Forging Divinity (5 page)

Her eyes scanned from side to side, Lydia noted no one else to observe her actions – but that did not mean no one was watching. She desperately wanted to speak aloud, to declare her allegiance to the weapon. Her faith was one reason, but practicality was the greater of the two. The spells on the blade might allow a true believer in the Tae’os Pantheon to draw it from the scabbard.

With the utmost hesitation, Lydia grasped the leather grip of the weapon with her right and the scabbard with her left. Silently, she pulled on the hilt, attempting to separate the two.

The scabbard remained firmly in place.

Some childish fragment of hope in Lydia’s mind was shattered, but her natural inclination toward problem solving filled the gap. A scabbard stuck in place did not imply the gods did not want her to have the weapon. It simply meant that there was some force keeping the sword in place – a force she had not yet identified. She had a spell for that.

“Dominion of Knowledge, I invoke you,” Lydia said aloud, knowing that unlike a declaration of faith, this would not arouse any suspicion if overheard.

Her vision momentarily blackened as the spell took hold. Letters flashed in her mind’s vision, showing her fragments of a broken thought.
Eru ...n de... ..laris, kor. ..s o..n .. taris.
D...ni.. ..at e..s ..l o. ...a...n...

Every knowledge sorcerer experienced using the Dominion Analysis spell slightly differently, from what Lydia had been told. Some saw images, like memories stolen from other eyes. Others said they heard a voice whispering the answers they sought. Still others claimed that after casting the spell they simply knew the answer – as if they always had.

Lydia found herself sitting on the stone floor with no memory of how she had gotten there. The sword lay across her lap, still contained in its scabbard. Lydia narrowed her eyes at the weapon. Knowledge sorcery would extract a fragment of her own knowledge as a cost each time she used it – but she had never experienced a blackout from casting it. Any memories the spells had stolen in her past had been subtle.

Lydia’s spell had always presented her with text; that was no surprise. Books and scrolls were her greatest friends and the only loyal ones. She had never before been betrayed with mere fragments of an answer.

Her legs felt weak, but she managed to wobble to her feet.
What in the resh was that? More defensive sorcery, like what Veruden mentioned?

She did not dismiss that possibility entirely, but she shoved it aside in favor of other options.
Perhaps the spell failed, or I cast it improperly. Or,
she considered with some hesitation,
perhaps the weapon is so powerful I can’t even understand what I just experienced.

The last option she considered only for the sake of completeness; assuming the weapon’s dominion marks were beyond her comprehension would be unproductive.

More likely
, she continued to consider,
I came in contact with multiple dominions at once. The spell is made to identify a single dominion. If the sword carries several dominion marks – as in legends – perhaps my spell was simply unable to translate that information. I may need to develop a new spell to try to analyze this further.

Lydia nodded, finding that explanation acceptable for the moment, and returned to her focus on a completely different series of problems.

The sorceress returned the weapon to its position on the table with some reluctance, and then used the table to support her weight. She was still feeling dizzy, which was not a good sign.

Focusing as best she could, Lydia examined the weapon. At a glance, the weapon fit the description she had always heard – a hilt long enough for two hands to fit comfortably, a long and elegant blade, and a metal that shined with greater luster than any silver she had ever before witnessed. She carefully lifted the sword a few inches, trying to peer inside the scabbard to see if she could get a look at the runes that should have been visible on the surface, but the sheath was flush against the blade.

The scabbard itself was an oddity; it was wrapped in white leather (a color used to demonstrate affluence), but with metal plating along the sides and covering the entire tip. It struck a beautiful image, but so much metal on a scabbard had to be impractical. Not that the god of swords would have been inconvenienced much by such a thing, she mused, but he was supposed to be a pragmatic deity.

That’s the first thing I’ve noted that’s out-of-place
, she considered.
And, now that I think about it, the scabbard isn’t in Aendaryn’s colors. He wears silver, black, and blue. This is white and...iron, I suppose.

It was not much evidence of the sword being a fake, but little else provided her with a clue.

Lifting the weapon again, she moved into a combat stance. Raising the weapon into position felt easy, fluid – even with the scabbard on the weapon. The weight of the sword was negligible. She could feel it, but the weight only seemed to be enough to remind her that the weapon was in her hand. The blade felt heavier from the presence of the scabbard, but only slightly.

I could take it
, Lydia considered.
I could do more experiments in my room, or just flee the city with it entirely. If this really is the Sae’kes, it could change everything in Velthryn in an instant. If I could learn how the marks work, it could usher in a new era for sorcery. And even if I failed to do that, the mere presence of the sword could save numerous lives. If stories of the weapon’s power are true, a proper wielder could turn aside entire armies.

She dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it came to her. She could get permission to take the sword to her chambers later – just walking off with it now would be a needless complication.

Attempting to get back to Velthryn with the sword would be considerably more difficult. The weapon’s absence would be noticed within hours. With Morella’s detection spells and Veruden’s teleportation, it was likely they could catch up to her.

More importantly, returning to Velthryn now would require abandoning her mission. Her responsibility was to gather information on the most prominent local sorcerers, as well as the supposed gods of the city. She delivered her reports during the infrequent opportunities her position gave her the excuse to travel to Velthryn’s territory, and she had no such excuse right now. Her mission had no set end date – she would be dismissed when her superiors felt she had done sufficient work, or if her cover had been significantly jeopardized.

The Sae’kes was most likely worth abandoning her mission – but the prisoner who had carried was potentially even more important.

I need answers. Conclusive answers. And for that, I need to meet with the prisoner directly.

Lydia returned to her chamber, making preparations and strategizing for contingencies. And then, after preparing an extra set of robes and a putting a mask matching that of another sorcerer in her pouch, Lydia initiated the first stage of her plan.

Since Lydia lived in the palace, passing by the Adellan room a few times throughout the day – hours apart – didn’t attract any undue attention. Each time she ensured she had an unrelated agenda nearby, just in case she was asked.

It was on the third pass that she deemed the halls sufficiently clear. While there were always at least a few guards on rotation, she knew from experience that there were lulls, especially during meals. It was supper hour, and most likely her best chance to avoid being noticed.

The sorceress pressed her hand against the door’s lock, speaking in a whisper.

“Dominion of Knowledge, show me the structure within.”

The Structural Analysis spell functioned differently from most of her other spells, presenting her with a series of images rather than text. She could see the interior of the lock, the positions of the tumblers, and the amount of open space inside the keyhole.

Taking a breath, Lydia flexed the fingers on her right hand and formed an image of the necessary key in her mind. “Dominion of Protection, form a key to this door.”

The shimmering construct in her hand wouldn’t last long, but she took a moment to knock lightly on the door. There was no one in the hallways nearby to hear her, and now she needed to focus on making a first impression on the prisoner within. She wanted to be polite, but firm, and ultimately sympathetic if she decided to help him.

She turned the sorcerous key in the lock, hiding her uncertainty beneath a veneer of stoicism.

Several minutes later, Lydia knelt over Istavan’s fallen body, whispering a spell into his ear.

“Dominion of Dreams, ravage his mind with nightmares of different versions of this confrontation.” She shuddered involuntarily in the aftermath of the spell – it was a horrible thing to do to a person, but better than slitting his throat.

Lady of Destiny, forgive me for abusing the gifts you gave me in your great kindness.

Using dream sorcery too frequently would wreak havoc on her ability to concentrate, but she had practiced frequently enough to be able to handle the use of two spells in a day without significant side effects.

She had faked casting the knowledge spell that would supposedly erase Istavan’s memories – she didn’t have any spells with that exact function, and most people didn’t have a high opinion of sorcery that caused nightmares. She didn’t want Taelien to formulate a poor opinion of her; especially now that it was looking more plausible he really might be an agent of the gods.

The nightmare spell wouldn’t have any lasting negative effects on Istavan, but she hoped it would sufficiently disturb his memories of the event to prevent him from reporting her as a traitor. And, even if he did report her, she could point out that he had been affected by dream sorcery – making his testimony unreliable.

Taelien and Lydia stripped Istavan of his robes and boots. While Taelien put the boots on in place of his absurd makeshift greaves, Lydia switched out Istavan’s robes for her own. His robes were slightly large, but she had no way of repairing the hole he had made in her robe with his incendiary spell. The damaged robes would have aroused suspicion on their way out, but oversized robes would not. Their formal uniform tunics were carefully tailored to fit each sorcerer, but the colorful robes they wore during daily business were much more varied in size and shape.

Why was Istavan here in the first place?
Lydia adjusted her newly-acquired robes and belted her sword back into place.
He’s not supposed to be due back for weeks. Moreover, if he is back, why wasn’t I informed? Someone must have told him about the sword – otherwise he would have had no reason to be in the armory. There’s nothing else being stored here that has value to a sorcerer...is there?

Lydia quickly glanced around the room. “Dominion of Knowledge, illuminate that which is touched by your cousins,” she said, raising a hand to her forehead as she spoke. A flash of green in the corner of her eye drew Lydia to look toward Taelien, and she nearly blinded herself when her eyes settled upon the sheathed weapon he was holding.
Gods around us
, she considered,
nothing should shine like that
.

Her illumination spell was designed to be subtle – a quick indication of anything present with a detectable sorcerous aura. The power of the sorcery should have been irrelevant; the spell was not designed to display that.
What could be causing that? Another defensive reaction? Several overlapping dominions, like I speculated about before?

Lydia turned her eyes away, ignoring the bright after-image from the weapon’s unexpected illumination. She saw no indication of any other objects in the room with a sorcerous aura. She did a quick scan over Istavan’s fallen body and found nothing on him, either. This particular spell would not detect his ability to use sorcery, or anyone else’s – it was only designed for finding objects. Similarly, it wouldn’t pick up the nightmare spell’s effect. She had other spells designed for tracking and identifying sorcerers and active spells.

“We should get moving,” Lydia said, blinking to end the effects of her detection spell. She knew that supper would keep the palace staff relatively busy for the next hour or more, but she didn’t need any additional complications.

“Ready when you are.” Taelien belted the sheathed Sae’kes around his waist and headed for the door. Lydia followed closely behind him, and then took the lead after they stepped outside.

The sorceress lifted a finger to her lips in the universal gesture for silence, and then began to lead the way toward the palace’s first floor. Once there, she knew they would begin to encounter more guards and palace workers.

Istavan could have been told about the prisoner by someone other than the other sorcerers
, Lydia considered as she walked.
If he hasn’t seen any of them yet, perhaps he thought he could get to the weapon first and do something with it. That would explain why he was not aware of the plan, and why I wasn’t warned.

Or, alternatively, Morella could have told Istavan about the sword. She didn’t seem to want to deal with the rest of us for some reason – maybe she’s hiding something.

Intriguing possibilities, but all bothersome
, she concluded.

Taelien had fallen into position behind her and to the right, which Lydia noted to be an excellent position for him to protect her flank, given that most of the hallways that branched off from the main hall were on that side. It could have easily been coincidence, but it was also plausible that he was familiar with the layout of the palace and taking his position for strategic purposes.