The Godseeker Duet

by David A Willson

  Without warning, a huge wave of pain overcame her—not like a headache but all over her body, on her flesh and deep in her bones. She was dizzy with the onslaught and lost her balance, falling to her knees, and panic rose as she realized it was coming from Mykel. The king was harvesting him!

  She placed her hands on the cold stone floor for support, channeling her scant remaining strength to him, but it was not enough.

  Holy Dei.

  She prayed earnestly, with a desperation and panic she had never felt before. The prayer was less of a plea and more of a mandate to the Almighty, a demand to intervene in this horror to save them.

  I have been looking for You my whole life. If You exist, help me now. I'm begging. I need You now. You must help me! PLEASE!

  As if Heaven above ignored her, reveled in her suffering, or simply didn't exist, Mykel's skin came apart, and Nara shared in the agony of the attack. She screamed at the king to stop, to no avail. Like the announcement and the ambush, she now witnessed yet another attack on her friend. On her. This monster was killing Mykel because of Nara, to keep her, to own her like an object, a treasure to be hidden away. There would be no healing after this battle, and this was no dream from which she and her dear friend would awaken. There was no Dei, and no rescue. Mykel had seconds to live. There would be no intervention, no savior from this madness. Not Kayna, who watched the spectacle of Mykel's destruction like a soulless ghoul. Not Bylo. Not Anne. Not Gwyn.

  There was only Nara.

  Attempting to hold back the pain and despair, her eyelids wanted to close to block out the misery, but she forced them open. She engaged her sight to look for something she could do with what little strength remained inside her.

  The blinding sun that was the king's armor stunned her again. There was so much power inside those plates. Unimaginable power. Power he now used to murder her friend. Then an idea came to her. Was he the only person who could use that energy, or could Nara touch it too?

  She reached out with a hand, calling the armor's magic to herself.

  The energy slammed into her with a devastating concussion, strong and hot. It was sudden, and it was joyful. Her headache and the sympathetic pains of Mykel's injuries disappeared in a cascade of pleasure like none she had ever felt.

  And the power, so much power! Runes danced about her vision, even with her eyes wide open—all the designs she had seen on Bylo's writing desk and more. Earth was among them, but there were others. Sight, strength, health, fire, protection, and a dozen that she had never seen.

  As she rose to her feet, each rune screamed its purpose, the power it unlocked, begging for attention, eager to be filled with the abundance of energy now at her command.

  She went straight to her favorite, and the earth responded to her call. The stone tiles under her feet shattered as the earth rose with her upon it, a pillar of dirt and rocks that lifted her above the others in the room. She immediately called up a barrier, and an earthen wall rose between the king and Mykel, interrupting the attack.

  She sensed the power of dozens of human lives coursing through her veins. Little more than their energy remained, but broken pieces of memory scattered about, and she nearly forgot herself in the maelstrom of power and emotion.

  Her own nature evaporated in the swirling magic, uninhibited by any of her usual timidity or self-doubt. A new vision seemed to come over her, and she could almost see herself from afar, large and powerful compared to the small lights of the others in the room. Who was this girl she had now become, who seemed so proud and tall, her red hair blowing about in the magic and the madness? What did she want? Where was she going? This young woman who had been chased, captured, and then imprisoned in a place without love.

  She saw the monster of a king who now sought to kill Mykel, the boy she adored. Yes, she saw it now, in this maelstrom of unrestrained emotion and strength: Nara loved Mykel with all her heart. But his thin, broken body now lay upon the stone tiles, bleeding, flesh falling off his bones, dying at the hands of the man who declared himself to be her father.

  She channeled power into the earth, telling it to seek Mykel. It obeyed, but when it found his health tattoo, the magic stopped, refused by the symbol that belonged only to him. Nara siphoned more magic from the armor and pushed hard upon the health tattoo, overcoming its resistance, forcing it to submit. The symbol obeyed, knitting together his wounds, allowing Nara to turn back to her prey.

  Towering over the king, she continued to tap the armor, his great weapon now having become a supreme liability. She felt the tug-of-war as he struggled to fight her for the strength within the coral plates, but in this, he was no match for her. She was not gifted. She was not cursed. She was not blessed. She was something entirely different, something for which a name had not yet been given. Her very nature allowed vast control of these energies, complete command of the magics he had intended to be his own.

  Anne's words came back to her, ”… you could be dangerous if you wanted."

  Nara did want to be dangerous right now. She wanted to be very dangerous.

  The king reached out with his talent, and her mind moved quickly, recognizing the attack. It was chaos, and it was powerful. Her skin began to tear apart with the energies he wielded, and she felt the pain, but somehow it brought no fear. This was her magic now, not his.

  The protection rune from the cavern wall came to her memory easily, and she flared it. She drew ever more strength from the armor, deflecting the king's efforts and robbing him of fuel to power his assault. He lashed out again, weaker now, with less access to the energy he once thought his own. He was trying to siphon her spirit with his harvesting talent, but his efforts bounced off the shield of her protective rune. She flared health to repair the damage she had sustained from his chaos attack, knitting together flesh and skin, her strength and confidence surging.

  It was her turn. She looked at the runes encircling her and chose another: motion. Holding it in her vision side by side with earth and protection, she flared it and looked at the king. Reaching out with an arm, she inflicted her will upon him, throwing him twenty feet into the wall that separated the throne room from the foyer. The impact produced a concussion that shook the room and shattered the stones where he hit.

  The blow must have stunned him, for he lost his balance and fell to one knee, dropping his sword. The armor's protection against physical damage must have absorbed most of the energy, however, and he rose again, retrieving his sword as he took to his feet. He then began running at Nara, brandishing the weapon before him.

  Nara turned toward Kayna, wondering if she would join in the fray. If Nara could tap the armor, then certainly her sister, who had practiced magic far more often, could use it as well. Nara didn't know whether it was the look in her own eyes or the apparent fury in her heart that cowed the dark twin, but Kayna took a step back, bowing her head as if to concede defeat or, perhaps, to invite mercy.

  In her distraction, Nara had allowed the king to come too close. She directed the pillar of earth to carry her back to avoid several sweeping strokes with his sword. She commanded projections of earth from the ground to rise up toward the monarch, but he swept his blade through each of them, severing limbs of rock that fell, lifeless, to the ground.

  She looked again at the runes that encircled her. This time, she chose fire.

  Flames came out of her hands to engulf the king. Heat billowed about the armored monarch, waves striking off him and deflecting toward those who watched, forcing them to retreat. The few stray soldiers who had not been slaughtered by Mykel now fled the heat, and the room emptied of spectators. Vorick had survived the initial attack under the protection of his armor, but the energy within the plates was weakening, dimming profoundly in Nara's sight.

  "Kayna!" the king said, fear apparent in his voice, his armor smoking. "Help me!"

  As if in answer to her father's request, Kayna took a step back, her eyes wide, saying nothing. Nara detected no flare of energy coming from her sister, no help
whatsoever for the doomed monarch.

  Nara raised earth barriers, boxing the king in to prevent his escape. She attacked again, a flood of even hotter, more destructive energy. Her eyes grew hot, mirroring the holocaust she inflicted upon her foe. She was like something out of scripture, a goddess doing battle with evil, or having become one with the darkness herself. Powerful winds rose up, blowing the heated air about the chamber.

  Vorick screamed in pain but she pressed on, not satisfied with mere victory, knowing the greedy man would never rest if allowed to live, never give her peace, never stop chasing her and those she loved. He screamed ever louder, holding his sword arm high in an attempt to shield himself, and again, he called to Kayna for help.

  "You'll never hurt us again!" Nara yelled, her voice booming with augmented power, shaking the air with an unnatural bass. She burned and burned and burned him, screaming as she did so, her rage mirroring the horrible destruction she wielded.

  The flood of hot magic continued long past the point when the king's screams abated. Nara vented all the available energy in the armor, then continued well beyond, powering the flames with her own energies. She continued to scream as she burned, rage and desperation fueling her mania until there was no magic left, nothing to give, no way to attack anymore, nothing but exhaustion remaining inside her.

  Flames died, and the pillar of earth dropped toward to the floor with Nara still upon it. Smoke rose from the stone tiles, and gusts of hot air continued to buffet about the tumultuous chamber, filling the room with the stench of burnt flesh and charred earth. A moment later, Nara lay exhausted on the now inanimate pile of dirt. The tempest had passed, leaving only destruction in its wake.

  She lifted her head to look for Mykel, hoping that he had completely recovered. He lay upon the stone tiles, still unconscious but breathing. She thought of Bylo. Mykel had escaped, but where was Bylo?

  Kayna stepped forward tentatively to survey the scene. "Wow, Sister, very impressive."

  Kayna observed the destruction with a smile on her face. The scene seemed to have had little impact on her, and what fear she may have expressed a few moments ago had now vanished. Perhaps she could sense that Nara was no longer a threat.

  "I didn't think you had it in you," Kayna said. "Very creative with the earth magic, and toasting Papa like you did. It all happened so fast, I wasn't sure what to do."

  Kayna went to Mykel. Nara could see that he had healed from the more serious wounds, skin, muscle, and bones intact once more. Nara's eyes were half-lidded with fatigue as Kayna used magic to lift Mykel into the air with a thought, suspending him before her as if he were her puppet.

  Nara struggled to get to her feet but had no strength. Instead, she reached out, intending to summon earth to stop Kayna, but her sister motioned with a hand and Nara felt a powerful gust of air slam her backward onto the floor, the back of her head impacting the stone.

  "Leave him alone!" Nara tried to shout, struggling to rise, but it came out as barely a whisper.

  Kayna circled Mykel as she held him in the air before her, looking upon his weakened body and at the runes on his legs and chest.

  "A cursed, then?" she asked, looking back at Nara. "He has the flavor of one. I saw an announcement recently where one died. They have a certain… taste to them." Kayna dismissed her magic, and Mykel fell crashing to the earth. Nara tried to crawl to him, but found nothing but weakness, collapsing upon herself in fatigue.

  "I'll tell you what, Sister. He is pretty, but I'm going to let you keep him. I doubt he'd follow me anyway, as he seems quite smitten with you. Perhaps I'll find my own cursed and put some fancy patterns on him like you did."

  As Nara struggled to prop herself up with one arm, Kayna moved over to the remains of the king. The blackened amalgam of charred coral, ivory, and flesh bore no resemblance to anything human. "My goodness," she added. "You do good work." She tried to pull a piece of hot coral away, but it fell to dust in her fingers, brittle and lifeless. She brushed the debris from her hands and turned back to her sister. "I have to admit, in the middle of all that, I worried that you would hurt me. Can you believe it? I was actually afraid! I don't think I've ever felt fear like that before. How delightful!"

  She knelt in front of Nara, looking her in the eyes. "You are so vulnerable. You're afraid now too, aren't you?"

  "I've done nothing to you," Nara whispered. "Please leave us alone."

  Kayna reached out and stroked Nara's hair tenderly. "I could kill you right now. I kind of want to, I think." Kayna flared fire, and a bloom of heat appeared in her open palm, turning to dancing flames that she held in front of Nara's face. Nara shuddered and almost succumbed to the exhaustion, barely keeping her eyes open. There would be no defending against what came next. Nara had finally used her magic to fight. To save Mykel, to save herself, but now she would die at the hands of a sister who should have been a friend. Despair overcame her, but she was too tired to resist.

  "Fire would be appropriate, since that is how you took Papa." Kayna stood, then walked around Nara, who remained on the floor.

  Kayna was still for a moment, then stuck out her lower lip in a look of pity. "No, I don't think so. Not today. There is an odd comfort in having you near. I don't know what to make of that."

  Nara's pounding heart slowed in relief as the flames in Kayna's palm diminished and winked out.

  "Besides, you bring new things. Fear, for one. I hope to feel that again someday. And you present an interesting challenge, dear sister. I think there will be far too few of those for me in the future."

  Kayna stopped for a moment, pondering out loud. "Mellice will present little trouble, and with Papa out of the way now, I must thank you for making me a queen. I really didn't know how I was going to get rid of him, but your efforts were both brilliant and unexpected."

  Kayna turned and walked a few steps, then stopped, holding a finger up in the air as if she had forgotten something, still facing away from Nara. Nara hoped that she had not just changed her mind. If Kayna wanted to rule the Great Land, so be it. Nara just wanted to leave with Mykel and Bylo. To run far away.

  "Oh yes, if you want to live, you might leave before some of those scared little soldiers find their way back in," Kayna said. "Or perhaps you should fear this one," she said, pointing to Gwyn, who stood near the throne with an eye upon Kayna and a dagger in her hand. "If she ever chooses which side she's on."

  Then the new queen left the room.

  Bylo cursed himself for the time he had lost. He had hoped to ink the rune more quickly, but a faulty inscription would have accomplished nothing, and he had been forced to take more time than he would have liked. A hot wind greeted him as he passed the destroyed doors and entered the throne room through the foyer. He surveyed the chamber, spying Mykel unconscious on the floor, Nara collapsed upon a pile of disturbed earth, and Gwyn, beyond Nara, standing near the throne. What had happened here?

  He ran to his fallen daughter, who appeared too weak to stand. Nara struggled to lift her arms as Bylo approached. He gathered her up and was about to leave, but she protested wordlessly, pointing at Mykel. She pushed at Bylo's chest, trying to extricate herself from his arms so that he could save her friend.

  "No," Bylo said. "I can carry you both."

  Nara squeezed his arm, tears in her eyes. She tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come to her lips. Her grip was weak, her skin pale, and after a moment, her head collapsed against his shoulder.

  Bylo carried her over to Mykel, who lay motionless, his staff nearby. Bylo lifted them both onto his shoulders and looked back at Gwyn, who stood near the throne, a dagger in her hand. Would she try to stop him? Their eyes locked for a moment and she re-sheathed the blade, then dropped her hand to one side. Bylo nodded his gratitude, then headed through the foyer and out the destroyed front doors of the keep, stepping between bodies and weapons as he carried his two treasures.

  Looking at the position of the sun, he was determined to find his way east, to Anne. He ran to
the edge of Fairmont, miles away from danger, the same urgency in his heart as when escaping Dimmitt. His new strength rune was small and weak, however, and wouldn't take them far. Perhaps it would be far enough.

  36

  Redemption

  Soldiers shuttled into the throne room past Gwyn, confusion on their faces, looking to her for guidance. She said nothing. They gazed upon the charred remains of Vorick and spoke in hushed voices as Gwyn took a deep breath, acrid smells persisting in the aftermath of the battle. She remained near the empty throne for a time, unmoving, not knowing what to do.

  Vorick was dead. Cross was dead. Kayna had left the room. The young woman had declared her intention to be queen, and there was nothing stopping her. The Great Land would suffer under the rule of the dark sorceress, and Gwyn had no desire to stay. She was under no contract for a lord who could command or threaten her, and she was beholden to no one. Or was she?

  Gwyn thought about Bylo. The man had served others his whole life and even now, in his old age, was working for the benefit of those he loved. His sacrifices were inspirational, and Gwyn felt like a villain by comparison, creating an emptiness that nagged at her. She had always served the needs of dark men but what did she have to show for it?

  She walked across the room and knelt to pick the white staff off the stone floor. The cool ivory under her palm was comforting in the hot room. A priceless weapon, it could be sold in exchange for a lifetime of comfort. Or it could be returned to its owner, the young man who had wanted to be her friend.

  She walked out of the room, through the foyer, and out to the streets of Fairmont. It took almost an hour, but she found a farmer who had just sold his wares at the market. It must have been an odd sight before him: a woman holding an ancient ivory staff in one hand and two pieces of gold in the other. It took only moments to convince him to turn over his horse, buckboard wagon, and traveling supplies.