Two (The Godslayer Cycle Book 2) Read online

  Brea was very conscious of the warmth spreading through her fingers from contact with the God. Part of her mind wondered at how much greater the sensation seemed than from what she would expect from someone simply holding her hand, speculated over what caused it – whether it was a side effect of his divine presence or some kind of energy unique to a God. And as the warmth spread up her arm and began to suffuse her chest, she felt a strange calm and comfort began to take over her mind to where even that much curiosity seemed unnecessary.

  It was then she felt something moving below the warmth, a cirrus moving surreptitiously beneath her skin. Closing her eyes, she focused on the tendril moving so intimately up her arm. Somehow she knew that its destination was her heart, the center of her being, and she could envision it spreading from there to every fiber of her being. This seemed a wonderful thing, and a sense of anticipation, almost an expectation of bliss, built up in her chest as the filament twined through the flesh of her body, closer every moment to its goal.

  In a moment of clarity however, the foreignness of the invasive tendril touched her mind and she knew it to be wrong. And in recognizing the impurity of the invader, the acceptance of its presence vanished. Without a moment's hesitation, she rejected the extrinsic existence of the fibrous energy and thrust it from her body.

  Suddenly, Dariel pulled his hands back as though he had been shocked. “What was--”

  “I sensed your effort to manipulate me, Baron. And I reject it.”

  Dariel took a step back. “I meant no harm--”

  “No, you meant to convince me of your truth.” Brea's eyes narrowed. “The only reason I do not expel you from my presence is that, in spite of your efforts to influence me, I also sensed that your words were true. The attempt to ensnare me in that truth was not needed, but you had to try anyways, didn't you?”

  Dariel rubbed his hands together, to all appearances brushing burned fingers. “You cannot expel the presence of another God without a deity's blessing,” the God snarled, though a quick glance at Airek dispelled any direct malice he might have spent upon Brea. “But be that as it may,” he grumbled, “it is my nature to be both true and deceitful. I beg your pardon that I felt the need to compel you to believe the truth.”

  “Is there nothing more any of you can say on this... firestorm?” interrupted Nathaniel, moving to stand between Brea and the Gods.

  “Oh, there is much more that could be said,” responded Airek. “But none that is relevant nor of any significance.”

  Nathaniel took a moment to look around the gathering to assure that no other God wished to speak, then nodded himself. “Then I think we are done here for now. I know where the next sword is, or at least its direction. You have convinced me that I must continue the quest in hopes of crossing paths with whomever took Geoffrey, so you have me at least until that is settled. So unless there is more you will tell me, I think we need to discuss our next move amongst ourselves.”

  “Nathan, please,” tried Airek. “Do not dismiss us--”

  Nathaniel set his jaw. “I believe you have already said you have nothing more to say.”

  For a moment, the God and Goddess of Charity and Greed returned the mortal's look, but after a moment he bowed. “As you wish. Summon us if you have need.”

  Without further delay, the Pantheon vanished from sight. Though all appeared to blink out at the same moment, Brea had the barest of impression that Malik had lingered a fraction longer than the rest, perhaps indicating that the God and Goddess of War and Peace did in fact have more to say. Yet he had been dismissed and could not linger and maintain the civil obedience the Old Gods wished to portray. Brea was not completely convinced that this show was genuine, yet for the moment, it served her purposes in having them gone.

  Once the Gods had vanished, Nathaniel reached behind him to clasp the hilt of One, assuring that what was said next would indeed be kept from Godly ears. He then turned to Bracken and Brea.

  “So,” grumped the dwarf. “The firefall?”

  Nathaniel nodded. “Yes. We are going to go see what it left behind.”

  “Wait,” said Brea, looking between the two. “I thought you said we had enough to worry about?”

  “That was before the Gods decided we didn't need to know about them,” said Nathaniel.

  “But they said that whatever was falling from the sky was not related to your quest for the swords. And apparently they can't lie about something like that.”

  “One thing I learned growing up around Bracken's tavern,” Nathaniel reasoned, “is that the truth does not always include everything there is to know. When Dariel chose to step forward to convince you of the truth rather than Elgoth, it told me there was more known that wasn't being said. Only we didn't know enough to ask the right questions.”

  “An' wha' better way ta fin' wha' they don' wanna talk 'bout than ta go ta the scene o' the crime?” inserted the dwarf. “One o' them beasties hit near 'nough for us to fin', methinks, so's we can settle this 'fore we head west.”

  Brea considered for a moment. “When you put it that way, I agree. I have nothing better to do at the moment, and could care less about your swords. I do feel at least somewhat responsible for Geoffrey, however, especially if there is any truth that I was sent east to distract you from following the real abductors. So I will go with you.”

  “Well, you're not going anywhere until we're done with you,” spoke up Alsen. Nathaniel had all but forgotten of the sellsword, and was startled to see the man to the side with his weapon drawn. His brother stood beside him with his own blade in hand, though the latter displayed a much less threatening air as he only seemed to be pointing the sword rather than actually wielding it. Apparently, Alsen had placed the sword into Derik's hand, but the elder man had no interest in doing anything with it.

  Nathaniel drew One free of its scabbard. “Do you really want to do this? You have seen what my sword can do.”

  Alsen swallowed, but did not relax his stance. “I ask you to step aside, sir,” he said. “My grievance is with the priestess. And if she satisfies my demand, I promise no harm will befall her. I only want my brother returned to me.”

  Nathaniel looked quizzically at the mercenary. “I've been led to understand that is your brother right beside you.”

  Alsen clenched at the reminder. “This man is not my brother. Derik is not some fool who soils himself at the mere mention of a pretty girl. What you see is what Brea made of him. And I would have her undo what she has done before we let her leave.”

  Nathaniel looked over his shoulder at Brea. “Care to explain?”

  Brea took a deep breath to steady herself. “What he says is true. I meant to befuddle Derik for insulting me, to teach him a lesson. But somehow the spell went farther than it should have. It has also lasted much longer than it should have, as well. I do not know how nor why, but the magic that has afflicted Derik should have been beyond my abilities.”

  “So just remove the spell,” suggested Nathaniel, returning his gaze to the mercenaries.

  “I... I don't know how,” admitted Brea shamefully. “I have no spells left, as you know. And even before I lost them from my memory, I did not know how to defeat a spell this powerful. I... I think Imery may have afflicted him through me. If that's the case, it would take Imery to remove the curse.”

  “You lie!” shouted Alsen. “I have seen many wonders these last two days. I have seen your Gods, and I have seen your magics. And I know the difference between the two. Imery was not here when you cursed Derik, only you. So you are the one who needs to remove this.”

  Nathaniel struggled for a solution. “Brea, you didn't use a spell to stop that horse.” The man pointed his sword at where the beast still lay upon the ground, its breathing having calmed significantly from when it had been originally felled. “Can't you just feel for the magic? See if you can remove it that way?”

  Brea was silent a moment before answering. “Possibly. I am not even sure exactly how I did that with the hors
e, but I can try. I can't make things worse, I don't believe.”

  “Will you accept that much?” asked Nathaniel. “Will you let Brea try to remove the magic? But you can't harm her if she fails. As she says, it may be beyond her to do.”

  “She will succeed,” warned Alsen. “I won't accept anything less.”

  “Then I will not even let her try,” responded Nathaniel. “If she is under threat of harm of any kind, then we will leave you both and be done. And I challenge you to try to stop us.”

  Alsen cast a glance at his brother, who had by now lost interest in the exchange entirely, letting his sword drop to the ground as he looked around himself aimlessly. Grudgingly, Alsen lowered his own sword. “Very well,” he said. “I'll let her try.”

  Nathaniel did not lower his own sword. “And if she fails?”

  “Then we'll leave. I've had enough of you and yours. We'll go in peace, if that's what you need to hear.”

  Nathaniel kept his sword raised a moment longer, then returned it to its sheath. “I take you at your word.”

  With a nod of his head, Nathaniel urged Brea to go to Derik. The priestess hesitated only a moment before closing the distance between them, taking Derik's hand into her own. “Come with me, Derik. Let's see if we can make you better.”

  “Wait, you didn't say you would take him--”

  Brea rounded on the young sellsword. “I need to concentrate, to do something I have never even thought of trying before. I can't have you around to distract me. So am I going to do this, or have you changed your mind already?”

  Alsen hesitated, his hand clenching the hilt of his sword. Yet in the end, his shoulders sagged and he gave a quick nod. Clearly, as much as he distrusted the priestess, his desire to have his brother returned to him whole was the greater emotion.

  Brea led the simple man to the edge of the tree line, the old encampment serving as a backdrop for her efforts. She needed to identify the feeling of the magic, to remember how it had felt to cast the original spell. She no longer had the sigils of the spell in her mind, but Nathaniel had been correct – she had not had them to compel the horse. And if she could access the magic of spells without the tools she had been trained to use before, then she knew that the power still rested within her.

  She told herself that it was only a simple matter of putting aside the crutches and learning to use magic without them. But she knew that nothing of this nature could be that simple.

  Regardless of what she had been trained to believe, magic was a complex form to manipulate. Prior to meeting Imery for the first time, she had always felt a spark of energy within her whenever she prayed to her Goddess, and it was that spark that she had been taught to kindle the spells she cast. Imery had gifted her power beyond that spark, an ability that shaded her vision, gave her the capacity to see truth. But it had been a passive ability, at best – nothing in that new ability had affected the spark of divinity placed in her as one of Imery's faithful. Nothing in it had changed how she had worked magic nor cast spells.

  Before the strange deviance from her magic that had afflicted Derik, she had never felt more than that spark. Yet at that one point in time, she had. She wanted to believe that it had been Imery working through her, but she could not honestly accept this as the complete truth. Deep in her heart, she feared Imery had done more to her than simply tint her perceptions – that the Goddess of Truth had implanted within her priestess more power than Brea had immediately been aware of, a source for the new ability that she had been oblivious of, yet had been what she had drawn upon when casting her spell upon Derik.

  She had become some kind of vessel for divine power. She did not understand it, but she had used her own capacity for magic to access it with Derik.

  That new source of power clearly still existed within her. It had to be what was responsible for her capacity to use magic without the divine knowledge of magic imparted to her as a priestess. Imery was gone. The lore she had granted to her priesthood had vanished from her mind. Without the mechanical dependence upon the mysterious words she could never comprehend even as she internally recanted them, she had no conscious idea of how to manipulate the magic within her.

  And yet she had done precisely that with the stallion.

  Even though she could not feel the original spark that she had always drawn upon to cast her spells. Not even a hint of the source remained. And yet she had used magic.

  Brea took a deep breath and looked up at her victim. Derik's face split in a wide grin when he noticed Brea's attention, drool spilling down his chin anew. “Brea's pretty,” he drawled.

  The priestess smiled ruefully. “Derik, will you sit for me? Sit and close your eyes?”

  The big man dropped abruptly to the ground, his eyes already closed. So eager was the man to do whatever Brea asked, he had literally just let himself fall to the ground.

  “Are you hurt?” asked Brea with genuine concern.

  Derik only grinned broader. “Brea would never hurt Derik.”

  The woman took a moment longer to look upon the man she wished so desperately to help before finally kneeling beside him. Placing one hand upon his chest and the other on his forehead, she said, “I will try to be as gentle as I can be, Derik. But I don't know what to expect. Please forgive me if this hurts you.”

  Derik chuckled. “Brea would never hurt Derik,” he repeated.

  Brea closed her own eyes, looking inward for some sign of the spark she had become accustomed to reaching for when casting a spell. She had not been able to find it before when she had first sought to enchant the horse, but she felt she had to at least try. As before, though she felt she should be able to reach it, there was the distinct sensation that though it was there, she could not actually touch it.

  Not for the first time, the woman wondered if this was how a phantom limb felt to someone who had an arm or leg amputated. To all of her senses, she felt as if the spark was there, but she could not reach it nor would it rise to her command.

  Setting aside the urge to force a response out of the chimeric spark that she could and could not feel, Brea instead tried to focus on the power that she had felt after she had cast the spell upon Derik. The surge had been unexpected – she had not exactly had the time to study it, much less comprehend where it had come from. And yet it had been there and it had left a residual impression on her memory. Now she tried to recapture the feel of it, the texture of the energy, the sensation of the energy passing through her body.

  The priestess struggled with the hope that in remembering how it felt, she could somehow compel the power's return from whatever reservoir she had tapped. Yet there was no response to this method, either.

  Brea opened her eyes to see if there had been any change in her subject. She knew there would not be, yet she was otherwise uncertain of how to proceed. Derik sat as he had when he had first flopped to the ground – his face held upwards in an elated grin. Apparently, whatever invasive magics were still in effect, nothing prevented the abject joy he felt at her touch.

  Invasive, thought Brea. Invasive magic, like what Dariel tried to use on me...

  Renewed by inspiration, the priestess called to mind the feeling of the tendrils that had started up her arm when she had cast out the God's influence and reached her mind into the man's body. Instantly she found the invading tendrils, the filaments spread throughout Derik's body, entwining between his mind and his heart. They did not feel as dark to her percipience as Dariel's magic had felt, but the similarity was unmistakable. This was the beast she had to expel, and now that she could sense it, she knew inherently how to remove it.

  Mentally, Brea envisioned the hand resting upon Derik's forehead reaching inward and cradling the man's brain while her other hand reached into his chest to grasp his heart. She instinctively knew that force was not needed, though there was a certain anxiety to be done as quickly as possible before she lost the knowledge of how to do what she was doing. And yet her concern outweighed the fear and with extreme gentleness,
she swept aside the strands of energy wrapped around Derik's heart, brushing the surface as she would the dust from an apple. Once she had done this, she found she could clutch the filaments and simply pull them away from the man's chest, the lines leading upward to the man's mind sliding away without any struggle. The energy was completely at her command, and it made no effort to resist her will.

  Within moments, the energy left Derik's body and dissipated in the air around him. Still, her other hand cradled the man's mind, reaching in, searching for any other sign of defect. She could feel the man's original personality asserting itself, felt it flailing for a connection with the world beyond where it had been trapped.

  In a fraction of a second, she recognized that she was in very real danger of harm from Derik, as his confusion fell away to be replaced by rage. Yet Brea's power existed in the sliver of time between seconds, and she knew how to defend herself before Derik's consciousness could reach the second where he would choose to lash out for the affront done unto him.

  With the barest of effort, Brea touched the portion of Derik's mind that permitted him awareness and closed it off. She knew that he would slumber now, and further knew exactly how long he would remain asleep. And she knew that it would be longer than the time she would need to recover.

  Brea could not attest for where this knowledge came from, only that it was true and that she could embrace it without reservation. Just as she was aware that Nathaniel even now moved toward where they were, intending to check her progress. Understanding and accepting this, the priestess let her own mind fall away from that of the mercenary and her body to collapse where it lay.

  Just as she had known he would, this was where Nathaniel found her a few minutes later.

  Chapter 7