darkened blade_ A fallen blade novel - Kelly McCullough Page 0,84
head of the goddess rose out of the water, drawn by a golden loop of light set in the center of her forehead.
I couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath when I saw her. While the goddess had lived, that stone face expressed a deeper sense of presence and vitality than any dozen human beings. Now, it was just another chunk of lifeless statue, albeit depicting someone I had once loved with all my soul. It burned my heart to see her ruined so.
Though he could never have done so physically, Kelos’s magic allowed him to lift the enormous stone head completely free of the water, so that it hung a few inches above the pavers. Holding the head clear of the ground, he turned and slowly carried it into the diamond of the wards. Siri pointed at a spot maybe six feet south of the northern ward, and he set the head down there, facing away from the pool.
She had him hold it in place for a moment while she did a fancy little bit of magic that fused the broken neck to the stone pavers beneath, fixing it there as firmly as any statue on its plinth. That put the top of Namara’s head about five feet above the ground. Together, they made a few more quick preparations that left the stone glowing faintly with a spell-light that fluctuated between a dark green and a deep red.
Siri turned to me as Kelos stepped away. “Come here for a second, Aral. I need you to look into the face of the goddess that was and not move until you’re ready to let go of that knot of pain I saw you swallow a second ago. This will be hard enough without you trying to hold your breath. Trust me when I say that I believe with my whole heart that Namara would have approved of what we will do here tonight.”
I didn’t want to do it, but I had put Siri in charge, and she wasn’t wrong about my feelings. So I went and I faced my goddess once again. Not there on the stones—Namara was dead, and the sculpted head was nothing more than an elaborate and broken tombstone at this point. No, I faced her in my heart, and I asked for her forgiveness for what we were about to do here.
She didn’t answer. The dead rarely do, and then it’s never good. But, after some minutes, I found a measure of peace. Enough, I thought, to face whatever I would have to do next. When I was done, I returned to the north ward and took up station there, with one foot on either side of the glyph I’d inscribed and my arms behind my back—left hand clasping right wrist as I had been taught.
Are you prepared for this? Triss asked into my mind.
Most definitely not, but that won’t change, so I might as well deal.
Good luck. I’ll see you on the other side. With that, Triss subsumed his will to my own, going into a sort of waking dream that would allow me to control our joint actions, a necessity for any elaborate ritual magic.
Thanks, old friend. I will meet you there. I whispered the words into the silence of my mind, knowing he couldn’t register them now, but might remember them later.
Faran stepped up to the edge of the diamond then, between Siri and Jax. I was only slightly surprised to see that while I had been communing with my past she had stripped down to nothing more than a loincloth and her sword rig, exposing a lean muscular figure with high, small breasts. For one so young she had a lot of scars.
“Who comes before the ghost of the goddess?” Siri stepped in front of Faran, and drew her sword as she asked the question. “I am Siri Mythkiller, Blade of Fallen Namara and the voice of the challenge.” Her tones mimicked the ritual delivery of the priests who had once served Namara.
“I am Faran Ghostwind.”
“And why do you come to this place of the dead, Faran Ghostwind?” Siri touched the tip of her sword to the base of Faran’s throat. A moment later, it was matched by a sword of smoke held in a wisp of a hand.
“I come here to the tomb of my goddess, seeking a boon.” Faran’s voice was firm and clear. “Justice the goddess may have died, but justice the ideal lives forever.”