Higher Power (Prophecy Of The Cataclysm Book One), page 18
“What?” Charles frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“If we can do this, if we can stop the Cataclysm without...” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Without it involving my death, we would still have to come home and deal with Richard on the throne. Besides, you made an agreement with the Duke and as a gentleman you can’t back out on it. You must make a bid for the crown.” She was surprised she could hold her voice so steady as she spoke these words.
Charles shook his head. “While you go off to face who knows what sort of dangers? No. Out of the question.”
“I will have an archangel and a higher power with me.” Anastasia forced steel into her voice. If she had to hurt her brother to get him to stay then she would, though it was perhaps the hardest thing she’d ever done. “They can do a much better job of protecting me than you can.”
But Charles’ expression was one of great distress rather than hurt. “You can’t ask me to do this.”
Her lips quivered. “I have to.”
“She’s right,” Simon said softly. “I know it isn’t easy for you to hear this, but we need you here. You have to make certain Ana has a safe place to come back to when this is over. Whether
that place is with you at the castle or here.”
“What if you can’t stop it?” Charles asked. “What if I stay and this is...is...” He reached out and took both of Anastasia’s hands. “How do I say goodbye?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t,” Simon said firmly. “Charles, you know I would never let any harm come to Ana. No matter what Oracle says, I will bring her back to you.”
Anastasia caught Selene’s grim expression over her brother’s shoulder. She knew what the look meant. If the woman chose to kill her, she doubted Simon would be able to do a thing about it. And she wouldn’t want him to. She would cling to the hope Oracle could give them some other way to stop the Cataclysm, but if her death turned out to be the only answer then she would accept it. She would not allow Simon to fight for her life if it meant countless others would die.
Charles nodded. “I believe you will.” He released one of Anastasia’s hands to reach out for Simon. “I love both of you more than my words could ever say. My heart’s only desire is to stand by you in this, but if you both say I can better aid you by staying, then I’ll stay. Though I don’t like it. Not in the least.”
“Nor do I.” Anastasia sniffled. Despite Simon’s reassuring words, she fully understood this might be the last time she ever saw her brother’s face. But if she died then such heartache would not be hers, it would be his. He would have to live with thinking he had failed her somehow. That, more than anything else, was what made this all so hard.
“None of us do,” Simon said. “But it’s the way it must be. This is not the end for us. It’s only a temporary parting of ways. When we see each other again, everything will be well.”
Charles nodded. He even smiled, though it wobbled across his lips and never touched his eyes. “You should go then. Time is of the essence.”
A knock at the door startled them all. Loren laid a hand on the hilt of his sword and gave Anastasia a questioning look. She wiped her hands across her wet cheeks and nodded for him to open the door.
She was more than a little surprised to see Nephima and Brandon standing in the hall. Loren towered over them, scowling, but neither the elf nor the assassin so much as glanced in his direction as they entered the room.
“Yes?” Charles asked, a slight quaver still in his voice. “Can we help you?”
“It is I who can help you,” Nephima said.
“Really?” Charles raised a brow. “How?”
“Nephima had a dream,” Brandon chimed in, earning a sour look from the elf. “About this thing called the Cataclysm. You’re going out to try and stop it and we can help.”
“Who sent you this dream?” Selene asked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“It does not matter,” Nephima said, looking the woman straight in the eye. “I was told to come to you and so I have.”
“Me too,” Brandon said, bouncing on his toes. “How could I stay away? Demons and danger and magic and higher powers,” he glanced at Selene, “and maybe even the end of the world.” He giggled. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“Wait a minute,” Charles said. “No one said you could go along. We certainly appreciate your help in keeping my sister safe, but we don’t know you. We don’t know we can trust you.”
Brandon grinned. “Maybe not. But you do need us.” He held his arm out and lifted his sleeve to a reveal a black tattoo on his forearm.
Anastasia stepped forward. “What is that?”
“A mark of the Death Dealers,” Simon said. “You’re a Brother.”
Brandon nodded. “Nephima says the dream told her you need to find Reaper. I can help.”
Simon glanced over at Selene. She was staring hard at Brandon, who only smiled patiently back at her. “Let them come,” Selene said. “If we try to get into the inner sanctum of a Death Dealer temple by ourselves it will only cause trouble. Maybe even draw unwanted attention. Better to have a Brother with us.”
Simon looked no more convinced than Anastasia felt. She’d heard rumors of the Death Dealers, but she’d never paid much mind to them. After all, she had not believed in Reaper any more than she had believed in the other higher powers. Now she knew better. If Selene was real, than Reaper was real. They were all real. She pressed a hand to the side of her head.
Charles touched her arm. “Be strong, Ana. You can deal with this.”
She nodded. “And you can deal with Richard.”
“Yes, I can.”
She smiled, knowing neither one of them believed a word the other was saying. Charles wrapped his arms around her and she laid her head against his chest. But she didn’t cry. The time for crying was over. Now was the time for action.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Jesse rode through the early morning light with Manny walking beside his horse. He wasn’t sure exactly what Nephima had been going on about before they parted ways, but he was just as happy to be rid of both her and Brandon. And to be away from Lady Anastasia DeHaviland, whose soft brown eyes had haunted his sleep.
“I want to push it today,” Jesse said. “Get back to Marigold before sunset. Can you handle that?”
Manny nodded. But of course he could. The man could run all day long and barely break a sweat. He could also keep pace with a horse going at a light canter, so Jesse kicked the mare into one, enjoying the feel of the breeze against his face. He hadn’t slept well in the overstuffed, over soft four poster bed in the Duke’s guest room and he was looking forward to his own lumpy mattress back at the Guild house.
They met a few travelers along the way, but no one was interested in passing conversation with them. One look at Manny and people were quick to shuffle along their own way. It annoyed Jesse, as it always had, but in a way he was glad for it as well, as it kept them from having to slow down. They reached Marigold as the sun was slipping over the rim of the western horizon.
On the street of taverns and brothels, oil lamps cast a pale yellow glow across the faces in the crowded street. Music and laughter spilled from open doorways. A drunk ambled down the sidewalk singing a blurry song. He paused long enough to throw up in the gutter, then wiped his sleeve across his mouth and continued on his way. Nobody so much as glanced at him. Jesse smiled. It was good to be home.
He briefly considered stopping for a few drinks or a woman, but Manny was with him and besides he was tired. Plenty of time for fun once he had his share of the paper in hand. Maybe after a visit to the Wild Lands he would take his share and go north, maybe even as far as the coast. He’d never seen the ocean and neither had Manny. Could be fun.
The Guild house was dark. Manny went on inside while Jesse stabled the mare and made certain she had fresh water and clean hay. He then slipped in through the back door of the house and lit a lamp in the kitchen. Watching the mare eat had made him realize how hungry he was. He fixed himself a pork sandwich on rye bread and had just settled down at the bar with it and a bottle of ale, when Kat came into the kitchen wearing nothing but a sleep shirt which barely touched the top of her knees. Luckily Jesse had not yet taken a bit of his sandwich otherwise he might have choked on it.
“I heard someone on the roof,” she said, leaning against the doorframe, “so I figured you were back.”
“Yeah, I’m back.” Jesse took a bite of his sandwich and tried to avoid looking at Kat’s long, well muscled legs. He found himself trying to mentally compare her to Lady Anastasia, but the image wouldn’t sit right in his head. It was like comparing a horse to a swan. Both were graceful, beautiful creatures, but in vastly different ways.
“So I guess things went well with the Duke?” she asked.
“Yes. And no.” He reached for the bottle of ale. “Things got a little...strange.” He took a drink. “But I finished the job. I’ll tell Deke in the morning.”
“Good. That’s good.” She ran a hand back through her thick mane of hair. “It was sort of crazy, going to see the Duke. You could have been hanged.”
Jesse’s eyes narrowed. Not only had they been in the same room for more than five minutes without Kat threatening to beat him with a blunt object, but she was actually making an effort to be nice. Concerned even. And she was standing there half dressed when she could have as easily pulled on a pair of pants before coming downstairs. Something was up.
“Why are you acting like we’re friends all of a sudden?” He set the bottle of ale back on the bar. “What do you want from me?”
Kat scowled and muttered an oath. “Okay, fine.” She crossed the room to grab herself a bottle, then sat on the barstool opposite Jesse. “I need to talk to you about a job I took while you were gone.”
“Not interested,” Jesse said around a mouthful of sandwich. “After Deke gives me my cut for this last job I’m taking off. Up to the coast maybe. Sit in the sun, listen to the surf, relax. Drink. Maybe even find some exotic woman to keep me company. Live the good life for awhile. Besides, what do you need me for?”
Kat’s finger tapped the side of her bottle. “It’s not you I need, it’s Manny. But I didn’t figure I could pry the two of you apart, so why even try?”
“What do you need Manny for?"
“Do you know anything about the Suri Desert?” she asked. “Have you ever been there? Has Manny ever been there?”
“Yes, to all three. Every wildling has to go there eventually, it’s sort of a rite of passage. But they tend to frown on outsiders doing it.”
“So why did you go?”
Jesse stared at his sandwich. Kat didn’t really know his story. Oh, she knew bits and pieces of it, when you were as close to someone as they used to be it was impossible for them not to discover some of your private memories, but she didn’t know it all. Nowhere near.
“You know my father died when I was twelve,” Jesse said. Actually, his stepfather, but Kat didn’t know he was really the son of a nobleman.
“Yeah. So?”
“So, uh,” he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on his stool, “the wildlings sort of adopted me. I had to do the desert thing like I was one of them.”
Kat’s mouth fell open. “How is it I’ve known you for five years and you never told me? Is that why you and Manny are so close? Is he your adoptive brother, or something?”
Jesse lifted his bottle. “Or something.” The warm liquid tasted dry and flat going down his throat. He sat the bottle back on the bar and, after a moment’s consideration, dropped the sandwich beside it. He’d lost his appetite.
“You know I don’t like to talk about the past.”
“And I always wondered why.” Kat’s voice was soft and she was looking at him sort of like she used to, before everything fell apart between them.
Jesse was surprised to find himself tempted to tell her everything. He’d never wanted to tell her before. Never wanted to tell anybody. He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “Why do you need to go to the desert?”
And with those words he saw Kat’s expression close up again. “The job I took is to steal something from a temple in the desert. I figured if anybody would know how to find it, it would be Manny.”
“No,” Jesse said. The mere idea of what she was suggesting twisted him up inside. “The temple is a sacred place. I’ve never seen it. Manny probably hasn’t either. Only wildlings who
have managed to communicate with their chosen spirits are allowed to go.”
“But he probably knows where it is right?” Kat pressed. “He could lead me there.”
Jesse scowled. “What part of sacred did you misunderstand? It’s a good thing you came to me with this first. Manny is pretty even tempered, but you can still rile him up if you try hard enough. He won’t help you steal from his people.”
“He will if you tell him to.”
What little sandwich he’d managed to eat soured on his stomach. “Not going to happen.” He stood. “Sorry, Kat, you’re on your own.” He was halfway to the door when she spoke.
“The pay for completing the job is four hundred star stones.”
Jesse froze. He knew he should keep walking. Even if what she was saying was true, and it couldn’t be, he should keep walking. He owed the wildlings everything. They were his friends. His family. His people, though he hadn’t been born to them. They took him in when he had nowhere else to go. Saved his life. He should keep walking.
Instead, he turned around. “You’re lying.”
Kat twisted her bottle between her hands. “No, I’m not. In fact, right this moment, I have two hundred of the stones under a floorboard beneath my bed.” Her gaze met his. “Half the pay was up front.”
Jesse stared back into her eyes. She wasn’t lying. “A Magus of the highest order guards the temple.”
“I know.”
“How do you plan on getting past her?” He hated himself for even asking.
“You don’t have to worry about it. All you have to do is get me to the temple and you’ll get a full half share of the pay. Two hundred star stones. Once we get to the temple, Ethan and I will do the rest.”
Jesse did a double take. “Ethan? Ethan is going to ride out into the middle of a desert? On a horse?”
“For a hundred star stones he’d probably crawl there on his hands and knees.”
She made a good point. Jesse’s mind whirled at the idea of possessing two hundred star stones. Forget a vacation to the coast, with that kind of fortune he could buy the coast, or at least a good chunk of it. He could have a fine house with fine furniture and servants. Maybe even invest in some good breeding horses. Not that he knew anything about horseflesh, but he could hire someone who did. He could have it all. Everything which should have been his by right of his blood, but which had been denied to him. Who knew, maybe he could even get a fine lady like Anastasia to look twice at him.
And all he had to do was convince his best friend to help him betray all the people they loved. It was a terrible thing to even consider doing. And yet, he found his feet carrying him back to the bar. He sat down heavily, took up the bottle, and said, “Okay. Tell me more.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
The local Death Dealer temple was situated well outside Havenessy at the end of a dirt road shadowed by overhanging tree limbs. A small, gray, unassuming building with no decoration of any kind, the temple was not one Brandon had ever visited before, but it was so like the one in which he grew up it was almost like coming home.
As Simon drew the wagon to a stop, a Brother dressed in black robes stepped out of the temple. “May I help you?”
Brandon dismounted from Blue Bell and strolled over to him. “We’d like to see the Inner Sanctum.”
The Brother’s gaze rolled over the others, who were clearly not followers of Reaper, before coming back to settle on Brandon. His lips dipped into a frown. “This is a holy temple, not a place for sightseers. Seek out your thrills elsewhere.”
He couldn’t blame the man for his irritation. Nobody wanted to be a known follower of Reaper, but plenty of people wanted a peek inside his temples in the hopes of glimpsing one of the dark and bloody rituals rumored to take place within the stone walls.
Brandon smiled as he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. But it was a tight smile. He wasn’t ready for his companions to know the truth of who he was. Though Selene, of course, had sensed something off about him the moment she saw him. Though whether she was as clueless as to what that something might be as Ethan was remained to be seen.
The Brother looked down at his tattoo and his face went slack with shock. He took a step back, for a moment looking at Brandon as if he were rattlesnake about to strike. Then he quickly composed his features and lowered his head.
“Forgive me,” he murmured. “I had no idea. Please, allow me to show you and your companions the way.”
“Lead on,” Brandon said, his tone cheery though his teeth were clenched. He could feel the others staring at his back but did not so much as glance at them as he followed the Brother inside.
Plain, wooden benches faced a stone altar circled with red candles. Darkness crowded close around the edges of their dancing light. A few worshipers sat upon the benches, well apart from one another, their faces concealed within dark hoods. Even here, among others of their faith, they preferred to remain anonymous.
Beyond the altar was a door leading into a narrow hallway. So narrow Brandon and his group were forced to walk single file behind the Brother. Brandon drew in a breath of the chill, slightly damp air. Not since his initiation had he actually been deep in the heart of a Death Dealer temple. Not since his initiation had he been face to face with Reaper.
He would not be here now, if not for Nephima’s dream of the Cataclysm. The Brothers of the order believed in the coming of the end of the world. They were perhaps the only people on the lesser plane who knew the truth of the twin gods.
