James Clemens - Shadowfall

Kathryn glanced hard at Yaellin, attempting to read the man. “Impossible. Grace destroys such seeds in the womb.”

Yaellin shook his head. “In a coupling between god and man, yes. But not so with two gods. Such children do sometimes survive, though it is a rarity. Only a couple times each millennia. The last child was born over four hundred years ago. And that is the crux of the problem. Most of these children were slain at birth, first in fear, then in envy.”

“Envy?” Rogger asked.

“Such children are not like the other Myrillian gods. They are born, but they were never sundered. They are purer than either sire or dam. They are of flesh, but also carry with them those parts all others lost to the naether and aether. They are whole… in a manner.”

“Unsundered,” Gerrod whispered, dread and awe in his voice.

“Almost,” Yaellin said. “But it was enough for all such offspring to be slain. Savaged and hacked beyond healing. Then four hundred years ago, one of their children, a boy, was stolen, kidnapped, before it could be slain. It took the rogues a full year, as maddened as they are at most times, to discover the child’s fate. The boy’s desiccated and mummified remains were discovered in the hinterlands of the Fourth Lands. His heart was missing.”

“Who did this?” Kathryn asked. “Who performed such a black rite?” She could not help but picture the young knight sprawled in a circle of his own blood, his chest cleaved open.

“All the hinterland rogues could discover was a name: the Cabal.”

“What did they want with the boy?” Gerrod asked.

Yaellin shook his head. “It was never discovered for certain. But the rogue who sent the emissary had a suspicion. She believed the boy’s murder was tied back to the Godsword.”

“Rivenscryr,” Rogger said.

“The old Littick name for the sword,” Yaellin agreed. “The emissary revealed a second black secret concerning the Godsword. The weapon that shattered their world had been forged in their own blood. According to the rogue, the sword, once wielded and spent, needed fresh blood, the blood of an intact god, a god from their original kingdom, someone unsundered. Blood from a sundered god lacked something vital to enliven the sword. So after the Sundering, when the gods came to Myrillia, the weapon proved useless. No sundered god could whet it back into existence. It became a weapon without substance.”

“A sword of light and shadow,” Gerrod intoned, repeating the words Pryde Manthion used to describe and name the great weapon.

Yaellin nodded. “The rogue who sent the warning believed that the Cabal had stolen the infant godling in an attempt to forge anew the Godsword. The boy’s body had been drained of all blood. Such blood could bring Rivenscryr back into this world, a weapon that could shatter worlds.”

Silence settled over the room.

“But there was a last warning from this rogue god,” Yaellin continued, voice lowering. “A new babe had been born to the rogues, a babe born to the same god who sent the emissary. She could not see her child slain. Although half-maddened by wild Grace, she was still a mother. She feared for her infant’s safety. So she asked my father to come for her baby. To steal the child away before anyone knew of its existence. To keep her baby safe among the settled god-realms of Myrillia.”

“And he did that?” Kathryn asked, aghast.

“He took a cadre of knights and a woman who knew the hinterlands well, my own mother, the mistress of this school. They had a harrowing journey. It seemed word had leaked to the Cabal. My father and mother barely escaped with the child, losing all their guards to the fell beasts of the Cabal.”

“What became of the child?” Gerrod asked.

Yaellin turned and faced one of the two girls, the smaller of the two, with straw-colored hair. Her eyes were wide with dawning horror. “My father hid her here.”

Dart stared back at Yaellin. No… it was all a lie… impossible.

Laurelle stepped from her side, stumbling back.

“I’m only a girl,” Dart answered in a squeaky tight voice.

Yaellin came to her, dropping to a knee. “Yes, you are.” He took her hand. She barely felt his touch. “You are flesh like any other girl.” He squeezed to emphasize it. “Never let anyone tell you otherwise. But I’m afraid you must know deep in your heart that you’re different. Not worse, not better even. Just different.”

She attempted to pull her hand free-not so much to escape him as his words. But she couldn’t so easily escape her heart. He was right. She had always known she was different. And it wasn’t just the presence of Pupp, her ghostly companion. She always felt the outsider, the girl looking in through a window at the simple lives of the other girls. Still, how could she be a god?

Yaellin continued his explanation. “Dart was hidden at the school, in plain sight. Only two folks ever knew about her. My father and mother. I don’t know when they were planning on revealing her true heritage to her.” He glanced at Dart with sorrow. “Ser Henri did not reveal himself to be my father until I was about your age. I suppose he was not very good at… revealing difficult truths. I’m sorry you had to learn of your own parentage in such an ill manner as this.”

Dart simply shook her head, still denying, waiting to wake up from this unending nightmare. A tear rolled down her cheek. Then fingers wrapped around her hand. She turned. It was Laurelle, returned to her side. Fingers squeezed. She drew great comfort, but the tears flowed heavier.

Yaellin continued, facing the others again. “Knowledge of the girl’s identity and location died with my mother and father. But when I heard of the explosion of the illuminaria during the testing of Dart, I knew the girl must be someone special. None but a god could cause such a reaction. So I investigated with dream alchemies and discovered the truth.”

Master Gerrod stirred from his station. “And I suspect you were not the only one investigating the incident.” He glanced to Healer Paltry. “Another’s curiosity was aroused.”

Paltry had been standing near the back, watched by the tall swordswoman. He seemed to shrink in on himself.

The bronze figure stepped toward the healer. “You sent her blood to Tashijan, to Castellan Mirra. You came in the thick of the night, in secret. Why?”

Paltry had a sick pall to his face by now. “I… I made inquiries after what happened here. I dared not be too bold because.. because…”

“Because of your complicity in raping young children,” the master said bluntly.

Dart felt a surge of raw fury, drying the flow of her tears. One hand still held Laurelle’s, but her other fell to the hilt of the dagger Yaellin had given her.

Paltry looked away. “After the girl was chosen, I sent word to the Council at Tashijan, asking the masters a theoretical question about what might have happened. I was surprised to hear back from the castellan. But then again, she was once a master herself. She asked me to bring a test of the girl’s blood. So I stole one of her soiled undergarments. The girl claimed she was bleeding from her menstra, but

… but…”

“You knew better,” Gerrod said. “You knew of the harm done to her.”

Dart’s fingers tightened on her dagger’s hilt.

Paltry ignored the accusation and spoke to the floor. “I took the soiled garment to Castellan Mirra, following her order of secrecy.”

Master Gerrod turned to the woman seated beside the godslayer. “It is no wonder I could not match the blood to any of the Hundred, yet it tested like that of a god.”

His gaze fell upon Dart’s figure. Though he was cased in bronze, there was a kind concern in his eyes. She wanted to run into his arms, to have those armored arms protect her. Or maybe it was just that his bronze form reminded her of Pupp, of his security. The loss of her friend ached inside her.