She understood clearly that he was pointing out her mistake as a way to discredit her claims, saying she was inexperienced or inept as a conduit. “That wasn’t the first time I spoke with her. She visited me once.” Octavia licked her lips. She hated talking about this. “I died at the hands of Braetin. My soul was carried over the barrier between realms, and my sister met me there.”
Betram shook his head. “We know you came near death. We all acknowledge visions at such a time are a phenomenon. Who amongst the senior Sennestelle have not treated someone on their sickbed after a grievous wound or illness, only to have them recount dreams of the afterlife? It’s nonsense. I don’t mean to be insensitive to what you went through, but—”
Octavia continued as though he had not spoken. “After my death, Trinity asked me to return to this world, to take on a cause.”
“What cause?” Treviia’s eyes narrowed.
“To rid the world of these invaders, these so-called Spirits of Light and Shadow. She asked me to defeat the gods of Talmor.”
The three members of the Sennestelle exchanged glances once again.
“It has been done before. Once, they ruled this empire, feeding on the emotions, the pain, suffering, and even love of the Talmoran people. But they were cast out of this world once, weakened and injured for centuries. Four of their number have died in the interim. They fear us, because we can cast them out and prevent them from feeding on the souls of men.”
Gysella stood with a frown. “I’m very sorry for whatever you endured. But this tale is preposterous. You want us to believe you returned from death after a revelation and received a quest to battle heathen gods?”
“Alien entities from another realm,” Octavia corrected her.
“We need to discuss this,” Betram said, his tone dark.
“Good,” Octavia said. “I agree. It’s imperative that we search for anything pertinent that might be recorded in the Sennestelle’s archives. I was never taught anything that pointed in this direction, but Braetin fears me, so there must be a clue somewhere in our history to explain why.”
“Child,” he said. “You’re tired and sick. Only yesterday, you awoke from a sleep that lasted several days. That and your previous misadventures take a toll on the mind. You need to be cared for.”
Misadventures? The others rose and Octavia shot to her feet. “You don’t believe me?”
“Of course you saw what you saw,” Gysella said. “You had fought against a dark conduit, a feat we all respect, of course. In doing so, you brought all our people from a place of fear and having to hide from Talmorans. Before this, as you know, our practice was considered heresy in the empire. But judging by what we’ve seen here today and what Betram told us of your problems over the past week, it’s clear to us you were damaged in that fight.”
“Damaged?” Octavia crossed her arms.
“You need rest. We’ll see that you get it,” Treviia said, her high-pitched voice grating on Octavia’s nerves.
“I’m not tired,” Octavia said. “You must believe me. Without your help, I have no hope of succeeding.”
“Come with us,” Betram said. “You shouldn’t be here in this place. It is obviously exciting the distress you suffered and making the problem worse. You need to be supervised.”
“Agreed.” Gysella’s face pinched into a scowl. “It’s important for your own safety that you do not keep seeking. Your apprentice will be taken under Betram’s tutelage, of course.”
“My…” At first she thought they meant Liara, but then she realized the truth. Korbin.
“Come with us,” Treviia repeated.
“No,” Octavia said.
“No?” Betram blinked. “Are you no longer under the authority of the Sennestelle?” he asked, gently mocking.
“I am a Talmoran citizen,” Octavia said, reaching into the pocket on her scarf where she kept her token. “You cannot force me to leave.”
Gysella frowned sourly. “We only want to help you, child, and you’re doing more harm than good here.”
“Get out.” Octavia gestured to the door. “Get out.”
Betram stepped closer to her. “You invited us here. Your behavior is bizarre. You must see that. You need our help. The influence of these Talmorans has been a bad one. It’s changing you, Octavia. You’re confused. Surely you must see that claiming to have received a mission from the dead proves you are irrational, and you’ve taught your apprentice to do the same.” He turned to the others. “The young man claimed to have spoken with his dead mother. Undoubtedly he wanted to appease and impress Senne Octavia by following her example.”
For a moment, Octavia didn’t know what to believe. She’d been through so much, and her head hurt. Then a thought occurred to her: Korbin did see Trinity. Octavia wasn’t crazy. She held to the knowledge that he would never have claimed such a thing if it weren’t true.
“Thank you for coming,” she said firmly. “But I won’t be leaving with you.” She bowed to them. “May the power of the One ever guide you.”
Treviia tutted. “We will return,” she said. “We must seek the advice of the Sennestelle head council.”
Betram nodded to his colleague. “We can’t anger the emperor of Talmor. She is his guest.”
“And a citizen,” Octavia reminded them.
After offering an awkward goodbye, the trio left. Octavia lowered herself onto the couch in her reception room. The encounter had gone much, much worse than she expected. She’d thought they’d be surprised at what she said at first, but not that they’d believe her crazy and incompetent. They wanted to bundle her off, to prevent her from doing what she needed to. That couldn’t be allowed to happen.
She hugged herself, feeling a chill despite the warmth of the evening. She was completely alone against two gods, and she had no idea where to start.
∞
Even though the guards who came looking for Graiphen had assured Korbin that his father wasn’t at Braetin’s temple, he had to go check for himself. The balance of power was tentative and strange in Talmor, and the priests might well defy the emperor’s soldiers.
But once there, he found that Graiphen was not there, just as the guards had claimed. He was invited to wait, and for a while, he did. He sat in one of the uncomfortable and dark side rooms, growing more restless by the moment.
All he’d wanted to communicate to Graiphen was that he should try to get some blood of Pang’s vessel so Octavia could attempt to bind her, hoping to prevent her from birthing more spawn until they could destroy the portal. The time for that action, Korbin thought, should be sooner rather than later. Events could easily unravel, and all of the schemes and undercurrents could soon rise to the surface and collide.
A horrible thought occurred to him. What if Graiphen had decided to do away with the vessel without seeking Octavia’s help? She might not have helped him kill the vessel. She seemed opposed to the idea, believing perhaps the woman could be saved from her fate. But she could help protect Graiphen, as she had protected Korbin and herself when they’d faced Braetin.
What if the reason that he wasn’t at his own temple was that he was at Pang’s? But his father knew the risks of attacking the goddess directly even better than Korbin did. Surely he would not be so foolish.
But then, he had killed Seba. Korbin didn’t mourn the loss, but the action puzzled him. It had to be an open act of defiance against Braetin, unless the Spirit had changed her mind? Korbin didn’t pretend to understand the reasoning of one such as her.
Although this was not the same Red Manus-dominated temple of Braetin where Octavia had died, the likeness could not be missed, and the atmosphere filled him with dread. He would wait, knowing that surely his father must eventually emerge, but not here. A part of him suspected that Graiphen was in fact within, but refusing to see him. In that case, waiting would do no good.
Whether Graiphen had gone to kill the vessel, was hiding here in the temple, or had gone elsewhere, Korbin could do nothing. He left
the temple, experiencing a palpable sense of relief when he crossed into the temple square.
Night had fallen, and the temple square was deserted and strangely quiet. It looked eerie, bathed as it was in flickering lamplight. A shiver went down his spine as he stepped across the square. He felt someone was watching him. His instinct pulled his attention to the right, and he saw the robed figure leaning against one of the arches outside Pang’s temple.
“Father?” he said, immediately recognizing the figure. He rushed to Graiphen’s side, concerned at the uncharacteristic slump in his father’s shoulders.
Graiphen met his son’s gaze. “I’ve failed.” Defeat had settled in Graiphen’s eyes.
“What’s happened? They said you killed Seba.”
Graiphen raised an eyebrow, then shook his head, dismissing it. “Seba is no longer important. It’s Pang. She’s abandoned Kiarana and taken Prince Nassore.”
“What?” Korbin took a step back, his stomach sinking. “That can’t be. I saw Prince Nassore this afternoon. He’s sequestered at the palace.”
“I saw him with my own eyes not half an hour ago.” Graiphen’s face twitched.
Korbin’s mind cast about for answers. “We have to tell the emperor. At once.”
“I have no doubt he will know soon enough. Pang will not try to keep this secret.” He sighed. “Son, return to Vol. I have two choices: return there myself and submit to the punishments of Braetin for my failures, or submit to Pang. Even were she still inhabiting Kiarana’s body, that option would be unpalatable to me.”
“What of me and Octavia? With your help, we can overthrow them both, send them back to the depths they came from.”
Graiphen shook his head. “The task is impossible. I have felt their power. Whatever was done long ago to rid this world of their kind, the magic has been lost.”
“You don’t know that. Octavia is planning to meet with the Sennestelle, to see what they know that might aid us.”
“Even if what you say is true, those who once conquered the Spirits are long gone. Their history is lost and unlikely to be recovered in time, if ever. As Pang’s new vessel, Nassore can father a thousand children like Zain in weeks. We do not have time for Octavia to search through books.” The last words were spat with venom.
“So because we might fail, we do nothing?” Korbin shouted, his voice echoing in the quiet of the night. He lowered his tone. “If they have taken Prince Nassore, the emperor himself might be in danger.”
Graiphen gripped Korbin’s arm for support. “Of that I have little doubt. And yes, there are worse things than doing nothing. The time for patience and planning has passed. I made my attempt to right the wrong I have done, but I failed. I must pay the price. The best I could hope would be to delay the retribution that is coming like a storm.”
Suddenly, the sound of hard footfalls surrounded them. Korbin looked about, only to see imperial soldiers pouring from every exit of the square. One tall and fierce-looking man stepped forward. “Graiphen Ulbrich, I arrest you in the name of Jorek Jabrilion Tareq Musalik Khourov the Eighth, emperor of Talmor.”
Graiphen looked about in a flash of panic, but resignation quickly clouded his features. “Well,” he said to Korbin, “Perhaps I will fare better in prison than Seba did. At least the torments of the emperor’s dungeons cannot compare to those of Braetin.”
Korbin wanted to object to the irons being clapped on his father’s arms, but he stood back, not knowing what to say, and watched them take him away. The father he knew would have been shouting, demanding respect, denying what he did was wrong. Something. Not following meekly.
Korbin followed them toward the palace. Someone had to warn the emperor that Prince Nassore was inhabited by a malevolent Spirit who had her eyes on the throne.
Chapter 28
As soon as the members of the Sennestelle left, Octavia began to prepare. She had few of the herbs and implements she’d want here, but she had basic things like candles and twine, and she had her blood. She worked the tallow into small human figures which she then infused with her blood, the main source of power and the medium of conduits.
Meditating with sharp focus, she created protective talismans, small humanoid poppets, for herself, for Korbin, and for the emperor. To make them fully effective, though, she’d need some of their blood. Korbin, at least, was a conduit. Though untrained, she hoped that fact would somehow make his blood more potent to shield him. She didn’t understand all the mysteries of the One, but there was no doubt her blood held more power when she worked it than any of most of her subjects.
“May it protect you, my friend,” she whispered. She reflected how much more power Zain had in his blood, the essence of a goddess. Her only hope was that he didn’t know how to use his powers fully. But as long as Pang was by his side, he would be learning more every moment.
A knock on Octavia’s door startled her, but she was even more surprised to find Dula Merria on the other side. The emperor’s advisor spoke in a hurried tone. “Come, Senne. Quickly.”
“One moment.” Octavia grabbed the talismans she’d been working on. One she placed in an inner pocket of her Kilovian robes and the others she wrapped in a light shawl to take with her in the hope that she was being taken to the emperor.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she closed the door behind her.
Merria waddled ahead, rushing down the corridor with Octavia trailing close behind. “Prince Nassore went missing tonight,” she said.
“He ran away?” Octavia was stunned at the act of defiance. His behavior of late had been erratic, to say the least. Jorek must be beside himself with equal measures of rage and worry.
“Apparently the prince went straight to Pang’s temple because now he’s returned, bringing Zain with him. As soon as we heard they arrived at the palace gates, his imperial highness asked me to send for you.” She gave Octavia a sideways glance. “Can you protect him?”
“Should the power of the One favor me, yes. I will do all I can.” She gripped the shawl tighter. Could she? Could she protect Jorek from Zain? She was using the method her former mentor had used to protect her from Seba, but how much more powerful was Zain than Seba? On the other hand, she believed the poppet her mentor had created had protected her from Braetin.
When they arrived at the stairwell, they met Korbin coming up as they were going down. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.
“Come with us,” Octavia told him. As they rushed through the corridors, she reached over and took his hand and put one of the poppets into it. “Keep this close, touching your skin if possible.”
“Thank you.” He paused. “My father’s been arrested.”
Octavia’s mind whirred. “What happened?” Too many things were happening at once. Had Graiphen attacked Pang?
“Seba is dead.” Korbin touched her arm as they walked.
Octavia didn’t have a moment to take it in. Seba. The instrument of her death. Gone. She should feel something. Happy? But nothing came. He had been a source of worry, the thing that brought her here to Durjin, and his death would prevent at least one avenue of Braetin gaining more power. Still, she had difficulty taking the news in. Dead, and at Graiphen’s hand. Why?
When they neared the Chamber of Days, the speculation in Octavia’s mind died away as they found people scurrying in and out of the room ahead. Voices were raised inside, and someone was crying.
Dula Merria strode in. “What is going on here?” she demanded.
Octavia and Korbin hung back by the door and took in the scene. Zain and Prince Nassore were at the center of all the commotion. Near the window, three people were huddled, looking at something on the ground.
“Where is the emperor?” Merria asked, her voice unwavering as she stared Zain down.
The demi-god smirked and gestured at Nassore. “The emperor is here, dear lady.” Lowering his voice to a terrifying, flat tone, he added, “Jorek is dead.”
Octavia gasped and leaned against the doorframe
. “No,” she whispered. Her heart filled with anguish. She’d seen him just that afternoon. They’d held one another and… Her eyes went to the heap in the floor. Jorek. She had to stop herself from rushing to him.
Korbin lightly touched her shoulder. “Be careful here,” he murmured to her.
Merria shoved the people around the body aside. “Let me through.” She knelt beside Jorek.
It was then Octavia saw his face. His eyes stared toward the heavens, unseeing. His face was purple and distorted.
The Dula glanced up. “What happened?”
Nassore spoke, his voice strange, as though he spoke with two voices at once. “I went to the temple of Pang to receive the Lady’s blessings after my argument with my father. Following my devotions, I returned because Zain showed me the necessity of reconciling with him. My father was most pleased, and he ordered a meal to celebrate my return. Sadly, he choked on the first olive.” He gestured to the sideboard where there was indeed a spread of food, including a plate of olives.
“Did no one seek a healer?” Merria demanded.
Zain’s eyes flashed with a moment of annoyance at being challenged, but the look quickly softened. “Of course, dear lady, but it was too late.”
Dula Merria frowned and put her hand to Jorek’s mouth.
“What are you doing?” one of the men beside her demanded.
She worked for a moment, and when she withdrew her hand, she held a single, fat olive. She closed her eyes, her face stricken with grief. “We must inform the senate at once,” she said, “and the heads of all eight temples.”
Octavia frowned. Despite the evidence in the Dula’s hand, she couldn’t believe a simple accident had killed Jorek. Not like that. Not now, of all times. She glanced at Nassore, noting the strange, passive expression on his face. No, something terrible had happened here.
“Bring me his ring,” Nassore commanded Merria.
The Dula nodded, her posture defeated and resigned. “Yes, your highness.” She put down the olive and took Jorek’s lifeless hand in hers and slipped the large gold ring off his left hand.
Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2) Page 22
