Forging Divinity

by Rowe, Andrew

  “I do agree. I take it that’s your way of asking to trade information?” The itch to draw her steel faded somewhat, but she remained wary. His constant referral to Taelien as her ‘friend’ was disconcerting at best.

  “You have taken a side now, regardless of what you may have wished. It would be in your best interests to solidify your ties to the queen before things escalate further.” He clasped his hands in front of him, turning his head to glance downward at her. “Especially given the other allies you’ve chosen.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I would be willing to agree to trade some information. I won’t make any promises of taking a ‘side’ until I understand what the ‘sides’ are, however.”

  “It should be obvious by now, isn’t it?” Istavan waved back toward the caravan.

  “The queen is moving against Edon,” Lydia surmised. “Veruden works for Edon, and you work for the queen.”

  He nodded. “Very good. And you work for the Paladins of Tae’os.”

  She paused in her step. “Now, why would you make an assumption like that?”

  Her right arm was itching again.

  He shook his head, raising his hands. “Peace. The queen has known for quite some time. She has no problem allying with a Paladin of Tae’os – in fact, an alliance with your organization in general would be of mutual benefit at this stage. You needn’t make pretenses about the rescue.”

  Lydia took a deep breath, considering that. He could be baiting me to admit something he’s not sure about. But the logic behind the argument itself is sound – if the queen is starting a civil war against Edon, she’s going to need all the allies she can get. Anyone strictly religious is going to side with Edon. If she intends to overthrow him, she needs to demolish the foundation of his power, which is the Edonate religion itself.

  “If, hypothetically speaking, I was a paladin, I still wouldn’t be able to pledge any sort of alliance for the organization as a whole,” Lydia pointed out. “It would be well beyond my hypothetical authority.”

  “Of course,” Istavan agreed. “But you could carry a message, perhaps. A message that the queen would be more than happy to return Orlyn to being a kingdom under the Tae’os faith, if only the heretic Edon could be removed. If your sword-bearing friend is any indication, it would appear the paladins are already making their own move.”

  “Eh – I wouldn’t assume that,” Lydia said hesitantly, resuming walking beside Istavan. “Even I don’t know quite what that man is about, in truth. I’ve been digging at him for days, trying to learn his story, but he’s either not a paladin or a spectacular liar.”

  Istavan pursed his lips. “Truly? You’re not lying about that?”

  She shook her head. “No reason to at this point. I do know he’s dangerous, though. In case that wasn’t obvious from his performance in the arena.”

  “What have you been able to determine about his agenda, in that case?”

  Lydia cracked her knuckles. “He seems to be trying to figure out his identity. Claims that he was adopted, and that the sword was left with him. Apparently his adoptive parents told him he could find out something about his heritage in this city.”

  “Not much to work with. And now Edon has taken an interest in him. He could be used as a tool against us, if we aren’t careful,” Istavan said, perhaps more to himself than to Lydia.

  Interesting usage of the term ‘we’. “What’s the deal with the caravan? What’s so important in these wagons?”

  Istavan turned around, gesturing toward the caravan. “Four of those wagons carry former prisoners. We discovered them recently in a hidden facility and liberated them. We believe Edon was using them as some kind of power source to fuel his sorcery.”

  Now that’s interesting. It’d be awfully coincidental timing if they just found out about the Rethri at the same time we did. I’ve never heard of a way to use people as a power source for sorcery, but the way those children were unconscious, with marks around their eyes... maybe. It doesn’t sound impossible.

  “So, you think Edon’s ‘divine’ abilities were somehow being drawn from these prisoners?” Lydia asked, only half-rhetorically.

  “That would be the theory, yes. He may have more of them, of course – we were only able to liberate the people in one specific facility. It would explain the level of power Edon has been able to demonstrate, as well as his apparent versatility, if he has created a form of sorcery that draws power from other people.” Istavan paused, allowing Lydia a moment to consider that.

  Everyone has some level of connection with various dominions – that’s how we function. Since Rethri tend to have a particularly strong bond to a specific dominion, a person who could draw sorcery from others could have a very potent tool at their disposal. I suppose it might be something like how a person utilizes a dominion bonded item, or maybe a mixture between that and how the Vae’kes can absorb dominion energy directly into themselves.

  If the Rethri are his power source, he’d need a way to draw on their power remotely. Something to establish a long-distance connection. Moving them – like what the queen is trying to do – might not even break that connection, depending on what it is.

  “Do you have any indication on how he might be drawing on the Rethri’s sorcery? When he was above the arena, for example, he did not have any Rethri with him – but he was still capable of casting a broad-reaching spell that removed the sorcery that was active in the arena,” Lydia pointed out.

  And I also couldn’t detect any dominion sorcery on him – which meant he had a way of concealing it, or that whatever he’s doing doesn’t function in the same way that Dominion Sorcery does.

  “When we found the prisoners, there was some sort of writing scratched into their cells. We were not able to translate it, but we believe the writing was the key to how he was drawing on their sorcery.” Istavan looked nervous, and he raised a hand to wipe sweat off his forehead.

  Sweat? I thought he was cold a moment ago. Well, it probably doesn’t matter. That writing seems important – Jonan saw some around the Esharen, too. Could the writing be in the same language or code that the Comprehensive Barrier was showing me?

  “All right,” Lydia began, “That’s all good information. But why is the queen regent moving against Edon? She has one of the highest positions in the kingdom, and she’s even considered one of the gods by the Edonates.”

  “The queen witnessed Edon doing something that shook her to the core. She has not told me what it was, but each time I’ve asked, I’ve seen a flicker of fear in her eyes. She is terrified of him – and she believes that if she does not act, she could quickly be replaced.” He paused for a moment, and then added. “Having just seen what Veruden was capable of, I believe that I have some suspicions about what she might have been concerned about. He should not have been capable of using those abilities on his own.”

  Lydia grimaced. He’s right – no one achieves mastery over three new types of sorcery that rapidly. The only way people gain access to new types of sorcery overnight is through Gifts of the gods themselves.

  That was it. That was why the queen was so worried – why Veruden was so powerful.

  Edon had learned how to grant the gifts of the gods.

  Chapter XII – Mirrors

  Three days had passed since Jonan had last heard from Lydia or Taelien. With his mirrors shattered, his sources of information were sparse at best. His vision had recovered substantially, but he still wore the thickest glasses he had available. It was late in the evening and the nightfrost’s scant light was barely enough for him to write by, but he didn’t want to risk using a dark-seeing spell to make the process more efficient.

  I might have damaged my vision permanently again, he mused. I really need to stop doing that.

  A knock on the front door of his house startled him, and Jonan lifted himself away from his writing desk, instinctively fumbling for a dagger that wasn’t there. Shaking his head, he walked to the door.

 
; A tap against the surface made the wood invisible – revealing Vorain standing on the other side.

  She was almost inconspicuous, wearing simple traveler’s clothes of brown and grey. Only her eyes stood out, and even those gave no indication of her ‘divine’ status. Large pouches sat on her left and right hips. No weapons were visible on her person, but that didn’t mean a thing. Jonan opened the door.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” he said, and it wasn’t entirely untrue. He did expect her; he just didn’t have the faintest idea of when or where she would make an appearance, or if he would survive the first few moments of it. Apparently she had chosen a less than murderous reunion, which was good.

  She stepped silently inside, nudging the door shut.

  “It’s time,” she said ominously. “Are you prepared?”

  “Um, hrm, give me just a moment.” He scampered up the stairs to the former guest bedroom – which was where he had been sleeping for the last few days. Vorain clearly knew that the underground room had been his previous bedchamber, so he hadn’t been able to force himself to sleep down there since her last visit. And his fake bedroom didn’t seem much better.

  Once upstairs, he retrieved a pair of bags – not dissimilar to the ones Vorain was carrying – and attached them to a belt, which he fastened on. In the bags, he carried his last handful of alchemical vials, a pair of still unbroken mirrors, and his mostly useless dagger.

  All in all, it wasn’t much for infiltrating the lair of a false god, but he’d find a way to get by. He always did.

  “Ready now,” he called as he half-ran, half-stumbled his way down the stairs.

  She looked him up and down. “That was fast.”

  “Just where, precisely, are we headed?” Jonan asked. “I try to be aware of my odds of survival before I go out at night. And I may need additional supplies.”

  “The high palace,” she said in a half-whispered tone.

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Why would you need me in order to get into the high palace? Don’t you live there?”

  She shook her head. “No. And I could get into the palace itself, of course, but that doesn’t mean I could just walk into any room I want – and certainly not without questions being asked. I’m pretty good at concealing myself, but your invisibility is better, and I don’t know anyone else who can cast that.”

  “All right, but that’s not really very specific. I should have been clearer. Where, specifically within the palace, are we going? What is our objective? What sort of opposition should we expect to encounter? What path will we be using to leave after we complete our objective?”

  The purplish-eyed sorceress leaned back against the wall near the entrance to his borrowed home. She turned her head away from him, gazing toward a particularly normal wall. “We need Edon’s notes from his research on the disease my brother is afflicted with. I know where he keeps his research notes, but in spite of my status as a ‘goddess’, I don’t actually have the authority to be in there. There will almost certainly be guards, and probably at least some kind of sorcerous protection.”

  “Oh, good,” Jonan mumbled. “So, all we have to worry about are guards, wards, and possibly gods. Go on.”

  “You are the one who proposed an alliance,” she pointed out. “If you were being insincere-“

  “Oh, no, not at all. I just tend to like doing things with better odds of survival, is all. What’s our way out?”

  “There are windows,” the sorceress offered.

  “Windows.” Jonan forced his eyes shut. “You want us to climb out windows.”

  Vorain shrugged. “It may not be necessary. My authority will carry us through most situations, and your invisibility spell can handle many others. We may not be detected. But, if we are, the place we are going is only a few floors up.”

  “Only a few floors up.” Am I the only one in this city that isn’t some sort of invincible godlike being?

  “I, uh, suppose I should go get some rope, then.” He did have some rope somewhere – he just hadn’t been planning to have to make use of it.

  After about five minutes, Jonan turned up a coil of climbing rope, which he had never used. He packed it tightly into one of his pouches, allowing the bundle to stick out just a bit from the top. Vorain quirked a brow at him, but she said nothing.

  “I may not be precisely qualified for this kind of work,” he mumbled, “But I am as ready as I am going to be.”

  “Good,” she said. “Follow me.”

  It was deep into the night when they arrived at the gardens before the high palace. Vorain had not shared any further details of her plan, and his efforts to inquire for more details – or even engage in pleasant conversation – had proven largely fruitless.

  They were, by Jonan’s estimation, nearly in sight of the front gates when she pulled him off of the road into a series of tall hedges.

  Well, he considered, I haven’t been dragged off into the bushes by a woman in quite a while. Ever, actually.

  The last thought was somewhat depressing, especially given the context of the situation.

  “Hide us,” Vorain said simply, “And then follow.”

  He put a finger on her forehead – which was unnecessary, and her quizzical glance seemed to indicate that she might have known that – and concentrated. Erase our images, except to each other.

  Since there would be no visible effect of that spell to each other, Jonan added, make a shimmery thing on us, creating a shiny distortion that was visible to the pair. Vorain gave an incredulous expression, then shook her head and turned away from him – but not before he caught the slightest hint of a grin on her face.

  He grinned in turn, following her toward the palace gates.

  Which were closed, of course.

  She grabbed his wrist, dragging him forward, between the pair of guards who were chatting at the door. He glanced from side to side, always uncomfortable coming into close proximity with others while he was invisible. He was not soundless, and neither was she.

  They reached the door a moment later – and Vorain stepped through it, dragging Jonan behind her.

  He felt no resistance as he passed inside the door.

  Don’t lose the spell inside the door, he thought, briefly panicking. He didn’t know precisely what would happen if Vorain’s spell dissipated right while he was inside, but he couldn’t imagine the results being anything less than horrifying.

  After they were through, he took a deep breath, noting that the inside corridors appeared to be both dark and empty – probably on account of the time of night.

  That was actually kind of neat, he considered in retrospect. A kind of travel sorcery, maybe. Hrm. I’ll have to figure out how she did that later. And then never do it again.

  She released her grip on his wrist, moving fluidly onward, her steps silent against the carpeted floor. She made a quick glance to each side as they passed intersections, never stopping, never slowing. They reached a stairway leading upward a few scant minutes later, and she stepped onto it. Perhaps it was just his proximity and the comparative quiet, but her first step against the stone seemed to ring in his ears more loudly than it should have.

  Jonan followed nervously, a hand creeping into his pocket to wrap around a vial of smoke. It was his first instinct as an escape mechanism if someone saw through the invisibility – the smoke was real, not an illusion, and thus it would still obscure vision even if someone could penetrate his spell.

  Where is she leading me, he wondered for the hundredth time. Another Rethri storage area? Somewhere Edon does his research? A trap designed specifically for me, perhaps?

  He doubted he was special enough to warrant such treatment, but it was nice to dream from time to time.

  They passed three floors on the stairway before stopping at the fourth. The stairway led on, but Vorain stepped off of it into another carpeted hall, which blessedly once again began to muffle the sounds of their footsteps.

  Odd how quiet it is here, even considering the hou
r, Jonan considered. That also could indicate a trap, but she hasn’t reacted to it. Perhaps this location is simply private enough that they don’t have many guards active at night.

  Vorain led them past several heavy wooden doors that lined the keep’s gray stone walls, seeming focused exclusively on their destination. They passed a patrolling guard, who carried a lit torch in one hand and wore a long sword on his belt. Vorain and Jonan pressed against the wall as they slid past the guard, and he seemed to pay them no notice.

  Not entirely abandoned, I guess, Jonan considered. He watched the guard move away from them, noting that the man seemed to be walking very slowly and deliberately. Could he be expecting to find someone tonight, or is that just how he walks? Or maybe the people here are just very insistent on quiet?

  Vorain led him onward, finally stopping by a door that looked no different from the rest. Jonan noted a keyhole on the door and briefly prayed that Vorain wouldn’t drag him through the door to bypass the mechanism.

  Instead, she retrieved a key from the pouch on her left side and turned it in the lock. A ‘click’ indicated that the key had done its work, and she slowly and deliberately turned the knob.

  A large room stood beyond the door, a long sofa in the far left corner, opposite a desk and a fantastically large bookshelf. Directly across from their entrance was another door, this one plated in silver and etched with unusual runes.

  Similar to the ones around the Esharen, Jonan noted. Probably some sort of sorcerous protection. We should avoid it.

  And lying on the sofa was a young woman, her eyes closed in apparent slumber. She was mostly covered in multiple layers of wool blankets, and it looked like she was cradling something in her arms beneath the blankets.

  Vorain turned and raised a finger to her mouth in the universal gesture of silence, indicating for Jonan to come inside. The pair stepped in and Vorain slowly closed the door behind them.

  Jonan glanced back toward the bed with a feeling of trepidation. Who is that? Where are we?