Chains of a Dark Goddess (20 page)

Rain was falling. There was no light from the moons, no light at all except from lanterns hanging under the eaves of the buildings and the tower searchlights which scanned the grounds. 

As he fell, Breskaro cast the risky
spell of the wings of the bat
. If it failed, he likely collapse from exhaustion and maybe even pass out. As it was, it would drain a tremendous amount of energy from him. The spell worked. Giant, leathery wings violently appeared and unfurled from between his shoulder blades. The wings expanded, but not soon enough. He crashed into the barracks’ roof, spraining his left ankle. He hobbled down the other side, barely keeping his footing on the rain-slick roof. Breskaro leapt but didn’t get the vault he needed, despite the beating of the wings. Unable to clear the top of the outer wall, he slammed into the side. He caught the ledge and scrambled up.

Men were shouting. Horns blared. Dogs were howling. Guards raced down the wall toward him. Breskaro cast the
spell of prodigious leaping
and clutched his chest. The batwings took a lot of energy to maintain. The emerald in his eyes flickered. He took a deep breath, flapped the batwings, and launched himself up into the air. 

Crossbow strings twanged and bolts zipped past him. Breskaro climbed out of their range and flew south toward the encampment where he’d left a disgruntled Esha and the Rrakan knights. After two leagues, his lungs straining, his heart pounding, his wings began to falter. He plummeted and crashed into a muddy field. The shadowy batwings folded back into his body.

Breskaro rolled in pain, struggling to breathe.

“Harmulkot,” he uttered.

A voice came into his mind. “The Avidan magic of the priestess. I warned you it was potent. You will recover.”

“The life-force from Deltenya…”

“Remains in you. My qavra shielded you from the worst of it. You just need rest. I told you this was foolish.”

“Worth it ... needed banner.”

His breathing improved slowly. He faded in and out of consciousness. The Rrakans arrived. He couldn’t even rise to face them.

“Help him,” Esha said.

Larekal and Firrus placed Breskaro in the saddle. Esha climbed up behind him, held him in place, and took the reins.

“Will you be all right, master?”

He nodded.

“Where should we head?” Larekal asked.

“Deeper into Issalia. To the Shrine of Saint Norvus.”

Fading in and out of consciousness Breskaro pictured Kedimius, seven years older, a man by all measure now. He had loved Kedimius as his own son. He had looked forward to making his faithful squire his son-in-law. It pained him to see him now. It pained him that they were enemies. But if Kedimius got in his way, he
would
kill him. Only Orisala mattered.

~~~

Kedimius stabbed the dead guard through the gut, but the man pulled himself up the blade and latched his blood-stained fingers around Kedimius’s throat. The other corpse lurched forward.

“Light of Seshalla!” Ilsimia shouted.

Searing beams of light radiated from the crystal matrix in her hand and struck the animated corpses. With their flesh blistered and their eyes burned shut, the dead men reeled in confusion. 

Kedimius ripped his sword free and chopped deep into one guard’s neck, partially severing the head. The corpse fell, twitching, then went still. Kedimius leapt forward and did the same to the other. 

Ilsimia rushed to the broken window. “Maybe we can—” She gasped and pointed. “He — He grew wings. Giant batwings.”

Kedimius ran over in time to see Breskaro illuminated by a lantern from one of the watchtowers. Crossbow bolts zipped toward him to no avail. Breskaro’s wings beat several times and he disappeared into the dark.

“I’ve never even heard of such necromancy,” Ilsimia said. 

“Sir Fortrenzi!” Kedimius rushed over to the old man.

Fortrenzi was clutching at his mangled eyes. “It’s what I deserved. It’s what I deserved. Don’t kill me, lad. Don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Kedimius said. “It’s going to be all right.”

“Breskaro … Breskaro…”

“He’s gone, Sir Fortrenzi. He’s gone. We chased him away.”

Ilsimia tore a section from her robe and placed it across the old man’s eyes.

Kedimius took Fortrenzi’s hands. “Is it true what he said? Did you and General Togisi betray him?” 

Fortrenzi chocked back a sob. “It’s true … all true … Breskaro came for me — knew he would — the nightmares. Nothing can stop him …
nothing
.”

“We better get him downstairs and bring in a doctor,” Kedimius said. 

“General Togisi!” Ilsimia said. “We’ve got to tell him he’s in danger. If Breskaro hasn’t gotten to him already. He may be heading after him now.”

Sir Fortrenzi sobbed. “Nothing can stop him. Nothing can stop him. Nothing, nothing, nothing.”

Three guards rushed shouting reports of Breskaro flying away. Fortrenzi began screaming incoherently. Once Ilsimia calmed Fortrenzi down, the soldiers carried him downstairs. 

“When did you get that extra matrix?” Kedimius asked her.

“The Matriarch gave it to me before I left. She thought I might need it. The stone’s nearly spent now, though.” She picked up her staff and frowned at the shattered crystal on the end. “We must go at once to warn General Togisi and the Matriarch.”

Kedimius stared out the shattered window, into the rain and night.
Breskaro, my old friend
, he thought.
And my dear Orisala. Alive. Both of you alive.

Ilsimia put a hand on his shoulder. “Ked, I know how hard this must be. After seven years…”

“He was like a father to me and if what he said was—” He shook his head.

Ilsimia clenched her eyes and sighed mournfully. Kedimius didn’t notice.

“You can go to Issaly and warn them if you don’t trust a courier,” Kedimius said. “I’m going to track Breskaro. We don’t know that he will head directly after Magnus. I think it best to follow him.”

Chapter 29

Breskaro and his knights rode all day and into the night, racing past villages and through farmlands, until they reached a secluded marsh. Breskaro staggered over to a large cypress and fell back against it.

Esha joined him. “Did you have your vengeance, master?”

“I got what I went there for. And I saw my old friend Kedimius.”

“That’s good, right?”

“He once was like a son to me. Now I fear he is my enemy.” Breskaro closed his eyes and folded his hands into his lap. “I must rest.”

Esha drew out her sling and loaded it. “I’ll stand watch over you, master.”

Breskaro grinned beneath his mask and breathed himself into a deep meditation.

~~~

On the outskirts of the small town of Iori lay the Temple of Saint Norvus and the Grand Mausoleum of the Valiants. A bronze statue of Colonel Breskaro Varenni, Knight Champion of Seshalla, towered over the entrance to the marble mausoleum. In one hand the statue clutched a blood-stained banner, while the other hand held a sword into the air. A crystal tear gleamed on the statue’s cheek, and the eyes gazed up into the heavens.

Breskaro and his Knights of the Dark were on a wooded hill overlooking the mausoleum. There was little terrain between them, the mausoleum, and the town. The sun was setting. The teeming horde of pilgrims, who would pause to touch the statue’s feet and pray, was thinning.

“You were handsome,” Esha said.

“I think I prefer this face to that one,” Breskaro said.

The statue disgusted him because he knew it had absolutely nothing to do with him as a person. The Matriarch had turned him into an idea. It was one thing to became a tale told over drinks in a tavern or over a campfire on the battlefield. It was another thing to be turned into nothing more than a sermon to convert the disbeliever and comfort the masses.

“
You would be a saint in another generation
,” Harmulkot said in his mind.

“
Now I shall become a devil like you
,” he replied.

“I’d never in my craziest dream have thought,” said Larekal, “that I’d be fighting the Issalians alongside their greatest hero.”

“I’m a hero only to fools,” Breskaro said. “We conquered those who worshiped other gods. Killed, enslaved, raped, pillaged. And for what? A goddess of lies?”

“You just did what you thought was right. That’s all any man could do.”

His grip tightened on the reins. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Master,” said Esha, “how are we going to get down there without being seen?”

“There is no
we
. I will go alone and mask myself with spells. You will wait here and watch for an ambush. The Seshallans know that I’m alive now. Soon they will come after me.”

“Are you well enough?” she asked.

“My injuries have healed.” 

“You sure?” she asked. “Seems dangerous.”

“It
is
dangerous.” His tone darkened. “But more than worth the risk.”

~~~

It was after midnight when Breskaro reached the mausoleum. All the pilgrims and clergy were gone. Only two guards stood at the entrance to the mausoleum. They didn’t spot Breskaro crouched among the shadows and camouflaged by the
spell of personal obscuration
.

“
Hellfire
,” Harmulkot said.

“
Not unless I have to. I need more practice.
”

His footsteps muffled by the
spell of silence
, Breskaro sneaked up and leapt forward. With one swift movement, he cut the throat of the first guard. The second looked at him in surprise. Guarding a tomb of dead heroes was supposed to be an easy job. A ceremonial position as a reward for exemplary service on the battlefield.  

Breskaro plunged his sword deep into the second guard’s chest. Withdrawing his blade, he glanced around and saw no one.  He cursed at the statue of himself, pulled open the great oak doors, and stepped in. 

~~~

On their way to takeover for the next shift, two new guards rounded the corner. Both men flinched when they saw the bodies and Breskaro with his blade in hand darting into the mausoleum.

They silently drew their swords. The younger took a step toward the entrance, but his companion threw out an arm to stop him and shook his head.

“Backup,” he mouthed. 

His partner nodded and the pair slipped back around the corner of the building, out of earshot. 

“He just killed two men,” said the older guard. “And he may have accomplices. Best to get backup. Captain Foria gathered his rangers for a training exercise about an hour ago. If you hurry, you can catch up to them. I’ll keep watch here.”

~~~

Breskaro closed the giant doors and walked through the mausoleum. The walls were adorned with reliefs depicting the actions of the Valiants throughout the crusades. A baptismal font was off to the left of the entrance, and to the right was a simple altar, three pews, and a collection box. The sarcophagi of the Valiants themselves were lined up in two rows of forty each. A marble slab sculpted with a generic soldier’s frame covered each body. A plaque at the front of each sarcophagus identified the soldier’s name, age, rank, and home province. At the end of the two lines were Breskaro’s top officers, Captain Amrasi and Sergeant Ovikian. Beyond them were several rows of kneeling benches facing a pedestal which bore another statue of Breskaro with a larger statue of golden-eyed Seshalla looming above him with her hands upon his shoulders.

Breskaro dropped the
spell of personal obscuration
and cast the
spell of the strength of three men
. He lifted the sculpted slab clear of Amrasi’s body and set it on the floor. Amrasi’s skin was gray and patched. Two fingers were missing from his left hand. A wicked scar ran down his face, neck, and chest where they had crudely sewn the tissue back up before embalming him. But they
had
embalmed him, using techniques normally afforded only to the wealthy.

Breskaro lifted his hands over the corpse. The Akythiri Mechanism woke and thrummed. Concentric waves of energy pulsed from Breskaro’s hands and radiated over Amrasi’s body. It was far more than ten times the energy he had used on the dead priestess. The corpse stirred. Flaccid eyes roamed around the mausoleum. The corpse sat up and vomited embalming fluid. Then it spoke in a weak growl that was still recognizable as the voice of Amrasi.

“Master ... what ... do you wish?”

“Do you know who I am?”

“You are...” The eyes sparked with recognition, then the spark faded. “You are my master.”

“Do you remember who you were?” Breskaro asked.

Amrasi’s eyes wandered the room. “I am ... I am a soldier. A knight. I am ... your captain. I am one who would follow you into death.”

“And so you did.” The corpse nodded and Breskaro smiled. “Rise, Captain Amrasi.”

The corpse stood on creaking legs and ambled forward.

“You will do my bidding in all things, Captain Amrasi. You will command the undead of my army. You will answer only to me.” 

“Yes, master.”

“Now, help me free the other bodies. We have much to do and we must leave here quickly. Before we are discovered ... and before the dawn. You won’t like the daylight.”