teased his tongue. Trapped beneath his wing and shoulder, a figure screamed and thrashed.

  Blaise drew his head back to strike down, and he paused at the gray-clad woman standing nearby. She stood, her mouth open in shock, eyes wide, and as still as a statue carved of granite. Her fear was sweet and sour, and she quivered, poised to run at his first movement.

  Steel clattered against stone and the edge of a sword bit at his wing where it connected to his shoulder. Blaise snapped his beak and hissed, recoiling from the metal. He got one foreleg under him and lifted the other.

  ~Hunt!~ the wind shrieked.

  “Don’t just stand there, kill it!” a man’s voice screamed out. The sword rose to strike at Blaise again. Roused from her stupor, the woman followed the man’s lead and drew a rapier and held it at the ready.

  “What is that thing?” she gasped out.

  The man opened his mouth to reply, and Blaise’s temper snapped. He slammed down with his hoof and curled his three talons, piercing through the human’s skull. He didn’t wait for the Gates to open. Before the scent of roses could fill the air, and the man’s soul could flee, Blaise ducked his head down, opened his mouth, and flicked out his tongue.

  The warmth of fading life flooded his mouth, and he drank deep. Blood mixed with rain, staining the stones around him. A pale, rosy glow surrounded the twitching corpse.

  Blaise breathed in, caressed his tongue over the man’s face, and sucked the man’s soul from the body. Warmth spread through him, and his incessant hunger abated. He hissed and licked the blood on his beak and hooves. Prodding at the corpse with his hoof, he ducked his beak down to feed on the man’s flesh.

  The woman’s scream and the clatter of steel on stone drew him from his victim. With the taste of the man’s blood and soul still on his tongue, Blaise focused his gaze on his next prey. She took a trembling step backward.

  Blaise hissed, clacked his beak, abandoned the man’s corpse, and closed the distance between them in a single hop. Whether she was too frightened to move, entranced, or foolish, Blaise wasn’t sure, but the woman stood her ground, her face as white as a bishop’s coat. Blaise’s gaze settled to her shoulders. Green tassels.

  She was a captain.

  Blaise grinned.

  The woman’s quick and shallow breaths tempted Blaise to feed again, but he fought the urge. Instead of striking her down, he reached out and touched her cheek with his beak. The man’s blood smeared on her pale flesh. He breathed in her scent before dragging the tip of his beak across her jawline. Several beads of blood formed from the scratch, and Blaise licked it up. The sweetness of her fear mingled with her desire for life.

  Desire for the hunt burned in him, but he swallowed it back.

  ~Hunt,~ the wind begged, and Blaise ignored nature’s call.

  A low groan escaped the woman’s lips, and Blaise shivered at the sound. He touched her lips with the tip of his tongue, and a shudder swept through her thin figure.

  If he could take her without destroying her soul, he could use her. He might even be able to learn more of the Emperor’s goal, all without anyone suspecting a thing.

  Without her soul, however, her personality and memories would be gone, and she’d be of no use to him. Blaise pressed closer to her. She trembled at his touch, and he hissed his frustration. Part of him wanted to hunt.

  The other part of him remembered being human, and remembered the warmth of an affectionate female. He arched his neck and stared into her eyes.

  ~Do you want to live?~

  Their minds touched, and as Blaise delved into her thoughts, he caught a glimpse of the woman’s strong, but impure soul. Hers was a new soul, lacking the weight of past lives, but still tainted all the same. Blaise couldn’t tell the nature of her soul’s flaws without digging deeper, but he decided he didn’t care. Once he was finished with her, it wouldn’t matter. Her terror drowned out her reason, but her will and desire to survive endured, which sweetened the bitterness of her fear.

  ~Serve me,~ Blaise whispered to her.

  In the brief moment he kept their thoughts bound together, he let her glimpse his intentions. He promised no true reward. Instead, he’d spare her from being devoured, unlike her companion. Her soul would see His Garden, and he let her catch a glimpse of it through his memories in all of its glory.

  Her breath left her in a sigh, and he severed the connection between them. When he spoke to her, he inserted his words into her mind without merging their thoughts. ~Decide.~

  The woman shook, and she lifted her hand to touch Blaise’s scaled shoulder, jerking her head in a nod. Before she could do more than gasp, he ducked his head down and bit her shoulder near her throat. Her body pressed close to him, and she trembled. Applying enough pressure to make her bleed, he tasted her once again. Then, he bit down on the tip of his tongue and mingled his blood with hers.

  A soft moan slipped from the woman’s lips, and she slumped against him. A convulsion tore through her, and he waited. She groaned and clutched at his neck.

  When she stilled, panting for air, Blaise rumbled his approval. With the faintest trace of his blood within her, she couldn’t escape him. He dipped his tongue over the wound and willed the cut to close. When he pulled away, her cheeks were flushed.

  Arching his head over her, he spread out his wings and shed the water from his feathers.

  ~Your name, woman. Wh
at is it?~

  “Mirabel,” she whispered on a breath.

  Blaise licked her chin and the scratch sealed. ~I will call for you.~

  The woman nodded in a daze, and her blue eyes were clouded with confusion.

  Before she could come to herself, Blaise pulled away from her and turned to the soulless corpse behind him. He Spoke, and the body crumbled to dust, which the storm swept away. With a few more words, he twisted the truth to speculation, and erased the soldier’s demise from Mirabel’s mind.

  ~As you were,~ Blaise ordered. A puzzled expression crossed the woman’s face. Without acknowledging his presence, she staggered away.

  He watched her go with narrowed eyes. If all went as he intended, she’d remember nothing until he called for her.

  The wind tugged at Blaise once more, and he followed it.

  ~*~

  “Put it away,” Zurach ordered. Terin wanted to move, but his fingers were frozen in place, clutched around the Hand of God, and all that separated him from holding the scaled, furred limb was a thin layer of ancient linen. The talons curled as if to hold his hand, and he wasn’t sure if he was terrified or comforted by it.

  He should’ve been afraid. Tranquil lethargy kept him still and quiet, and he couldn’t force himself to care if the two men struck out at him for his inability to act.

  “Let’s not be hasty,” Emeric said, and the man leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. “So, nothing’s happening. We’ve no proof it even does anything.” Rising to his feet, the Citizen braced his hands against his waist and leaned forward, mouth set in a thin line. “Why stop now, Zurach? Without proof, this is a waste of our time. And a great deal of crystal. Do I really need to tell you exactly how much this endeavor has cost me?”

  “That’s not how it works, Emeric. If he’s Obsessed, we need to know, and we need to know now.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? We’ve got the Hand. We have everything we need to finish this—right here, right now.”

  Zurach snorted. “Settle down, Emeric. Boy, put the Hand away.”

  After curling up his lip and letting out a wordless grumble, Emeric obeyed. Terin winced at the collar burning through the bandages wrapped around his throat. Roused from his stupor, he secured the velvet around the Hand of God.

  The two voices bickered in his head, but he couldn’t understand what they said. Instead of words, music thundered through him, and his bones throbbed with each note.

  “Return the Hand to the box,” Zurach demanded.

  ~Kill them,~ the malevolent voice hissed to Terin, and the deep, dark tones of a dirge accompanied the words.

  Terin wasn’t sure what made him so angry, but he snatched the box from the table separating him from Emeric and Zurach. The Hand shifted on his lap, and he grabbed it to keep it from falling.

  The velvet shifted beneath his hand, and he brushed against one of the tufts of fur sticking out from the cloth. He couldn’t even gasp. Warmth washed up his hand. Terin’s every thought stopped, and his right hand hovered over the box.

  ~Perhaps we should teach them to respect Master,~ the other voice whispered, and while the tone was lighter, rage tainted the melodic words.

  ~Together?~ Surprise and pleasure dulled the edge of the more malevolent voice.

  ~Yes.~

  Terin meant to pick up the box. The slap of his palm on the table startled him, and both Zurach and Emeric jumped at the sound.

  Terin didn’t remember standing.

  Someone shouted something. A low hum buzzed in Terin’s ears, and a triumphant cry echoed in his head. He couldn’t tell who rejoiced, or why, but the emotion bolstered him and kept him from trembling. It crushed the flash of fear sweeping through him, until Terin wasn’t sure what he felt—if he felt anything at all.

  A dark fog coiled around his fingers before consuming his hand and crawling its way up his arm. His face flushed, but beneath the miasma, his skin was cool and tingled. The table creaked beneath the pressure of his hand.

  It exploded in a shower of black ash.

  The fog crept to his shoulder.

  ~Yes,~ the malevolent voice whispered, and the tone chilled Terin so much he trembled at the cold seeping into his muscles and bones. ~Let’s devour them. They’re in our way.~

  The crack of a hand against his face silenced the voices in Terin’s head. Lights danced in front of his eyes. Before he could fall, a hand grabbed him by the throat and held him up.

  “You dare to defy me in my house, again? Again? In my house?” Emeric’s scream was high-pitched, and Terin’s ears ached. He struggled to draw a breath, but the fingers dug deep and the air wheezed through his lips.

  “Emeric, stop! You’ve seen it used. Consider yourself lucky he didn’t use it on us. Let him go.” Zurach reached out and grabbed Emeric’s arm. The hold on Terin’s throat loosened, and he drew a shaky breath. “Tomorrow, I need you to pretend nothing has happened, that you know nothing of the Hand, that you know nothing of me, nothing of my slave. I need to know where the Emperor will be. You’ll find out when he’ll be with then senate. Most importantly, you’ll learn when he’ll be with his family. Together, we’ll pick the best time and place for our strike. We’ll erase his entire line in one blow and reduce this Empire to rubble. If we act now, we accomplish nothing. Nothing! We must wait. We must plan. If we’re lucky, we’ll find the Eye of God ourselves. If we have both, taking the Heart will be trivial.”

  The Hand of God fell from Terin’s lap, and as if drawn to the box, it landed within it. Black velvet pooled over the relic. His breath hissed through his teeth.

  Within his head the two presences hadn’t left him, but they remained silent. They listened and they waited, but for what, he wasn’t sure. Terin wanted to reach up, to grab Emeric’s hand, and free himself, but his arms and legs weighed too much for him to move, and weakness spread through him. The edges of his vision turned gray and brown.

  “Let him go, Emeric.”

  The hands strangling Terin let go and he fell, both knees cracking against the floor. Pain lanced up his legs, but the cry didn’t make it out of his aching and raw throat. Emeric’s face twisted in rage, and the Citizen swung at him. The man’s foot struck Terin’s chest and the air rushed out of his lungs. He fell against the divan, and the box clattered to the floor.

  “Put it away,” Zurach said.

  Terin’s hands shook, and he fumbled with the box. The Hand fell to the floor, and tendrils of black stretched between it and him, coiling up his arm. Unable to think of anything at all, he set the box down, took up the Hand of God, and placed it within the box.

  Both of the Citizens stared with triumphant in their eyes. Terin kept his expression neutral. He didn’t close the box, instead rising to his feet to sit on the divan. With slow and deliberate care, he lifted the Hand of God out and wrapped it, careful not to allow a single strand of golden fur escape the dark folds.

  Emeric and Zurach were grinning, and Terin’s thoughts were consumed by his desire to destroy them both.

  The two within waited and watched, and if they could bide their time, so could he.

  Chapter 12

  The wind led Blaise to an estate perched on the plateau’s edge. Lightning illuminated the thick and ornate black iron fence separating it from the street. The lack of stone walls let him catch a glimpse of the two-storied structure.

  If he didn’t know better—if he hadn’t watched the first Emperor build the real one centuries ago—he might’ve mistaken it from the Imperial Palace.

  It even boasted a statue in the likeness of the Emperor on the veranda, and Blaise’s hatred boiled within him.

  ~Hunt,~ the wind screamed, and the thunder boomed its agreement.

  Stretching out his rain-sodden wings, Blaise shook himself. While he shed off water in sheets, he doubted he’d be able to fly long enough to get over the fence before the weight of the rain grounded him. If he couldn’t go over it, he’d go through it. Blaise breathed deep and caught th
e faint hint of roses.

  His beak split in a predatory grin. Mikael was near, and nothing as mundane as a fence would stop him from being reunited with the lost divine.

  ~Help?~ the wind whispered. Blaise hesitated. Manipulating nature had never come easily to him. If it had, he’d be over the fence, flying on the winds as they did his bidding, rather than crawling around on his belly like a worm. He snarled. His best hope was to be left alone—one mistake on his part, and he’d get tossed over the edge, and his effort would be wasted, and his hunt would fail.

  But, he hadn’t asked for aid, and so far, he’d gotten what he needed, even if it wouldn’t have been his first choice on how to do things.

  Blaise snorted and shook himself off again. If Mikael had fallen into someone’s grasp, Blaise would need his strength. Flying with nature’s help—even though he hadn’t asked for it—would save his power for something more important than blasting through a fence.

  Another thought froze him in place. If it wasn’t nature’s worry for the imprisoned divine driving the wind, he wasn’t certain he wanted to antagonize his true benefactor.

  Mother was the one who meddled; the idea that He would actively take part in Blaise’s effort to help Mikael and Lucin frightened him.

  It frightened him enough he spread his wings in obedience to the wind’s will. A hundred questions raced through his head, but he had no answers, and his worry intensified.

  What didn’t he know? What was he missing?

  Why would He do anything at all?

  The wind swept beneath Blaise with so much force it sucked the breath out of him and tossed him upward. He lashed out with his tail and neck to stay balanced, twisting his body so his wings would stay open and keep him aloft.

  The mortal-made fence he’d crashed through earlier had cost him a few tufts of fur and a single feather. The wind shredded him, ripping out more feathers than Blaise cared to count, and tearing at his scales to reveal the tender hide beneath. He was dumped unceremoniously on the roof of the estate. The slate tiles cracked beneath his hooves. The wind knocked him over and he fell on his side. Blaise struggled to catch his breath.