by Matt Russell
"Hah!" Tacitus grunted. "You think he can run from Me?" Cassian felt the dark magic around him squeeze tighter around his neck. It restricted both the flow of blood and air to the degree that his vision began to go black.
"You will not be buried, Messiah," Tacitus said in a hateful snarl. "There will be nothing left of you but ash that my slaves will sweep up and toss away with the rest of the day’s rubbish."
The force crushing Cassian's body abated but was immediately replaced by a yellow flame that burst up around him. He felt his skin begin to burn, and he let out a scream. The pain was unbelievable, yet the instinct to preserve himself from death was still greater. Cassian forced himself to call upon the Dakshai barrier spell—the most efficient shield against heat he knew. It was nearly impossible amidst his agony to summon spectrals from the ether and focus power into them, but he did it anyway. The protective cocoon formed, and for an instant, the fire was not eating his flesh, but then his spell collapsed under the weight of Tacitus's awesome power, as Cassian had known it would. The second shield was already going up around him, and he was casting a third, then a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, a seventh—a spell within a spell within a spell. His mind worked faster than it ever had, yet even as he threw up barrier after barrier, he could feel the hellfire slipping through cracks in his defense and searing strips of his flesh. The pain threatened to shatter his mind, but Cassian fought through it and focused his protection most intensely around his head, for if his brain were damaged, all was lost!
The heat was beyond that of even the white fire that Titus breathed. Cassian could see the stone tiles beneath him begin to melt into a glowing orange liquid, and his feet sank into them, only barely protected by his magic. The inferno went on and on, and somewhere beyond its terrible hiss, he heard the Emperor say: "Goodbye, Cassian Asango, Messiah."
Finally, the conflagration began to dissipate. Cassian's body screamed in agony all over, yet somehow, he was still standing. He looked at Tacitus through the vanishing yellow flame and saw the demon stare back at him with an expression of shock. The soldier in Cassian took over. The Emperor's surprise would only last an instant!
Cassian sprang forward, slashing his right hand as if the tips of his fingers were a blade. In a way, they were, for he willed every shred of power he had left within into a thin scythe of white magic. It was the same technique he had used to kill Dimitris years ago, only he was stronger now, and his ability to focus his energy had expanded.
Tacitus let out the beginning of a cry before the gleaming blade cut into his neck. It tore into the trachea, the muscles, and all the veins and arteries. Cassian watched chunks of tissue fly away in a spray of red, and the Emperor stumbled back, clutching at his neck as blood spilled rapidly out between his fingers.
"DIE!” Cassian shouted. The pain in his body seemed to be growing. Would his wounds kill him before he could heal them? It did not matter at that moment. He needed to see the life of this monster end.
Cassian sensed the elder starborn's mind begin to sink into oblivion. The blood drained away, and all the reactions of death started to occur in the brain. Cassian knew them well. And yet... the process seemed to stop abruptly. The horrible demonic energy whirled up in a red blaze around the Emperor’s throat. It was conscious, Cassian suddenly realized, and was capable of acting independently of its host. In a moment of horror, he watched the dark power began to repair Tacitus's neck, stitching the sinew back together even as he gurgled blood.
The patter of steps began then. Cassian turned and saw the craith in the room moving toward him. He glanced back at the Emperor, whose wounds were closing before his eyes. There was too much of a disadvantage.
Cassian looked up at the ceiling and cried: "VASHDAK!" Spectrals shot into the world and combined at the speed of thought, consuming the tiny flickers of magic left in his flesh and combining into a blazing conflagration of yellow energy that blasted a hole in the stone above his head. He willed himself upward. The craith were rushing at him, and they could leap, but Cassian’s will was stronger than it had ever been. He soared up into the cool, evening sky.
The dragon, who had been resting in the courtyard outside Tacitus's throne room, rose up instantly and took to the sky, spreading his great wings and moving like an arrow from a crossbow. They met in the air, and Cassian dropped onto Titus’s back and grabbed hold of one of the horns.
The dragon flapped its great wings, and Cassian telepathically commanded his men below to leave all their possessions and flee the city. The Denigoth Empire was no longer safe—not for anyone...
Chapter 44:
Starborn
"Bwah," Livia managed to rasp as she stepped out of her room. She sounded ridiculous—like an infant with the voice of a young woman. Her throat ached from engaging her long neglected vocal cords. The pain of her curse did not come though, and it never would again. This was only one of the gifts Cassian Asango had given her. The power of a starborn flowed through her every minute of the day, which more than made up for difficulties of learning to speak for the first time at twenty-two years old. It was, after all, a necessary component of casting spells, or at least she thought so.
Livia sat down at the table across from Hervin. He had volunteered to cook, but she had insisted on doing it herself. It felt right to do him at least that kindness before setting out. The poor, sweet little man was poking at his eggs, seeming lost in thought. She could still see the expression on his face when she had willed a spoon to rise up off the table. He had nearly fainted!
In the many hours since Livia had returned home, Hervin had slowly wrapped around her being a starborn. He was proud of course, as any father would be, yet the limited explanation she had provided for becoming a living miracle left him quite bewildered. Livia could sense dozens of questions swimming around in his thoughts about who she really was, and how or why such power could have been stolen from her. She had not dared tell him about Arkas. It was, after all, entirely unclear what the consequences from the Emperor might be for reclaiming her power.
There were things Livia could reveal now, such as that she knew where Iona was. The fact that there was reportedly an enormous ogre-like creature who had murdered dozens of people did not need to be mentioned though. Why worry Hervin? She was frightened enough all on her own. Moving spoons around with magic was quite a different matter than facing a hardened killer with supernatural strength, but one thing at a time.
"Did you finish the accounting?" Hervin whispered after swallowing a mouthful of food.
Livia nodded. The shop was in excellent condition and would fetch a high price. Hervin had agreed to sell whilst she went to rescue Iona. They would soon leave this simple town and start their new life together.
"Thank you," he sighed. The poor man was glad to be getting rid of his shop. Livia could see more clearly into his nature than ever before. He had never had a keen talent for business. Always, his mind was on other things. Her father wanted to write plays! That revelation had made her smile, just as her heart had throbbed when the memory of purchasing her many years ago had flashed through his thoughts. The cow had demanded a girl to cook and clean, and Hervin had gone to the slavers, already innately uncomfortable at the idea of owning another human being. There had been dozens of young females for purchase, but he had seen Livia standing off to the side. She had been sullen and quiet, and the slave master had explained that she was a cripple, unable to speak, but Hervin had seen something in her eyes—a depth and intelligence, and he had wanted to save her from whatever hardships might lay ahead. Thus, bringing years of anger from his horrid wife upon himself, he brought home a mute girl that no one else wanted.
"What?" Hervin muttered, glancing up at her. "Are you alright?"
Livia smiled at him, clandestinely wiping away the moisture in her eyes. She would be able to repay his kindness to her soon.
Starborn were given positions of power and prestige and showered with gifts from all over the empire. Hervin would have a beautiful home, close to her own—wherever she ended up residing—and he could have all the books he desired and servants to see to his comfort. There would be no slaves of course. Not ever! If there were one direction to which Livia might wish to focus her newly acquired status, it would be to help Cassian Asango rid the Empire of the practice of slavery once and for all.
"If only Iona could see you now,” Hervin whispered, and she turned to see him staring at her. “I… uh… I hope you have no trouble finding her."
Hervin was bewildered as well, for he fidgeted in his seat. "Did you just... speak?"
Livia nodded, a burst of excitement coursing through her. She tried to focus her mind on forming words again, but nothing happened. She swallowed and pushed harder, closing her eyes. The chair next to her slid a few paces to the left as a tendril of her magic swept out, but no words. Control... she did not seem to have it yet, but that did not mean it was beyond her reach.
“Amazing,” Hervin whispered, staring at the chair as if it were a holy object. "I'm so proud of you!”
Livia reached out and took his hand, and as she did, she noted that the telepathic connection to him intensified. There was a network of thought interconnected to memory, desire, logic, and emotion, and Livia could see all of it. With this revelation came a troubling understanding: she the power to alter these things—to bend Hervin’s mind to her will. This frightened her, and she drew her hand away.
"What's wrong?" Hervin said. His thoughts were distant again, but concern still flowed out from his mind as plain to Livia’s perceptions as the scent of a pungent stew.
She shook her head and cast him a grin once again, and her vocal chords inadvertently engaged, emitting an: "eh-h-h."
"Hah!" Hervin laughed. "Your voice!" A wide grin coming across his face that showed most of the crooked upper teeth. "My Livia's voice!” He lowered his head, and she sensed a deflation of his excitement as he whispered: "You're not really my Livia though. Gods know you must have come from stock far greater than mine." He grinned at her, and a mixture of pain and delight radiated from him as he said: "You were always better than any of us. I knew that immediately. I don't have any right to call myself your father."
You are the only father I have ever known. My life would have been hell if not for your compassion, and I shall never forget that.
She passed him the note, and just as he started to read it, there was a sharp and rapid knock at the door. Livia whirled around, nerves rising in the pit of her stomach as instinct told her that something was wrong, though it took her a few heartbeats to register precisely why: she could not sense a mind outside.
"Hello?" a male voice said.
"Y-yes?" Hervin said aloud. He stood, but Livia held up a hand, motioning him not to move.
"I'm looking for a Livia," the voice said. "I was told she lives here.
Livia crept toward her home’s entryway. The voice did not seem particularly hostile, but nor did it seem friendly, and there seemed to be... power of some kind just on the other side of the door. It was not like the magic of a sorcerer, but something else. Taking an uneasy step forward, she readied her own energy to fight, her heart thumping in her chest.
"Oh Gods," the voice grunted, "stop tiptoeing around! I'm not here to attack you. Cassian sent me, so will you please open the gods-damned door?"
Cassian Asango had sent this visitor? Livia blinked. Could it be a trick? She still could not catch a shred of thought from this visitor, and yet the irritation in his voice had sounded so unabashedly genuine that it somehow removed most of her suspicion. With a mostly steady hand, Livia opened the door. On the other side was a tall, broad-shouldered man with tanned skin and dark brown hair. He was dressed in well-crafted leather and bronze linen, and she noted immediately that he had two swords on his belt and an array of knives sheathed about his waist and vest.
The man’s deep brown eyes fixed on her and looked her up and down unabashedly. "Yeah, that's definitely starborn power,” he said. “It's about time!" Without asking permission, he brushed past her into the house. "Do you have water?" he grunted, his eyes fixing on Hervin.
"Uh-h-h," Hervin murmured, and he made a nervous gesture to the clay urn on the table.
"Many thanks," the stranger exhaled, and he darted over and snatched up the urn and tilted it to his lips. Without another word, he proceeded to gulp down the contents at a furious pace while both Livia and Hervin stared at him. It seemed the man had consumed the entire container by the time he set it down and let out a hissing sigh. Then he tilted his neck to one side and then the other, eliciting a series of loud pops from his spine, and walked over to the table, dropping down into the chair opposite Hervin.
"Sorry," he muttered, leaning forward and running his fingers over his brow. "Do not rest until you find her—those were his gods-damned words! I don't know if he forgot that I am compelled to follow his instructions exactly, or if he was just being an ass. Probably the latter."
"Um," Hervin whispered, blinking, "m-may I ask who you are?"
"My name is Soulic," the stranger said, leaning back in the chair. He jerked his chin to the side, somehow drawing out yet another loud pop from his neck before exhaling: "Again, sorry for my brisk behavior. I have been riding well over thirty straight hours to find—" he turned his head and looked Livia in the eyes, "you." Soulic sank a little deeper into his chair and muttered: "Had to change horses six gods-damned times. Paid a fortune to the last stable master." With a shrug, he added: "Ah well, my employer can afford it."
Livia stared at the peculiar man. Cassian Asango's name had gotten him in the door unchallenged, but he was still a heavily armed stranger with power burning inside his flesh that she did not understand. Feeling it prudent, Livia willed out a psychic tendril and tried hard to penetrate into the nothingness that seemed to be his mind.
Soulic immediately stiffened in his chair and turned to her. This time she did not merely perceive nothing, but sensed... a wall perhaps? He looked her in the eyes and said: "You need a bit more skill than that to get in here," touching his index finger to the side of his head. Then he smiled and said: "Relax. I'm actually here to keep you safe and give you a hand with your current set of concerns." The man opened his vest and drew out a slightly crumpled scroll with a red seal and tossed it to her. As Livia caught it, he added in a vaguely sardonic tone: "This is from the Messiah."
Livia's heart accelerated as she saw a beautiful insignia of a griffon's head burned into the wax, along with the word: Asango. She carried the scroll over to her desk with reverence, her head swimming as she very carefully thumbed the edge of the seal up, breaking and yet preserving it as much as possible. She unrolled the document and saw the crisp, elegant writing that somehow did not seem to be from ink:
Dear Sister,
I hope that your newfound power allowed you to escape your unjust imprisonment. If not, I have sent my servant, Soulic, to provide you with any help you might require. He is one of the few Sansrit masters left in the world and the best warrior I have at my disposal. I shall feel better knowing he is with you until we meet.
You cannot imagine how thrilled the other starborn and I are to know that you are a
live and finally whole. We all wish to meet you. Our sister Keska invites you to be her honored guest in the kingdom of Aloria, but I selfishly hope you will come to the capital first to spend some time with Telemachus and me.
I caught only a glimpse of your mind, but I sensed you have a sibling in some kind of trouble. As I told you, there is very little you need to fear from now on, but you have yet to receive training in the use of your power. Thus, Soulic may be very useful to you. He will follow your orders as if they were from me. His manners and crude sense of humor leave something to be desired at times, but he will fight, kill, and even die for you without hesitation. I have sent him with ten thousand desseks to cover any expenses you might have at this time. Please feel free to use it any way you see fit. It is a gift without condition. Please also be safe. None of us wish to lose you now that you are finally returned to us.
I wish you luck in settling your family business and hope to see you soon after its conclusion.
Your Brother,
Cassian Asango
Livia traced his signature with her fingers. He had written so affectionately. It seemed impossible that so many wonderful things in her life were happening. She sighed as she began to read the note again, and it was then that she noticed, in the last bit of curl of the paper at the bottom, a postscript message, which read:
I advise you not to spread the knowledge that you are a starborn any more than you find absolutely necessary for the moment. Your existence is something of a political problem for the empire at the moment. Do not worry too much on the issue though. I am meeting with Emperor Tacitus later today to discuss how we shall proceed on the matter.
A 'political problem for the empire...’ Yes, the fact that her power had been stolen and somehow grafted onto the son of the Emperor was certainly a problem. This continued to loom in the back of her mind. She still did not know how her magic had been taken from her, or why. Had Tacitus Adronicus himself performed the spell, and would he then be angry that his work was undone? Would he come after her? That thought sent a shiver through her. Still, Asango was speaking on her behalf, and there was no indication he was afraid so much as being cautious.
