Two (The Godslayer Cycle Book 2) (11 page)

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 horse, 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.

Nathaniel paced.  It was all he could think to do.  Since Brea insisted on being alone with Derik, it left him and Bracken alone with Alsen.  And neither he nor the dwarf felt comfortable with being in the sellsword's company.  Though he had put away his sword, he had still presented a real and credible threat that made it difficult to simply relax in his presence.

Worse still was the obvious risk Derik himself posed.  If what Alsen said was true, Derik was not exactly complicit in his enfeeblement, and to have his wits returned would not likely leave him in the most amiable of moods.  And if the priestess' use of magic upon the horse was any indication, she would be left powerless to defend herself should she succeed in removing the geas upon the other mercenary.

“Yer gonna crack the groun', ya keeps a' it,” commented Bracken.

Nathaniel stopped and cast an erstwhile glance in the direction Brea had gone.  The party had sheltered some distance within the trees once the fire had begun to rain from the sky, settling into a clearing several hundred feet removed from where they had made camp the night before.  Yet it had been back in the direction of the camp that Brea had gone.

“That's it,” the man announced, reaching back and taking
One
from its sheath. 

Alarm registered on the dwarf's face as Nathaniel vanished from sight.  “She's no' gonna 'preciate yer followin' her,” he grumped.

Nathaniel ignored the dwarf and set off through the trees.  He knew that
One
's power would mask his presence and that Brea would not even know he was there.  But at least he would be within reach should Derik try to retaliate.

The notion that he even cared about the priestess' welfare confused him, but it was unmistakable to Nathaniel that he did care.  Whether it was the lingering effects of the stranger's use of magic upon them that morning or simply a desire to shelter anyone in need from harm, he could not say.  Regardless of the motivation, however, he could not resist the compulsion to act.  He had resisted the urge initially, but in the end he had succumbed.

Nathaniel found Brea sprawled over the mercenary's body at the edge of the clearing where they had all camped the night before.  At first sight, he feared that he had waited too long, that Derik had already acted.  Yet when he rushed to the woman's side, he found only that they both rested.

Whether successful or not, the magics Brea used now exhausted her, just as Nathaniel had feared.  If this was going to be a consistent pattern, he predicted that the woman would never be able to use magic again without the need of protection after each casting.  Otherwise, she was virtually helpless.

The would-be rescuer sheathed his sword and knelt down beside the priestess.  “Brea,” he said softly, doing his best to rouse the woman without waking the mercenary.

Nathaniel reached down and drew Brea gently back from the body of her patient, resting her lightly in the crook of his arm.  “Brea, you need to wake up.”

A soft moan escaped the priestess' lips and her eyes opened drowsily.  She smiled, and closed her eyes again, snuggling into his chest.  “Nathan,” she whispered before drifting again into bliss.

With a sigh, Nathaniel hooked his other arm under the woman's legs and lifted her easily.  Derik would simply have to wait, he thought.
Let his brother deal with him
, he decided.

Only a few minutes' walk separated Nathaniel from where he had left Alsen and Bracken, but in that time, the swaying of her body roused Brea from her rest.  This time, when she looked up at the man, she registered confusion instead of acceptance, however. 

“Nathan?” she fumbled.  “Where's Derik?”

“
Back where I found you,” Nathaniel responded.  There seemed to be more expected from him, as Brea “I can go back for him after you're safely back with Bracken.”

Brea suddenly seemed to realize she was being carried and pushed back from Nathaniel's chest.  “Can you put me down, please?  I am more than capable of walking.”

Nathaniel set the priestess down just as Bracken came up to the pair.  “Only 'er?” the dwarf prompted.  Alsen was close upon the dwarf's heels, awaiting a response.

“
He rests,” answered Brea.  In response to the obvious agitation from the sellsword, she added.  “He will rest through the day and evening, healing from his experience.”

“
He rests,” Alsen repeated acidly.

Brea stiffened.  “I do not appreciate your tone.”

“It's just convenient that you get to walk back, but Derik is 'resting',” said the young man.

Brea faced the mercenary for a moment before responding.  “It is true that there was some concern that Derik might seek to retaliate, which would have forced another confrontation.  Considering how unpredictable my abilities are now, there was no way to assure that he would not end up worse than he was before.  This option will provide some distance between us, so that you will both be permitted to go your own way and perhaps give Derik the incentive he needs to not force another consequence for his behavior.”

“So you plan to leave before he wakes up?  And I am to take your word that when he does, he will be normal?”

Nathaniel stepped forward.  “You will need to, won't you?”

Alsen reached for his sword, but Bracken nudged him from the side, hoisting his own axe to remind the man exactly how many he faced should he draw.  Reluctantly, the sellsword released his hold upon his weapon, raising both hands into the air.

“
I am clearly without a choice, it seems,” he grumbled.  “But know this,
Lady
Brea.  Should my brother not recover, I will not rest until I have sought you out and made you account for what you have done.”

“
There will be no need,” Brea said simply.

Alsen cast a glance around the group one last time, then ducked his head and walked away, carrying himself with as much dignity as he could manage while still avoiding the eyes of anyone else.

Once the sellsword had passed out of sight, Bracken hefted his axe to his shoulder.  “M'thinks we shoul' be on our way soon's possible.  No' ta doubt the Lady's magic or nuthin, bu' I'd rather 'void the chance yer wrong.”

“
I can understand your concern,” Brea said.  “Magic – or at least how I now see magic – is still somewhat new to me, but I know I removed the magic binding Derik.”  She shrugged.  “I can't explain it, I just know.”

“
An' have ya considered wha' harm may 'ave been dealt while air were cut off ta the man's brain?”  Bracken began to look around himself, gauging how soon they could gather what was left of their supplies and tackle.  “Magic or no, you hurt the man's mind, an' tha' doesn' just go 'way 'cause ya took away the spell.”

Brea smirked.  “That's not how magic works, dwarf.”

Bracken's left eye squinted.  “Yer sure?  Yer such a expert now, are ya?  Seems to me, yer knowin' how magic worked woulda been real helpful in 'voidin' this mess ta 'gin with.”

Brea was about to retort when Nathaniel reached out and took her arm.  “I don't think any of us
really
know how magic works, or none of us would be where we are.  I say we set this aside and move on.  Besides, even if you're right, Brea, can you guarantee Derik won't want revenge for what you did?”

Brea did not respond right away, but eventually her shoulders sunk in resignation.  “You're right.  Even if the damage is undone, he will be angry, and I cannot guarantee that he won't seek vengeance.  'The greater the distance, the weaker the ire,' says the Codex Imeretia, and I have found it to be truth.”

“The Codex what?” asked Nathaniel, releasing his hold on Brea so he could begin gathering what supplies had not departed with the horses.

Brea blushed.  “It is the scripture of Imery. Only priests are permitted to read it.”

“Or 'parently ta even know it exists,” grumped Bracken.  The dwarf moved over to the felled horse, still lying on its side.  “Think ya can do somethin' 'bout the horse?  Or are we 'sposed ta carry him now?”

“
You would know of them if you were faithful of Imery,” retorted Brea, moving over to kneel beside the horse.  “All her faithful are taught from its pages.” 

Brea closed her eyes and called upon the inner sight which had granted her the ability to remove Derik's enchantment.  This time, the sight came to her instantly without any resistance, presumably because she now knew consciously how to summon it.  She could see the magic twined around the body of the beast, and with a casual mental tug, was able to remove it.  The horse's eyes went wide once it realized it was free, and it immediately thrust back from the priestess, pulling its legs under it as it did so.

The horse stood hesitantly, eying Brea with trepidation.  Its hesitation though cost it any choice in how to respond to its new-found freedom, however, as Bracken seized his tether, drawing the horse towards where he had secured the other three.  “There, there,” cooed the dwarf gruffly. 

Had Nathaniel not witnessed the dwarf's care of the horses during their sojourn, he would have suspected he had no talent for handling the beasts.  Bracken's behavior appeared stiff and defensive now, as opposed to the gentle nature he had displayed previously.  Clearly, whatever grudge he had towards Brea was affecting his attitude towards the horses.  Nathaniel could only hope that though his temperament was affected, that his care would not.

“Did you say you could find where that one fire landed?” asked Nathaniel, as he secured the bridle of one of the horses.  As he did so, he made a reckoning of what had both been lost.

Originally, Bracken and Nathaniel had had their own horses, and Brea's party had had four – an extra having been used as a pack animal.  During the storm, Bracken's beast had fled, as had the pack horse, carrying with it a good portion of Brea's original gear.  Had the group not been forced to flee into the woods prior to fully packing the horse, they would have lost it all.  Fate had intervened though, providing that at least the rations that had not been packed and some bedding which fell away as the horse fled had been left behind.  However, what moneys Nathaniel and the dwarf had with them were in the saddlebags of Bracken's horse, leaving the pair without the means to replace anything lost.

At least
One
was strapped to Nathaniel's back, and
First
had been secured to Nathaniel's horse.

Bracken grumped.  “When a dwarf canna find 'is direction is the day 'e is no longer a dwarf.”

Brea's eye caught sight of something at the base of one of the trees and moved over to retrieve it.  “Are dwarf's so infallible with direction?”

Bracken guffawed.  “How ya think we coul' find our way un'er the mountain?  Dwarfs can find their way in any d'rection.  When tha' fire fell, I may notta known where 'zactly it hit, bu' I know the d'rection an' the distance.  So's I can take ya righ' to it.”

Brea was a little disappointed to discover that all she had found was a discarded shirt belonging to one of the absent mercenaries, most likely.  Shrugging, she still collected it and returned it to Nathaniel to pack on the horse.  “Might need a rag sometime,” she commented.

Nathaniel took the shirt without comment and stuffed it in one of the saddlebags.  “I think we've got everything,” he said.  “Should we mount, Bracken?”

“Best ta lead 'em,” said the dwarf.  “We'll be trekkin' through the trees, an' it's hard on 'em no' knowin' how sure the ground'll be.”

“
Lead away then,” said Nathaniel, grabbing the reign of the pack beast and his own mount.  The others each grabbed the reign of one of the other horses and the trio set out, following the dwarf into the woods.

The late autumn weather lent an auburn cast to the scenery.  Much of what lay upon the ground now was freshly fallen from the odd storm, so that they made more of a wet slushy sound as they moved rather than the expected brittleness of crackling leaves. 

For the most part, the group traveled in silence.  Whatever remained to be said between them had been set aside for another time, as their loose alliance towards a common goal held their tongues in check.  But Nathaniel knew there
were
unresolved issues and that sooner or later they would need to be expunged if they were to travel any great distance together.  And not the least of those unspoken concerns were the suppressed feelings the priestess and he now shared.

Bracken drew up short without warning, squinting into the distance to the group's right.  Absently, the dwarf passed his lead to Nathaniel.  “Wait here,” was all he said before wandering off a distance into the trees.  He did not go far however before he beckoned the others to join him, his arm flapping urgently.

“What is it?” asked Nathaniel.

“
See this tree?”  Bracken rested his hand upon the base of what appeared to be some kind of berry tree, green, yellow and violet bulbous berries scattered amongst the lower branches.  “It's a fusang.  It's s'posed ta be a myth'cal tree, rumored ta be one o' the trees o' life.”

Brea looked around at the surrounding woods.  “Why is there only one?  Shouldn't there be a grove of them?”

Bracken smirked.  “Leave it ta a priestess ta no' know 'bout the trees o' life.”