Mother of Heretics: Bastards of the Gods Dark Fantasy (Enthraller Book 2)

by T. A. Miles

  The wave came afterward, ushering the sea back toward the shore. It had risen to godly heights. Within seconds, it struck, smashing fiercely against the Barrier. The impact transferred to Cayri. She could feel the immense strength pressing against the Barrier, as if it were being shouldered by some titanic beast, and it stole her breath. She held her hands in front of her, as if her hands could work directly to block the ocean rising against them. Beside her, Vlas held himself similarly. An awestruck expression became a short-lived flash of excitement on her partner’s face, before a frown of determination took hold.

  Ceth’s hands were aligned with the orbs he’d cast out, as if invisible strings were attached. His face was placid, except for a minor stitch formed between his brows. In the moments that followed, versus the weight and will of the water, a frown spread down the length of his face. And then he opened his eyes.

  Cayri could feel the swell of force that inspired it. It felt as if it would physically carry her away, as if she were directly on the shore.

  Ceth released the orbs, gesturing a Barrier of his own with speed and skill that overlapped the spells. And then he threw his arms apart to either side of himself. His Barrier spread, racing across the web of light from the crystals. It gained momentum and size as it went, matching the existing Barrier in breadth and height when it joined with it. It almost seemed to catch the original as it was falling, and also the water that came crashing down after it.

  Lowering her arms, Cayri watched the elder at work. He scarcely seemed to strain, though she could feel how it tested his endurance emotionally, particularly in the moment he did something that only one of his years and station could have performed. Bringing his arms back together, he manipulated the Barrier with a series of gestures that he made appear simpler than they must have been. The magic emulated the orbs, forming several that each captured what Cayri could only consider fistfuls of water, which were then thrust upward. Clouds quickly formed overhead, followed by rain.

  Cayri felt a smile forming on her lips when the cold, heavy drops fell on her, though she didn’t know if she ought to. When she looked at Ceth, he gave a nod that was nearly invisible while catching his breath...letting her know that it was all right. She grinned at him, and while Vlas was moving close to him to see if the elder was overly strained by the feat, she stepped over to Ceth as well and put her arms around him, supporting him whether he needed it or not.

  He allowed it, patting her quickly soaking hair. “We did well,” he said, and brought Vlas into the embrace as well.

  Surprisingly, Vlas didn’t try to get away, so Cayri hugged him, too. They weren’t finished, but Ceth was right. They had done well in that moment—all of them, including the people of Indhovan who had participated in this first and most vital stage of defense.

  “That’ll make a fleet of war ships from Morenne seem a bit underwhelming,” Vlas commented.

  Ceth lightly dignified his student’s humor with a dry laugh, and Cayri kissed her fellow Adept on the cheek over it.

  “Let’s hope they won’t be drawn here quicker for all of that,” Ceth said to sober them. “Now, let’s get out of this rain and organize what else needs to be done.”

  Dreams of smallish creatures raining down onto the city were interrupted by a swift nudge to Irslan’s ankle. He snapped his head up, quickly glanced about, and realized that he was seated in the governor’s assembly hall, at the table where they’d plotted a successful defense against sheer and utter madness. Further madness was to follow, if he recalled accurately.

  He leaned toward the seat beside him. “Assure me that Morenne isn’t here yet.”

  “Not yet,” Priest Vlas told him.

  “Good…good. Don’t let me sleep through the invasion.”

  “I shall kick you again, surely.”

  Irslan smiled tiredly, letting his mind filter back to the situation around him. No longer a state of crisis.

  “Some of the docks were swept away and some of the vessels that weren’t taken out were waterlogged,” someone was in the process of explaining…to Lord Ceth. Now, he had full recall. He was in the presence of a patriarch of the Vassenleigh Order, and like a fool he was sleeping through it.

  “The pier and surrounding district has taken on some damage as well,” the individual continued. “But no lives were lost, so far as we can tell yet. The sudden downpour created minor flood conditions in some of the streets and brought the canal up dangerously high, but a lot of the wave was channeled by the Barriers and its own momentum into the inlet, as we had hoped.”

  Irslan focused on the governor’s son…not a horribly young man, but young enough. In spite of that, Deitir did what Irslan couldn’t say his father would have. It was unfortunate that the man had fallen ill, but…fortunate at the same time.

  “Unfortunately,” Deitir continued, “it crested the north wall and the structural casualties are heavy in that part of the city.”

  “The extended part,” Ceth clarified and then the man who honestly appeared to have no discernible age, nodded. “And the casualties there in terms of people?”

  “Could be none, could be a few,” Fersmyn offered. “We don’t know yet. Most everyone was evacuated, but some didn’t obey or somehow missed instruction. If anyone’s missing, word will come through the constabulary certainly.”

  Ceth acknowledged with a slow nod, his expression one of consideration. “Right....so, Morennish ships are possibly on their way. Unfortunately, I cannot linger. You should continue to build defenses. Priests Vlas and Cayri will stay here to help as long as it’s necessary. Merran will return with me.”

  The patriarch gestured toward each of the priests in turn, and Irslan smiled helplessly at them. The smile was gone with mention of the fourth priest.

  “And Korsten...” Ceth paused, drawing in a breath and then releasing it. “May the gods deliver him, if he’s unable to deliver himself.”

  A tactful space of silence followed those words.

  And then Fersmyn asked, “What of the coven?”

  “Make peace with them,” Ceth advised. “Neglect becomes malignant and leads to what we just experienced. An extreme case, obviously, but the worst scenario should always be regarded as possible.” His attention went fully to Deitir. “And you should always act to negate it whenever and wherever possible. Learn more about your city’s residents and encourage your father to do the same. Do not leave a population to their own devices. People in groups require much guidance and individuals are put in place to provide that guidance. Ignoring them is failing them.”

  “I understand,” Deitir answered.

  “Irslan, communicate with this lad and his father.” While Ceth spoke, Irslan was hurriedly coming to the realization and acknowledgment that he’d been addressed. “Work with them. We’re very grateful for all that you’ve done working with us. You’ll hear from me again.”

  Irslan bowed his head respectfully, if not a bit mistimed. “Patriarch Ceth.”

  Ceth looked like he might dismiss the formality, but ultimately chose not to as he was in the process of moving onto his next target. “Merran.”

  Merran waited for Ceth to walk past him toward the door, then followed.

  Irslan realized belatedly that it was his cue to leave as well, so that he might escort them back to his home. He was extremely delighted when they left the room to be halted and immediately guided into a Reach portal. He was so delighted—and so tired—that in all honestly, he completely overlooked what the experience felt like.

  The carriage house was as far as Merran allowed Irslan to accompany them. The man had done enough and required rest. He, like everyone else in Indhovan, yet had more to do. Merran himself hoped to return before too long, but he’d been issued no guarantee from Ceth. He watched his elder readying Erschal for the journey that would again be a Reach and had to stop himself from turning his thoughts negative again over hi
s hand. With nothing better to do, he went to Onyx’s stall, considering whether or not they should take Korsten’s horse back to Vassenleigh as well.

  “I haven’t forgotten how to saddle a horse,” Ceth commented. “I’m relieved.”

  Merran glanced back at him, knowing that the comment was not meant to be humorous. Regardless, Ceth was still being a tad absurd. His mind was not one that forgot, or couldn’t quickly sort out, how to work anything. Merran let him make his complaint about his constant station at the Citadel in silence.

  He looked at Onyx again, lifting his good hand to the animal’s sleek black neck. If Korsten had not gone far—perhaps only to some other part of the Islands—he may yet return to the city. He would come back here, to Irslan’s, and be informed and directed by Vlas and Cayri. Considering that scenario gave him a better sense of optimism than he’d had since the crone. It seemed plausible…practical, and surely more reliable than a situation that might inspire Korsten to Reach desperately back to someone. To Ashwin.

  He forced that last thought back, reminding himself that he wasn’t being fair to Korsten, or to Ashwin. He had every opportunity to say what was on his mind…to say it in a way Korsten would hear. And if it chased Korsten away from what they had?

  Korsten wasn’t ready, and for that reason, Merran waited. There was nothing for him to do now either, except to wait.

  “The weeks ahead will be a greater test of our endurance,” Ceth said, drawing him back to his presence. The elder walked Erschal out of his stall by the bit. “Once he’s had rest, Vlas will join us at Vassenleigh to relate everything he’s experienced in better detail, regarding the Vadryn activity on the Islands. I’m certain you already know that Eisleth and Ashwin will both have many questions for you, regarding the vessels the demons used as well as the coven’s matriarch.”

  “They’ll have a new one eventually,” Merran said. “I believe she’ll make a better fit than her predecessor.”

  “Let’s continue to hold out that sort of optimism,” Ceth said, again not sarcastically or in jest. And then, “We should leave. I fear I’ve already risked exposure too long.”

  Stuck still with whether or not he should leave Onyx, Merran hesitated.

  “Your intuition must lean you in one direction or the other,” Ceth prompted with patience.

  Merran realized then that it did, and he stepped back from Onyx after patting the animal’s muzzle. He collected Erschal’s reins from Ceth when he joined him outside the stalls, freeing the elder’s hands for the ensuing Reach back to what he hoped would be at least a full physical recovery.

  There was one more thing to be done before night fully settled and any of them could get to bed. Vlas supposed the matter might have actually been able to wait until morning, but he would never have slept properly with Dacia Cambir stuck on his mind.

  Her father was dead, gods only knew what had happened to her archdemon mother—or Korsten—and she had a blood relative she’d spoken with on at least two occasions without even realizing it. There may have been nothing correct about her, with thanks to Vaelyx and Serawe, but perhaps there was nothing wrong with her and it might benefit both cousins to realize that they weren’t alone. Besides, the walk to the forum wasn’t far and he had a strong suspicion they would find Ersana there with her daughter, tonight and many nights throughout the forthcoming conflict with Morenne.

  Irslan was exhausted, though. Vlas almost felt badly for dragging him out once more, but they’d negotiated with a Reach spell. For some reason, Irslan felt he’d missed something when he’d gone with Ceth and he wanted another chance to experience it. He was an odd fellow, but whatever pleased him enough to help Vlas find some closure to Vaelyx’s death.

  It was almost haunting how easily he envisioned the look Vaelyx might have given him for making this effort, ultimately telling him he was wasting everyone’s time. Perhaps, Vaelyx. Perhaps not.

  Thought of Vaelyx’s relation to the Islands cult led Vlas to another concern. “Where did Konlan get to?”

  “I truly wish that I knew,” Irslan answered, more tired than gloomy about it for the moment.

  Vlas found himself almost disturbingly alert in spite of a dire lack of rest. “The man was a practitioner of witchcraft, by the evidence you described, but by his behavior, it’s difficult to say which coven he was actually member to. I imagine all of the followers of Serawe couldn’t have been ghouls, though. She must have had agents to operate away from the Islands, or even among them.”

  Irslan nodded, either too tired or too glum to inquire of ghouls.

  “I suppose it isn’t overly important just now,” Vlas said. “But it should get resolved nonetheless. I’ll help you, Master Irslan. Cayri and I both will, but what’s more important is to show you what your uncle left for you outside of his library.”

  Irslan exhaled while he considered, then shook his head. “I can’t even imagine what you might have discovered. I feel remiss over what he showed you on that island, though. I had no idea he had gone so far. Tahrsel did and I regret to say that he may have known my uncle better than I did.”

  “Don’t fret over it right now, Irslan. Fret over this.”

  Irslan appeared roundly confused by the statement, and the gathering place they had come to. Vlas redirected his attention to something...or someone more specific as they passed through one of the entries.

  Dacia stood not far across the entryway with Ersana, who rested her hands on the girl’s shoulders when she noticed Vlas and Irslan. It may have been protective, as if she anticipated they might attempt to take her daughter from her. They had no such intention and it was not within their authority to do so even if they had considered it.

  Before long, Ersana seemed to realize that and came closer. With very little attention given to Vlas or Irslan beyond awareness of their presence, she spoke to the girl. “Dacia, you’ve met Master Treir before.”

  “Yes,” she replied in her typically, if not oddly, polite manner. After her earlier bouts of staring at Vlas outright, she seemed to not notice him much now. He deliberately put away thoughts on the creature that was her mother.

  Irslan half-smiled at Dacia, but cocked his expression in Vlas’ direction, seeming to just grasp what this might have been about.

  “Dacia,” Ersana continued, “this man is your cousin, by blood.”

  Vlas watched a small twitch move through the girl’s expression. He wondered if it was in response to the news of her relation or to the mention of blood. He wondered also just how well she was faring in the aftermath of her unnatural mother’s existence.

  For the first time since Vlas had been in her presence, the girl came out with a truly awkward reply and self-consciously said, “Hello...cousin.”

  Vlas looked to Ersana, who smoothed Dacia’s hair before returning the gaze. Silently, they were agreed and for the moment there was nothing further to discuss. Dacia could not be entered into a situation outside of the coven for now and was going to have to be observed and cared for until such time that they could discern what the consequences of her situation were. They might never know, but she could not live out the rest of her days committed to the caves with Ersana once they were made suitable again. Fortunately renovating the hub of their system was going to take a good amount of time during which Dacia would remain as she had been and now also untouched by her well-meaning though somewhat hapless father.

  Irslan, in spite of what he didn’t know, actually managed to smile alertly for the first time since the aftermath of the wave had settled. It was a smile of appreciation, perhaps of knowing...perhaps of seeing that Vaelyx had left more of a legacy than madness and books. Vlas had no intention of telling him of how that legacy had come to be. At least not until it was supremely relevant.

  For now, the obligation of telling Irslan the truth about a family member was satisfied. Hopefully, the realization would instill a sense of or want
for understanding between Irslan and Ersana, which may allow them to work together as the leaders of their respective groups of activists and purists. Civil unrest was the last thing they needed this close to the war.

  Irslan began introducing himself to Ersana properly, which gave Vlas hope that his previous idea wouldn’t come back at him with the two at odds over where Dacia belonged. Irslan’s decency continued to show itself.

  Vlas took a step back from them. His mind worked back around to relevance and whether or not it would be relevant—or even pertinent—to go to the constable hall. Imris was smart and capable. He doubted she had been hurt or killed by the relatively minor assault the overflow from the wave had been. Still...

  Dacia looked at him just then and though it was only brief, he was instantly reminded of Vaelyx and how they’d met. He looked over his shoulder toward the street, half expecting to see a man in cloak and hood. Though there was no sign of such a person, Vlas stepped away from Irslan and the others to go to the entryway. He leaned against it, scanning the street, which was not quite as abandoned now that the city was on alert instead of a curfew advisement.

  His gaze moved in the direction of the constable hall, though was quickly caught by a familiar, dark-skinned woman who walked by in the presence of another constable. She was frowning, as was her wont—she was probably also quite tired—and when she noticed him, she continued to frown. She also continued to walk, but not without discreetly raising her hand, perhaps unintentionally reminding him of their last parting gesture. He returned the gesture as automatically as he had then and, after Imris had passed, he found himself smiling.

  “The sea came,” Deitir said to his slumbering father. “The priests set it back. I know something’s been harassing you, but I hope that when you wake you’ll see that we’re indebted to them. I trust them and I believe that Indhovan’s future can only include them if it’s to be a safe one. I have not been able to speak to you much before this. I hope that afterward it will be different.”