Dark Immolation

by Christopher Husberg

  “I know,” Knot said.

  “How does she do what she does?” Cinzia found herself asking, as she stared at Astrid. “How does she… how does she…”

  “How does she live?” Knot asked.

  Cinzia nodded. The great weight of sadness she felt for this girl—vampire or not—pressed down on her.

  “She’s strong.”

  “She is,” Cinzia whispered.

  “What are you two jabbering about?” Astrid had finished binding the woman, and was now approaching them.

  “What to do next,” Knot said.

  “And what’s that?” Astrid asked.

  Knot glanced at Cinzia, who nodded. “We make sure Wyle has finished with the rest of them, and then we take these two into our care.”

  Astrid snorted. “Care. That’s a nice way of putting it.”

  “How else would I put it?”

  “Oh, Goddess,” Astrid moaned. “You’ve a lot to learn about what’s about to happen.”

  The three of them walked over to Wyle. The concentrated expression had faded from his face. Cinzia hoped that meant he was done; these people needed to get out of here.

  “She pissed herself, you know.”

  Cinzia nearly choked on her own tongue. She glared down at Astrid, then looked around herself frantically, hoping no one had heard the girl. No one seemed to be paying them any attention; Ocrestia, it seemed, had once more captured the room’s attention. Cinzia was happy to see Jane, smiling proudly up at Elessa, seated nearby.

  “Yeah, so?” Knot shrugged.

  “You know too?” Cinzia glared at Astrid. “You said no one would notice.”

  Astrid shrugged, chuckling. “What do I know? That’s never happened to me before.”

  “But you said—”

  Knot and Astrid were both laughing, now, and Cinzia was surprised how little she cared. They had accomplished what they had set out to do. Cinzia felt good.

  * * *

  That evening Cinzia and Jane sat on the two overstuffed chairs in the library together, sipping tea. Jane had insisted that they continue with the meetings, despite having apprehended two assassins. Cinzia hoped that was all of them, but Knot was reluctant to think so. There would be more, he said. The attacks wouldn’t end just because they caught a few people.

  That realization had struck Cinzia with force. The threats, the violence, might not end.

  “Cinzia,” Jane said. “We need to talk about what happened today.”

  Cinzia closed her eyes. “Can’t we just sit here in silence, for a moment? Enjoy one another’s company?”

  “We can. But eventually we are going to need to talk about what we didn’t talk about with everyone else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jane pursed her lips. “What you did today, sister.”

  “Ah,” Cinzia said, eyes dropping to look into her teacup. “Yes.”

  “I mean to thank you,” Jane said.

  “You’re my sister. I would do anything to save you.”

  “And I’m glad you did.”

  Cinzia waited, sure Jane would ask how she had moved so quickly to block the assassin’s knife. But Jane remained silent.

  “Is that all you wanted to say?” Cinzia asked after a few moments.

  “That’s all I wanted to say.”

  “You’re not going to ask me how I did it? You just said we needed to talk about it.”

  Jane laughed. “I did, didn’t I? Well, that is for you to tell me, if you wish.”

  Cinzia raised her eyebrows. She was of half a mind to change the conversation, just to spite her sister. You won’t get anywhere with that attitude, she reminded herself. Pettiness did not become her. And besides, she wanted to talk about what had happened. She wanted reassurance.

  “I think it was Canta,” Cinzia said quietly.

  Jane sipped her tea, listening.

  “You know I have been struggling,” Cinzia continued. “I experienced something wonderful on the rooftop in Izet, but… but I have had difficulty reconciling that with everything that has happened since. Kovac. Our movement. The abilities you and the other disciples are manifesting. I have wanted proof, I have wanted to experience the powers myself before I trusted. You asked me, weeks ago, why I needed to know before I trusted, and that question stuck with me. But I think, today, I finally let it go. I trusted first, and…”

  “And you saw a result,” Jane finished for her.

  “Yes. I think I did.” Cinzia looked up at her sister. “But I was scared today. When I chose to put my trust in Canta, I was frightened.”

  “What is faith without fear?” Jane asked. “If we have nothing to fear, what reason do we have to exercise faith?”

  “So I can never have faith without fear? I could barely do it today. How am I supposed to take that leap again?”

  “Because you saw the result. You will remember that next time, and it will get easier. The trust will come as you begin to realize that Canta will not leave you.”

  “So there will always be a result to my faith, like there was today?”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” Jane said. “Faith is not something we do in the hope of a reward, but rather in the hope of becoming something better than what we are.”

  “And faith helps us become something better?”

  “When placed in the right source, I think it does.”

  Cinzia shook her head. She wanted to believe what Jane said, but it was not easy. What if she trusted, one day, and no one was there to catch her?

  “Do you really think it was Canta who guided me?” she asked after a few moments, surprised at the tears burning in her eyes.

  “It was,” Jane said with a smile. “I’m sure of it.”

  Cinzia took a long, deep breath. “How? You said as much in Navone, when…”

  “Navone was a mistake,” Jane said quickly. “On my part. I made a guess, when Canta’s light had temporarily left me, and I was wrong. This is different.”

  “How is it different?”

  “Because I know that it is,” Jane said simply.

  “Goddess, this faith business is maddening,” Cinzia muttered.

  Jane laughed.

  “What about you?” Cinzia asked after a few moments. “Do you have that power, too?”

  “I have whatever power Canta chooses to give me. So do we all, as Her disciples.”

  Cinzia thought carefully about her next question. “Could you have used it, in Izet? Did you let Kovac die, when you could have saved him?” A growing knot of resentment and anger formed in Cinzia’s stomach.

  “It is not that simple,” Jane said.

  “But it was a possibility,” Cinzia said. “You could have, and you didn’t.”

  “No,” Jane said, with more force than Cinzia expected. “I can’t use this power as I please. Nor anyone else on the Sfaera. Canta gives us whatever power She sees fit, when She sees fit. I… I am sorry, Cinzia, but it was Canta’s plan that Kovac die in Roden.”

  Cinzia stared at the floor, unable to look at Jane’s face. She knew her anger was irrational. If Jane couldn’t control this power, how could she have chosen to let Kovac die? Not to mention the circumstances surrounding Kovac’s death—for all Cinzia knew, the Daemon might have negated Canta’s power. Nevertheless, the anger was there, writhing in her gut.

  “I’m sorry, Cinzia.”

  Cinzia closed her eyes. “No one is to blame as much as I am,” she whispered. She was the one who put the dagger through his eye, after all.

  When Cinzia opened her eyes, she could look at Jane once more. “So you’re saying that the power that allowed Elessa to heal you is the same power that allowed me to save you today.”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “And the same power that lets you heal Knot?”

  “Yes.”

  Cinzia’s curiosity was piqued. “What else?”

  “I know that Canta’s power must only be used to help others. It must never be used fo
r one’s own personal gain or benefit.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jane said with a shrug. “I have never tried.”

  “What else?” Cinzia asked.

  “The closer the bearer of this power works in conjunction with Canta’s will, the more significant her power will be.”

  Cinzia blinked. “I… I am not sure I understand.”

  “It’s a bit complicated,” Jane sighed. “Canta bestows her power on whom She chooses, when She chooses. In turn, those people are then allowed to choose how to use that power. But, if someone uses Canta’s power for something other than what Canta intended, the power is weakened. If someone uses it exactly the way Canta intended it, that power is magnified.”

  Cinzia was nodding, but still not sure she was getting it. “So it’s a guessing game?”

  “Let us take what happened today as an example. Canta bestowed Her power on you today. You felt it, you knew you had it. At that point you had any number of options; you could have chosen to save me with it, as you did, or you could have chosen something else. You could have decided to attack the man with the knife instead of defending me from him.”

  “In other words, I wouldn’t have been using it to help others, I would’ve been using it to harm someone.”

  “Exactly,” Jane said. “Had you attempted to attack the assassin directly, your power would have been less significant. You wouldn’t have been as fast or as strong.”

  “Is that what Canta wanted me to do, then? To help you?”

  “It is difficult to be sure,” Jane admitted. “There may have been a higher action you could have taken, something closer to Canta’s will, that would have granted you even more power.”

  “So how do we know if we are doing Canta’s will?” Cinzia asked, confused.

  Jane smiled ruefully. “We don’t. The Codex gives some direction, and we may receive promptings, but this is where we come back to faith. We must press forward knowing that what we are doing is Canta’s will. If we do, the blessings will come, and we will know afterwards.”

  Cinzia thought about that for a moment, although the thought still left a sour feeling in her mind. There was still the potentiality of not receiving a response or a confirmation. “Are there any other aspects to these powers?” she asked, not really wanting to pursue the faith topic any further.

  Jane nodded. “Because Canta’s power is inseparably connected with the Praeclara, and our mortal forms are unused to such power, Her power will take a great toll on us. That is why, I think, you are so tired today.”

  That actually made sense. Cinzia was exhausted. “How do you know about these powers?” she asked. “We have translated nothing of them in the Codex.”

  “Canta has revealed them to me,” Jane said.

  “And She revealed to you that what I did today was under Her power and direction?”

  “She did,” Jane said. “After a fashion. She rarely speaks to me in specifics.”

  Cinzia rolled her eyes. “I have about had it with Her obsession with faith. She expects us to trust Her so much; you would think She would put a bit of trust in us.”

  “I think that’s exactly what She does when She asks us to have faith,” Jane said. “She trusts that we will choose faith over the alternative. And while I do think it has to do with faith, I… I think there may be something else going on as well. During a few of our conversations, She has almost seemed frustrated that She couldn’t say everything that She wanted to say. As if She had to speak in generalities.”

  Cinzia looked up from her teacup. No one ever spoke of Canta being limited; She was all-powerful, and all-knowing. There was no limit to what She could do. And yet Jane was suggesting there was.

  “This is not the first time you’ve said such a thing,” Cinzia said, leaning forward. “In Roden, you said something had been blocking your ability to communicate with Canta. Is this something similar?”

  “I can’t be sure,” Jane said. “But in Roden, I thought the problem was on my end, that I had done something to make me unworthy to hear Canta’s voice. But, having had further conversations with Her, I… I am beginning to think that may not have been the case.”

  Cinzia, eyes still wide, attempted to process this. Something wrong with Canta? What in the Sfaera could that possibly be? “Has that barrier been there the whole time?”

  “I think so,” Jane said. “I did not know any better at first, but now… now, when I look back at our communication, it seems obvious. I truly believe that a portion of what She says is intended to draw me to a greater faith, to help me make decisions instead of simply relying on what She tells me to do. But… but She has never been clear with me, do you understand? She has always been vague.”

  “Have you asked Her about it?”

  “Of course I have,” Jane said. “But She ignores those questions. I think… I think She ignores them because She literally can’t answer them. She has answered everything else, in one way or another.”

  Cinzia shook her head. “What power is there that could possibly limit Canta?” They were both silent for a moment, but then Cinzia remembered something. “Do you remember what happened when we spoke of this last time? When you told me that you thought something was blocking you?”

  Jane took a deep breath. “It was the night… the night Kovac died.”

  “The night Kovac was possessed,” Cinzia added. “The night Azael introduced himself.”

  “I have considered that,” Jane said. “Of course it could be a possibility.”

  “Why would it not be Azael?” Cinzia asked. “He is obviously at complete odds with Canta.”

  “It just seems… it seems too simple. And Azael, while he may be the leader of the Nine Daemons, he is still just a Daemon. Canta is a Goddess, Cinzia. What power could he possibly have over Her?”

  Cinzia sat back. That much was true. Azael and the rest of the Nine Daemons had been created by Canta’s peers; how could they possibly have power over the gods? They were terrifying, to be sure, and their power was great, but… what could they really do? “But if you’re right,” she said. “If someone, or something, really is exerting power over Canta…”

  “I fear it might be something more powerful than even Her,” Jane said quietly. “Nothing else makes sense.”

  Cinzia supposed it was possible—they had learned from the Codex that Canta was the firstborn of Ellendre and Andara, and that the two High Gods had raised their Daughter up to be like them. The two sets of triplets that followed Canta, the Brother-Gods Emidor—Irit, Orit, and Erit—and the Sister-Gods Adimor—Irali, Orali, and Arali—were powerful, too, but had never been on the level of the First Three. It did not seem possible, let alone likely, that Canta could lose her position in that Trinity.

  “I think we had better get some sleep,” Jane said after a while.

  Cinzia nodded. She was exhausted; sleep would do her good. Especially if they were to finish the meetings with the Odenites on the morrow. Just because they had found some assassins did not mean that they could deny the rest of the Odenites a chance to meet the disciples.

  Jane stood up, and Cinzia followed suit. It was almost midnight; she still had time to get a good seven hours of sleep in before the first meeting tomorrow morning. They started for the door, but after only a few steps, Jane stopped.

  “What do you think about releasing the assassins?” Jane asked.

  “Goddess,” Cinzia moaned. “It is too far into the night to confront me with an idea that ludicrous. You want to release the people who tried to kill you? To kill us?”

  “Why not?” Jane asked. “We know what they look like, now. They couldn’t infiltrate our camp. Knot and Astrid, our guards, wouldn’t let them near us.”

  “And if they are working with others still in the camp?”

  “They aren’t,” Jane said.

  Cinzia rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. You know this because Canta revealed it to you.”

  “No,” Jane sai
d, glancing away. “I know because I asked Wyle to find out for me.”

  Cinzia’s eyes widened. She had thought her sister would be against the use of acumency. How could her sister, someone supposedly chosen by Canta to lead a new religious movement, to champion good in the Sfaera, invade the privacy of others so callously?

  “We will hold them for a few more days,” Jane said, resolved. “But after that, I think… I think we will release them.”

  “Why don’t we just have Wyle change them,” Cinzia muttered, “if you’ve already gone to the trouble of invading their minds so completely.”

  When Jane did not respond, Cinzia’s blood ran cold. Was that what her sister had already done?

  40

  Imperial palace, Izet

  “AH, MY GARICE . I’M so glad you’ve come. And I can hardly contain my excitement to finally make a gown worthy of your beauty!”

  “Beauty?” Winter asked with incredulity. “Your empire drove my kind out decades ago. How can you possibly think me beautiful?”

  “My empire has done many things with which I don’t agree,” Galce said. “The empire was wrong to remove your people from its borders. I think the empire is worse because of it.”

  Winter looked in the mirror. What could she say to that? Thank you? That did not seem remotely appropriate.

  “The emperor’s inaugural ball will be a wonderful event,” Galce said, motioning for Winter to step onto the pedestal in front of the mirror. “I imagine you’re excited to attend?”

  Winter snorted. “I do as Daval commands, and he commands that I attend this ball. In a dress.”

  Galce laughed as he pulled out a measuring tape. “You are unique, garice, I will say that. But I wouldn’t call the emperor by his first name if I were you; people have been executed for less.”

  “I call him Daval to his face,” Winter said, not without some pride. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”

  Galce’s eyes widened, as did his smile. “Impressive, girl. You’ve gambled, and Chaos has ruled in your favor. For that I commend you; Chaos is a fickle master.”

  Galce continued working, measuring Winter’s arms, hips, around her thighs. The measuring seemed excessive, but it was the same process Galce had used for the black leather clothing she now wore, and she had to admit it fit her perfectly. If he could make her a gown that fit the same way, Winter might actually want to wear it.