Birth of a Mortal God (26 page)

Jessica could have sworn she saw a flash of surprise and fear in the stranger’s face before he continued, “I have been blessed; this I do not deny. However, the Eye of Heaven is the subject of our conversation, not I. I assure you Lord Killmar, that we do, indeed, have it in our possession.”

“Ryuuhan, you are being unusually aggressive about this. I have never known you to be this bloodthirsty.”

The Emperor sighed and the weight of his rule could clearly be seen. “I am old, Killmar. Too old for the chaos war brings, and I will not leave such a burden on my successor. Ending an inevitable war without shedding a single drop of Eranian blood is something that I would do anything for, even hand over the Eye of Heaven.”

“I want to authenticate the Eye,” he answered before glancing at Jessica.

It was all she needed as an explanation. She understood what the Eye of Heaven could mean for him. The gem was said to have been crafted by the gods themselves. No one was sure exactly what its effects were; only that those who had possessed it in the past are now remembered as legendary individuals. Some scholars had even come to believe that it was not a gem at all, but a metaphor for valour, intellect, and wisdom.

Joneras turned to the Emperor enquiringly. “Show it to him.”

“As you wish, Your Eminence,” answered the mage before closing his eyes and mouthing a few words. He then reached into his robe and retrieved a small box. “Here it is.”

Killmar walked over and took the box, slowly opening it. A rainbow of colours burst from the box. He reached into the box and took out the gem. It was a thumb-sized equilateral gem; each of its facets reflected a different colour that in turn kept on shifting to different shades.

Jessica moved a bit closer to him. “Is it real?”

He turned to her, and she knew the answer. “Cover your eyes, Jessica. Cover them now!”

Her hands had barely reached her eyes when light erupted from the gem, turning her sight blood-red as it pierced through flesh and skin. But most notable was the laughter that came from the man she loved, it seemed to vibrate within her very bones.

The radiance slowly subsided, and she uncovered her eyes. Everyone in the hall lay on the ground unconscious, except for the Royal Family and their imperial mage. Joneras had erected a dark blue barrier that now broke on the floor like shattered glass, disappearing into nothingness.

The Eye of Heaven was gone, and Killmar tossed aside the small box. “You have gained great favour from me this day, Ryuuhan. I will crush the Kingdom and the tribes as you wish, but only if they approach your borders. Until such time, I will stay within your Empire.”

He was still a bit shaken, but the Emperor answered with clear relief, “Thank you. You are welcome to stay here in the palace with us as long as you wish.”

He smiled then turned to Jessica. “Let us retire. I have much to tell you.”

The Summoning

“D
amn him!”

The words contained as much fear as they did rage as the glass goblet shattered in the hearth of his personal quarters, the fire roaring at the taste of wine.

A knock on the door calmed the cursing ewien. “The members have assembled; they are all waiting for you to begin the ritual, Master Joneras.”

He pushed back his ashen hair and straightened his robe before leaving his quarters. With each step he took towards the Council Chamber, he felt fear spread through his veins, filling him with an icy cold trepidation. He pushed open the doors to the chamber and found that the eight other council members already stood around the gigantic crystal bowl, the runes on its rims burning a hungry crimson in the dark. Each member was concealed by the robes of the Harbingers of Obscurity; a black robe with the dark purple glyph of their lord on the back, their hands the only visible part of their bodies.

“You are late,” said one of the eight council members, his voice a deep gurgling sound.

Joneras strode over to the spot left open for him. “That is because I am not looking forward to this report. Where are the sacrifices?”

Another council member pointed upward with his finger-like tentacles. Joneras tilted his head back and saw seven-hundred and twenty-nine unconscious humans hanging over the crystal bowl, iron shackles biting into their flesh. “Hmmm, efficient. Let us begin.”

The room broke into a sea of murmurs as each council member chanted his verses for the ritual. As the runes gained in intensity, a dark purple smoke started seething from them. Slowly, it slithered upwards towards the unconscious bodies until it finally enveloped its first victim. More smoke was spawned from the runes for each sacrifice enveloped, and as the chanting continued, so did the smoke’s hunger until it finally covered all of the suspended bodies. The council members simultaneously slapped their palms together in front of their chests, and their chants seemed to fade away, as if they, too, were being consumed by the smoke.

The dark purple cloud drew back to the crystal bowl, filling it up, leaving behind nothing but empty chains before transmuting into a liquid.

“Why do you bother me?” asked a handsome masculine voice from the bowl as the council ceased their chants.

Joneras swallowed. “Oh Lord of Lords, Master of the Ninth Hell, I beg for forgiveness.”

“Joneras, you seem to be confused. If you seek forgiveness, then pray to the gods, for you’ll find none from me. I have told you of Killmar, and what is to be done. Why do you implore me for forgiveness?” asked the voice calmly.

“Killmar took the Eye of Heaven and—”

“Why did you hand over the Eye? I thought you to be intelligent. I assume he drained the object and now will not go do as we asked?” interrupted the composed voice.

“Yes, My Lord. He stated that he’ll prevent any invasion on the Empire, but will not go join the battle. If the Emperor didn’t order—”

“Stop. I do not care for excuses. I assume you have an alternate plan to have him follow the strategy I have devised?”

“Yes, My Lord. Killmar seems to have taken a wife. We will use her,” said Joneras, sweat burning his eyes.

The voice chuckled. “Him? A wife? Oh my, he never ceases to surprise and entertain. Oh, how I miss him. Do as you please. Be warned though, even with the blessings I have bestowed upon you, you are no match for him. He is so much more than any of you can comprehend.”

Drops of perspiration wet the floor as Joneras bowed. “I will not fail you, My Lord.”

“Oh and, Joneras, I do not forgive, I punish,” said the voice as Joneras howled in pain. Blood and flesh seemed to dissolve and disappear from his right arm leaving only bone and skin. “Next time, I will be more creative with your punishment,” said the voice before the liquid reverted back to smoke and dissipated.

Sebastian awoke at
an all too familiar pain. With his right foot caked in blood and dirt, he kicked the rat off his left. He had gotten used to the rank mixture of excrement, intestines, and other bodily fluids that seemed to choke the air in the dungeon; even the screams of agony and despair no longer bothered him. Though it was the rats that seemed hell-bent on devouring him alive whenever he attempted sleep. It presented a somewhat difficult circumstance to become accustomed to.

Slowly, he pushed himself upright, resting his back against the slick, cold stones of his cell. Only a single torch against a far-off wall staved off utter darkness. Though it helped his sanity, it did not provide much in the way of illumination. Absently, he wondered how much time had passed since he’d been stripped and tossed in this cell to rot. Was his fool of a brother already waging his mad war, or was there still time to stop him?

“Stop him? You can barely defend yourself against rodents. How do you propose to stop a mad king?” he said to himself bitterly.

Echoing footsteps heralded the approach of a guard. He wondered what kind of hellish concoction would be presented as food today. He wished they would just always serve the mouldy stale bread he got on occasion, instead of these mystery dishes the resident torturer brewed. He assumed it was indeed the torturer’s handy work, for no man who calls himself a cook would concoct such foul-tasting swill.

The guard stopped in front of his cell. There was a moment of silence as if he was unsure what to do, then he whispered, “My Prince, is that you?”

His body had suffered during his incarceration, but his mind had not. “James? How did you get down here?”

The young man unlocked the gate, closing it softly behind him. “The King conscripted every able-bodied man within the Kingdom and only left a handful of men behind to keep the peace, before marching off with his army. Since then, those poor sods have had their hands full stopping looters from burning down the capital. Yesterday, I got word that they pulled most of the guards from this lovely establishment, and by most, I mean all but one. And that unfortunate soul had a run-in with a cudgel. Now forgive my impudence, My Prince, but I think you’d best go on an extended visit to the East.”

Sebastian laughed and instantly regretted doing so as pain shot through his chest. “I take it you have a plan on how to achieve this?”

James flashed a wolfish grin as he retrieved a clerical robe of Henensu out of his rucksack. “Well, for the most part. You might have to weigh in once we reach the Coalition.”

Sebastian inspected the black robe and looked at the young man enquiringly.

He shrugged. “It wasn’t easy to come by, but I’d like to see a watchman brave enough to stop and question a cleric of Henensu.”

Sebastian smiled and a tear ran down his cheek. “Gods, I have never been so happy to have a squire.”

Jessica rolled off
her lover, her heart drumming in her chest. “I thought you had much to tell me. When is that going to happen?”

“How can I when you keep distracting me?” answered Killmar as he traced a finger along the valley between her breasts.

“You seem happy.”

“Well, considering what we have been doing, I think a little happiness is in order,” he said with a light kiss.

Her rosy cheeks darkened ever so slightly at the remark. “That is not what I meant. Ever since you drained the Eye of Heaven, you seem, I don’t know . . . different, but in a good way.”

He interlocked his fingers behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “That would be because I have much cause to be happy. Not only have I strengthened my vessel’s integrity enough so that it is no longer being devoured by my power, I-”

“You mean to say you’re no longer dying?” she interrupted with welled up tears.

He spied a few runaways streaking down her cheeks and smiled. “I did not expect you to be this heartbroken at the news of my improved health. I might have to go and get myself mortally wounded now.”

She laughed and snuggled against him. “They’re not those kinds of tears. I knew the Eye of Heaven was powerful, but . . .”

“No one is more surprised than I. In all my time spent in this realm, I have never encountered an artefact that came remotely close to the power wielded by even the weakest of spiritual beings. But this was different; it was like the Eye was a physical crystallised piece of refined quenru. Something I did not even think possible. I suspect it might have been a by-product from the mass-scale mortal magic that was involved with the creation of my prison; somewhat ironic that it ended up being my salvation.”

“Indeed,” she agreed.

“But that is not why I seem so blissful.”

“Really?” she said, surprised. “What could possibly be of more importance to you?”

“You,” he said as he stared into her bright blue eyes. “You are with child, Jessica.”

“I am with what?” she exclaimed as she sat up.

“With child. You do realise what we have been doing is well known to be the cause?” he said mockingly.

“It is impossible,” she declared.

“I assure you, it is-”

“No! You don’t understand. When I was sold to the Duke . . . I was made to drink a potion . . . I am barren, Killmar,” she said as painful memories clawed their way to the surface.

There was a slight expression of shock on his face before he turned reflective. After a long while, he finally said, “The spring! It must have happened at the spring!”

“What?” she asked confused.

“Remember when I healed your injuries in that hot spring near Larin months past? I must have unintentionally mended whatever harm that potion wrought. That must be it,” he insisted.

Jessica moved her hands to her flat belly. “A child? I never thought . . . a child. Yours and mine.”

He wrapped his arms around her petite form, putting his hands over hers. “This child is truly blessed to have you as a mother, as am I to call you wife.”

She kissed his arms. “What of you? Is the mighty god Killmar prepared to be called Father?”

He hugged her tightly, burying his face in her soft black hair. “I have witnessed so many incredible things, Jessica. But none has ever quite made me feel so jovial and uneasy at the same time. I find it most intriguing.”

“I take that as a yes then,” she declared before the both of them burst into laughter.

Joneras stood with
his eight peers and watched as 6,561 tools poured the transparent liquid from their jugs onto the ground in careful formation so as to draw a colossal glyph of the Lord of Lords. “Make sure there are no mistakes.”

“Yes, Master Joneras,” came the reply from the thralls.

He turned to one of his fellow council members. “You are certain no one can detect that this area has been glamoured?”

“Joneras, I need no oversight. I’ve been weaving illusions since before you were born,” answered the council member in a high-pitched voice. “Only a few archmages within the Guild possess the skill to detect what I’ve done here, and even then, they’d have a hard time dispelling it. As for the shang’gomagarr spread out in the nearby woods, they generally use joint effort to manipulate the destructive forces of nature to impressive results granted. However, they possess nearly no skill in the purely arcane disciplines needed for detecting and weaving illusions.”