The Living God, page 12
“The Oruke is good at acting human, isn’t he? He knows you and he knows Saran. He knows what you think and how you feel. He is playing you. Of course he wants to take you both to the Third immediately. He will strand you there, without magic to get you home, nor the means of technology to create a Gate. He will leave the two people most likely to stop him in a Deadworld and go about his plans without your threat. He is playing you, Rowe. He has been playing you all along. He fakes this slipping so it increases your desire to save him. But he will betray you.”
“He is not playing me,” Rowe growled.
“And you know this for sure?”
The Lightning Mage glared at Darshan and hesitated. “No.”
“If he is to prove himself to you and to me, he must go through with our plans. He must depose Yarin and relinquish control of Adrid to someone more trustworthy than a monster.” Ishep gave a sympathetic sigh. “I understand it is hard to believe. You love your brother very strongly. It blinds. In the end, all the things that Keleir claimed to not want, he did anyway, did he not? He married Saran. He accepted the title of Name Heir. He says one thing and does another. Are those the actions of your brother? Is that the standard you hold him to?”
Rowe’s lips pursed. He stared toward Darshan, long, hard, but not entirely at him. He looked past the old Water Mage into his own thoughts. Keleir had been acting unlike himself, and he’d attributed it to the ground the Oruke claimed on his mind. Was there truth in Darshan’s words?
“I will speak to my brother about Salara. I will push for him to help fulfill our promise. If he disagrees, then Saran and I will finish this on our own. We will not go to the Third until you sit on the throne.”
Darshan smiled softly. “I have every confidence in you, but what will you do if the Oruke doesn’t agree with your terms?”
Rowe stood up, smoothing his hands over his tunic. “Then I will kill him. If what you are saying is true, my brother died long ago.”
“Your brother died the moment the Oruke entered the womb. He never had a chance to exist. This is the way of Orukes. It is unheard of—impossible—for it to be any other way. If by some miracle the Oruke bonding couldn’t be completed or he managed to compartmentalize the creature inside him, it will not change the ending of his story. He is the Oruke.”
FIFTEEN
DARK SHADOWS HUNG in the corners of the chapel. The light of a hundred candles littered across the altar did little to combat the impenetrable darkness. Chandeliers hung low and dim, and heavy curtains were drawn over the windows. A priest knelt at the front, before the altar, with his hands clasped and resting across the top. He wore dark robes and a hood drawn tightly over his head. Around his waist dangled several gold trinkets from a rough brown rope.
“Is there a funeral?” Keleir asked, sitting on the front pew with a heavy sigh. He drew his cloak around him like a blanket, admiring the bleak architecture. Keleir didn’t think anything could be as bleak as Yarin’s throne room, but then again, he had not been to the Church of the Vel d’Ekaru in many years.
“I like the dark,” the priest said. He rose. The coal-gray robes washed around his ankles. “At least when I pray. It helps me focus.”
“I never understood the point of praying to the Living God,” the Fire Mage said. “If He is living flesh, how does He hear your prayers?”
The priest smiled and sat next to the future king. “Ekaru priests do not pray in hopes that the Living God will hear them. We pray because it keeps us faithful. It keeps us connected to what has yet to be delivered but has long been promised.”
Keleir turned his eyes up to the marking of a monstrous face formed from a thousand rope knots painted on a red banner that hung from a golden pole. The flag spilled behind the candlelit altar like a bloody waterfall. He knew the mark well, as he’d been born with it on his chest.
The Fire Mage wondered quietly for a long time why he sat in the pew next to the priest. He’d come here seeking answers about a creature he’d lived with his entire life yet knew nothing about. He’d come for answers to Yarin’s riddles, but looking at the man in his gray robes, who side-eyed him in such an eerily reverent way, he doubted he’d get anything other than more riddles.
“You await the Vel d’Ekaru, the Living God.”
“We await the redemption of our universe, and the universes beyond ours.” The priest smiled and followed Keleir’s gaze to the painted banner. “When did you last attend service, Lord Ahriman?”
“I attended as a young boy and as a teen, but Yarin’s religion was not mine, and not my people’s. I remember some of your beliefs, however.”
“Do you know the origins of the First, the Second, and the Third?”
“I know legends.”
The priest smiled. “I’m Brother Povish, by the way. We didn’t get to be introduced earlier during the ceremony.”
Keleir froze, turning a surprised look on the priest. “I didn’t even realize that was you. I was … distracted.”
“It is not your fault, Lord Ahriman. A lot was going on. A lot of blood. It is easy to be distracted by decay. Not to rush you off, my lord—it just seems that you are lost. How may I help you?”
Keleir glanced to the priest and then back to the banner hanging behind the altar. “I need to understand the Vel d’Ekaru. I have come to learn, Brother Povish, about your mighty god.”
“To understand Him, we’d have to start at the beginning, and it is a long story …”
“I have time.” No, Keleir thought, he had very little of that. But if time paid for answers, time he would give. “Start at the beginning.”
The priest clasped his hands in his lap and turned his eyes to the altar to begin his tale. “Each land, each people, has their own legends about how the universe formed. Some are based on science, some on myth, and some on faith. But all legends, no matter what view, begin with one initial spark. One loud bang, if you will. We know that there are universes right next to ours, alternate realities where we exist or don’t exist. We know of three of these realities, for sure. The First, a lush world full of magic, where the life of the planet is thriving and only just beginning to hear the call of destruction. The Second, new to greed and already seeing the toll it takes on a dying world. Then the Third, well-acquainted with greed. They killed their planet. They mined it dry.
“The Three are without name, as no one lived at their birth to name them. They were born of power and light, and the Origin God gave each a soul, locked with a Key. The First Key is the Body of Life, the power to create or destroy. The Second Key is the Hand of Strength, with the power to control the Body. The Third is the Carrier of Power, which cradles them both. When combined, the Keys have the ability to tear apart universes or create them.
“The Origin God created the first universe, though I don’t necessarily mean ours, and from that sprouted others. We could be the hundredth, or the thousandth. As we haven’t found the right combination for unlocking others, we have only the Three. Each universe had its own life. Each a copy of the next, with infinite possibilities.”
Keleir sighed, trying not to seem bored by the origin of the universe. These were not the answers he wanted, and if this marked the beginning of the priest’s tale, he felt that he’d be hours before getting any of the information he’d sat down for. “And what about the Orukes, the spirits between worlds?”
“Imagine bubbles floating in water. Imagine each bubble is a separate universe, a separate world, and the water is the matter that floats between those worlds. It binds them together. The Orukes are the spent remnants of energy that float in that matter. They are fragments of time and space that were lost or ejected at the formation of a universe. They are trapped, tortured creatures without real form. Every now and then, one finds its way into our world, but without any physical form of its own, it is merely a ghost and does not survive long. That is why they merge with a child carried in its mother’s womb.”
The Fire Mage glowered at the floor. “The consciousness isn’t developed yet, so it is easier to take over the form.”
Brother Povish smiled. “Not so easy, it seems. You shouldn’t hate the thing inside you, Lord Ahriman. It is a gift.”
“This is not a gift,” Keleir hissed, touching his chest. “This has brought me nothing but misery.”
“You fight it. Pain always accompanies futility.”
“And I should just embrace it and let it take me over?”
“It wouldn’t hurt anymore, would it?”
Keleir scoffed. He turned his attention away from the man to the heavy curtains blocking out the setting sun. The creature had run him for nearly thirteen years, and for what? He’d murdered. Slaughtered. Killed. He’d brought destruction and war. He’d been exalted and worshipped for it, and Keleir hated it. His only redemption came in the form of a woman who’d braved fire and agony to reach inside and make his soul whole again. He would never be that creature again willingly.
“You were never meant to exist in the first place, Lord Ahriman. You are a vessel for something that has been desired for a very long time. You are a vessel for our redeemer and the savior of our universe, the liberator of the Oruke. It hurts, because you are not meant to be alive.”
The Fire Mage froze, turning his gaze slowly to Brother Povish. “All this thing wants is death and destruction. How is that your redeemer? It would sooner see you flayed.”
“Not I.” The priest smiled. “Others perhaps, like your wife.”
Keleir growled. “And how is that a good thing? How should I accept that and let it win, if it means to murder someone I love?”
“Because it is for the best. You can’t see it. I understand that. My words will do little to shape your view of the matter. Your human emotions cloud you.”
“My human emotions are far more reliable than the instability of a creature not equipped to handle them!”
“What I mean,” Brother Povish began patiently, “is that your sentimentality toward your own life, to the life of the people around you, and to the world itself clouds you from seeing the truth.”
“Then explain to me the truth, Brother Povish. Help me see it.”
“You know the truth. He has told you, hasn’t he? Shown you?”
Keleir gave a tight smile. “I’d like to hear it from something other than the voice inside my head.”
Brother Povish took a deep breath, ending it in a pleasant sigh. He shifted in his seat, as a child would right before receiving a present. The joyful look on his face turned Keleir’s stomach. He felt ill and angry. Part of him wanted to kill the priests for relishing in such a thing, and the wiser part of him knew that road led exactly where the priest wanted him to go. “The Origin God created the universe and its planets, and thus sprouted life. From that life grew plants and animals, creatures that existed in an ever-revolving cycle. It was perfect and beautiful, but then it evolved. From the ooze grew a parasite. It started small and innocent enough, as they always do, until it grew intelligent and strong.
“Humanity, Lord Ahriman, is the parasite of the world. It is a virus that rots what it touches. The world revolves in a cycle, and humans spit in the face of it. They underappreciate and overconsume. Just like the damaging cells of a disease in your body, it seeks out the healthy cells and destroys them. Humans devour everything, Lord Ahriman, until there is nothing left. They are selfish, greedy creatures. Even the best of them.”
“You speak of yourself. You are human.”
“Yes and no. I’m a second-generation Oruke. My father was an Oruke. You are an Oruke, but you refuse to let your human nature be consumed by the righteousness of your redeemer. You think the Oruke is evil, and you hate it because it made you murder, because it craves blood. But you do not realize that what the Oruke does isn’t evil at all. It is a culling. It is the same thing as squishing the beetle that threatens to ruin the crop. Humanity is the beetle—the Oruke is just the gardener trying to keep the crops alive.”
“If your father was an Oruke, why didn’t you worship him as the Vel d’Ekaru?”
“There are many Orukes in the world, but only one of them has lived many times over. The Oruke inside you has seen the end of the Three repeated and has attempted to save it every time. You are the prophesied one. You are the vessel, the body of the Living God.”
“But how do you know?”
Brother Povish grinned. “Why, because you told us so, Lord Ahriman. A long time ago. When you were boy. You bear his mark.”
SIXTEEN
SARAN STARED AT the flickering candle next to her bed. Despite her drowsiness, she lay awake in the medical ward on the small, uncomfortable cot filled with straw and barely big enough for one person. To protect against the draft filtering in from the cracked window above her head, her legs were draped in a blanket little more than gossamer cloth.
She waited for Keleir to return. She let her fingers play with the Bind around her wrist, hating it. Aside from missing the sensation of the Fire Mage roaming near and the light flicker of magical current wafting through the air, each day that she was blocked from her magic meant Keleir would slip further into darkness. The worst part was that she couldn’t explain to him why. She couldn’t even tell Rowe. If either of them knew what she’d done to banish the Oruke …
Saran swallowed hard. Keleir would hate her. He wouldn’t understand.
Panic bubbled up in her chest. The urge to run to her father and beg him for freedom consumed her, and yet she could not run. She could barely stand, and Yarin did not take well to signs of weakness. She also had never begged for anything in her life, and she was certain he wouldn’t indulge her pleas. He never had before. Her thoughts raced, and the world felt like a giant spinning top that moved too fast for her to control, and … she’d always had control.
The door cracked open, and she sat up in bed too quickly. Her head rushed, and she fell back against the pillows with a dizzy whimper. Rowe brushed inside, closing the heavy door behind him. He took a look around the room, sneering. Anger flared in his blue eyes.
“Where is Keleir?” he asked.
“There was something he needed to do. He seemed upset.” She shifted, pushing her arms against the mattress to sit up, this time more slowly. “I’m worried about him.”
Rowe nodded, taking a seat at the edge of her bed. “I just got back from speaking with Darshan. I explained our situation concerning your Bind.” Rowe rested his hands on his knees and stared at the floor. “I also told him about Keleir’s plan to go to the Third.”
Saran saw the disappointed look rising in his eyes. The past few days were a blur for her, but even so she felt guilty for not telling him. They never made important plans for the future without Rowe along to help. “There wasn’t any time to discuss it with you. We weren’t trying to keep it secret, but with everything that happened …”
Rowe’s hands tightened. “He wants to go immediately and not stay to finish what we started.”
Saran sighed, tilting her head back. Her gaze turned to the flickering candle, watching the little flame dance in the air. “He’s not feeling well. He’s scared, I think. Truthfully I’m scared too. But we can’t just up and go to the Third. I don’t know what will happen if we journey there.”
Rowe nodded. “I am worried about more than that.”
“Tell me.”
“Darshan said some things that … has altered my perception of the situation. I don’t know what to think anymore. I’ve never had reason to question my brother’s loyalty until today, when you nearly died because of his rage.”
“It’s not his rage, you know that.”
“I do, and that is why I’m concerned. Saran, the Keleir I know would never hurt you. He would drop everything to stop from hurting you. He didn’t today …”
Saran’s gaze narrowed on the black-haired man. “I’m not following you.”
“What if it isn’t Keleir? What if it is the Oruke pretending to be Keleir?”
She scoffed, waving her hand dismissively in the air, even while a bud of terror blossomed in her chest. She squashed it quickly. “The Oruke wants to kill me, Rowe. If Keleir were the Oruke, he wouldn’t have shed tears as I lay in this bed. He wouldn’t want so desperately to be saved.”
Rowe paused at her words. Would the Oruke be so clever? “Keleir cried?”
The princess nodded. “Well, he started to, but you know him.”
“We’re losing him, Saran. What if we can’t finish this in time? Darshan will not trust Keleir unless he helps with Salara. He will view any other action as the Oruke’s defiance. He doesn’t believe that Keleir has any control.” Rowe shook his head. “I warned Darshan about the Bind’s connection to Yarin, but I doubt his people will heed that warning. We can’t take Keleir somewhere safe from the Oruke. He won’t leave you. Not only that, Yarin has some weird fixation with Keleir. If he disappears, he’s liable to imprison and torture us both to figure out his whereabouts.”
Saran sighed heavily, sinking into the stiff pillow with all her weight. “Fuck, why does this have to be so complicated? Okay, we’ll finish this. We made a vow. When it is over, we will leave it all behind. Until then, we need to find a way to keep Keleir in control. I need this thing off of me.” Saran lifted her arm, waving the Bind weakly in the air. “Keleir will be fine. I will fix this. I just need to be free of this thing.
The Lightning Mage nodded, his gaze hard as he stared at the floor.
“Trust your brother, Rowe. Trust me.”
Rowe stared at the floor, fisting his hands over his knees. “I …”
Saran gave his shoulder a firm squeeze.
Rowe sighed, turning to her and pressing his lips into her hair. “Sleep. You need your strength.”
Her hand tightened on him, but he drew away from her grasp. She caught him by the wrist. “You trust him, don’t you?”
The young Mage shut his eyes. “My gut is twisting, and all I can believe is that something awful is going to happen. I love my brother, Saran. Even when he was consumed by darkness, I loved him and looked up to him. But I do not trust him. Deep down, I don’t think I ever have.”
