Chains of a Dark Goddess (15 page)

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Authors: David Alastair Hayden

BOOK: Chains of a Dark Goddess
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“Firrus, Perolo, scout ahead.”

Breskaro breathed the
spell of detecting lies
while Esha was distracted by a purple lizard scurrying along a fallen tree. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Tell me, child. Why were you the one that the prophecy told of and not me?”

She shrugged. 

“Who are you?”

“Esha, daughter of Trinnia. Like I told you before. You know, about Gramps and all. You were listening,
right
?”

Breskaro nodded. “There’s more to you than what I see. What are you hiding?”

“Nothing, master. I
swear
.”

“Everything you told me about your past is true?”

“Everything, master. I don’t know why the Keeper acted like I was special.” She crossed her arms and pouted her lips. “And I don’t like him, either.”

“I do,” Breskaro said.

“You know, master, maybe I was a test. The Keeper of Destiny wasn’t going to let you have the device unless you proved yourself worthy.”

“And how would you being there prove that I was worthy?”

“You saved me from the cross. If you hadn’t—”

“I wouldn’t have gotten the mechanism. I think you may be right, little one.” Breskaro released her shoulder. “You are clever. I would say far too clever, but I have no reason to believe that you have ever lied to me.”

She flashed her golden eyes at him. “I would
never
lie to you, master.”

~~~

True to their word, the Rrakans had waited for Breskaro to return. A week of rest, even on the edge of dismal Peithoom, had improved their appearances. They had also cleaned up and repaired, as best as they could, the armor that they had stolen from the Resbani.

“Larekal,” Breskaro said, “you and the others have proven true to your word. I will remember that.”

“Thank you, master. Were you successful?”

“I was. And I have secured many allies for us, disturbing in appearance though they may be. Perolo and Firrus will fill you in. We may be coming back here, but for now we must go to the Chapel of the Blessed Night.”

The men rode hard, glad to put as much distance as possible between themselves and that accursed swamp. As the land changed from marsh to forested wilderness, their spirits steadily improved. But it wasn’t until they reached the small, well-kept roads that meandered through the farmland of Issaly that they completely lost that haunted look that was the legacy of Peithoom Swamp. They avoided people along the way, pretending to be nothing more than another band of mercenary warriors preparing to join the Fourth Crusade. They mostly traveled at night and slept during the day. When they had to pass close to people, Breskaro would employ a wide-range but weak *spell of personal obscuration* to make people pay less attention to them and find it hard to remember what they had seen.

It took them nine days to travel to the Chapel of the Blessed Night, on the outskirts of the small town of Eliara, eighty leagues northeast of Issaly. This was the ancestral homeland of the Sinnia, the nearly extinct family from which Adelenia and Deltenya descended. 

They stopped at dawn, on a wooded hill overlooking the town, and made camp. Knowing Breskaro would remain awake, the Rrakans went quickly to sleep. Breskaro stood at the edge of the woods and gazed at the chapel.

“You look nervous, master,” Esha said.

“You should sleep.”

“I’m worried.”

“About me? I fear nothing.” 

She stepped in front of him and crossed her arms. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? I’ve seen you limping. Saw your eyes wince in pain when you were getting on your horse a few days ago.”

“You notice too much.” He sighed. She was right. He was weak, and in pain. “My injuries from fighting the batrakosians and the Keeper have not fully healed. My strength is waning. My withered body can’t take much more abuse.”

“There’s something more, though.”

“The Issalians are marshaling for the crusade and we have little time. The Mûlkrans are not likely to follow me or put up a fight. Yet I still haven’t met my benefactor or begun to prepare the city’s defense. And here we are, far too close to Issaly. By now they may have found the tomb empty. They may know I’ve come back from the dead.”

“How could they know?”

“Just because Matriarch’s not a sorcerer doesn’t mean she’s not capable of magical feats. She has power. She can sense things.”

Esha almost relaxed. “That’s not all of it. I can tell this place bothers you. I won’t go to bed until you tell me why.”

“I could order you to bed.”

“You could, and I would go.”

He stepped past her, eyes focused on the chapel. “I have been here before, Esha. Several times. I married Adelenia Sinnia, my first wife, here in a beautiful ceremony. It was the happiest day of her too short life. And my old friend Magnos and his wife Deltenya were married here as well. I was her chamber guardian the night before and I stood by his side as they exchanged their vows. I was here when their daughter Albiria was baptized. Orisala picked out the baby’s naming gift herself. And Metra...”

“Who?”

“Metra, my second wife.”

“Where is she?”

“Dead. Slain by poison an assassin intended for me. That was three years before I died.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I guess.”

“You didn’t love her?”

“Not as well as I should have. Not like I did my first wife, Adelenia. Orisala’s mother.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died … giving birth to Orisala.”

“I’m sorry, master.”

“It was long ago,” Breskaro said, thinking of Adelenia. They had spent so little time together and yet he still missed her terribly. The wound in his soul had never healed. “Love is a strange and inexplicable thing, Esha.”

“Seems simple to me.”

“That’s because you’re young. Now, go get some rest.”

She pouted and started to speak.

“That’s an order this time.”

Esha scurried away and Breskaro brooded throughout the day, never bothering to open the grimoire and study as he normally did.

Magnos, Deltenya, Adelenia, Orisala. 

I am cursed. Entangled in a web. Something here is wrong.

Chapter 23

As soon as night fell, Breskaro, Esha, and his Knights of the Dark sneaked down the hillside. The chapel was small but lavishly built with elaborate motifs carved into the stone facade, exotic wood trim, marble statues of the classic saints leading up to the entrance, and three blue-painted spires. The faint glow of lanterns flickered through the blue-stained arched windows and spilled out from the open doorway. Beside the chapel was a convent for the priestesses. The convent was dark and quiet.

While crouching behind a stand of tangled blackberry shrubs between the convent and the chapel, Breskaro cast the
spell of detecting presences

“I’m sensing only one person here, in the chapel,” Breskaro muttered. “Larekal, send someone to check on the convent. It shouldn’t be empty.”

“I’ll do it!” Esha nearly shouted. She took off running before Breskaro could tell her not to.

“Should I follow?” Larekal asked with a grin on his face.

“No. She’s probably the most silent one of us anyway.”

Esha circled the building once then pushed open the front door and darted in. She sprinted back a minute later with a look of horror on her face.

“All the priestesses are dead.”

“Slain?”

“Poison, I think. All of them were lying in the dining hall. No blood or anything.”

“You sure they’re dead?” asked Larekal. “Maybe it was a sleeping draught.”

“Purple faces,” said Esha. “Black tongues. Vomit.”

Breskaro drew his sword. “Larekal, have your men ready. If I call you, storm inside.”

“May I come, master?” Esha asked.

“I must do this alone, Esha. Choose a safe spot and watch for an ambush.”

Breskaro went to the door and slid inside. Only a third of the lanterns were lit, but he didn’t need light to see. 

The aisle leading down the center of the chapel was strewn with rose petals. A woman stood at the altar. She was whispering toward the shadows beside a statue of golden-eyed and crimson-robed Seshalla.

Breskaro drew in a sharp breath and winced. The woman had pale, patrician skin and black ringlets of hair that cascaded down her back. A thin silk dress of purple with a fringe of black clung to the curves of her figure.

“Adelenia,” he whispered, his breath shallow, wispy, longing. “My love.”

The woman spun around. Breskaro withdrew into the shadows where she couldn’t see him clearly. She wore a qavra on a chain around her neck, a deep amethyst stone, almost night black.

“Breskaro?” she said.

He should have known who waited for him, but he had forgotten how much they looked alike. Adelenia was long dead, and in Paradise, he hoped.

“Deltenya,” he replied in a flat monotone voice.

“Are you disappointed, my love?”

I am.

“Who else is here with you?” he asked.

“No one, my love.”

“You were talking to someone, in the shadows.”

The apparition of a tall woman, cloaked and hooded in charcoal gray, moved out from the shadows. She was barely visible in the light of the room. Her eyes glowed a subtle amethyst beneath her hood.

“That would be me, Breskaro Varenni.” 

“Harmulkot,” he said. He had never met a goddess before, and this was a goddess he was supposed to fear, according to everything he had been taught since he was a young child. That she was helping him seemed almost absurd. He was awed, even if she was diminished, to meet such a being. But he refused to show it.

“Will you not kneel before your new goddess?”

“I will serve you, as part of our bargain, but I will
not
kneel before you.” 

If Harmulkot was offended, she showed no response. He glanced at Deltenya and back to Harmulkot. 

“How did you know I would be coming tonight?”

“I sensed you moving toward us over the last few days,” Harmulkot replied. “We have a bond now, you and I. Did you recover the Akythiri Mechanism from the Keeper of Peithoom?”

He nodded. “I gained allies as well.”

“My batrakosians? I have not seen them in centuries.”

“Breskaro, darling,” Deltenya cooed. “Can’t we discuss such things later? I have dreamed of seeing you again for so long.”


You
helped Harmulkot bring me back?”

She approached him. “Yes, my love. When the Matriarch gave me to Magnos instead of you I turned my face from Seshalla. Then I discovered I was one of Lady Harmulkot’s direct descendants. My family had hidden the records away but I found them. I began to pray to her. She heard in my prayers of my undying love for you. Some said she was a goddess of death, so I begged her to bring you back. And she
did
! But it was
my
sacrifice that powered the spell.”

“I am not a goddess of death,” said Harmulkot with a tinge of irritation in her voice. “I am a goddess of the night. When the Chapel of the Blessed Night was built it was dedicated to me.”

“Not long after Harmulkot first came to me,” Deltenya said, “Nalsyrra appeared. She knew my heart’s desire and said you were wandering in the Shadowland. She knew how we could bring you back. And you would be the perfect champion for Harmulkot. It was destiny.”

“If you are a direct descendant of Harmulkot, that means—”

“That your daughter Orisala is my direct descendant as well,” said the goddess. “I have no other direct descendants left.”

“I see that there’s more depth to your plan than I expected,” Breskaro said. “How long have you known about Orisala and her condition?”

“Only since Nalsyrra told us,” Deltenya said. “We had no idea. I paid men to search for her. No one could find her. I was crushed when she disappeared. You know how I cherished her.”

“I know you loved her,” Breskaro said. He had never doubted that. “You were good to her and I was ever thankful.”

“We left her at the Temple of the Rose because we couldn’t provide better care for her than the priests. Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not. It was a wise decision.”

“Deltenya, Orisala, Mûlkra, and the batrakosians are all that is left of my legacy,” Harmulkot said. “If my nation goes, I go. You see my form. I am nearly done. A ghost, almost a memory.”

“Survival isn’t your only motivation, is it?”

“Of course not. But I tell you truthfully, all other motivations are meaningless unless I can stop the Fourth Crusade, and my only hope of doing that lies with you.”

“And you will give me that which you promised?”

The ghost of Harmulkot drifted over and faced him. He looked into her glowing eyes of icy amethyst. 

“You will have your daughter healed if you are victorious. I swear this. I would not cheat you. She is my descendant. I want more than anything for her to be whole and well again”

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