The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) (17 page)

He wasn’t going to let the humans know that, however.

General Horthoe glared at him. “Why?”

“It isn’t the first time that the Heart of God has vanished. It’s written in the church records. Don’t you know the story, General Horthoe?” Blaise draped his coat over his arm, examining the golden buttons.

“I’ve heard it a time or two. Go on, though,” the man replied, one brow arched high. “This should be interesting.”

“I won’t bore you with the details, but consider this: There are no records of the Hand or the Eye of God being used while the Heart of God has been openly possessed by someone. That is what the books say, at least. Most consider it just another myth, of course.” Blaise shrugged his way into his coat and took his time buttoning it. “Anyway, it’d take God himself to restore something like the Heart of God.”

“Why would you say that?”

“He made it, after all.”

General Horthoe huffed. “If you believe in that sort of thing.”

Blaise shook his head and adjusted his collar. “You military folk sure do like to flaunt and use the power of the Hand of God, and your Emperor wanted the Heart, yet the concept that God made it is so difficult for you to accept?”

“I’m still not convinced that you didn’t have something to do with the Heart’s destruction.”

Blaise turned to meet the man’s gaze. “I didn’t,” he replied. General Horthoe’s eyes narrowed.

“What do you think happened, then?”

“Do you want the answer that’ll make your Emperor happy, or do you want the truth?” Blaise asked.

General Horthoe chuckled. “Tell me both and I’ll decide for myself what I think is best to tell him.”

“If I were the Heart—and we both know I’m not, mind you—I think I’d rather destroy myself than be held by a man like him.” Blaise was proud he managed to keep his expression neutral despite wanting to smirk. “The Hand of God is picky enough about who it lets touch it. Why can’t that same principle apply to the Heart of God?”

The lack of response from General Horthoe cracked through Blaise’s calm and he grinned. “But, since you don’t believe in that sort of thing, I’d say it was just old and something shattered it. Perhaps too much exposure to Speech?”

“I’m going to guess that is the answer the Emperor doesn’t want to hear. Very well, Bishop. The answer he’d prefer?”

Blaise waved his hand dismissively. “Someone was jealous of his oh-so-great powers and sought to kill him. Unfortunately, they missed.”

“That’s treason of the highest order, Bishop. I also find that hard to believe. If the Heart is so powerful, as the Erelith Church of God likes to claim it is, how could it shatter? It makes no sense to me at all.”

“The Heart of God has always been—well, used to be—a bit mysterious. No one really knew what it was capable of.” He shrugged and turned his attention to his cuffs, fingering the new red-gold buttons. “Unless you’ve more questions for me, General, I think I should see the Archbishop.”

“I’m not finished with you, yet. Please, Bishop Blaise, why don’t you sit down?”

“I think I’ll stand,” he replied, leaning against the wall. “What else did you want to talk about?”

General Horthoe frowned. “You mentioned something about the Heart of God not being present when the Hand or Eye were used. The Eye of God is a myth, Bishop.”

Feigning curiosity helped Blaise mask his irritation. “Do you truly mean to say you know nothing of the thing you’ve failed to protect?”

“I don’t like your tone, Bishop.”

Blaise met General Horthoe’s eyes and didn’t blink until the man looked away. “I don’t like your ignorance.”

“Then, by all means, Bishop, enlighten me. What do you think you know that’s so vital that you’d speak to me like that?”

The smile came unbidden, and Blaise enjoyed the man’s scowl. “I know enough. I know what the Emperor has done in order to acquire it.”

“And what do you think he has done?” General Horthoe challenged.

“Fifteen years ago, he conquered the kingdom of Zorsan. I suppose conquer is too kind of a term. He didn’t conquer it. He erased it from every map. He desired the Eye of God, and when he didn’t find it in the hands of the Zorsan royals, he had every noble-blooded newborn slaughtered. When he was done, he went into a rage. Those he didn’t kill, he enslaved.”

The general’s face paled. “How did you learn that?”

“Did you mistake my white coat as a symbol of idiocy, General? Or would it appease you if I claimed I was there?”

“You would’ve been just a boy.”

“I’d say the same applies to you as well, General Horthoe. Unless I’m seriously mistaken, which I’m not, you were there. You saw it with your own eyes.”

Genera Horthoe shook his head, but Blaise suspected it wasn’t in denial. “Twenty-three, and not even a full year as a General. You’re right. I was there,” the man replied. Anguish darkened Horthoe’s blue eyes. “I led the invading force against the Zorsan royals. You’re well-learned, Bishop.”

“We keep extensive records in the libraries here, Leviticus. We don’t just keep all of the scriptures in these hallowed halls, but a faithful record of the history of the Erelith Empire. Zorsan was a bloody affair. A complete opposite of the bloodless annexing that secured your Generalship.” Blaise wasn’t sure how to comfort the distressed human, or if he wanted to, but he offered the man a small smile.

“If all of the Emperor’s desires could be as peaceful as the Forseth annexing,” the man muttered. Then, in a louder voice, General Horthoe said, “Yes, yes, you’re right. Zorsan fell because His Imperial Majesty desired the Eye, and he didn’t find it.”

“It would be better if it was never found,” Blaise said.

“The Eye?”

“It would not bother me if the Hand of God fell into obscurity and myth as well,” Blaise admitted. “Some powers shouldn’t be used. Not by anyone.”

“Not even by God?” General Horthoe asked with a smirk.

“Especially not by God.”

“Are you certain you’re a bishop?”

“As certain as you’re a general,” Blaise replied. He shook his head. “God created this world with His right hand. What do you think His left is for?”

“If you believe in that sort of thing. So, it’s killed a few failed vessels. It’s driven a few others mad. That doesn’t give it the power to destroy all things.”

Blaise lifted his hand to rub at his brow and scowled when his gloved fingers brushed against the linens wrapped around his head. The pressure didn’t ease the growing threat of a headache. “Think, General. If you believe the teachings, it’s a mere echo of God’s true power. With it, the Emperor has the power to destroy empires. Imagine what it could do when used for its true purpose. And, never forget, God is a being of balance. The right hand is for creation. The left is for destruction. In equal measure. Unfortunately, some believe—and rightly so, in my opinion—that God doesn’t necessarily care which hand he uses when building things and returning them to dust.”

General Horthoe frowned. “I see your point. But, still, that doesn’t change the fact that the Eye of God is a myth. It’s been over a thousand years since anyone has even claimed to possess it.”

Blaise lied, and he couldn’t bring himself to feel any guilt over it. “And that’s for the better, don’t you think? Some things are better left lost.”

Mikael’s loss was better for the humans, even if reuniting with the other divine was one of Blaise’s strongest desires.

“Shouldn’t you be saying the Church should have it?” General Horthoe asked.

“Oh, yes, yes. Because stirring the ire of a mad Emperor is such a wise idea. He’d destroy the Church to get the Eye like he destroyed Zorsan. Need I remind you that he did it on the false belief that they might have—at some point—possessed the Eye?”

Horthoe sighed. “However much it pains me to say this, I’m afraid you’re right.

~*~

Blaise watched and waited for General Horthoe’s attention to wander. When exhaustion clouded the man’s eyes, Blaise feigned disinterest, staring at the candle burning down to a spluttering stub. With luck, Horthoe wouldn’t recognize the difference between the natural desire for sleep and the Speech Blaise whispered.

The general slumped across the cot, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. A grim smile curved Blaise’s lips and he reached out to touch the man’s temple.

“There are no secrets in a world watched by God,” Blaise Spoke, focusing on his desire to learn of the golden collar and the boy who wore it. Images flashed through his head; a haphazard collection of memories hammered at Blaise, in sharp contrast with General Horthoe’s stoic exterior.

Emotions laced through each image in a confusing tangle so human in its contradictions Blaise couldn’t understand what the general felt about the boy. It wasn’t hate; Blaise understood that emotion well enough. Whatever it was, it was strong enough he couldn’t sift through the memories without being aware of its presence.

Within him, Aurora stirred. The chill of her presence warmed to something almost tolerable within him.

Through the chaos came a name: Terin. When the Hand of God was near, fear and grief tainted the general’s thoughts. The man groaned in his slumber, and Blaise murmured soothing sounds.

The Hand of God hadn’t changed much since the last time he’d seen it. The wrappings were a little more worn, a little more frayed and tattered at the edges, but the outstretched pose of the hand with its beseeching fingers remained the same. General Horthoe’s unease matched the man’s fear.

Blaise searched deeper until he found the memory of the boy falling and the Hand of God landing on top of him. It was just as Leopold had said. Blaise couldn’t deny the truth of the human’s memories.

General Horthoe’s reaction, strong despite the passage of time—several years, from what he could tell from the blurred nature of the memory—was of great sadness, which drowned out the fear of the artifact fashioned from God’s severed hand.

Blaise focused his attention and desire on the collar and committed its commands and how to unlock it to his memory. When finished, he breathed out the words to break the Speech keeping General Horthoe asleep. Blaise roused the man with a firm shake. “Leviticus?”

General Horthoe jerked upright, a yawn escaping from the man’s lips. “What?”

“You fell asleep,” Blaise murmured, careful to hide his smile.

“Damnations! Curse it all to the bloodied hells.”

“Temper,” Blaise replied, letting himself yawn. “This is a trying time for all of us. We should both sleep or try to do something of use, if you insist that we shouldn’t leave my chambers.”

“You should rest, Bishop. It would not please His Imperial Majesty if any more harm came to you. It seems you’ve a knack for trouble and injury.” General Horthoe frowned, glancing at the door, the man’s blue eyes darkened, though Blaise wasn’t certain if it was due to the man’s thoughts or the shadows in the room.

The candle guttered and Blaise knelt next to the chest at the foot of his bed and pulled out a replacement. After lighting the new one, he blew out the old one and tossed it on the floor next to the door.

“I wonder about that,” he said, turning to face the general.

General Horthoe chuckled. “You seem to understand him well, Bishop Blaise. Very well. I have a request for you.”

Blaise leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. Aurora’s presence shifted within him until she was positioned beneath his right hand. “I’m listening. Actually, wait. Before you speak any more,” he said, lifting his left hand to stop the man from talking. Then, he Spoke, “Listen not to the words of the wicked; they lead to the dark places where no rose can bloom.”

Aurora’s chill intensified, and Blaise felt her latch onto his Speech, her wordless song loud in his head. With her clinging, with her selfless intent to help him, he almost fell prey to her once again, the prayer for her rebirth on the tip of his tongue. The pain of her loss stung his eyes.

In that moment, he would’ve given anything to have her back again in the flesh. Blaise swallowed and shook his head at his folly. A devoured soul couldn’t be restored to its full glory, not even her pure and beautiful soul. The candle’s glow dimmed, smothered by the Words he used to enclose them in his chambers, sheltering the room from unwanted listeners.

“There, that should let us speak in private. Go on,” Blaise invited, lowering his hand. “What is it you want from me?”

“If you find my slave, kill him. Make him vanish from this world. Give him to your God, or whatever it is you can do to erase his existence.” General Horthoe paused, swallowing before letting out a long sigh. “Please.”

Blaise’s mouth dropped open. “You’re asking me to kill a child.”

“Your God knows I’ve tried enough times, and failed to do it myself.”

“Why would you want to kill your own slave?” Blaise asked in a whisper, and the man’s complicated, tangled, emotion-filled memories were too fresh for him to ignore. General Horthoe’s eyes darkened with despair, souring his scent.

“He’s too gentle for this world, Bishop Blaise. All I’ve ever done is torture him. Now, all he’ll ever become is the Emperor’s most-feared weapon. How long will it be until he is no more than every other fool the Emperor has thrown at the Hand of God? I can’t do anything for him, not now. But you can, can’t you?” Horthoe bowed his head.

“I’m not usually someone who listens to confessions,” Blaise admitted. It’d been a problem in the past. While he didn’t laugh outright at the petty concerns of mortals, Blaise struggled to keep his disdain for their problems hidden. Coupled with the fact he just didn’t understand half of what bothered the humans, it was better for everyone involved if he avoided the worshipers wanting their sins absolved.

Blaise considered the man, who refused to look up from the floor. “I’m curious, General. What makes you believe I can do anything for your slave? I’m a child of God. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t see why you believe I’m qualified to help you.”

“You’ve the eyes of someone who has seen death without looking away,” General Horthoe replied. The man paused, frowning and rubbing at his clean-shaved jaw. “You’ll likely believe me insane when I admit this.”