Bacorium Legacy (97 page)

“I love you,” he whispered to her.

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

They remained like that well into the small hours of the night, lying contently by themselves under the stars, as snow fell around them.

EPILOGUE

She breathed. There was life in her yet. In the emptiness, in the grey empty death that this land had become, she lived.

She floated in a lake, the bottom of the chasm she had fallen into. She hadn't known there was still water down there when she had jumped. She had no guarantee that she would have survived at all.

She had simply trusted in her goddess to save her.

And she had.

Verra drew in a long breath, celebrating her life. She lived to serve her goddess, and it was with a special sort of happiness that she knew she could go on doing so.

But first, she needed to find that sword - the one she had taken from the Saetician king when she killed him. It had fallen first, and likely rested at the bottom of the lake. So she dived in, and searched for it. Her first attempt found nothing, so she returned to the surface and breathed. Once she was ready, she dived again.

It ultimately took Verra the rest of the day before she found the sword. Still in its sheath, the blade had somehow managed to worm its way between two rocks in one of the deepest parts of the lake. Almost as though it was trying to escape her.

She chuckled at the futility of it.

Verra strapped the sword across her back, and made her way to the narrow shore at the bottom of the pit. The lake, which was once filled the chasm in its entirety, was almost dried up. Water did not linger in Acaria.

After searching for a while, she found a winding path back up the cliff, and made her way back to where she had been. The abandoned town was empty once more. After looking around a bit, she pieced together what had happened. Serpos was dead, and Lodin's son, Gordon, and the other two had left.

It suited her just fine. Serpos had only been one of several loose ends that needed tied up. Zinoro was another, but he would take care of himself soon enough. Either he would be slain, or the power he wielded would consume him, and he would annihilate himself.

Verra had been with Zinoro for so many years - lived in his palace, lent him her services, and even shared his bed whenever he demanded it. All those years, and he had never suspected her true allegiance. He had recognised Gordon for the traitor he was, but Verra had played her part without fail.

She understood well what Zinoro was, and she knew he could not control the goddess's mana. He was but a puppet in her hands, and he had already served his purpose. Wiping out Sono, if he could do it, would just be icing on the cake that he had already made for them.

Satisfied, Verra continued her trek across the Grey Wasteland. Though it was well into the night hours, no monsters came after her. The beasts of Acaria were fearsome, but even they shied away from someone who was touched. She could feel them, lingering on the edges of the shadows, too hungry to flee, but too afraid to attack. Those dumb beasts thought they owned the shadows. In time, that domain would come back to its true master.

Weeks passed as she made her way across the emptiness that was Acaria. She stopped only to eat and sleep. Even she was not free of the basic needs of mortals. The distance was long, but she was in no hurry. No one chased her anymore, and her goddess was patient.

And then, at last she arrived. The once great temple greeted her as a gaping ruin, sitting deep within a valley of greyness in the corner of Acaria like a relic forgotten by time and man. To anyone else, it would have radiated a thick, ancient darkness that triggered a fear that mortals could not contain. The fear of the Old Ones. But to Verra, this was home. It was the last shrine - the last point where her goddess could touch the mortal plane. Only here was the air truly fresh to Verra. Only here did the silence ring true in her ears. Only here did she feel pure and alive.

Some day, when they had fulfilled their duties, all of Bacoria would have that feeling. All would belong to the goddess.

Verra entered the shrine, passing through the decrepit halls. The temple was old - the oldest named thing in Bacoria. But it did not collapse from the weight of time. The power of her goddess kept it alive.

Zinoro had once come here. It was before she had known him, but the others had told her of it. The Dreadlord had met him, and took him through the initiations. Though Zinoro was touched, he had never been a Hand. He was but a tool for them to use - a tool that had served its purpose perfectly.

Verra arrived at the final hall. The other six were there, waiting for her as the goddess had told them to. They stood around the table in a near-perfect ring. A ring of seven that missed only one.

She joined them, pulled the sword from her back, and placed it on the table. She was relieved - glad to be rid of the thing. It stank of purity and righteousness.

“Welcome back to us,” said the Dreadlord. His voice was low, deep and ancient. It was a relief to hear that voice again. “The Shadow returns. As the goddess demanded, you brought back one of the Fragments.”

“I have,” she answered.

“The time draws ever near,” the Dreadlord continued. “The preparations are nearly complete. Zinoro has been dealt with. He is no longer a concern to us.”

“He is dead?” she asked.

“He still lives. Imprisoned in T'Saw. But he has been separated from his Fragment, and cut off from the goddess's mana. He has become weak again.”

Verra frowned. “A better outcome would have been his death, or the destruction of Sono. Left like this, he is a loose end. He could still be a problem.”

“Perhaps, but for now, he is irrelevant. The goddess will tell us what to do with him when the time comes. For now, we have other concerns. The aftermath is still favourable to us. Two of the free nations have been crippled by the battles. One remains strong. This shall be our next target.”

The Dreadlord looked to the one at his left, the smallest of the Hands. She returned his glance, and smiled.

“Chosen Child,” he said. “My little Ophelia. Are you ready?”

The young girl's smile grew, eager to act at last. “I am.”

“Good. The goddess has given us our next instructions. Listen well, all of you.”

Above them, the great statue of Ekkei observed all.