The Godseeker Duet

by David A Willson

“You’re a coward, Gwyn.”

  Gwyn said nothing.

  “I am, too,” Nara said quietly. “I could have saved them. I know I could have. But I was afraid. I’m often afraid. I’m like you. But this is unbearable. I miss them. So much. Maybe someday…” she paused for a moment before continuing, “…someday I’ll stop hiding. I’ll stand up for those I care about. I hope it won’t be too late.”

  Then she walked away.

  Nara’s words sparked a change within Gwyn that she pondered as she left the high walkway and ventured back to her room. The change had been building for some time, starting with the first screams she had heard from Mykel. Yesterday, in a fit of disgust with herself, she had set out to find the young man’s staff, perceiving its hearty glow even through the stone walls. The weapon rested in an armory on the second level above the dungeon, not far from the throne room. Two armed guards kept watch, and Gwyn feared she might not overcome them without help. If she was able to get the staff to Mykel, his escape might redeem Gwyn. It wouldn’t help Nara, who would forever remain a prisoner, but the plan fell apart with one critical flaw.

  Mykel would never leave her.

  Still, she wondered if Nara’s newfound resolve might turn the tide. Perhaps she could overcome fear more ably than Gwyn. Perhaps the young woman was stronger than she looked.

  The shame of her own cowardice grew painfully in Gwyn’s breast, a dark, lonesome thing. Gwyn would watch and wait, but if the opportunity came, she would act.

  It was late and Nara couldn’t sleep. She refused to be part of this family, these horrible people who loved to kill. Powerful, rich, but with cold souls. Nara had nothing in common with them.

  Insomnia forced her out of bed and she returned to the parapet, watching Kayna as she returned, floating on the air and glowing more brightly than ever. Nara wondered what lives her sister had consumed in the dark outing, and her stomach turned at the thought of it.

  “Yes, Gwyn, I’m afraid of her,” she said, imagining the traitor still stood at her side. “But I will no longer stand idle in the presence of pain.”

  Still not ready to sleep, Nara stayed on the castle wall amid the darkness and silence, a cold breeze chilling her arms as she wondered what the king had really done with Mykel and Bylo. Had they been murdered? Imprisoned in an army camp? Could they be here, in this castle somewhere? She knew them to be alive, unable to accept that they would have died without her feeling it. Without her knowing.

  She left the parapet to wander a corridor aimlessly, fingers dancing on the stone wall. Crude stone this was, fashioned with chisels and hammers. Placing her palm against the wall, she flared earth and reached out to it, a vain attempt to reach Mykel. What came back was nothing she had expected.

  He was here, in the castle! Somewhere below, she sensed his presence through the rock. Of course. This whole edifice was made of stone and earth. She could reach him through it as she had through the earth on the plateau. She bit her lip in frustration for not trying it sooner.

  As she maintained the connection, Nara could sense weakness in him caused by recent pain. His body was wasting from trauma and a lack of nourishment. He was no longer strong, and he slept fitfully, anxiety filling his mind. She tried to channel energy to him, to calm him so he could rest, but he was too far away for her to reach.

  She bolted through the corridors to Gwyn’s chambers and pounded on the door. After a long delay, she pounded again, confident Gwyn was within. The watcher finally appeared.

  “Gwyn, they are here.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?” Nara’s anger flared. “I don’t trust you one whit, you evil woman, but I have no one else. You will help me, I swear, or I will—”

  “Finally coming out of your shell? No need to threaten me, I have already begun to help.” Gwyn looked up and down the hallway furtively. In a hushed tone, she said, “I know where they are keeping the staff.”

  33

  Escape

  "We must wait until morning," Bylo whispered through the bars to Mykel. "This will take the better part of an hour, and after they hurt you, they eat. It is the only time they leave us alone."

  Mykel agreed. Having grasped the protection rune now, he might armor his skin to prevent injury during an escape. The idea gave him hope for saving Nara, but the repeated sessions and frequent use of his health tattoo had drained his strength. He needed time to recover, but there was none to be had.

  This session unfolded differently than expected. After they had strapped Mykel to the torturer's worktable, the guards and the sickly man left the room, leaving Mykel alone. When the door finally opened, a familiar face entered, accompanied by a new one. The first belonged to the huge man Mykel had battled on the plateau. Today, he wore black plate armor. A smaller man stood by the giant, dressed in a fine shirt, jewels, and wearing a crown.

  "Good morning," said the smaller one. "You may call me 'Your Majesty.'"

  A king? Mykel thought the Great Land had a queen, but he paid little attention to such things. Regardless, today might be very different than expected, and Mykel feared the change might alter their plans. When he didn't respond to the king's words, the giant lunged forward, smashing a steel gauntlet into Mykel's gut. The pain was profound and he tried to bear it, but failed, convulsing as the waves of pain turned his stomach into knots.

  The king cleared his throat before continuing. "You've already met General Cross. We share a curiosity about you. News from Dimmitt is that you're a cursed, and that you survived your announcement. Perhaps with a little help from your friend, I would guess?"

  Mykel didn't respond, and feared another blow from the giant, but it didn't come.

  "She's quite the treasure, that one. I haven't yet decided what to do with her. Do you have any suggestions?"

  Again, Mykel said nothing. The king stepped forward and ran an index finger across Mykel's chest, partially tracing the outline of the protection rune.

  "Who would have known that decorating a cursed with pretty scrawlings would produce such interesting results?" the king said. "You've opened up some possibilities for me, and I will know more."

  He took a step back, then strummed his fingers against the top of Mykel's left thigh. Mykel grimaced as his skin sprouted a dozen narrow but deep cuts, each incision stretching deep into the muscle of his leg. Blood welled quickly to the surface, and the man looked at Mykel's face as if expecting something. Was he trying to make Mykel heal himself? To provide a demonstration?

  With a look of disappointment, the king took a step closer and set his hand over Mykel's sternum. Pressing down, he spoke menacingly. "I could vaporize your heart with a thought, young warrior. Could you heal that?"

  The man's proximity enraged Mykel and he pulled against the leather straps in defiance, but the words struck terror in his breast. Could he heal such a wound before dying? If not, what would happen to Nara? Would they kill her? Keep her imprisoned forever in this horrible place? Mykel's pulse quickened, and he felt his chest constrict. Was the king now engaging his talent? Should he flare protection or health? What would happen if they discovered that he held both an immunity to injuries and the ability to recover from them? He readied the health rune and closed his eyes, preparing for the fatal blow.

  "Not now, I think," the king said, lifting his jeweled hand. "Sorry to disappoint you; I'm sure you wish for this all to be over. Besides, I am sure that the archbishop would love to have you when we are finished. It's not often that a cursed survives an announcement. He might enjoy putting on a public execution. I imagine that he would say words about defeating darkness and Kai's demons. Priests love that sort of thing. Gets everyone so fearful and obedient." He paced back and forth, a finger to his lips as if he was thinking of something.

  "I've been doing some research of my own. This tattoo of yours—the one on your chest. It's not the only one, is it? It's not the one you're using to repair yourself."

  He stepped back, then motioned with his arm. The cloth of Mykel
's trousers fell apart on the left side, leaving his left hip partially exposed. "Ah, there is the culprit. A healing rune, I presume? I have never seen such a thing. Fascinating."

  The secret was out. Now all would be lost.

  "Has the magic been imprinted on you permanently, like the gifted, or must the pattern remain intact? I wonder, if we interrupt the design, would it work? Let's say I burned it, or simply cut it away, could you still heal?"

  Mykel said nothing, but his heart thumped in his chest. Would the protection rune be enough to withstand the king's blessed-level magic? If so, how could he get out of the straps that held him fast? And how could he, without the staff, fight both the king and that armored monster?

  "Stoic. Well done, boy. But you can't last forever. My guess would be that the old monk is responsible for this. Perhaps he has some things he can share with us. Cross, retrieve the other prisoner."

  "No!" Mykel said.

  "So he speaks after all," the king said.

  "Bylo didn't do the tattoos," Mykel said, hoping they would believe the lie. "A monk in Eastway did."

  "I doubt it," Cross said, his deep voice booming in the cramped room. "I questioned them and heard nothing about this boy."

  "Cross, bring the old man here. Now."

  As the general turned to leave, a steward leaned into the room from the dark corridor. "Your Majesty?"

  "Not now," the king said. "I'm busy."

  "But, ahem, Your Highness, there is a problem."

  "What problem?"

  "It's your daughter."

  "Not again!" the king exclaimed, then sighed with disgust. "Who has she murdered now?"

  The steward said nothing.

  "We finish this later," the king stated. "There is no rush. Throw him back." He left the room, taking Cross with him.

  Bylo was readying himself for the screams when Mykel was thrown into the cell by the guards far sooner than expected.

  "We have no time," Mykel said. "You must do it now."

  "What do you mean?" Bylo said.

  "They know about the health rune. They know you inscribed it and are coming for you soon."

  They both looked at the single guard, waiting and hoping that he would leave for his meal as he often did at this time. After a few minutes, the man stepped away and Bylo spurred himself to action, reaching to his sock and retrieving the vial. His weak fingers had difficulty grasping it, but once he pulled the vial out, its presence calmed his nerves and he found both strength and focus. He held it gingerly, reverently, knowing it to be more valuable than any object he had ever possessed. This vial didn't contain ink; it contained hope. Freedom. Life. Both Nara's and Mykel's.

  "Can you put your leg through these bars?" Bylo asked.

  Mykel squeezed his right leg between the cold pieces of iron, and Bylo squinted in the poor light to choose a canvas for his work. The most comfortable place for Bylo to reach was mid-thigh, which gave him ample room to make the design. Bylo pulled the stopper and reached inside to retrieve the needles. While doing so, some drops fell to the stone below, and Mykel's eyebrows rose. Precious ink wasted.

  "It's okay," Bylo said. "We have enough."

  Strength was the first tattoo he had ever inscribed, having experimented on himself long ago. While he had no scripture texts to guide him this time, he didn't need them—there were strength tattoos on his own thighs for reference. As he performed the task, Bylo looked at his marks several times to be sure. Success in this would require a hasty but accurate inscription.

  A coughing fit interrupted the work, and more bloody phlegm decorated a stone tile nearby.

  "Are you okay?" Mykel asked.

  "I'm fine," Bylo said, continuing the important work. "But promise me something."

  "Anything."

  "Nara first."

  "What?"

  "When you leave here, go straight for her. Don't wait for me. I can't keep up. Save my little girl first. I'll find my own way."

  "How will you escape?"

  "Don't worry about it."

  Almost an hour later, the tattoo was complete and Mykel closed his eyes.

  "I see it,” Mykel said. “The new rune is blurry, but I can reach it. Thank you."

  "Don't thank me. Save her."

  "I will."

  With that, Mykel pulled himself to his feet and closed his eyes again. It seemed to take several tries, but once he accomplished it, the change was obvious. Mykel's stance deepened, he took a breath, then exhaled a long, comforting sigh. Bylo fell back against the stone, relieved. During the night, anxiety had robbed him of sleep over the possibility of failing this inscription, knowing he had only one chance to get it right. The most important inscription of his life.

  "Tell her I love her."

  Mykel smiled agreement with his eyes. "Stand back, Bylo."

  Bylo moved away from the bars that separated them.

  Mykel turned toward the outer stone wall. He looked for a moment at nothing, and Bylo wondered if he was pondering the birds they listened to each morning on the other side of the stone. This was to be the last moment of quiet for a time. Once Mykel began, chaos would break loose on the castle grounds.

  Mykel drew back his fist and struck the wall. The blow produced a gargantuan concussion, shards of stone exploding as the ground shook. He struck again and the wall exploded outward with an even louder impact, rocking the ground below, as well as the fortifications above. Everyone in the castle must have heard it.

  A man-sized hole in the stone wall outside allowed light to stream in and Mykel seemed to bathe in it for a moment. Then he moved toward the bars that separated Bylo from freedom and used his newfound strength to deform them easily.

  In Bylo's mind, the memory of a single word came forth. A word told to him long ago by a friend he never saw again. Moving closer to Mykel, he put his hand on the boy's shoulder and whispered.

  "Run."

  Mykel ran.

  After the boy left through the destroyed dungeon wall, Bylo pulled the stopper from the vial. There was little ink left, and he knew he would not be able to escape without help. He might have enough to inscribe a small tattoo, but didn't know which would be better: health or strength? Health would help him recover from his illness, but strength could make him useful in the conflict that had now begun. A coughing fit came over him again, spreading more blood than ever on the stone floor below.

  There could be only one choice. He grabbed a needle between his shaking fingers and set to work.

  34

  Confrontation

  It was early morning when Gwyn's plans were forced to change. Intending to retrieve Nara then make her way to the armory, she was interrupted by two loud concussions that shook the edifice, putting the entire castle on alert. Worries that siege equipment was bombarding the castle walls had sent the soldiers scurrying into defensive plans, and they moved to escort both princesses to safety.

  Knowing Nara would be unable to help, Gwyn used the chaos to her advantage and sprinted to the armory. Upon arrival, she ordered the two guards to open the door and arm themselves with whatever they could find. One refused.

  "But General Cross said…"

  "The king is under attack!" she bellowed at him. "That puny sword will not repel any sizable force. Arm yourself with a real weapon!"

  The command in her tone, or perhaps a fear of shirking their duty to protect the king moved them to action, and they removed the locks on the heavy door. They grabbed shields and spears and Gwyn ordered them to the courtyard to defend the keep, promising that she would lock the armory behind them. It left her plenty of time to grab a long piece of ivory from where it rested on a shelf inside the room.

  Dirty, smelly, but weak no more, Mykel Aragos stepped into the light of day. Snow covered the ground outside and hung from the branches of a large spruce tree a dozen feet away. Looking around, he found himself outside the keep but still within the high castle walls. Armed soldiers moved about in a panic, and one stopped near him.

>   "You," the man said, pointing a spear at Mykel. "What did you…?" The man looked at the broken stones and then back at Mykel, obviously confused. "You're under arrest."

  With strength flared, Mykel tensed his muscles and sprang toward the man, landing an open-handed strike to his midsection that knocked the soldier back twenty feet. He struck with far less force than he had just used on the wall and hoped the man would survive with only a painful story to tell. He then ran for the main keep entrance, intending to find those who held Nara.

  The doors were guarded by six men, and without his own weapon, Mykel knew he could not take them all in hand-to-hand combat. They each bore a spear, and the giant oak doors behind them were closed—probably barred as well. In the chaos, they had not yet identified him as the cause of the disturbance. Surprise might be his ally.

  Nearby, a horse cart absent its steed rested alone. Several sacks of grain in the back attested to having been parked recently, the alert likely interrupting those who had been unloading it. Exactly what he needed.

  It must have come as a great surprise to those in the keep when a grain cart weighing a thousand pounds came flying into the foyer through the barred doors. The sound was deafening and soldiers were battered inward with the monstrous assault, crushed by the resultant debris. Grain was everywhere. At first, one might have thought the cart had been thrown by a catapult. When the dust cleared, however, the catapult walked into the foyer on two legs.

  The general Mykel had seen this morning in the torture chamber stood inside the keep entrance accompanied by a dozen soldiers. Mykel wondered how he now looked to the powerful general. The weakened, tired, and tortured boy the man had pitied little more than an hour ago now stood before him, wielding the gifted strength of a bear. Filthy, and in tattered trousers, Mykel was a mess. Sweat and dried blood decorated his hair, torso, and limbs. Thin from days of torture without sustenance, it was a miracle that he could even walk. He was acutely aware that without the health and strength runes, he would not even be standing.