The Godseeker Duet

by David A Willson

Nara didn’t look at him, and Mykel dropped his hand.

  “You’re not like Kayna,” he said. “Defending yourself won’t make you any more so. Failing to defend yourself will end it all. Want to defeat her? Fight. You can’t be everyone’s friend and believing such nonsense will bring horrible things to this land. You’re the only one who can stop her. If you won’t make it happen, we’re all in trouble. Be angry if you must. Yell at me. Cry. I don’t care. But I’ll protect you from these people until you get your head on straight. Get used to it.”

  Nara said nothing.

  “And never use your magic on me again.”

  There was anger in his voice. And pain. She’d hurt him. It was a betrayal, and she knew it. She yearned to look into his eyes, to make him understand that she didn’t want to be like her sister, and she didn’t want him to, either. Killing was wrong. She wanted to heal. To protect, not destroy. Perhaps these battles would require sacrifices, but she couldn’t bear to think of how she could deliver such destruction.

  He was right, in so many ways. The mess of emotions running about her head made it hard to find the right words. By Dei, she didn’t even know what she was feeling, so it was probably better not to say anything at all.

  She approached the children. “Where are you from?”

  “My house was burned,” said a boy no more than twelve years old.

  “They killed my mommy,” this from a small girl, tears in her bright blue eyes. Nara moved to give her a hug, then realized she still had blood on her own hands and clothes. She knelt instead.

  “What is the name of your village?” Nara asked. The little one didn’t respond, hiding behind the leg of a taller girl.

  “Keetna,” the taller one said. She was about fourteen, with long black hair that needed care. “Through the pass, over there.” She pointed to the southwest.

  It would require a slight detour, after which they could continue to Dimmitt. A small inconvenience in order to return these children safely to their village, although there was no guarantee there would be anyone left alive to receive them.

  “Keetna. Okay. Let’s get you home.”

  5

  Evil Things

  Ennis shuffled into the wet stone chamber, his tongue clicking as he held his freshly charged ceppit on the top of his palms. It was the same way that priests carried the relics during announcement ceremonies, so it was fitting. He enjoyed those ceremonies. The orderly ritual was comforting. With his recent experiments, he had been present at many recent announcements, with directions from the Queen to find out what they’ve been doing wrong all these years. To know everything about the gifted, and how to discover them. He took the job very seriously.

  The young lady strapped onto the chamber’s steel table was no more than twelve, and Ennis hadn’t asked for a name. It was better not to know such things. He’d had many children on his table lately, and they had taught him much. It still seemed odd, however, to be using such young subjects, far younger than those he’d welcomed on his table before. But the Queen insisted, and it was her right. She was strong. He had learned long ago that strength determines authority, and he would not cross her.

  Small ones cried more than the grown men he had worked on. They asked for their mothers or fathers, and they begged. He wasn’t trying to break them, however. He was not eager for some secret missive they held in their hearts, or a reluctant confession. Finding magic was more difficult, however, and success often eluded him.

  The process he currently used derived from a theory arisen from discussions with the Queen. Based on her own experiments, she envisioned human beings as containers. Containers with magic inside. Break them and the magic spills out. But if you can just stretch it, crack it, or maybe poke little holes, it comes out slowly, bit by bit, producing a gifted. Or a cursed, which was quite similar, actually, but far more valuable. There was merit in her theory, and there had been evidence to support it thus far, albeit in meager amounts.

  "Don’t worry, young thing," he said as he tested the tip of the ceppit with his finger. "It’s sharp and has a very small blade. Smaller than most." He clicked his tongue several times. "This one is especially narrow. Works the same as others but doesn’t do much damage. It will hurt, but only for a bit. Just like yesterday."

  The girl started crying, then escalated to wracking sobs that shook her small frame. Ennis gripped her left hand, placing the tip of the ceppit over the soft flesh between thumb and forefinger. A quick thrust, the blade was through and she was howling, but strong straps held her in place.

  “Let the magic sink in,” he said. “Let it do its work.”

  Less than a minute later he removed the blade and set it on a nearby shelf, reaching for some bandages to staunch the bleeding before he began repairs. The girl no longer wriggled in place and Ennis checked her pulse at the carotid. Not dead. Fainted. All the better.

  He grabbed her left hand in his own and reached to his belt with his other, finding the cool cepp that dangled under his loose smock. Tapping the power in the cepp, he worked his craft, knitting the tissues together, first the muscle, then the lower layers of skin, and finally the epidermis. Perfect.

  With one hand healed, he moved to the other, dabbing it with the bandage. Soft footsteps in the hallway disturbed him, leather boots on the stone tiles differing greatly from the clanking and clunking that the soldiers usually made. A pleasant sound. Soft. Gentle. From a woman who was anything but. A knock preceded an opening door.

  “Your majesty,” he said, bowing his head.

  “How goes the work, Ennis?” Her dark hair was back in a ponytail and she wore a simple, red silk shirt and dark trousers. And her smell. Sweet. Nothing like the damp, malodorous stone rooms that made up the nether regions of this dark dungeon.

  "I was just finishing with this one, but she has no visible flaws and I didn’t have much hope for her. The broken ones seem to be the easiest to work with and this method, although promising in theory, hasn’t shown good results. Perhaps as a catalyst for my other plan? The revisions I proposed could be revolutionary. I was still hoping…"

  “Hope no longer. I’ve considered your idea, and it has merit. We move forward.”

  He widened his eyes in surprise. Such an opportunity! He had expected she would refuse. They tried in recent months with little success. Some projects even escaped, and it would take so much effort from her to try again. But the search for a cursed had brought nothing but disaster, the experiments had been catastrophic, and the recent revisions were the best he could come up with.

  “I will not disappoint, your majesty.”

  “More subjects will be here in a few days. Pick four. Then we begin.”

  She offered a smile, then looked to the unconscious child on the table.

  “What will you do with this one, now that we’re moving on?”

  “I hadn’t decided.”

  “Send her this afternoon.”

  “Of course.”

  Soft footsteps carried her from the room.

  He shuffled about the chamber, clicking his tongue eagerly as he put away bandages and tools. The plan would go forward, and he still hadn’t written out the script. Much to think on. There would be the science. Yes, he could test his theories much better now. And the protections must be in place. So dangerous. Much to plan. But manipulating the subject, oh that would be the hardest part. He had confidence in his own role, but could she pull it off? It wouldn’t be useful to have their creation hate her as much as the last one did. Not useful at all.

  Much to do! And he must not disappoint his Queen.

  6

  Keetna

  Fatigue from the previous battle weighed on Nara as she walked at the back of the group. Mykel led as they ascended the mountains around Keetna, avoiding boulders, loose rocks, and snowfields where they might be in danger of an avalanche. Keetna was not far out of the way of their original path, but slowing their pace to that of small children was a huge delay, and Nara bit her lip in frustration. T
he vision of Dimmitt in trouble could have been one from the future, warranting a rush to save the town. But it could have been from the past, and there was no way to know until they arrived.

  The children were strangely quiet for most of the trip, and when they would complain from fatigue or cold, Nara or Mykel would carry them. For most of the day, Mykel held one in each of his arms, tirelessly moving forward without complaint. He was strong and good, his presence comforting not only to Nara but also to the others. Nara thought of the good father he could be, working hard for his family, helping others in trouble, defending those in danger. He would fight for justice in whatever place he eventually called home. She wondered if that would be her home too.

  The day came to a close, and the sun began to slip behind a mountain peak.

  “Let’s camp here,” Mykel said. He set down the girl he’d carried for the last hour and pointed to a stone depression on the southeast side of a descending slope. “Nara, would you make that into more of a shelter?”

  She nodded and walked toward the stone depression. It was eroded by waters from above and loose rocks presented a challenge for her ankles as she navigated her way through the depression. The stone was dry, but with no bedrolls for the children, sleeping on the rocky surface would be uncomfortable.

  She flared the earth rune in her thoughts and reached out with one hand to touch the stone of the mountain, calling it, coaxing it. She imagined how she wanted it to change, to shape itself. It responded. The depression receded into the mountain, becoming a cave thirty feet deep. Loose rocks on the ground near the entrance transformed to soil, then expanded, extending into the cave itself. Soft dirt, warm. Near the entrance, a stone pit revealed itself and eight circular, flat stones emerged from the soil beneath, rising, distributed around the pit. Seats for little children so they could warm themselves by a fire.

  She broke the connection and looked about. It was dark in the cave, but there was no way to provide permanent lighting without opening the cave to rainfall from above. Yet the soil was much better for sleeping than hard rock would be, and she hoped that once a fire was crackling, they would be warm. It was a good place.

  After deciding that the cave would suffice, she turned back to the group, only to find the oldest girl standing a dozen feet away, mouth open.

  “Hello, Nilly,” Nara said. Although they’d spoken little, she’d learned the girl’s name during the trip. Nilly had been helpful in keeping the younger ones moving.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Um, it’s kind of hard to explain.”

  The girl walked into the cave, knelt, and ran her hands across the rim of the fire pit and the stone seats. She turned back to Nara. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Why, thank you,” Nara said, smiling.

  “Are you an angel?”

  Nara smiled. What a sweet child. Perhaps ‘child’ wasn’t the best word. She was only a couple of years younger than Nara. “No, I’m just a person. Like you.”

  “Not like me,” Nilly said. “I could never do anything like this.”

  Nilly was right, she couldn’t do this and never would. Nara felt oddly self-conscious at the realization. She cleared her throat before asking, perhaps too quickly, “Could you help me gather the little ones in here? We all need to rest.”

  A short time later, several children were asleep on the soft dirt of the cave floor. Nara started the fire with wood Mykel had collected, not bothering to hide her talent. Between the fight with the soldiers and earth-shaping, there seemed to be little point in secrecy. The questions came, as expected.

  “I’m gifted, Nilly. So is Mykel. You’re safe with us.”

  It wasn’t enough of an explanation for the chaos these children had recently endured, but it would have to do. At least they didn’t seem fearful. Perhaps being kidnapped from their homes was scarier than being protected by gifted strangers, and the magic brought them comfort. Or perhaps they simply knew that they had few options and were grateful for a warm cave and a crackling fire.

  When Nara lay down for the night, most of the children had already fallen asleep. Mykel came and lay at her side.

  “You did well today,” she told him. “They like you.”

  “I did nothing. Other than biting my lip for miles, frustrated that I couldn’t be running to Dimmitt.”

  “We couldn’t leave them with the soldiers, Mykel. Or by themselves in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I know, but at what price? Your premonition is worrying me. We might have been able to prevent the attack on our home. If this delays us—”

  “I know.”

  She stared at the cave’s dark ceiling for a moment, the shadows from the flickering fire dancing across the stone’s surface in a hypnotic pattern.

  “The fight yesterday,” Mykel said.

  “Yes?”

  “You did it again.”

  “Did what.”

  “Wasted too much energy.”

  “I got the job done.”

  “The way you moved afterward–you were tired, and it wasn’t even a long battle. Be more efficient, or you won’t last.”

  His tone was disapproving, and she didn’t enjoy hearing it. As if she didn’t already know her limitations. “I know.”

  “There will be battles, Nara. Maybe many. Your passion makes you strong. Stronger than me, even. But if you can’t last–”

  “I know. I’m trying!”

  “Try harder. Kayna may have no such weakness. And she isn’t slowed by compassion. She will crush us if you can’t match her strength.”

  “She has armies! How could I ever match that? And do you expect me to just let children die?”

  “No, but I expect you to end this all. Somehow. You’re our only hope.”

  “No pressure,” she scoffed.

  “You told me to trust you. Okay, I will. But you need to be trustworthy. You can’t just live in a pretend world of smiles and hugs, running around loving everyone, and expect to win a war against that evil woman.”

  Nara bit her lip but didn’t respond because she had nothing to say. He was right. Having magic with no cepp was a boon compared to a normal gifted, but it required her to use the magic in her own spirit and when that ran low, she became vulnerable. Kayna had no such handicap. She just sucked the life out of other people and was probably more efficient with her magic as well.

  Frustration with the problem and no clear solution kept Nara awake deep into the night. After a time, she rose to refuel the fire with fresh logs, then stood near the entrance to the cave, looking out at the dark valley below. Keetna was close, and the children would be back in their village soon. Or what remained of it.

  She eventually found her way back to the soft soil that was her bed, only to find one of the little ones curled up next to Mykel, sleeping soundly. She joined them, hugging close, comforted by their warmth and the soothing sounds of their easy slumber. She closed her eyes and waited for the morning that would soon arrive.

  With hardly an hour of sleep, Nara rose with the sun and collected berries to provide a meager breakfast for the children. There wasn’t enough food for her and Mykel, but they would be fine, and the children needed the energy to finish the trek home. Mykel awoke a short time later to begin gathering the children. As they set out to leave, Nara wondered if she should cover up the cave.

  “Leave it,” Mykel said. “Who knows if travelers going through the pass might need shelter? It might save a life.”

  She smiled in agreement, picked up one of the smaller children, and walked down the hill. Someday a stranger might thank Dei for that little cave, and the pride she felt upon its creation came back to her in a small portion.

  It took half a day to reach Keetna—or, rather, what remained of it. Blackened cottages lined the riverside that hosted the medium-sized village. It was much bigger than the destroyed villages they’d passed in recent days but no less damaged.

  Fortunately, there were several people there, removing burnt timbers from
the homes. As they approached, an elderly matron broke away from the others. She wore a torn, soot-stained dress and scurried to meet them. Several children ran to greet her while Nilly stayed by Nara’s side.

  “Mimi!” they screamed. “We missed you.”

  The woman was at least sixty years old but seemed to have more than her share of energy and enthusiasm for the little ones.

  “Oh blessings,” she said. “I thought I’d lost you all.”

  “She’s like everyone’s grandma,” Nilly said, her voice cracking and tears on her cheeks.

  “I’m glad,” Nara said.

  Nilly joined the children in Mimi’s embrace, then grabbed her hand and led her to Nara and Mykel. Two of the children clung to the woman’s legs, making it difficult for her to walk. A few moments later, two other women ran to greet the children, scooping several up into their arms and cheering. The remaining children just stood in a huddle, looking about for families that might never come.

  “These are the people who saved us,” Nilly said to Mimi.

  Mimi gave a shallow bow and a wide grin. “Thank you,” she said, then picked up one of the little ones who tugged on her dress.

  “The soldiers,” Mimi said. “How did you . . . ?”

  “They fought them all,” Nilly explained. “Just the two of them. They are gifted, Mimi.”

  “Then Dei has truly blessed us. Again, thank you.”

  Nara didn’t know what to say. This woman was grateful for the return of the village’s children, but the village had been razed, leaving few standing shelters and likely little means for the remaining villagers to feed themselves. Now there were more mouths to feed. Worst of all, there was no defense against royal soldiers coming back and doing it all again.

  “How will you provide for yourselves?” Mykel asked. “How will you defend yourselves?”

  “We’ll manage,” Mimi said. “There are farmers tending fields to the south. They were unharmed and still grow crops. Dei will provide.”