The Book of Deacon: Book 02 - The Great Convergence (37 page)

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Something had caught Myranda's attention. Far
away, and far below, there was a bright red flash, and now it
burned like a brilliant crimson ember amid pale white glimmers. It
was the only unique point she could determine, and thus the only
target that made sense. Pulling the essence of her departed friend
behind, she rushed to it. Everything around her was fading. So
focused was she on the red beacon ahead, she failed to notice a
golden light following her. She rushed forward faster and faster,
and the glow easily kept pace. Only when it began to overtake her
did she realize it was there. It moved with the force of an
avalanche, and before long it was pushing her along faster than
even her desperation had managed to propel her. It did not do the
same for Myn. As Myranda was accelerated, she could feel her grip
failing. Ahead, the spirits of Lain and Ether, almost drowned out
by the powerful red glow, emerged. Just a few moments more and she
would reach her own body and that of her dear friend. She could
restore her. At the very instant she made contact with her physical
body, she felt her grasp torn from Myn. Her eyes shot open, and the
cold and pain she had been spared while her spirit was absent
overwhelmed her. She cried out, attracting the attention of Lain,
who had dispatched the handful of creatures that had turned back to
the ground.

"Lain . . . please . . . Myn . . . is she
alive?" Myranda managed.

Lain moved quickly to the dragon's side. It
was cold to the touch. He put his sensitive ear to the noble
beast's chest. Not a whisper of a heartbeat. He turned to Myranda.
The look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. With the pain
of loss surpassing by far every ounce of physical pain and more,
she let herself slip into unconsciousness, the fingers of one hand
clamped about the staff, and the other about the pendant. Lain
trained his eyes on the spectacle above just in time for a second
epic burst of energy to scatter the beasts. Ivy, her aura
significantly dimmer, plummeted to the ground, landing with an
earthshaking impact. When the dust settled, she was still standing.
There were thirteen of the creatures left. Ivy's eyes were still
locked on Ether, and she thundered toward her. She was limited to
the ground now, but clearly remained a force to be reckoned with.
Her footfalls left deep, jagged craters. She remained the primary
interest of the remaining beasts, and as each swept in it was met
with a powerful backhand or swipe with the club. Lain snatched up
Myranda's bag from where the surge of water had washed it and threw
her over his shoulder. His leg was unsteady, but he had little
choice. One of the creatures had turned to him. If he was to have a
chance at protecting Myranda and himself, he would need the cover
of the trees. He moved as quickly as he could manage, the beast
snatching up the lifeless body of Myn and taking to the sky with
it. He had only just made it past the first of the trees when
Ether's windy form joined him.

"Leave the human behind. We have more
pressing battles ahead. She will only slow us," she urged.

In a moment, the rhythmic thunder of Ivy's
footsteps had grown near enough to shake the snow from the trees
around them. Ether turned to the approaching threat. Her aura had
nearly faded to nothing. The beasts were at her heels, but she
seemed to care only about Ether. As she drew nearer, her strength
finally gave out. She dropped to her knees, and finally collapsed
forward. Lain laid Myranda at the base of a large oak that still
had some of its leaves. He then rushed out to the motionless
Ivy.

"Do NOT risk your life for that WRETCH. If
she'd had her way she would have killed me!" Ether ordered.

The command fell on deaf ears. Lain dodged
the diving attack of one creature, and snatched up Ivy. The
unconscious creature's fingers were locked about the grip of the
club, the studs that lined it still sizzling in the snow. He
delivered her to the base of the tree and faced the dragoyles.

"I lack the strength to damage these
creatures," Ether warned.

"Then keep their breath from me," he
replied.

The oak prevented the creatures from
attacking from behind. The attacks came from all other sides. To
simply block them would not be enough. He lacked the strength to
absorb such a blow, and he could not afford to give an inch of
ground. His blade moved with a speed and precision that could
scarcely be followed by even the sharpest eye. Quick slashes found
their way to every joint, every gash, every fracture the others had
caused. Ether's talents swirled the caustic breath away. One fell,
and another. Gashes deepened. Here and there a swiping claw caught
Lain, but he could not allow it to slow him. The black creatures
succumbed, one after the other, until only two remained. They
attacked simultaneously. The first was ended with a slash to the
throat. The second clamped its stony beak down on his upper
arm.

The creature did not shake its prey as the
one that snared Myn did. There was only a twitch, then another,
before finally it dropped to the ground. Lain had delivered the
killing blow through the side of the creature's head with his free
hand. Slowly he pulled the blade from the creature's skull and
surveyed his own wounds. Most were minor. The last was dire. Blood
flowed freely from his arm. The creature's bite had reached the
bone. With his good arm he tore away the shreds of the ruined
sleeve and began to bind the wound, pulling the knots tight with
his teeth. As he did so, Ether shifted to her human form and looked
coldly over the battleground.

The icy ground was littered with the stony
remnants of dragoyles. There were sizzling black pools of their
breath, and everything was smudged with their thick, black blood.
Ether kicked open the ruined skull of the nearest beast, interested
to see what it was within their mouths that was so vulnerable.
Inside was a shattered gem, the very same type that Epidime had
been using to draw away her strength. She stepped quickly away from
the thing, the memory of its searing effect still fresh in her
mind. She then turned to Lain. His white cloak and tunic was soiled
from head to toe. Dark smears of black blended with bright stains
of red. In a dozen places, torn fabric revealed torn flesh. The leg
that had been exposed to the acid was still faintly sizzling in
places. The fur was blackened, and where it had been eaten away,
the skin was blistered. Most dire was the injury to his arm. He had
reached over with his left hand to apply extra pressure. Despite
his efforts, an appalling volume of blood rolled from the wound in
thin streams.

"The wound on your arm . . . is it mortal?"
Ether asked.

"I am losing too much blood," he said.

"I cannot heal you. I had never anticipated
the need to," Ether said. "However, I can seal the wound,"

She shifted one of her hands to flame. He
nodded and removed the bandage. She ran a fiery finger along the
gash, instantly cauterizing it. The pain must have been agonizing,
but Lain merely shut his eyes and weathered it as he did everything
else, silently. The ordeal had left the survivors completely sapped
of strength. The sun was setting again, and soon after the darkness
had become complete, Lain entered the warrior's sleep. Ether
gathered together a moderate pile of wood and lit a fire, shifting
to flame and stepping into it when it reached respectable size. Ivy
was deep in a dreamless sleep. Not so for Myranda.

She lay, propped up against the tree, her
mind anything but at rest. The events of her life rushed by again
and again, accompanied by whispered thoughts and regrets. The flood
of images and voices was disorienting and indistinct. All of the
voices were distant, slurred, mumbled. All of the images were vague
and fleeting. There was a feeling of tumbling, of falling, as
though her mind's breaking point had been reached, the dam had
given way, and all that she was had begun rushing out. Suddenly, a
single, sharp, clear voice cut through the rest.

"Open your eyes, Myranda," the voice
said.

In an instant, the other voices were silent,
the images were gone, dispelled by the man's voice. She did as she
was asked. The pain in her shoulder was gone, the cold was gone,
the fatigue was gone. The grove of trees seemed subdued, bathed in
a weak, pale blue light. Everything was still, not the slightest
flutter of wind stirred the leaves of the one tree that still bore
them. Around her she saw her friends, Ivy beside her, Lain in front
of her, and Ether's fiery form in front of him. All were unmoving,
even the tendrils of flame were motionless, frozen. She stood.
There was a man before her. She knew him. He had sparse white hair,
plain black clothes, and his eyes were closed.

"You . . . you are the priest," she said.

"That is how you knew me, yes," he said.

"Am I . . . dead?" she asked.

"You aren't alive, but neither are you dead.
In a sense, you have been pulled aside," he said.

"Why? How? Why are you here?" she asked.

"All valid questions. Part of why I am here
is to answer them," he said. "There are important things happening,
Myranda. A crossroads has been reached, and the next few steps are
of the most dire of importance. I cannot tell you which steps to
make, or what is to come, but I can tell you what you need to know
to make these next steps wisely."

"I don't understand. Why now? Why me? Why
you?" she asked.

"Sit," he said, indicating a log to his left.
She did, and he joined her.

"Let me begin by saying that I am not simply
a holy man stirred to anger by your pacifistic tendencies. That was
merely a role I deemed likely to lead you in the correct direction.
My true name, or at least, the one by which I am most frequently
known, is Oriech," he said.

"If you aren't a priest, then what are you?"
she asked.

"A difficult question to answer. I suppose
the simplest description of my place in this world is the hand of
fate. For the most part, the course of history is left to its own
devices. On occasion, there is an imperative. Something that must
be done to ensure the course stays true. I am charged with assuring
such events," he said.

"You mean the prophesy," she said.

He sighed.

"To a certain degree, it can be viewed that
way, yes," he reluctantly agreed.

"But that doesn't make any sense. You didn't
help me. You didn't lead me! You forced me back out into the cold
when I first met you," she said.

"And I told you to go to Bydell, where you
met Lain. It isn't much, I know, but it had to occur at that time,
in that way, or other more important things could not have been
possible. I have done the same for each of the Chosen. Lain knew me
as an old man named Ben. Others knew me by other names. Had I done
my job better, this meeting might not have been necessary, but as
it stands, things are not precisely as they should have been. There
are things you believe that are not so, and things you need to know
which you do not. Now is the time to rectify that," he said.

"So you can answer all of my questions," she
said.

"No, not all. I am here merely to inform you
of that which you already know, and which you would have known had
the path not shifted," he said.

"Why? Why now?" she asked.

"The point of no return has been reached. The
names of the Chosen have been written in stone. The Great
Convergence has occurred," he said.

"What? No! How can that be? We have only
found three," she said.

"I count four," he said.

"Lain, Ether, and Ivy," she said.

"And you," he added.

The words made Myranda's heart leap into her
throat.

"It can't be! I can't be Chosen!" she said
frantically.

"You are pure of soul . . . " he began.

"But I am not divine of birth. My mother and
father were human. They were mortal," she remarked.

"You needn't be born of a god to be divine of
birth. Your existence in this world must simply be the work of the
direct will of the divine," he clarified.

"Then how? How am I the work of the divine?"
she asked.

"I am not certain you truly wish to know that
answer. It is not as . . . inspiring as one might hope," he
warned.

"Tell me," she demanded.

He sighed again.

"The gods are many things. They are mighty,
they are wise, and above all, they are anxious for change. As such
they take great interest in the lives of mortals. One day, your
mother and father became of particular interest to two of them. You
see, the two gods question were in disagreement over whether love
was a thing of the body or a thing of the mind. A wager had been
made about it, and when it became clear that despite the duties of
a soldier keeping them apart your parents remained in love, rather
than lose the wager, the more unscrupulous of the divine ones . . .
tipped the scales in his favor. I cannot be specific and remain
discreet, but suffice to say the physical aspect of the emotion in
question was made firmly obvious upon your father's next visit.
Nine months later, you were born."

"I was born because one of the powers that be
cheated on a wager?" she said in disbelief.

"In a manner of speaking," he said
apologetically. "It was for that reason that the possibility of
your taking the place of a fallen Chosen was never given any
consideration until recently. The divine circumstances of your
birth were concealed even from the other gods, lest the treachery
be known."

Myranda shook the absurd thought from her
mind.

"I was not born with the mark," she said,
holding up her scarred left palm.

In place of the thin white curve and point
that had been left by the sting of the sword all those months ago,
there was a black, distinct mark. A birthmark.

"The mark is not an aspect of the body. It is
an aspect of the soul. It becomes visible at the moment of the
quickening, the moment that you are selected. For most of the
Chosen, that moment is their birth. In your case, it was the moment
you touched the hilt of the sword. You see, the swordsman you found
that day was to be one of the Chosen. His name was Rasa. When he
was struck down, his spirit lingered within the sword. When you
touched it, your soul was bared to him. Your worth was made clear
to him. He chose you to take his place. And so the quickening
occurred. For others it might have occurred differently. Perhaps
silently, perhaps with a drastic change of mind and body," he
explained.