Forging Divinity

by Rowe, Andrew

  Rialla shook her head. “No, but Raymond is a good man. He’s the one who took me and my brother in – we had nothing when we first came to this city. Elias was deteriorating, and I had no way to stop it. I tried selling my sorcery skills – it didn’t go well. But Raymond heard about me and tracked me down. He’s a minor sorcerer himself – just stability sorcery. That minor talent was precisely what Elias needed. Raymond bought us time.”

  “So, Raymond is one of these court sorcerers I keep hearing about? I didn’t see any pins on him,” Jonan noted.

  “No, he’s not a court sorcerer. Just a man with a minor talent. My skills already exceeded his when we met, but I couldn’t do anything about my brother, and he could. Raymond did have a few connections with stronger sorcerers – he introduced me to Sethridge. When Sethridge saw what I could do, he hired me immediately. Things got better from there – I met Edon and convinced him to help Raymond with researching Elias’ condition,” she explained, sounding exhausted.

  “If Edon really is a god, why hasn’t he fixed the problem already?”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Vorain explained. “The gods aren’t omnipotent, and Edon is weaker than most. He ascended from mortality to godhood, much like the Tae’os gods supposedly did thousands of years ago. Gods learn and grow, just like people do.”

  “Sure, followers of Vaelien claim that he used to fight the Tae’os Pantheon – all seven of them – all at once. But, what makes this Edon a god, then? I mean, you’re Rethri – don’t most of you think gods are just powerful sorcerers?” Jonan quirked a brow.

  “There is a difference between gods and sorcerers,” Vorain explained. “And I’ve seen it. I’ve seen what Edon can do, and it’s far beyond anything a sorcerer like us could accomplish. If I earn it, he promises he’ll teach me someday, when I’m ready to control that level of power. But I have no illusions about that. No one shares that kind of power without a price. He might not ever tell me his secret – but he doesn’t have to. He’s doing good things with it. He’s helping cure the sick. What more could I ask of a god?”

  Jonan pondered that for a moment. Okay, so she’s convinced he’s legitimate. And, I have to admit, that thing where he disabled all the sorcery in the arena was pretty impressive. But there are other explanations for raw power – that Heartlance that Myros was carrying, for example. Perhaps he’s learned how to syphon power off from artifacts to cast spells. That could accomplish something on a similar scale.

  “Would you mind satisfying my curiosity and explaining what types of abilities Edon possesses that convince you he’s a deity?” Jonan asked.

  “I’ve seen him demonstrate things to me that are outside of the capabilities of ordinary sorcerers. I’m not going to tell you all about that yet – I still haven’t decided you can be trusted,” Vorain explained. “I’ve taken a terrible risk just by having this conversation with you, I hope you understand that.”

  Jonan nodded. “Sure, you could have just killed me while I was sleeping or something. I appreciate that you didn’t. If you’re not a god, though, why does he claim that you are?”

  Vorain scowled. “I don’t like it, but he promised the people of this city that they can become gods with sufficient work. He’s had to give clear examples every several years, otherwise people would lose faith in him.”

  “So, he finds people who are supremely loyal – like yourself – to pose as his newly-ascended gods? That doesn’t seem quite as benevolent as you make him out to be,” Jonan insisted.

  “He doesn’t like it, either, but he hasn’t perfected the process of making other people into gods just yet. And I think the queen is a real god, too,” she said, the last part in a whisper.

  Jonan perked up a bit at that. “Queen Regent Tylan? You think she’s one, too, but you’re not sure?”

  That changes things, if it’s true. I still don’t think any of them are gods, but if he’s managed to replicate whatever large-scale sorcery he’s using in order to fake his divinity using another person, that means the threat is broader than I anticipated. Maybe he has multiple artifacts, or whatever he’s using for a power source. What else could be used to power spells on the scale of what happened in the arena?

  “I’ve said too much already. I suppose I needed someone to confide in, since I’ve been playing this role for so long. But you should leave, now. Get out of this city. Edon will take care of the children.”

  “Is Edon Donovan Tailor?” Jonan asked.

  She turned to face him, her eyes digging into his. “Where did you get that name?”

  Jonan slid back on the table, bumping into the wall. “He was a scholar in Velthryn that talked about people having the potential to become gods. His theories were very similar to what Edon claims to be possible.”

  “Why does it matter who he was?” She leaned closer to him, and his head began to feel heavy.

  Resh, she’s not just trying to intimidate me, she’s using –

  “Donovan Tailor visited Keldris about twenty years ago, offering godhood to King Haldariel. After he left, a group of Rethri disappeared. Edon visited Selyr about seven months ago, and similarly, Rethri disappeared afterward,” Jonan rambled, unable to stop himself. He started to turn his head away, realizing what was happening, but she reached up and gripped his chin, turning his eyes back to meet hers.

  “Stop trying to turn your head. Tell me more about the Rethri that went missing,” she commanded.

  Stop. She’s controlling – “Over half a dozen Rethri were reported missing after what happened in Keldris. No clear connection between them; some young, some old, some male, some female. They were never found. Edon founded his religion about two years after that. After Edon visited Selyr, more than twenty citizens disappeared.”

  “There can’t be a connection,” Vorain muttered. “Why are you here?”

  “Mostly to investigate the missing Rethri,” he replied, gritting his teeth. “And I really wish you’d stop doing that.”

  The so-called goddess scowled. “I underestimated you again, but I need these answers. I don’t like doing this to you, but it’s the only way I can make sure you’re telling the truth. I’m sorry. Who do you work for?”

  “Vaelien,” he replied simply. Vorain blinked, giving him an instant of control. Blindness, he thought, twitching a finger toward his face to target himself. Directly touching something was generally a more effective way of ensuring his spells functioned properly, but casting a spell on himself didn’t strictly require anything other than concentration.

  His vision went black - and Vorain’s control faded immediately. He took no move to make this change evident to her, however. He simply kept his eyes open, sightless, and awaited her remaining questions.

  “You work directly for Vaelien?” she asked, seeming taken aback.

  “No,” he replied, “I normally work for the Order of Vaelien as a scribe. I was employed temporarily for this assignment because I’m not actually a member, and the officer who hired me believed that someone from high up in the order might be working with Edon.”

  “What is the name of the officer gave you the order to come here and investigate the Rethri?” she asked.

  “Edmon Burke,” he replied, making up a name.

  “Were you sent here alone, or with others?” she inquired.

  “Alone,” he replied. That was truthful, at least. I hope she doesn’t move too much – if she does, my blindness will quickly become obvious. I’ll need to turn my sight back on if I sense her shift too much.

  “Do you have any contacts within the city?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he replied simply.

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t have his name. I just send him letters through the mirror. We aren’t supposed to know who the other is.” Jonan’s hand slipped down to his waist, inching its way toward his left pocket and the vial inside. He couldn’t tell how obvious it was, since he couldn’t even see himself, but he was getting progressively more nervous t
hat he was quickly exhausting his usefulness to the indigo-eyed sorceress.

  Vorain went silent. Jonan hesitated, taking a breath. Is she just trying to think of more questions? Did she move her head?

  Resh it. Vision return.

  Vorain was looking away from him, but she didn’t seem to notice that his eyes hadn’t followed hers. With luck, she had already cancelled her spell.

  “You didn’t have to do that. I would have answered you honestly,” he said, trying to sound even more annoyed than he actually felt.

  She shifted her gaze back over to him, but he didn’t feel the twinge of her sorcery this time. “I have no way of knowing that for certain. And I needed to know the truth. I’m going to force you to answer one more question, and then you’re free to go.”

  He gripped the vial in his pocket, but his movement was too slow – her eyes had seized him again. Resh, should have acted while I had a window. I’m always too soft.

  “What did you think he was doing with the Rethri he was taking?” Vorain asked.

  “Sacrificing them to extend his life span,” Jonan replied.

  Vorain gasped audibly, standing and beginning to take a step back. Her control over Jonan faded as her head moved away. Jonan caught her wrist with his right hand, his left hand still sitting in his pocket, ready to strike.

  “Now you answer a question for me. How long ago did Edon start gathering up those unbonded children?” Jonan demanded.

  Vorain shook her wrist, breaking Jonan’s grip. “Seven months ago,” she said quietly. “It was my idea. More people to research, to help my brother – and others like him.”

  “And I take it you went with him to Selyr and helped him find these children? Maybe even helped convince the parents to send the children along with you?” Jonan guessed.

  “He’s trying to help them,” she insisted, “You’re wrong about him. He couldn’t be using Rethri for that.”

  Jonan shrugged. “I didn’t know about the unbonded when I came here. I doubt the people in the Order of Vaelien who sent me did, either. They just told me the most likely hypothesis they could come up with. Edon looks too young to be a human of his age, and Rethri have ways of slowing down their aging process. It seemed like a logical conclusion.”

  “Rethri coming of age rituals don’t work on humans,” Vorain insisted in a whisper. “It’s been tried. Variations have been attempted for centuries.”

  “Sure. And I assume the ‘coming of age’ rituals don’t work properly on unbonded Rethri, either. Making them more like humans.” Jonann pushed himself into a more stable position on the table, musing.

  “I admit he could have discovered a ritual that works on humans while trying to cure the unbonded,” Vorain said hesitantly, stepping slowly away from Jonan. “That’s not wrong. He needs time for his research. Using himself as a test subject for a life-saving ritual is no crime.”

  “No,” Jonan remarked, “But what about the Rethri that disappeared from Keldris, nearly twenty years ago? They could not have been involved in this research. As you said yourself, you only suggested it five years ago.”

  Vorain folded her arms, looking down at the floor. “You’re just trying to trick me. You’re an illusionist, I should have suspected this.”

  “You’re the one with the thought sorcery – neat trick, by the way. You can just ask me again with the spell, I’ll tell you the same things. I won’t resist.” It was a gamble – if she asked him certain questions again, it wouldn’t end well.

  “You’re wrong about him,” she insisted. “Maybe he recruited some Rethri to help him in the early days, before he ascended. I wouldn’t be surprised. As for his apparent age, that could easily be an illusion, like one of yours. Or, of course, he has divine powers now. None of the gods are supposed to age.”

  That last argument was hard to debate. If she was operating under the idea that Edon was an actual deity, and that deities had a way to stop themselves from aging, he had no way of disputing that premise. He had to undermine one section or the other, or he couldn’t make any progress. “You said yourself that different gods have different levels of power. Even if Edon is a god, there’s no guarantee that stopping his aging process is one of his abilities.”

  “I should have considered this before,” Vorain mumbled. “I just assumed... Rethri adults don’t visibly age, so it didn’t seem strange to me.”

  “Help me find out the truth,” Jonan offered. “If he’s just trying to help your brother, that’s great. I would be pleased to report that back to the Order of Vaelien, in fact, if you would let me.” Should I push further...? Yes, now is the time. “Even if I leave,” he risked, “Other members of the Order of Vaelien will come to investigate. If you can help me prove his innocence, I can prevent that.”

  Vorain turned away from him, presenting a perfect target. He itched to strike, but his hand slipped out of his pocket instead. “Please,” he pleaded. “Between the two of us, we can verify the truth behind his claims. And,” Jonan risked, “If he is hurting Rethri for his own gains, we can stop him.”

  Vorain spun on her heels, turning to face him again, her jaw tense with anger. “I may have made a mistake in bringing you here.”

  Jonan stood up, his expression calm. “No, Rialla. You chose to learn. That is never the wrong choice.”

  “If this gets my brother killed, you’ll be wrong about that,” Vorain said. “And you’ll be dead.”

  Chapter X – The Value of a Promise

  Never, Taelien told himself, ever cauterize a wound with flame sorcery again.

  Each of his wounds ached, but the salve that the medics had put on his injuries – including the gashes from the Esharen on his leg that had perplexed the healers – had eased the pain from most of them. It had done nothing for his self-inflicted burn.

  His concern that the wounds inflicted by the Heartlance would refuse to heal seemed unfounded. The medics had claimed that the salve was blessed by Myros, and that was what stopped the bleeding.

  Blessed salves, sure, that sounds convincing.

  Still, he was in a pretty good mood, in spite of the pain. He limped alongside Landen and Lydia toward the high palace, a place he had heard of but never visited. A half-dozen guards trailed behind them. Veruden had gone on ahead, claiming he had pressing business of his own to attend to.

  “We’re heading to Edon’s own home,” Lydia explained as they walked. “It’s a rare honor to be invited there. He used to be more active in the kingdom, but he gradually grew more reclusive as more gods ascended.”

  “Isn’t the palace where the rulers of the city should live?” Taelien asked, leaning heavily on a walking staff as he tried to keep pace with the others.

  “Oh, sure, the queen regent is there, too,” Lydia added. “I see her out in public more, though, so it’s not quite as big of a deal.”

  “Must be nice to have the queen’s ear,” Landen remarked.

  Taelien quirked a brow at the brown-haired swordsman. “Aren’t you one of the Queensguard?”

  Landen shrugged. “Sure. Ostensibly, we’d be her bodyguards. Thing is, she’s a goddess. She doesn’t need guards. If she ever did, she’s got Myros. A few of us are always assigned to Byron. The rest of us are mostly just for show.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Taelien replied.

  “Oh, it’s not so bad. I mean, it certainly makes it easy to be successful at my job, since I don’t actually have to do it.” He chuckled. “Sometimes it’d be nice to feel necessary, though. Or to have a way to prove myself.”

  “Is that why you fight in the arena so frequently?” Lydia asked.

  “Yeah, more or less.” Landen cracked his knuckles as the continued to walk.

  “I can understand that. I used to do the same thing. I was a kovasi fighter for years,” Taelien explained.

  Landen glanced over at him. “Kovasi? Isn’t that a Rethri thing?”

  “Yes, primarily. I grew up outside of Selyr. Kovasi was the local sport. It’s a little
different than the type of fight we just had, but many of the same tactics applied.”

  “Ah, well, I feel a little better knowing it wasn’t your first bout,” Landen said with a grin. “How’s kovasi different?”

  “Well, its team based,” Taelien explained. “And different kovasi bouts use different territories. There is no clear arena. Essentially, two to four teams of six are sent to different places in the forest, given rough maps and non-lethal weapons, and told to hide a sigil from the opposing teams. To win, one team must gather the sigils of all of the other teams, while retaining their own. Matches would sometimes last several days.”

  “Wow. Several days out in the Forest of Blades? Isn’t that dangerous?” Landen asked.

  “Of course,” Taelien replied. “That is part of the charm.”

  “How do spectators watch such a large area?” Lydia asked.

  “They don’t,” Taelien explained. “Judges accompany each of the teams to observe and record. Once the match is completed, the teams reenact key moments in a performance for audiences.”

  “Like, you play-act things you already did?” Landen asked.

  Taelien nodded. “Yes. It is not as difficult as it sounds. Rethri culture places a strong emphasis on honest communication and humility, thus you rarely see anyone wishing to distort the events that occurred.”

  “Humility, eh? Guess you didn’t pick up all the aspects of Rethri culture,” Lydia said, nudging him lightly. He winced – even the light tough briefly reignited the pain in his right shoulder.

  “Indeed,” Taelien muttered, attempting to ignore the pain. “I’ve always been better at winning.”

  “Hey, that’s it up there,” Landen pointed. Taelien’s eyes followed his gesture, widening as he traced it to a broad spire piercing high above the city.

  Taelien squinted, noticing tiny windows in the structure for the first time. From a longer distance, he had previously assumed it to be a mountain. “People live in there? It looks to be wrought for giants.”

  “When humans took over Orlyn, they wanted to prove that they could make something more impressive than what they had been forced to build as slaves. Thus, the high palace was built to replace the low palace – which had been the seat of the Xixian prince that ruled here,” Lydia explained.