The Godseeker Duet

by David A Willson

  “Yes, it did.”

  “Nara, I’m a simple thinker. We fight, or we don’t. We get help, or we don’t. You make things complicated when you second-guess yourself like this. They killed my brother and my pop. I want payback. If I can stop it from happening to another family, to some other town, I’m happy with that.” He grabbed the staff and stood. “Dei gave me this.” He slammed the staff on the stone, the thunderous impact cracking the stone, chips of rock exploding outward.

  The shock of it prompted Nara to take a step back.

  “He gave me strength. Protection. The ability to heal from wounds. Aside from you, I may be the most powerful warrior in centuries! You want me to sit by and let Fairmont walk all over the people of this land? You want me to tie my hands and do nothing? I’d have a hard time with that.”

  Wow, he was worked up. Her fault. “No, I don’t want that.”

  “Then stop talking and act! Build us a fortress. Or a simple hidey-hole in one of these mountains where we can plan, train, defend ourselves, and launch a war. Maybe we’ll just use this cave. It’s enough. Let me take Jahmai, get more soldiers, and we’ll march on Fairmont. Heck, I’d go with a hundred. If we hit them hard and fast, with both you and me, it might be enough. I’m half ready to go north with what we have right now. These men—they’ll come. They think you’re a goddess and will follow you anywhere.”

  She didn’t know what to say.

  “And so will I,” Mykel said. “Anywhere. Just name it. But don’t say you will stop. Not now. We can do this. We really can.”

  “You’re looking violent, today, Mykel Aragos,” she said, smiling. “Maybe you need a good dinner and a long nap.”

  He chuckled and looked at the shattered stone under his feet. “Yeah, maybe so.”

  “Thanks for the chat. I’m good, now. I’m hungry, though. What do you say I go look for some game? Probably find it faster than a few tired soldiers.”

  “Good idea.”

  She got up to leave.

  “Nara?”

  She turned, still smiling. Mykel looked sheepish from his outburst, examining the damage he caused.

  “Sorry I broke your cave.”

  21

  Old Places

  Anne found the port in the wall and busied herself with the sharp engraver, chipping at the mortar that she had used to fill it so long ago.

  “Is that a defect in the wall?” Gabriel asked. The odd gap between two of the stone blocks showed what appeared to be a measurement error by the builder who constructed the wall.

  “I put it here on purpose. Hold the torch closer,” Anne said. “I’ve only got one good eye.”

  “I don’t want to get it too close to the tapestry,” Gabriel said. “It’s wool. Would burn fast and I don’t think we pinned it up high enough.”

  “Who cares? It’s done its job. If you light up that old rug, maybe I’d be able to see what I’m doing!”

  His sharp intake of air made it clear that Anne had horrified him. He doesn’t see the big picture, but how could he? “That should be enough,” she said, then blew the gap free of dust.

  “What now?”

  “Just watch.”

  She reached into her pocket and retrieved one of the vials of blue liquid she’d carried from Eastway, then removed the stopper and poured it into the wall defect. She tapped the edge of the vial on the stone, using every drop, then replaced the stopper and dropped the vial back into her pocket.

  “Nothing’s happening,” he said after a moment.

  “Just wait. Takes a while to drip down into the rune.”

  “Rune? What rune?”

  She didn’t answer, instead holding up one finger and cocking her head, moving an ear close to the wall. “Here it comes.”

  A rushing sound of water from behind the wall began, then grew louder.

  “It still works. Ha! I worried for a moment.”

  Rock vibrated and Gabriel stepped back, a terrified look on his face. Then the mortar around more than a dozen stones burst from the seams as a huge section of the wall receded, revealing a dark passageway. Anne clapped her hands together.

  She took two steps, then turned to see Gabriel standing still, awestruck.

  “You coming? If not, you better gimme that torch.”

  The dark passageway led at a slight downward angle, taking them deep into the mountain behind the monastery several hundred paces. Light runes could be seen high on the walls, but there was no life in them. This place died many years before.

  “Move faster, boy. Nothing in here to bite you.”

  The tunnel opened into a large cavern, a dried-up hollow to the right where a lagoon once was, the torchlight inadequate to reveal the ceiling or the far walls.

  “This place used to be full of life. People living. Teaching. Learning.” She pointed to the lagoon. “I learned to swim over there.”

  “Amazing,” Gabriel said. “Right under the monastery. Nobody knew. All this time.”

  “I pulled the wool over your eyes, eh?”

  The joke elicited a loud cackle from Gabriel. Excellent. That should push his fear back.

  They walked across a wide, flat area, passing stone tables, benches and fire pits until they reached the entrance to some far rooms.

  “This one,” she said, veering to the left, waving Gabriel to follow.

  They entered the room, the torchlight revealing a good-sized chamber with many desks and chairs, all fixed into the stone—or, rather, grown from it. On one wall was a stone lectern with an old wooden table on either side. A variety of objects rested on the near table, crafted from metal, stone, and wood. High on the walls near the ceiling, many runes were visible, engraved in the stone.

  “A classroom?” Gabriel asked.

  “Yup. Spent many days in here. First as a child, then as a teacher,” her voice cracked with the emotions of the memory. “It’s a good room.”

  She approached the first table, directing Gabriel to illuminate it with the torchlight. Covered in dust, some of the wooden objects had long since rotted away. Several long, thin stones bore markings on them. “These were rulers. Used to teach basic measurements.” She picked up a stone mortar, blew the dust off, then stifled a sneeze. “Where’s the pestle?”

  Gabriel moved the torch closer and pointed it out, near the edge of the table.

  “There you are,” she said, grabbing it and placing it inside the mortar. She tipped it, displaying the rune carved on the side so that Gabriel could see. “Grind all kinds of stuff in this one. Then we’d set it in a water bath. Would stay fresh forever. We used bigger ones, too.” She tapped the rune. “As long as it sits in the water, this design keeps the rot away. Well, not just any water, I suppose. But that’s not why we’re here.”

  She set down the mortar and pestle and moved to the other table. “There it is.” She reached for an old metal chalice that sat all alone in the middle of the table, covered in cobwebs. She blew the dust off, being careful not to inhale the subsequent cloud this time. Holding it high, she turned it reverently in the light. “Been here the whole time. Even when we studied. Teacher’s cup. Not just mine, but every teacher before me.” She turned to look at Gabriel. “It was a big deal back then. Represented knowledge. Patience. Care for the students. It was a badge of honor we often carried with us.”

  “What does it do?”

  “Do? It’s just a cup. It does nothing. ‘Cept maybe hold water. Wine. A good ale.”

  The look on Gabriel’s face was priceless. An ancient wool tapestry that held an almost religious significance in his family’s life for centuries had covered a hidden passageway to an ancient cavern. When an epic figure arrives to reveal solemn secrets, leading the frightened young man to a reverent place of learning, she retrieves an ancient chalice so she could…. get a drink of water? Anne laughed loudly—a long, steady chortle that surely convinced her companion she was cracked.

  “It’s okay, young man,” she said, wiping away an errant tear. “It’s not what i
t does. It’s what it will do, for someone very important to me.”

  She went to the wall and looked up at the designs near the ceiling. “Hold the torch higher.”

  The oblique lighting made the outlines of the runes stand out clearly and she moved around the room until she found what she was looking for. “This is the one. It’s not that complicated, but much is riding on this, so I wanted to be sure. Keep the torch close.”

  She reached into her pocket for her engraver, touching the tip to a flat area on the cup and beginning the inscription. She looked back and forth at the rune several times before finishing, then blew the metal shavings free from the cup.

  “Done.” She handed the engraver to Gabriel. “A souvenir for you.”

  “Thank you?” He looked perplexed as he took the engraver from her.

  “We leave now.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yup. I have another vial to close things up.”

  “What happens next?”

  “I have some guesses, son, but I don’t know for sure. In any case, I’m leaving, and you’re staying in your little town. You’ll have a story to tell, eventually. Just keep this secret for a little while. Maybe a year.”

  He nodded.

  “Promise?” she asked.

  “I promise.”

  22

  Losing

  Mykel had risen at dawn to help the soldiers train. Eight men now surrounded him, each armed and in full attack. Sweat dotted his brow and with eyes closed and staff in hand, he dodged several of the strikes but took a hard hit to his head. It stung, despite having the protection rune up, but he was grateful that they were only using wood training sticks as the blows rained down. He flared health, and the bruises faded.

  “Keep in formation,” Jahmai bellowed. “Don’t let the gifted escape the circle. And don’t pull your blows!”

  They practiced eight at a time, learning techniques for fighting gifted opponents that Jahmai taught years ago at the military academy in Fairmont. This particular drill was for fighting a steelskin, one of the more common gifts found in clashes among infantry. And the least threatening. The goal was twofold. First, they must learn to prevent this type of gifted to fight one on one, but they must also deny them the ability to shield an advancing line of troops.

  After all had practiced the formation, Jahmai called a break and stepped up to Mykel. “Thank you again, this is a fantastic opportunity,” he said. “Most steelskins can only go a few rounds before they need to break for days to heal. But you can keep going forever!”

  Mykel half smiled. He couldn’t go on forever, but no need to tell Jahmai that. Better they think him invincible. “Happy to help. But I was wondering, how do you counter a racer?” Mykel asked.

  Jahmai smiled. “That’s a tough one, those boogers give us fits. It often takes a racer to beat a racer. No other way around it.”

  Mykel snorted. “I know. Nara and I encountered one recently. Even with the staff, it was difficult. Two racers might be the end of me.”

  “Nah, you’re a different thing altogether. You’d take a racer, easy. Maybe two, with a bear thrown on top. Not that I’ve ever seen more than a few gifted together in any battle. But the way the Queen is pouring money into her army and all these extra announcements, who knows how many we’ll face? But they may be new. Untrained. At least, I hope that’s the case.”

  “Not much of a comfort. Facing a bunch of scared, magic-wielding kids in battle?”

  Jahmai shrugged. “Yeah. Tough circumstances.”

  “I’m out for a while. Going to check on Nara.”

  “It’s midday, anyway. I’ll call for chow.” Jahmai marched off.

  Mykel stepped into the southernmost traveler cave they had used for shelter the past few nights, entering the darkness in the back. A passageway greeted him there, and he wondered how she would make a door. Maybe they’d just have to put a big rock in place to bar the entrance, but for now, it was open, smooth stone that led to a long tunnel. The passage was unlit and as he stepped into the darkness, losing the last bit of daylight that streamed in from the front of the cave, he closed his eyes and moved the staff back and forth a few times, activating the sight rune so that he could find his way in the darkness.

  The tunnel floor rose on a slight incline, and, after perhaps a hundred paces, it widened. At first, it was only three feet wide, but it had now become twice that. As he moved forward, it opened further, ten feet wide, then twenty. A light at the end of the passageway grew as he approached, and he dismissed the sight rune. The wide tunnel opened into a grand cave with an open roof, light streaming down from above; the dome of the mountain was simply gone. Two more tunnel entrances could be seen, equally spaced and just as wide as the first, heading off to destinations unknown.

  “What do you think so far?”

  Mykel looked to see Nara sitting on the stone floor nearby. Cross-legged, she was fidgeting with two small stones, tossing them back and forth between her fingers.

  “It’s amazing! So big. How long have you been at this?”

  “I got up early, but I think I’m done for today.”

  “Tell me about the tunnels.”

  Nara hopped up and grabbed Mykel by the hand, pulling him back into the tunnel from which he had emerged. “You know how Jahmai said that when the soldiers fight, they like to field greater numbers in every skirmish?”

  “Of course,” Mykel said. “That’s what small unit tactics are all about. Even if the opponent has a larger overall army, if you can move your troops in such a way to battle twenty against fifteen, or a hundred against eighty, you’ll always have an advantage.”

  Nara nodded. “Exactly. I guess that’s essentially what a fortification helps with. It creates a number advantage. Walls and barriers delay attackers, allowing defenders to move and respond quickly.”

  “Defenders can move quickly to a flank when the enemy attacks from a different direction. Maximizing their numbers.”

  “Yes. When I picked this mountain, I thought of how it would be to defend this place. What if you and I weren’t here? How could they hold against a much larger force?”

  Mykel’s eyes widened at the implication. “Ever-widening tunnels. Nara, you’re a genius.” He could have kissed her right then, and he would have, but she continued.

  “No matter how many men they bring against us, they will only be able to trickle them in, and they will always fight in a more narrow area than our soldiers. The tunnels keep widening and even if they advance, they still have less room.”

  “One enemy will always face two of ours. Two will always face three. We’ll always have the advantage.”

  She grinned. “Yes, and if they want to attack from a different direction, they have to retreat in that same narrowing tunnel, then run around outside to attack from a different tunnel. Long delays.”

  “What if they storm up the outside of the dome and shoot arrows down?”

  “Well, they can jump to their deaths, or we could just shelter in the tunnels. Besides, I could handle them if they concentrate in one place like that.”

  “Of course. This is great. I doubt many have thought to put a fortress under a mountain or had the ability to do so.” Mykel glanced up at the open dome. “Brings in lots of light, but lots of rain, too.”

  “I have a plan for that. I’ll put a big pillar in the middle, and a huge, flat area up about fifty feet. It will block out some light, but the flat area will slope in the center and the rain will run down a central pipe. Not a pipe, really. Just a hole in the middle of the rock. It will come out the bottom and flow into a channel I’ll send off somewhere down there.” She pointed off to one side where there was nothing but a sheer rock wall. “Maybe I’ll make a pool for bathing. But it will be cold. Rainwater, you know.”

  “Wow, you have it all planned out. Defenses, water... light.”

  “Not exactly. Tunnels will still be dark. No light runes, or any way to maintain them. This is far from a Breshi cavern.”


  “I don’t care. It’s what we need. I’ll say it again–you’re a genius.”

  He moved toward her and her expression changed, grin fading. Wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close, he leaned in to kiss her, but before he could, she put a hand over his lips.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, confused. “What did I do?”

  “I don’t feel very lovable right now. I... I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand, then broke from the embrace, turning to walk several paces away.

  “What do you mean? You are saving the Great Land. You designed this incredible cave. The soldiers who follow us think you’re amazing.” He faltered a half second. “I think you’re amazing.”

  Still facing away from him, she lifted her arms in exasperation. “This is all so rewarding, Mykel. Moving, crafting, building. The stone feels alive under my hands. Full of power and potential.” She turned around quickly, taking a rapid step toward him and twisting her hands together. “But it’s wrong.”

  “What is it now?” He heard the coldness in his own tone. Hadn’t they already talked about this, again and again? When would she finally get it?

  “Here’s the point,” she said, speaking quickly. “This is a fortress for killing. It’s designed to slaughter our enemies. They’d have little chance against us, and we could defend against much greater numbers.” She sighed, then began again, this time slower, and with softness in her voice. “I’m proud of my vision for fresh water and bathing areas. I even planned out chimneys for bonfires, so we don’t smoke ourselves out. But this place, it’s not about preserving life. It’s a place for welcoming death. Earth-shaping should be for building shelters for peaceful people. Families. Mothers. Men who carry their children about, not those who carry swords. I should travel around the Great Land healing. Guiding. Eliminating poverty and sickness. Being a light in this dark world. And there’s more.” She looked away. “I don’t feel the pain anymore.”

  “What pain? The headaches?” he asked.

  “No, I still have those. But flaring the earth rune reduces them, so it’s manageable. I’m talking about the pain I feel from others. When Derik was suffering in the back of that wagon, it didn’t bother me at all. The agony of his injury, bouncing along that terrible road day after day... I didn’t feel a thing. All of this fighting is changing me. I’m becoming like her. That’s what I was thinking about when you came in.” She nervously fiddled with a loose string that dangled from her sleeve.