The Apostate Prince (Godswar Chronicles Book 2) Page 11

  Tears rolled down Celia’s flushed cheeks and her eyes called out to him, terror in their emerald depths. He shook his head but his mother spoke before he could voice an objection.

  “Swallow your pride and bow before the altar. Make your vow to the Night Goddess. Do it and the Guardian goes home to testify to her king. Don’t, and she dies.”

  The Dark Queen had foreseen this very moment. She had told his mother before his birth that they would need him. The destiny the Dark Queen and the Empress wanted for him had always remained a mystery to Justin, but here it was laid out for him. If he retrieved the sword and did as his mother asked the sword would be destroyed, Justin would enter the dark fold, and Celia would live. He could have his family, his destiny, and save the woman he loved – according to the Truth Circle - with a single act of humility.

  The wavy facets of the obsidian dagger at Celia’s throat caught the firelight. Victor placed a hand on Justin’s shoulder from behind in an unprecedented act of empathy. Stunned, he let it remain there. Victor’s rich baritone voice took on a soft quality it never had before. “You have a destiny, Justin. If it is magic you love, the Goddess will not deny you that. She will bless it.”

  Losing his magic did not concern Justin. The Dark Queen could not take that which She had not given him. The only thing that concerned him was the beautiful, intriguing woman on the altar – a pawn in a High Priest’s scheme. The tears on her cheeks weighed on his soul. Dylan had told him…to destroy the sword would draw you into the fold of Darkness, and Celia’s fate would be sealed.

  But, would it? If Justin told his mother the truth of the sword and how to destroy it, Justin could bring her to Aflua, saving her soul. His mother had not lied when she said she would allow it, or when she said that kneeling would save Celia.

  Justin returned his gaze to his mother. “I have never been loyal to the Dark Queen or any other god. But I have been loyal to you, mother, every day of my life. Please don’t make me choose.”

  “Don’t you understand what it means when the Night Goddess says you are needed? It’s a destiny, Justin. One none of us can imagine. You need only bow. Show humility for once in your life and Her plan for you will become clear.”

  Celia’s forehead dripped with sweat, despite the cool room. She kept her eyes squeezed shut. She’d told him that he had to choose a side and now his mother said the same. But neither side had the right to force him. Yet here he was - cornered. Justin balled his fists until he shook.

  “You’re extorting my soul? Is this more of the Goddess’ freedom?”

  His mother pressed the dagger to Celia’s throat. The jagged edge of the obsidian blade drew a few drops of blood. Celia’s breath came in short gasps.

  “I am giving you a choice, and it’s a simple one. Give your soul to save her - and yourself - or don’t. There is no middle ground in this.”

  “Is this the only way I can have your trust?”

  “Give your soul to the Dark Queen and anyone who questions your loyalty again will pay with their lives.”

  Justin shook his head. “I need time to think.”

  “Why?”

  “I am beginning to see the destiny the Goddess has laid out before me. But there are still things I must consider. For instance, if I change to the black robes I will at the very least be excommunicated from the Guild. If I don't notify them, I could be labeled a renegade on top of it.”

  The flames remained unchanged and his mother nodded.

  “The Celebration of the Day of Freedom begins at sunset. But no matter what you decide, I expect you to be there for the unveiling and to choose your apprentice. You have until high sun. James will remain with you until then, and will escort you to Freedom Hall once you have made your decision. The Guardian will remain here, on the altar.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Now or Never

  Justin avoided Deetra’s eyes as he stepped around her. His mother promised him trust, at the threat of a proverbial blade to his throat for the rest of his life. Taking the vow meant pleasing the Goddess in life for power in the Abyss, or facing her wrath for eternity.

  He followed the red carpet runner out the round door of the Sanctum. James waited at the end of the hall in full red armor. He held his helm under one arm and wore a look of sympathy on his clean-shaven face. He followed Justin, keeping pace as he headed for the stairs.

  “You alright?” James asked as he rubbed the side of his crew cut.

  Justin nodded and kept walking. James had betrayed him in a misguided attempt to help. He had been manipulated by Deetra but it didn’t quite take away the sting of what he had done. Their conversation this morning had not stayed between them. Justin had not expected it to, not completely, but somehow Justin’s refusal to answer was interpreted as an admission of guilt.

  Once Justin reached his room, he stopped in front of the door and spoke without turning around. “I need time alone.”

  “Sorry brother, but-”

  “I have no windows and this is the only door. I’m not going anywhere.” Justin said, and opened the door.

  James nodded but blocked him with one arm and looked up to meet his eyes. “Do you think we’re bad people?”

  “What?”

  “Me, my mom, yours… Do you think we’re bad people?”

  “I don't think faith makes people bad, if that’s what you’re asking.” Justin answered. With a look, he asked James to move his arm.

  James dropped it. “Can you just wait a moment?”

  He did, but only so James could be done with it. Silence and infrequent disturbances were what he needed right now. While not yet morning, Justin had exhausted every last spell he had the day before and had yet to study another spell aside from the Identify.

  “Do you know why you don't fit in?” James asked, placing a hand gently on Justin’s arm and attempting to comfort him. “You were chosen by the Goddess before you were even born, yet you spurn Her. You have a destiny waiting for you that any one of us would give our lives for and you deny it. You’ve lived a charmed existence but you resent it. What more do you want?”

  Justin shrugged. “For my family to trust me. But clearly, you don’t.”

  “Then just take the vow, Justin.” James smiled and squeezed his arm. “I want us to be brothers again.”

  Justin stepped away from his brother’s touch. “I never stopped being your brother James. You did that when you betrayed me.”

  James started to say something else but Justin pulled the door closed behind him. The more James tried to convince him, the less Justin could tolerate the sound of his voice. The sword lay on the mounts on his desk, waiting.

  Justin sat at his desk in front of it and dropped his head onto his arms, heart torn with conflict. If his mother had just listened and let him see his plan through, the Empire would have struck a blow at the High Priest of the Temple of Light and made an ally of his king. Celia would still stand trial and everyone would have what they wanted. But the only thing she seemed to care about was securing her son in the family and having him fulfill the Dark Queen's destiny for him. His deal had no merit to those ends.

  It was in moments like this, when hope became distant smoke on the horizon, that Justin wished he had a father - another parent to turn to. Deetra had tried to give that to him, once upon a time, but her disdain of his bookish nature and resentment of his very birth had prevented it. Deetra had not wanted his mother to have him and now he knew that his mother had not wanted him either. She only kept him because the Dark Queen said they would need him. Remembering her words made his throat swell until it threatened to choke him.

  Tears spilled over onto his desk and Justin balled his fists, hating his weakness, hating himself, James, Deetra, and everyone else who had brought him to this point. The Gods of Light and Dark tugged at either end of his soul and he did not want to make the choice. He had a right to live as a free man, without conditions, and without their interference. From the moment he came home, ideology and re
ligion had been shoved down his throat like the moonshine rat as a child. No more. He had chosen his path five years ago and he would not change it for anyone: not his mother, not Celia - not even the gods.

  He sat up and wiped the tears from his face. He studied magic for four years under the greatest Archmages in the world, in the tradition of the first mage, Magus. Magus had challenged the gods - faced them down and forced them to blink. Justin did not have to challenge the gods, just his mother and his family. They hadn’t the faintest idea under the stars what Justin was capable of. The illusion of the dragon in Freedom Hall had been a taste - but only a taste.

  Behind the desk stood his near-empty bookshelf. Back in Drokin, Justin had access to an entire magical library. Here he was restricted to his own works - three volumes the width of his thumb. He retrieved the oldest of the set and placed it on the desk, the sword resting on its mounts in front of him.

  He flipped to a familiar page; a spell that could Send a message to any person Justin knew the approximate location of and allowed them to Send a short response back. Justin had used it to exchange messages with his mother and James while he was away. Master Rashidi had insisted Justin do so as part of his casting exercises.

  Justin read the arcane script; a formula of hand movements, thoughts, words, and symbols. Only in this form could magic be taught or passed to another. An ancient feud between the God of Time and Magus had left its mark upon all of magic. Once cast, the words vanished from the ears of witnesses and the mind of the wizard. Each time, they needed to be rememorized.

  Once he had it, Justin retrieved a quill and a sheet of parchment from his desk drawer and scribed a letter, speaking each word as he wrote it, asking for help acquiring safe passage to Aflua for himself and one other. The quill had no ink but the parchment would never reach his Master, his words alone would find Rashidi on the winds of magic.

  Justin rolled the parchment around the raven feather quill while speaking the incantation. He let go of the letter and it continued to roll itself tighter until the quill inside it crushed. With a flash of fire and smoke the letter puffed out of existence.

  His answer would come in short order; distance meant nothing to the evocation. Of course, Master Rashidi might have to make arrangements and such things could take time, but Justin had pressed the gravity of his predicament.

  Justin returned to his studies. This was his calling. Within the pages of his spell books his mother, Deetra, and the gods themselves held no sway over him. He had neglected his magic for too long, and forgotten his true self. He was a wizard. Time passed without meaning as each page turned, etched into his memory, waiting to be unlocked and cast out into the world. No problem had yet existed that magic could not solve.

  He turned page after page in his spell book for four hours until high sun drew near and still he had not heard back from Master Rashidi. Justin did not have to look to know James still guarded his door. Soon he would knock and expect Justin to accompany him to Freedom Hall.

  While everyone waited within Freedom Hall, however, Justin would have the perfect - and only - opportunity to attempt his rescue. He closed his spell book and drew a deep, calming breath. He’d had time to memorize only six spells. It would have to be enough. It was now or never.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Illusions of Grandeur

  Justin stood up from his desk and stretched his back. Master Rashidi had received the message or Justin would have sensed the spell’s failure. Why he did not reply yet, Justin could only guess. The implications of Justin’s message were enormous and Rashidi would know that Justin had omitted the second person’s identity intentionally. However, his Master’s lack of response thus far meant he would help. If he could not, he would have said so already.

  Part of him had hoped that Master Rashidi would simply Teleport to him and take the three of them back to Drokin. But a single Teleport required as much as two hours of study. Four of them would take more than half the day and Justin made it clear in his message that he did not have that kind of time. Justin would just have to move forward and trust that his answer would come.

  Justin retrieved a satchel from his closet and filled it with his spell books. The sword lay in the weapon mounts, its gleaming silver blade reflecting in the light onto Justin’s face. He had no sheath or belt to carry it; a minor detail he had overlooked. Casting the spells he had memorized required the use of both his hands.

  He turned back to his bed and stripped off the gray cotton sheet and held it up with one hand, using a Cantrip to cut a long strip. The sword came up from the mounts without protest. Dylan still trusted him, good. He tied the sheet in a knot under the swords crossguard, then around his waist, creating a makeshift weapon belt. It looked ridiculous but that hardly mattered. He used another piece of the sheet to tie his books together in a small satchel.

  Justin reached into his sash and slipped out a small velvet coin-purse - his Hidden Pocket. Imbued with a powerful enchantment, the tiny sack held all his traveling supplies: components for most of his spells, a canteen, cutlery, a plate, a bowl, a box of tindertwigs, a fishing pole, cot, and a tent. The only things it could not hold were water, living things, and enchanted objects. He held it open and his satchel shrank as he pushed it into the Hidden Pocket.

  Spell books safely tucked away, Justin plucked at his eyelashes until one came out. He held it in his fingers and fished some clear quartz from a pocket in his sash. The spell rose to his lips and spilled forth. He put the stone in his palm and laid the eyelash on top of it. It sizzled and vanished and Justin returned the quartz to his pocket.

  He held up his hands but they too had vanished - invisible. The mirror on the far wall showed an empty room. Satisfied, he took his place to the side of his door and knocked. The handle turned and the latch clicked as James opened the door.

  “Thank Goddess. I'm starving,” James said.

  He stopped, checked the bed and the desk, and turned completely around once. Justin held his breath. James took another step into the room and Justin slipped out the open door behind him.

  “Justin?” James said as he looked under the bed. “Hello?”

  Justin closed the door and held the handle from turning. James’ footsteps ran towards the door. He tried the handle but Justin held it tight. James banged on the door with his fist.

  “Justin! Open the damn door!”

  Justin traced a rune with one finger around the hand that held the handle fast.. James pulled the handle again, half turning it. Justin raced through the words of the Wizard Lock.

  “That’s it,” James said.

  His footsteps backed away from the door, then came running back. Justin turned his free palm on the door. The sigil spun and then stopped with an audible clunk. The rune flashed blue and light traced its way around the door. Justin let go of the handle.

  James slammed into the door. The frame rattled and echoed down the hall but the magical lock held. Short of destroying the door, only a password chosen by the wizard opened it. Justin didn’t pick one.

  “Don't do this!” James screamed and rammed the door again.

  Bits of mortar came loose from the stone above. The door was thick, steel-banded oak, but even that would not hold a man like James forever. Justin held the sword from bouncing on his leg and ran down the hall. He made it to the spiral stairs, stopped, and strained his ears. The stairs were empty. He ran up toward the Sanctum. The sound of banging and James bellowing faded by the time he made it halfway up.

  At the top, he stopped to catch his breath. Invisibility would prove useless if he was panting like a dog. Once he caught his wind, Justin dipped his hand in his pocket for a bit of wool. He pressed it between his eyes and imagined his mother; her jet hair and striking blue eyes, her shining scale mail, the billow of her cloak as she walked, the slight throaty quality of her voice, and the clack of her heels on the stone. The vision of her in his mind replaced all other thoughts: the Empress alone in darkness. His voice rasped in the empty stair
well as he whispered the incantation. The wool disintegrated under his thumb, tickling his eyelashes and nose.

  He opened his eyes to his mother standing before him on the landing. The disapproving expression on her face made Justin’s heart skip a beat. His hands trembled and he let out a slow breath to calm them. The Invisibility would last long enough to get into the Sanctum with the door closed but not much more. The time to reconsider had passed.

  He sent the Illusion of his mother down a few steps without sound and then had her walk back up, heels clacking an impatient rhythm. He opened the door and followed the Illusion into the hall. She marched straight ahead, just as she did when she led him to the Sanctum this morning.

  The Red Knights snapped to attention at the end of the hall. The lamps hung from ornate iron hooks, one on each half column along the wall. They burned low, casting steady shadows across the floor. As the Illusion passed the first one, Justin held his breath. There was no shadow on the floor and the light did not touch her cheek.

  They passed a second and third lamp and the pair of Red Knights still stood at attention on either side of the round, stone door. This morning they had started rolling it to the side the moment his mother entered the hall. Sweat tickled behind Justin’s ear.

  “Is everything alright, Empress?” One of the knights asked, his voice a mixture of concern and suspicion.

  Justin mouthed the words as they walked, but the Illusion spoke in his mother’s voice. He added a note of impatience.

  “Everything’s fine. Open it.”

  The other knight bowed his head to pray. The Ouroboros flashed and turned. The knight that spoke stared at the Illusion of the Empress from under the visor of his ruby helm. He stood in the middle of the hall, barring the Illusion’s path. Justin’s stomach rolled. He held it so it wouldn’t gurgle.

  Justin stopped and halted the Illusion with an annoyed clack of a bootheel. Justin lowered his brow and his mother glared at the knight. Justin touched his throat and the Illusion cleared hers.