Forging Divinity (9 page)

Taelien frowned. “You don’t have to take any risks for my sake. Now that I’m aware of the situation, I can take care of myself.”

She gave Taelien a conciliatory glance. “I’m sure you’re a very competent swordsman, but you have to understand that the sword you’re carrying is the single most important object to my faith. Leaving you alone in the city with the Sae’kes would be unforgivable. Especially considering Myros is going to be looking for you.”

Jonan’s eyes widened at that. “Myros? What, why?”

“One of the sorcerers called him in. He should be here within a few days.”

“Um, I don’t like saying this, but you probably should both just leave in that case,” Jonan mumbled.
Vaelien curse it, why can’t things ever be simple? Myros getting his hands on that Sae’kes would be colossally bad.

“Why are you so concerned? Is Myros known for some sort of divine tracking capabilities or some such?” Taelien stretched his neck from side to side.

Lydia shook her head. “No, he’s the local god of battle. It’s not that he’s known for any particular type of sorcery. If Myros arrives and you haven’t already been caught, he’s going to throw the entire city’s resources at finding you. I might be able to slow that process down somewhat, but Jonan is right – we’d be smarter to leave before he arrives.”

Taelien tightened his jaw. “Fine. I don’t like it, but we can plan to leave before Myros arrives. In the meantime, we can help Jonan and look for Erik Tarren.”

“You’ll still need a way to avoid notice in the meantime. The house we’re staying in belongs to a man about your size,” Jonan offered. “You can probably fit into some of his clothes.”

“Are those really yours to offer?” Taelien inquired dubiously.

Jonan nodded. “Yes, everything here is at my disposal.”

“Very well, then,” Taelien said. “I suppose we should free your hands.”

“I’ll do it,” Lydia said, surprising Jonan. He had not expected her to agree. She moved gracefully over to him and began fidgeting with the knots.

“You can just cut them,” Jonan offered. “I have other rope.”

“No need to be wasteful,” Lydia insisted, continuing to work at the main knot.

“Just to be clear,” Jonan asked, “Do you both agree to keep what I’ve just explained to you a secret?”

“Sure,” Taelien said. “I can keep a secret.”

“For the time being,” Lydia agreed. “If I think I can gather more information by revealing a portion of it, I may need to do that.”

Lovely. My head is going to be on a pike by this time next week.

“I can avoid telling people that you are the source of the information, if that would ease your mind,” Lydia offered.

Jonan nodded hastily. “That would preferable. Who are you planning to talk to?”

“The other court sorcerers may have information on Edon’s rise to power. Some of them have been here many years longer than I have,” she explained.

Jonan turned his head to the side inquisitively. “You’re still planning to deal with the other court sorcerers? Shouldn’t you be avoiding them as much as possible?”

“Let me worry about that,” she said, flashing a grin, pulling on the end of a rope and undoing the last of the knots all at once. The ropes came free into her hand. Jonan flexed his wrists gratefully.

Jonan locked the door to his bedroom. He had instructed his guests on where they could find everything they might need for the evening, and to knock loudly if they needed him.

Sighing in exhaustion, Jonan walked over to his bed, pulling down the covers. He sat on the bed, adjusted the pillows, and lied down for a few moments before standing back up.

Shaking his head, he walked around to the other side of the bed and adjusted the sheets further. After a moment of examination, he walked away contented, tapping a finger on the mirror on the table beside his bed.

With that done, Jonan stepped back to the middle of the room, lifting a heavy rug that covered a section of the wooden floor. He couldn’t see the trap door that he had just uncovered, but he knew the location of the invisible latch from months of practice.

He flipped the latch and opened the door, stepping down onto the stairs to the room below. On his way down, he grabbed the corner of the rug and the handle on the top of the trap door, dragging them back into position as he advanced downward.

With the trap door closed, the chamber was pitch black. He tapped the right side of his head with a finger. The gesture was all he needed to cast a familiar spell, enabling him to see perfectly in the dark room.

His sight restored, Jonan locked the trap door and headed down into his real bedroom. The room was about the same size as his false bedroom above, but barely tall enough to stand in, and far more cluttered. A dozen tall mirrors lined the walls, and a smaller bed, as well as a writing desk and chair, took up much of the remainder of the chamber.

Jonan walked to a mirror on the right side of the new bed first, tapping a finger against the surface. His reflection vanished, the mirror showing instead an image of the room above – the vision of the mirror’s twin. He gazed into the image for a moment to determine if the mirror was still sitting at a good angle to display the entire chamber, nodding in satisfaction as he concluded that it was.

He briefly scanned each of the other mirrors, checking to see if anything significant had changed. Of the twelve mirrors, nine were currently active. Five were used to communicate with contacts that he had established since coming to the city. Only one of these was contacts was affiliated with the Order of Vaelien in any way, and he didn’t even know where they fell in the organization’s web of members and mercenaries.

The Order of Vaelien itself consisted of priests of Vaelien, but like most of the largest religions on the continent, they had several other organizations in their service. The Thornguard was their military branch, and comparable to the Paladins of Tae’os in function. Each of the Vae’kes also had their own servants, some of whom were formally employed by the priesthood.

The two most famous of the Vae’kes were Aayara, the Lady of Thieves, and Jacinth, the Blackstone Assassin. Legends depicted the pair as both rivals and lovers, always seeking an advantage in contests that lasted for centuries. As a child, Jonan had found these stories entertaining, even romantic. Now, with personal experience as a piece on their game board, he found nothing compelling about contests waged atop a field of corpses.

It was an open secret that the order also employed a branch of spies and assassins, who were informally referred to as ‘Blackstones’, named after the title that Jacinth used. Finally, the order also employed numerous uncategorized workers – everything from stonemasons to build temples, to blacksmiths, to scribes. Ostensibly, Jonan fell into this last category, employed as a glassblower. In reality, he was just a somewhat better concealed spy for the Thornguard. He suspected his contact in the city was probably similar – someone who wouldn’t be found on the rolls for the Thornguard, but was in their pay and service.

His other contacts in the city were numerous. Only the most significant warranted mirrors for constant communication. These included a palace guard in the High Palace – the location where the Queen Regent herself resided – as well as two information brokers that often provided conflicting information, a former apprentice to one of the court sorcerers, and a woman who claimed to be an officer in a local guild of thieves.

He privately suspected that one of the two information brokers was actually the real thieves guild representative, and that the “guild member” he was speaking to was in the broker’s employ, but he could afford to pay them both and let them play their games. Vaelien’s coffers were in no danger of running dry.

Tired
, he considered,
but I have a letter to write.

Jonan sat at the writing desk, picking up a fresh piece of parchment and dipping a quill in one of the nearby inkwells. After a moment of consideration, he drafted a simple message.

I have the prisoner. Establishing trust. Identity still uncertain. Paladins of Tae’os involved.

He kept the letter brief. Jonan liked to sound mysterious.

Half-smirking in amusement, Jonan moved the quill and picked up the parchment, blowing on the ink softly in an effort to dry it faster. After a few impatient moments, he picked up the message and placed it directly against the surface of the mirror directly to the left of his bed.

He stepped out of the mirror’s sight – his contact could not know his identity – and tapped the surface of the mirror.

There was no visible sign that his spell had taken effect, and as always, he waited a few moments before tapping the surface again. The delay was unnecessary; the image of the letter had been sent the instant he had touched the glass, and the image would remain frozen in the twin mirror now that he had disabled the spell. He just liked to wait a few seconds. It made him feel more comfortable that the sorcery was going to work, since he had no way of visually discerning if it had done anything at all.

With the message sent, Jonan picked up the letter, carefully tearing away the portion on which he had written the text. He hated wasting good parchment – it had been a rare luxury when he was a child, and he had never broken the habit of reusing the pieces of the paper that had not been written on. Putting the blank piece on the table, Jonan tore the inked portion to shreds. He would burn the pieces later to be thorough, but it was important to dispose of his communications immediately, just in case he was somehow discovered.

Vaelien, I sometimes I really wish you’d give me simpler assignments.

The majority of what Jonan had told Lydia was true, but he had deliberately omitted the specifics of his actual mission. The missing Rethri were the catalyst for his assignment, but not the goal. Edon and his religion were a growing problem. Jonan’s responsibilities were discovering how Edon was faking his godhood and then solving the Edon problem by whatever means were necessary.

I’m not an assassin,
his own words echoed in his mind.
Though by the end of this, I very well might have to be.

He wiped his ink-stained fingers on a well-used rag and retreated to his bed, exhausted. His vision had been reduced to a blur by his rapid uses of sight sorcery, but it hardly mattered. With a tap against the left side of his head, Jonan’s vision went black, and he crawled his way beneath the covers to sleep.

Chapter IV – An Attempt at Teamwork

Taelien woke to find Lydia sitting in a chair near the door of their guest bedroom. She had a book sitting on her lap, but she had turned toward him seemingly instantly when his eyes blinked open.

There was already sunlight creeping in the window to his right, indicating that he had slept too long.

“Mm,” he mumbled, sitting up. “You could have woken me.”

Lydia nodded sleepily. “I could’ve, but it looked like you needed the sleep more.”

And you probably still don’t trust Jonan not to slit your throat in your sleep.

Taelien grabbed his sheathed weapon from within the sheets and pushed himself out of the bed, walking over to the nearby dresser. Jonan had indicated the clothes inside would most likely fit him, so he set the sword atop the dresser and began to search for something to wear. “I can take over watch as soon as I’m dressed,” he said without glancing back toward Lydia.

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied. “As soon as we’ve had a chance to speak to Jonan about our plan of action, I’ll head back to the palace and sleep in my own room.”

The swordsman frowned. Lydia’s constant suspicion and distrust about everything was starting to get frustrating.

He found a suitable pair of trousers and a light brown tunic, pulling them on. The trousers were a little bit short, but still a considerable improvement over wearing the robes Lydia had given him.

After another minute, he also managed to find some clean socks, slipping those on as well. His legs were still a bit sore from the “greaves” he had worn the previous day, and he resolved himself not to make any more clothing out of metal until he was better at making complex shapes.

Fastening his belt around his waist, he turned toward Lydia. “How do I look?” he inquired, striking what he thought was a dashing pose.

“Like a peasant wearing a sword three times too expensive for him to own,” Lydia said dryly, “But still an improvement.”

Taelien scoffed. “I doubt anyone will be paying me too much scrutiny, now that the sword looks ordinary.”

“It doesn’t look precisely ordinary. The pommel is far too large, and the scabbard stands out considerably as well. Why is it lined with metal?” the sorceress asked.

Taelien grinned. “That’s a trade secret.”

Lydia rolled her eyes in response. “Very well, but it would be best if I’m well versed in your capabilities if you expect me to continue to protect you.”

Taelien folded his arms across his chest. “I’m grateful for your help, but I don’t need protection. I’m fairly well trained with a sword. If you want to work together to investigate Donovan, that’s great, but I-“

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously.” Lydia narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t just mean protecting you physically. Not every problem can be handled by a sword. You’re going to need help if you want to find answers before you need to leave the city.”

The swordsman grimaced, opening his hands and closing them again. “Fine. I’ll answer some questions, as long as they’re not about the sword.”

Lydia quirked a brow at that. “Why won’t you answer questions about the Sae’kes?”

“Well, for one thing, because you refer to it by a proper name. My knowledge about that sword is what makes me worth anything to you. If you think you know all my secrets, that makes me expendable.”

Lydia shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not. If you have the sword, there’s probably a good reason for it. If what you told me before was true, and you’ve had the sword for many years, I refuse to believe that the gods would have allowed it to remain with you unless it was intended for your hands.”

Taelien blinked. That was a stronger reaction than he had expected. He had known she was religious – she was a paladin, after all – but he didn’t anticipate that she would have incorporated him into that viewpoint so quickly. He briefly debated arguing that the sword had been taken away from him easily enough, but he quickly realized that the argument would only serve to weaken his potential leverage over her.

“That’s...how can you know? How can you believe your gods had a hand in anything, without any evidence?”

Lydia brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. “Most paladins would say something about faith. I’ve never found that quite sufficient – the gods can’t be everywhere or do everything. But that sword is both a symbol and a powerful tool – they have a vested interest in keeping track of it, and saying they have significant resources would be an understatement. I don’t have direct evidence, but I can still reason out that it’s terribly improbable that they don’t know you have it.”

“Okay,” he managed, still somewhat stunned. “Why do you think I’m supposed to have it?”

“There are numerous possibilities. I haven’t had an opportunity to narrow them down yet. The sword was historically wielded by Aendaryn, the leader of our pantheon. Members of the Tae’os Pantheon rarely appear in person – they often act through intermediaries. Perhaps you are one of his descendants, or just a chosen mortal intended to serve as an example to his followers. It’s also possible you were selected because you have a high potential for martial prowess, and Aendaryn has a particular task in mind for you.”

Taelien nodded absently. He had heard the same hypothesis before – and considered them himself. He found it considerably more likely that his biological parents had simply obtained the sword on their own and decided to give it to him for some reason. The idea that his real parents had something in mind for his future was far more palatable than being a game piece for a deity he had never met.

“That’s exactly my problem. There are too many possibilities. And how do I learn what might the plans of the gods themselves?” He sighed. “Maybe they know I have it and just haven’t decided to do anything about it yet. You said yourself that your gods rarely appear in person. Why is that, by the way?”

Lydia contorted her lips, apparently considering her response. “The Tae’os Pantheon may have ceased taking a direct role in mortal affairs, but that doesn’t mean they would ignore something as significant as who is holding a sacred artifact. If they didn’t want to come claim the sword themselves, they could send a paladin or a priest. I’ve never heard the voices of the gods, but some of my fellows claim to have.”

She paused for a moment, taking a breath. “As for why the gods don’t appear in person, there are a few reasons for that. The Tae’os Pantheon are not the first generation of gods. They were mortals once, like you and me. Unless you’re very well-read, you probably haven’t even heard the names of the older gods – except for Vaelien, of course.”

“If the histories are true, the older gods took a much more active role in the world. Their reward? Delsen was killed by his own children when he attempted to stop them from warring against one another. Caerdanel sacrificed herself to save a mortal city from a foreign god. Records on the others are scarce, but it’s fair to say that they either fled or died.”

Lydia looked down, shaking her head in frustration. “We can’t be trusted to deal with the gods directly. Time and time again, mortals betray the gods that serve them. The Tae’os Pantheon has taken a safer path – they guide us from a distance, and give us the strength to protect ourselves in the form of sorcery. Vaelien’s followers call it cowardice. I consider it a good long-term strategy.”

Taelien scratched at his chin. “Didn’t sorcery exist before the Tae’os Pantheon?”

“Of course, but it wasn’t anywhere near as prevalent. We don’t know exactly how the gods work, but each god appears to be able to grant particular types of sorcery to mortals who were born without any talent for it. This is colloquially referred to as being given the ‘gifts of the gods’. Some gifted humans demonstrate sorcerous abilities that are beyond what a traditional sorcerer is capable of. One of my mentors has a gift from Sytira that allows him to completely nullify sorcery in a specific area.”

That’s pretty impressive.
“That makes some sense. I can see why people would want their gods to be physically present, though, which must be why the local religion is so appealing.”

“Of course. Who wouldn’t want to meet the deity they worship? It’s an appealing idea from our perspective, but from the perspective of the true gods, it would not be worth the risk. Even Vaelien, the oldest and most powerful deity still living, rarely appears without an entourage. And history has recorded more than one failed attempt to assassinate Vaelien – at least one of which was by one of his own children.”

“All right, I can see why your gods might not be making any big public demonstrations, then. But how am I supposed to know what they want me to do without any guidance?” Taelien shook his head. “I need to find this Erik Tarren. My parents were insistent that he could help.”

“I understand your desire to learn. I’m a Sytiran, after all. But please, be patient. If I ask you to leave the city for your own safety, I need you to listen. I want to know about your connection to the sword, too – it could be one of the most important discoveries for my religion in a hundred years. I will look for Tarren even if you have to leave.” Her expression was soft, her eyes pleading. Taelien turned his head aside.

“Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll leave if it looks like Myros is going to arrive.”

“Thank you,” she beamed a smile at him. “Now, where’d you learn how to cut through fire with a sword?”

“Oh, that? I grew up near Selyr. When I was ten, I was sent for sorcerous aptitude testing. My parents wanted me to deliberately fail, but I was too proud. My performance earned me six years of mandatory military training. Since my proficiency was with metal sorcery, most of my training involved learning how to use spells to augment my sword work.”

“The practice of taking children away from home like that is barbaric. Your parents must have been furious. How old were you?”

Taelien shrugged. “I was ten. Honestly, it wasn’t so bad. My parents were upset, sure, but they had gone through the same thing when they were young. I hated it for the first couple years, but I learned skills I never would have back home.”

Never thought I’d be thankful for all those hours of running, climbing, and sparring.

“About four years in, they transferred me to a Thornguard facility for more advanced training. Most of the students there were older, and it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that the majority of us would end up as Thornguard. I finally had a chance to pit myself against some stronger opponents.”

“One of my fellow trainees was a talented flame sorcerer named Nerys. She had a spell that surrounded her with a whirlwind of fire. During our training matches, I couldn’t even get close enough to swing a sword at her. After losing a couple humiliating bouts, I developed a strategy.”

He raised the Sae’kes and ran a finger along the metal rim of the scabbard. “I already could manipulate metal that was touching other metal, and I had a minor talent for flame sorcery. I spent months practicing trying to sense and move a fire just by touching it with metal. Eventually, I succeeded. Nerys still throttled me in our next match, but at least I managed to startle her.”

The swordsman gave a deep laugh, raising a hand to his lips. “That girl was a beast. Anyway, I loved the fighting, but I hated the philosophy the Thornguard were always drilling into us.”

“
That’s interesting
,”
Lydia perked up a bit. “You didn’t like the Thornguard’s philosophy? What about it?”

“My parents had raised me on stories of heroes working together to accomplish things they couldn’t on their own, or sacrificing themselves to save their allies. The Thornguard drilled it into us to focus on getting the job done. We had training exercises designed to get us to learn to leave wounded allies behind. It made me sick.”

The sorceress smiled. “I can understand why you’d have an objection to that. The Tae’os philosophy emphasizes preserving life.”

“I know. My parents are Tae’os worshippers. I assume that’s why Erik brought me to them specifically – Rethri followers of the Tae’os pantheon are rare.”

“I don’t think you mentioned before that you were raised by Rethri.” Lydia quirked an eyebrow.

“Didn’t I?” he shrugged. “Well, it didn’t really matter to me that they were Rethri, or matter to them that I’m not. In any case, the worst part about the Thornguard training was that it worked. I knew what the exercises were designed to do, but I went along with them anyway. It took one of my friends being seriously injured to get me to stop and reassess the situation. Even then, I had to stay until my six years were up. My commander tried to convince me to stay, but I couldn’t stomach any more of it.”

“Of course, just because I was ‘finished’ with my mandatory service didn’t mean I was completely out yet. I was in the reserves for another four years, going back periodically for more training. They tried to recruit me permanently every time I visited.”

A knock sounded on the door. Lydia’s hand immediately dropped to her sword, but Taelien just glanced toward the room’s entrance. “Good morning,” he said. “We’re both awake, you can come in.”

The knob turned, but the door didn’t open. “It’s locked,” Jonan’s voice said. Lydia took a deep breath, relaxing her grip on her weapon and moving to flip the lock a moment later.