Book of Names (Casters of Syndrial 1)

by Rain Oxford

  “No, you haven’t been.” She absentmindedly brushed her hand across her slender stomach. “I have had dreams of you, though.”

  “I don’t like those kinds of dreams.”

  “They’re all I had. You have them as well. You and your brother share dreams. He hasn’t realized it yet, of course. You have.”

  “I’ve seen people and animals that don’t belong to Duran.”

  “They are people in your brother’s life.”

  “I didn’t come here to talk about him. He doesn’t matter. He’s not powerful like I am. Father wants me.”

  She nodded. “So does your brother, even if he doesn’t know it yet. He needs you.”

  “Then he’ll find me when he’s powerful enough. I’m finally about to have what I’ve always wanted.”

  “A family?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your brother is your family. Go now, before they find us together. I’m not pregnant yet and we don’t want to give them the wrong idea.”

  “Wrong idea?”

  And then he realized what she meant. No females were allowed inside the temple except for vessels, and vessels were not allowed to be touched by anyone except the priests. “You’re a vessel.”

  “Yes. I am the vessel of Isis and guardian of the Book of Names.”

  * * *

  Boy returned home feeling less confident than he had when he left. He didn’t know what to think of his mother being a vessel, other than it was fitting. His mother was used as a vessel against her will, impregnated by a god against her will, and forced to give up her sons against her will. It showed Boy that what had happened to him was nothing compared to what could have happened. The gods did whatever they wanted no matter the consequences, and if he wanted to be loved, he would have to be a god, not a vessel.

  He faced the trials at the young age of fourteen. Every challenge was easy for him and when it was time for the claiming, five different gods wanted him. They all told him how they would be best for him, how powerful they could make him, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

  “I choose my father.”

  At that moment, he ceased being the nameless boy and became the Painter. Immediately upon leaving the trials, he was taken to his father’s palace in the Land of the Gods.

  The palace was larger than anything he had ever seen or heard of. It was full of white marble, gold and glass furniture, and sunlight. Outside the palace was a garden as far as the eye could see, even from the top of the towers. He could have any room in the palace except his father’s. There were kitchens with servants who could make him anything he wanted, libraries full of more books than a mortal could read in his life, and a fountain in the garden large enough to swim in. If he wanted to learn anything, he just had to ask and a tutor would be brought to him.

  He asked his father if a tutor could teach him to have friends and play, but Set told him it wasn’t necessary– that mortal children died all the time and if they were good enough, they would want to play with the Painter. Set went on to order the servants to bring every child to Painter when they died to see if they were worthy of being friends with the demigod. Painter didn’t understand that this wasn’t how friends were made, so it sounded great to him.

  Soon, he met his father’s wife. Set actually had several, but the one he favored at the time was a goddess named Roana. She was a beautiful woman with Amethyst eyes and warm olive skin. Her hair was a mix of light blond and dark brown. Accenting her beauty was a red dress that draped off her shoulder and exposed her sides, barely covering her breast. The nearly sheer fabric met at her hips and became a long, flowing skirt.

  Painter acknowledged that the color suited her well, but the style did not. He was smart enough, however, to realize it was the type of dress Set would choose for her. Realizing he was being rude by studying her so closely, he said, “I should like to look to you as a mother, if you will allow me to do so.”

  “I would be happy to take you as my son, so long as you give me the devotion, love, and obedience that a son owes his mother.”

  “I will. All I ever wanted was a family.”

  “And now you will want for nothing,” Set said.

  “I will study diligently until I have enough power to do your bidding and honor you.”

  “Will you stop there?” Roana asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you are powerful enough to do your father proud, will you be satisfied, or will you seek more power?”

  “Why would I need more power? All I ever wanted was a father and mother to love me. I would give up all my power for a family.”

  * * *

  Long before Painter was born, Isis wrote the Book of Names, gave it to her vessel, and taught Talot how to protect it. No one knew she had it. Set knew Isis was becoming secretive, though, so he pretended to be Osiris and said that Set was about to pull a trick. Isis told him about the book. After speaking with Osiris, Isis realized that she had been fooled.

  No god could enter her pyramid or her vessel, so Set could not get to it himself. He knew, however, that Isis would have it locked away with Talot’s blood, and only with her blood could it be opened.

  Set waited until Isis was away and Talot was in the garden before appearing to her. He tried to seduce her, but when she wasn’t receptive, he took her anyway. He knew his son would be able to access the book.

  * * *

  Many years later, when Set was certain his son was loyal to him, he ordered the Painter to steal the Book of Names. Because Set was worried that the Painter would be unable to access the book after Isis got a new vessel, he told the Painter to return to a point in which Talot was still alive. The Painter reluctantly agreed and went to the courtyard where he had seen his mother for the first time.

  She wasn’t there, so he entered her pyramid. Having spent months at his father’s palace, he found the pyramid to be dark and depressing. Despite that, he was determined to make his father proud. He reached the innermost chamber, where only one man was allowed, and was startled to hear a terrible cry of pain.

  He rushed into the room and found her screaming on the bed. The High Priest of Isis’s kingdom was helping her to deliver her babies, and Painter had never seen so much agony on a woman’s face before. He went to her side, forgetting the book and the consequences for being there. “Why isn’t there a healer? What’s wrong? She shouldn’t be in this much pain.”

  The priest, overwhelmed, didn’t bother to tell him to get out. He knew the Painter was the son of Set and needed any help he could get. “I’ve never delivered a baby before, but no one else is allowed to touch her.”

  Beside her was a table with towels, water, and a dagger. Painter remembered the letter his mother wrote and took her hand, silently vowing to protect her. He didn’t have a plan beyond that. He saw the amulet against her chest and knew he was doing the right thing, even if it wasn’t what would make his father proud.

  She grasped his hand and drew the strength she needed from him. Before he knew what was going on, she stopped screaming and a different cry filled the room. Painter handed over a towel, which the priest was demanding. The baby wouldn’t stop wailing and Painter was worried that the priest was hurting him, so Painter gently took the baby. “There’s another one.”

  He tried to hand the newborn to his mother, but she started screaming again. Painter couldn’t do anything but rock the baby as his brother was born. The atmosphere of the room changed the instant the second baby was born.

  “Something’s wrong,” Talot said, not able to see the infant over the priest.

  “Stillborn,” he said regretfully.

  Talot cried harder. “You’re wrong!”

  Painter pushed the first baby into Talot’s arms, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around the silent baby, taking him as carefully as he could. The baby didn’t move, cry, or open his eyes. “You have to wake up.”

  “Save him!” Talot cried. She repeated it over and over, but Painter was focused on the baby.


  He spoke softly and held the baby against his chest. He never felt so much concern for someone else before and he hated it. He couldn’t let his little brother be dead. His brother was the one person in the universe who needed him. He patted the still baby’s back, feeling completely helpless.

  “I will be back with a healer,” the priest promised before disappearing out the door.

  Painter knew he wouldn’t get back in time. Healing wasn’t a spell he had bothered to learn, but he knew he could do whatever he had to do to protect his brother. The desperate desire to help his brother grew stronger in him burning and mixing with his magic, until power poured from him into the newborn.

  Painter felt the small thumping of the baby’s heart a second before the baby opened his blue eyes. Painter felt so much relief he thought he was going to pass out. Having the sense not to hold the baby in case he did, he put the infant next to the crying brother. Without looking at each other, the two instinctively reached for each other and joined hands. The wailing, older one quieted down.

  “Twins,” Talot said breathlessly. “I had seen it in my dreams, but part of me denied it.”

  Painter had seen litters of animals being born, but he had never seen a person being born. “Are twins unusual?”

  She nodded. “Most babies are born individually.”

  He looked at the interlocked hands. “That must be lonely.”

  “Not for everyone.”

  At that point, the Painter remembered his mission and studied the room. It was as lavish as his room with colorful fabric, a soft bed, and high-end furniture. He wondered why there were three different chairs when it was only ever her and the priest.

  “I am here to take the Book of Names.”

  Talot nodded. “I know. I need your help, though. They’re going to kill me and you.”

  “Why?”

  “When I became pregnant, the seers had two different prophecies. One was that my son would be amazing and do wonderful things, while the other one was that he would be terrible and kill people. No one had thought that both prophecies could be true.”

  Painter studied the babies.

  “I see. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I killed the man who raised me.”

  “I don’t believe either of you will become that,” Talot said. “Prophecies can be wrong. It’s a choice you will both have to make. Please help us. They’ll kill you and your brother.”

  “But I’m here, alive.”

  “Time can be rewritten. Everything that you become, that he’ll become, would be destroyed.”

  Painter wanted to be a good son to his father, but his heart was too strong and he caved. He helped her to escape. He knew if he transported her by magic, his father would stop him, so he covered her in a black robe he summoned and led her out. It was difficult because she had just given birth, but she refused to let that stop her.

  In the marketing district, they found an abandoned building. He conjured some water for her to drink as well as some softer blankets for the babies and let them rest while he planned their next move. The one thing he was certain of was that he couldn’t let her be killed.

  When he came up with his plan, he got to work making a portal right away. Unfortunately, he didn’t know the portal to his brother’s world, so he went with the only one he knew.

  “I won’t make a good mother to you,” Talot warned her son.

  “Will you love me?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all I wanted, which is why I’m breaking the rules for you.”

  “What do you mean?” The only thing she knew about the world was what Isis told her and the love she felt for her babies.

  “My brother and I ended up on different worlds without you and my childhood was terrible. By sending you somewhere else, I could destroy who I am. For you, however, I’m willing to risk it. I will give up everything I am to give us a chance. I’m sending you and the babies to Duran. I’d learned the portal from my father.”

  He was halfway done with the portal when the door burst open. A priest rushed in, his hair concealed by his hood and his face concealed by his mask. In his hand was a long, curved dagger. Painter wasn’t done with his painting and wouldn’t have time to finish it before the priest could kill them. Talot was defenseless.

  Painter didn’t have the tools he needed to fully utilize his power, so instead he created a sphere of fire and struck the priest. He knew the priest wouldn’t be permanently damaged, but reversing the curse would by them a little time.

  Painter realized this was how it happened all along. He had to be separated from his brother and this was how he ended up on Duran while his brother ended up elsewhere. He also knew if he acted fast enough, he could save his mother.

  “Send them in,” Painter said. “The portal isn’t finished and the output is random, so they’ll be separated, but at least they’ll be alive and no one can find them until they’re ready to be found.”

  “But I want you to have a family,” Talot said, crying again.

  Painter looked at the younger twin. “I will. Someday, I will.”

  She whispered the true name of the younger twin into the newborn’s ear and although he shouldn’t have, Painter heard it as clear as day. Painter took the younger twin while she wrote a note to the older twin. Then she whispered the Painter’s true name to the older baby and the Painter felt truly loved for the first time in his life. He had a real name, which his mother gave him.

  She set the baby on the portal, tucking the letter and her amulet into the folds of the blanket. “Be safe, my precious son,” she whispered. He vanished.

  She was about to take the younger baby, but a fireball shot past her, narrowly missing her. Painter laid his infant brother on the portal and watched him disappear before trying to save his mother. He stood and reached for her, already forming a ball of fire, but he was too late; a powerful force crashed into him and threw him into the wall.

  The Painter’s body stayed glued to the wall and the pressure on his chest prevented him from drawing in a breath. What the priest didn’t know was that, as a demigod, he could do a lot of lower magic without speaking the sacred words.

  He created a wind tunnel and added fire. Seconds later, he regretted doing so when Talot was thrown right into the priest’s arms. He caught her with his left hand and gripped the stone ledge of a workbench. Before he could even cast his protection, Painter dropped the curse. He couldn’t risk hurting Talot.

  She was weakened, but still a strong woman with the desperate need to protect her children. She struck him in the nose with her elbow and he threw her to the floor. When she started crawling towards the portal, Painter was filled with relief. After he found his brother, they could find their mother together.

  Then the priest ran up behind her and pulled her to her feet.

  “Let her go!” Painter shouted. His mind raced to come up with magic that could hurt the priest and not his mother.

  He was too late.

  The priest plunged the dagger into her chest. Painter screamed, yet Talot was silent. The priest pulled the blade out of her and she fell back, onto the portal. Blood covered the portal even as she disappeared. She was not only dead, she was lost.

  Still holding the Painter against the wall with magic, the priest left, taking the dagger with him. Moments later, the Painter passed out from lack of air. He woke hours later on the floor. Without a face or name, the Painter would never be able to find his mother’s murderer. Furthermore, with Talot’s blood, the priest had stolen the Book of Names before Painter could get to it.

  * * *

  Over the next two years, the Painter recovered from the traumatizing event and eventually came to be happy. Roana was not. She knew that the Painter was powerful and that powerful people craved more power. It made sense to her that he would become stronger and stronger until he could overthrow his father, and she didn’t want to be a widow. She wanted to be married to the one with power.

  She went to him on
e night and tried to seduce him. He was oblivious to her flirtations until she shoved her hand down his pants. He was appalled and said he would never betray his father. Not believing him, she tried to kiss him, but he shoved her away.

  “How dare you push me!”

  “You’re supposed to be a mother to me.” The word didn’t feel right coming out of his mouth, though. He wanted to know his real mother and Roana could never replace her.

  “I’d never whelp such an insolent, weak, brat.” Shaking with rage, Roana ran to her husband. By the time she reached him, she had turned her anger into ugly tears. She told Set how his son had raped her and tried to impregnate her. She said that the Painter wanted to overthrow Set.

  Set called his guards to bring him his son and they did so. The Painter knew he was in trouble when he saw his step-mother’s cruel grin. The guards saw it to, but they would never speak up for the Painter.

  “My wife tells me you raped her because you wanted my power.”

  The Painter’s heart sank. “Please tell me you don’t believe her. I would never betray you. It was she that tried to seduce me, and I pushed her away from me.”

  “Lies!” Roana shrieked.

  “Hush, woman,” Set snarled.

  She did. She knew exactly how to play the part of the doting and obedient wife. The Painter had the disadvantage of being completely honest. It didn’t occur to him to pretend to be something he wasn’t in order to get what he wanted.

  “If she had seduced you, why did you not come to me?” Set asked.

  “I hadn’t had the time, and I didn’t know how you would take it. I didn’t want to upset you. I thought the matter was settled.”

  “You mean you thought I wouldn’t tell my husband you raped me because you---”

  “Hush, woman!” Set barked.

  “I would never rape anyone!” the Painter shouted. He felt anger brew in him even worse than when Merlin had rejected him.

  “Silence!” Set shouted. His son and wife both fell silent. “I don’t care about the rape, I care about you trying to overthrow me.”