by Matt Russell
Cassian's image vanished once more, but his voice continued from seemingly every direction:
Tacitus whirled to see Cassian, glaring at him, and he reached out to grab the little bastard by his throat, but the boy vanished yet again.
Tacitus lurched for the boy, focusing his full psychic might, yet his outstretched arms stopped short, halted suddenly by the presence of restraints. He cocked his head and saw that shackles had formed on both of his wrists and, as he glanced down, his ankles as well. They were fastened to chains that reached out into the blackness behind, seeming to disappear into it, yet they held firm as if bound to iron.
Cassian said, his eyes burning with a terrible confidence.
Tacitus drew in a slow, furious breath. This was the realm of the mind, and the chains were only a construct of Cassian's will, just as Tacitus's form in this place was a projection of his psyche. He focused all the powers of his mind into tearing the metal cuffs on his wrists. There was a brilliant flare of crackling psychic energy that ripped out like lightning, yet when the flash subsided, the shackles remained, completely unharmed.
Cassian vanished and reappeared immediately in front of Tacitus and said:
The Emperor stared at the incomprehensible psychic battle going on between the two tremendous forces for several heartbeats and then turned back to the boy, who was studying him with an infuriatingly confident expression.
the young man said, appearing again in front of Tacitus and locking eyes.
As Tacitus had been speaking, a faint smile had begun to form on Cassian's face, and by the time he was finished, it had grown into a fierce grin.
Cassian met his eyes with a maddeningly cold stare and said:
The Emperor glared at the young man, dreaming of the revenge he would take for all of this, but then Asango said something that sent a chill of terror through him:
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Tacitus saw the certitude in the young man’s expression and knew there was no point in trying to pers
uade him he was wrong. Instead, the Emperor said through gritted teeth:
Cassian lowered his eyes and let out a very soft, troubled laugh as he shook his head.
For a time – he knew not how long – Tacitus became lost in a dream where his sins were plucked out in bits and pieces to form a mosaic of evil. He saw his fellow starborn, Valeena, die screaming on the ground in their garden at his hands, and he remembered that only moments before she had been speaking to him of their upcoming wedding. He saw himself drawing upon the powers of damnation to force the shamalak, Kota, to his will. He saw himself ripping the beautiful starborn aura away from a crying baby girl and bestowing it upon his son. He heard the terrible voice of his demon master warning him of a mortal child who might destroy him. One memory among all the others seemed of particular significance: Tacitus was standing in a Nemesai church speaking to Bishop Cromlic about the upcoming inquisition of the Asango family. He gave the command: “You must not stand for such heresy from the nobility. Kill both the parents, even if they confess, but do not touch the boy.”
The Emperor awoke hours later soaked in his own sweat and panting. His craith stood impassively around his bed, and the palace was quiet save for the soft chirping sounds of birds in the distance. His window was beginning to glow with faint morning light, and this sight filled him with a sickly terror. Cassian had held him in the mental plane for six—perhaps even seven hours! How many secrets might the young prodigy have been able to rip from him in that time? The Emperor did not know. He could not remember.
The tremendous power of Bacchid crackled inside of his flesh, burning to be unleashed. Cassian Asango was his most dangerous enemy in the world now. He had to be killed! The young man would know, as the world would soon know, the terrible demon Tacitus had become.
Chapter 46:
The Race
Telemachus stared at his brother, watching the eyes of the chosen Messiah of the Gods slowly began to blink open. The two of them were in a clearing in a forest some day and a half's ride northeast from the capital. Cassian had been sitting atop a blanket for the past ten hours with his legs crossed and his chest and back bare so that Telemachus could work on the ugly, streaking scars that crisscrossed his skin. They were surrounded by a perimeter of Cassian's personal guard soldiers. These men had had to flee the capital on incredibly short notice, and many of them had no armor, but they still stood tall, ready to fight and die at their beloved commander's order.
Telemachus had ordered these tattooed killers to give him a wide berth. They had obeyed him not because he was starborn, but because he was Cassian's brother. The dragon was another matter though. Titus showed a very slight deference to Telemachus, refusing to stray too far from its wounded master for anything. Telemachus had felt the creature’s blazing golden eyes upon him all through the night as he did what he could for his brother’s mutilated skin. It had been almost as imposing a distraction as the fact that Cassian was engaging possibly the most powerful being in the world in psychic combat.
Evidently, the Messiah had come through his battle unscathed, for when he was fully returned to himself, he drew in a deep breath and rose to his feet. There was a wave of relief from all around the make-shift encampment at the sight of him standing, and even a few cheers started to rumble from the men, but Cassian raised a hand in the air and closed his fist, and instantaneously his soldiers went silent.
"How did it go?" Telemachus murmured, his stomach full of nerves. It had been less than a day since he had learned that the Denigoth Empire was ruled by a demon—the most powerful nathret in history in fact. He had not fully wrapped his mind around all that that meant.
"I learned... quite a bit," Cassian said in a grim voice, gazing up at the sky. Ashen storm clouds were slowly seeping over the sky as if to reverse the dawn.
Telemachus swallowed. His brother's thoughts were impossible to read, so all he could do was whisper: "Can Tacitus be stopped?"
Cassian met his eyes and said: "Yes, but not by us. There is..." he frowned, seeming to consider his words, "an... opposite force in this world to what our Emperor has become. It lies within a mortal vessel. Tacitus does not know who it is."
"You took this from his mind by force?" Telemachus asked, feeling a little incredulous.
"I did," Cassian said, once again staring down, a somber look on his face.
Telemachus swallowed. "When I was working on your wounds, I... felt something enormously powerful move through you."
"That was Promethiock," Cassian muttered, not looking up. Telemachus sensed a flicker of pain leak through the wall around his brother’s mind. Something in the psychic confrontation with the Emperor had shaken him. Sweat dripped off his skin as he asked: "Have there been any soldiers poking around for us?"
"No," Telemachus replied, "nothing has been organized this far from the capital... yet. Quite a few members of the Obsidian Guild have been taken for questioning by the craith though."
"Are you in psychic contact with them?" Cassian said, raising an eyebrow.
"No. Last night I sensed the Emperor looking for me—me specifically. I made certain not to leave any open pathways to my mind."
"Good," Cassian said with a nod, and then he muttered: "I would give it half a day at most before imperial soldiers are combing this area. Tacitus will be ready to do virtually anything to kill me at this point."
"Because you know about the mortal vessel?"
"Because I know everything," Cassian said, the veins standing up around his temples, "everything he knows at least." He brought his gaze back up to Telemachus. "I trust you have contacted Keska."
"Of course," Telemachus sighed, briefly recalling the intense telepathic conversation in which he had shared the revelations of the last day with the princess of Aloria. "As you might imagine, she is coming."
"You warned her not to use any standard ports, correct?"
"No official ports and no official Alorian ship. She's posing as a fishing girl on a small sailing vessel, though she told her subjects she was traveling to the Kunsar port, and even sent a close look alike to herself bestowed with several expensive dresses and an array of jewels."
"Sensible enough," Cassian said. "I will try to get her an Elokien from the elves. We should each have one if possible."
"Mhh," Telemachus grunted as he eyed the amulet of gold and crystal that hung from Cassian's neck. "What about this Livia? Where is she?"
"Looking for her abducted sister," Cassian said, frowning. "I sent Soulic to help her."
Telemachus stiffened. "You sent that half-insane murderer to look after her? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Soulic and I have been through a great deal together, and I trust him," Cassian said, meeting Telemachus's gaze. "You will perhaps recall the Nemesai torture cells? They are where you sent my favorite tutor to die."
Telemachus flinched at these words. The death of Somar Dojinko weighed on him continually. "Cassian, I—"
"Relax," his brother said, gazing down and shaking his head. "I am responsible for the old man's death; not yo
u. I am the one that continuously provoked the Nemesai. I am the one who walked into a room full of craith just to show Bishop Cromlic I was not afraid. Most of all though," Cassian's face twitched, "I refused to listen when the Norn came to warn me about my destiny. She said it would cost me dearly." He shut his eyes and balled his fists at his sides. "Would you believe, my dear brother, that all that hatred I felt for her and the Gods was a manipulation of our Emperor and his demon master?”
"What?" Telemachus said.
"Tacitus goaded Cromlic into executing my parents," Cassian whispered. "A young man alienated by divinity and religion would be far more likely to accept allying with a cosmic demon—that was his logic, and that is why my parents' throats were slit."
"Gods," Telemachus said, swallowing. "All this time... everything you built your life around—"
"Was a lie," Cassian hissed. "Even my imprisonment in that Nemesai cell was just an attempt to push me to desperation. Tacitus would have made his offer of dark power a moment before my supposed execution if the old man had not done what he did." Cassian's face contorted in pain. "I would have had leeches on my skin, and thus would not be able to defend myself. I would have died."
"Then Somar did save your life," Telemachus exclaimed. The notion brought him a small sense of relief. It would have been terrible to know that the wonderful old man had sacrificed himself for no reason.
"Yes," Cassian said, and he was silent for a moment.
“I’m so sorry,” Telemachus said.
Cassian nodded and then drew in a deep breath and straightened, his face suddenly becoming more focused. Telemachus' could see that the moment of quiet reflection was gone, and the Cassian Asango most of the world knew had re-emerged. He said in a suddenly sharper voice: "We will need to get Livia's father out of his home immediately. Your parents too. I can send men to get them. You should write a letter explaining… circumstances to them."
"Neither of my parents can read," Telemachus said in a dry voice, his hands trembling slightly at the thought of Imperial soldiers taking his family hostage. "They're peasants, remember? They never learned." He stared at Cassian as a swell of nerves rose up from his stomach. "Do you really think my mother and father are in danger?"
