The Undying God (30 page)

“Why would she link directly with
you?”

“She would only initiate a link if a
matter of dire importance needed to be brought to my attention.”
Ethan shook his head and stole a glance out the window. The city
was oblivious to the danger brewing in its most sacred
institutions.

He feared there was more to Astalla’s
divine intervention than the Elder Cleric would admit. The young
priest could not ignore his intuition, nor could he rationalize his
doubts. Regardless, life had taught him the value of caution. For
as long as he served this temple, he learned to take heed of
warnings.

“Are we in danger?” he
asked.

“That is a possibility. I cannot know
for certain until I make sense of this.”

“Have you tried reaching out to Astalla
again?”

“I cannot initiate the link on my part.
I am only capable of receiving the message she conveyed. This is
deeply concerning…”

Invictus turned his back on Ethan and
wandered toward a small shrine. A jaundiced candle wavered before
him, consuming a prayer note. His calloused fingertips extinguished
the flame without so much as a twitch of discomfort.

“Perhaps an evacuation is necessary,”
Ethan said. “We should not risk staying in the temple. Astalla may
be sending us a warning.” He set his hand on the elder’s shoulder.
“We can evacuate the temple and return within a week. Guards can
remain behind to preserve the sanctity of our home.”

His hand slipped from Invictus’ bony
shoulder. The Elder Cleric stood still, barely even breathing.
“No,” he replied. Ethan couldn’t believe his ears. Invictus invited
Ethan’s gaze, crushing it with his own.

“I am beginning to see this as a trial
set before us by Astalla. A test of our faith. She may be about to
bestow a grand vision, or ask us to take the next step in
purification.”

Stung with shock, Ethan
withdrew.

The elder peered over his shoulder with
glistening eyes. “Trust in me, Ethan.”

* * *

Astalla bowed her head, waiting for a
response from Eternitas. Too many days had passed since she reached
out to the Elder Cleric. His silence weighed heavy upon her,
pressing down like nails on her chest. She prayed he was still
alive.

The high priestess, Ava, waited
patiently with Astalla. When she saw the demigoddess’s troubled
expression, she knew good news would not come tonight.

“Ava, I must ask a favor of you,”
Astalla said.

“Anything, Astalla.”

“Should something happen to me... I
need you to act on my behalf.”

“Should something happen to
you?”

“Ava, it would be foolish of me to
pretend I’m immune to attack. I fear he may reach Praemenon. This
human is more dangerous than anything I’ve ever seen. Most
dangerous of all is his conviction and strength of will. He will
stop at nothing to...” Ava noticed she didn’t even speak his name,
as though its every syllable was riddled with blasphemy.

“What are you asking me to do?” Astalla
delicately rested her hand on an altar. Her fingers traced the
intricate patterns carved into its surface, stalling for an answer.
Her reflection portrayed an older woman, not quite herself. She
looked weary and broken.

“Protect my followers from harm,” she
managed to whisper, forcing the words past her tongue. “I pray it
isn’t possible he hunts them down. I can’t imagine even he has the
resources to stalk my believers.”

Ava’s gown whispered as she drifted
next to her side.

“I promise to secure the temple,” she
said. “Even if it means my life, I will take whatever steps
necessary to protect the innocent.” Very little distance separated
them at this point. They were close enough that they could have
kissed if either of them entertained the desire. Ava could see her
every perfection … and
flaw
. The visible signs of worry had
creased her perfect skin. Even her eyes were not nearly as
brilliant as they once were.

“More importantly,” Astalla spoke, “you
must place the importance of my followers even above my safety.”
Ava cast a lamenting expression at her demigoddess. She could not
imagine losing her most precious friend.

What kind of existence would she lead
without someone to guide her? Someone to listen to her? Someone who
cared? Astalla substituted all of the things a husband could never
provide her. Losing Astalla would be like … losing a part of
herself. On impulse, Ava wrapped her in a comforting
embrace.

For many moments, neither spoke. Two
broken women clung to each other. In some ways they were alike, Ava
thought. She had been physically abused by a man. The temple
murders at the hand of this monster violated everything that was
sacred to Astalla. This emotional abuse was as soul-shattering as
its physical counterpart.

Ava swore she wouldn’t let Astalla fall
victim to him. She wouldn’t let anyone else suffer
needlessly.

“I know how it feels,” she
whispered.

Chapter 32

Arxu traced a rose quartz over his
wound to mend the skin. The process was not without pain, but it
was oddly satisfying at the same time. He was becoming whole again,
and he owed his recovery to this mere stone. At once, he remembered
the prisoner in Gaelithea who offered him the healing
component.

You haven’t changed…
Lucretio
snarled.
Your anger will kill you one day… and possibly everyone
around you.

The magick was not particularly strong,
but he could feel his flesh knitting. The enchantment provided
minimal aid if only for a day.

In his chamber, the loneliness
constricted him like a serpent, leaving him feeling hollow.
Hrioshango was frolicking in the darkness again and Nishka was
strangely absent. He hadn’t the faintest clue where she had gone.
He simply knew she had been gone for too long.

Arxu left the chamber he claimed as his
own and searched for Hrioshango. The darkling was nowhere in sight,
but he could hear spasms of laughter rebounding in the tunnels.
Arxu shrugged and set out to search for Nishka on his own. His
footsteps echoed in the depths as he approached the
entrance.

Emerging from the cavern into the crisp
night air, he felt a surge of rejuvenation. That energy faded as he
observed the pattern of footprints in the sand. He suspected they
belonged to Nishka. They faded into night, beckoning him across the
shore. Arxu could not resist.

The scattered sands led him far beyond
the cave into a beach glazed in white. She could not be far from
here, he reasoned. The lake lapped sharply against the shore and
Arxu’s head jerked to his right.

Nishka’s body lay on the sand. The
sight paralyzed his heart. Arxu scrambled toward her body sprawled
in surrender before the lake. He fell to his knees and looked at
her face, her eyes squeezed shut. Her shirt was torn at the hem as
if claws had mercilessly tore at her. One of her arms was crossed
over her chest to shield herself from an attack.

“Nishka!” Arxu shouted.

He lifted her arm and it slipped
lifelessly from his fingers. He spun toward the lake as a strong
tide pulled ashore. The glimmering lights shuddered in the distance
and Arxu wondered what horrors lurked out there. The orbs seemed to
be drawing nearer, pinpoints of light searing his eyes.

A wave of water splashed his face,
robbing him of sight. Nishka smiled at Arxu’s confused
expression.

“Have you come to save the helpless
woman?” she asked playfully, but her voice hinted at the sarcasm
underneath. Arxu looked stunned by the words she spoke. “That’s for
telling me you only see a woman.”

“Nishka—you aren’t just a woman—” She
looked slightly intrigued. “You—you saved my life.” It was hardly
the sort of emotional declaration Nishka wanted, but it piqued her
interest. Those five words were the closest thing she would receive
to an apology.

“That means something to you?” Nishka
asked.

“Yes,” the Nightwalker replied to his
own surprise.

Nishka secretly didn’t know whether to
trust him or not. She suspected he wanted to die. After he
exterminated the Defiler, he revealed no interest in surviving his
wounds. Nishka wanted to believe him; she wanted him to find
happiness again.

“Do I mean anything to you?” she asked.
Not even the murmuring lake pierced the silence between
them.

“Yes.” Unfortunately, Arxu couldn’t
elaborate why. In that moment, exhaustion clouded his mind and
suddenly he was falling again.

* * *

Margzor’s eyes opened wide in the
darkness. He was awake, ripped from the solace of sleep. What had
provoked him to return to reality? Certainly no dream had inspired
his terror.

He stretched peacefully on the grass.
His limbs unfolded and blood began to flow through him once more.
He almost rested his head on the earth when a sound startled
him.

Something stirred in the depths of his
consciousness, rearing its twisted head from the wasteland of his
imagination.

The demon hissed seductively,
whispering of the power and control Margzor would obtain. The
fantasy of becoming a demigod was growing more tangible in his
mind, an aspiration within his reach. An infernal voice crackled
like flames in his mind, suggesting the pleasure he would
experience soon, goading him on.

The most difficult trials awaited
him.

Margzor rose from where he lay and
gathered up his sword. He could not rest until he possessed
everything he desired. His will ignited, he pressed on through the
valley. What obstacles awaited him beyond this luscious field?
Would he fall victim to a stronger foe before he seized everything
he wanted? What a cruel notion…

The demon was mysteriously silent, not
offering any encouragement. That was perfectly fine. His conviction
alone gave him strength. Margzor imagined what he would do with
godly powers, how he would control his pain. Once he attained
power, no one could hurt him.

And he would not hesitate to inflict
his will on humankind.

* * *

Ethan departed from the meditation
chamber and walked leisurely through the halls. His meditation
exercises usually served to calm him and lessen his anxiety. But
since the change in Elder Invictus, he remained tense and
fearful.

Over the course of a few hours, he had
transformed into a draconian purist. Invictus would not listen to
reason, only prophecies and theories. Ethan strongly believed the
followers should be evacuated, but Invictus forbid him from taking
action.

He knew it would be pointless to
discuss the possibility of an evacuation for a second time. The
Elder Cleric was much too fixated on secret visions to even
consider his plea. Ethan sighed and rounded the corner to return to
his bedchamber. He would try again to convince Invictus despite the
barrage of overwhelming doubts.

A woman’s voice rippled down the hall,
carrying a note that sapped the strength from his muscles. He felt
riveted in place by the intoxicating harmony, tugging at his
impressionable soul. He paused before a large chamber where
worshippers would bathe and atone for sins.

He briefly saw her cleansing in the
spiritual pools and he immediately averted his eyes. However, the
image of a gorgeous woman with luscious black hair and dark skin
burned into his mind. Kayla occupied the bathing chamber that
evening. Ethan was spiritually torn between his faith and his
adoration for her. During his initiation, he swore an oath to
resist the temptations of the flesh and its insidious
charms.

Yet, he felt something for Kayla that
he could not deny. She captivated him with her enchanting smile
every time they traded glances down the hall. Kayla was the only
woman to attach any value to him. He could not easily disguise his
feelings for her. In time, Ethan would be forced to reconcile with
the reality that separated them.

Until then, he shut his eyes and
surrendered to the melodious voice. Her song inspired him like no
hymn of praise possibly could, taking his mind away.

Her melody stopped.

“How many times do you bathe in a day?”
a voice said behind Kayla. She spun around to see Cleric
Valesius.

Ethan darted behind a
pillar.

“You seem to occupy the cleansing pools
constantly. Perhaps Elder Invictus should consider appointing you
the ritual leader.” He wandered along the periphery of the pool.
Concerned, Kayla rose from the waters and distanced herself from
him. He glared spitefully at her.

“I realize the vestments of our
followers are not very concealing, yet you seem to abandon them
altogether, unashamedly flaunting your body at every
opportunity...”

Kayla covered her breasts with her
hands, shielding her body from his gaze. The cleric noted this with
a degree of amusement.

“As I said, you often linger among the
cleansing pools. Perhaps you are aware of its more significant
purpose?”