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Story: Grave Situation

CHAPTER FIFTY

We pull the horses up sharply. If Wasianth has any knowledge of whether animals are affected by zombie scratches and bites, I haven’t found it yet, so we made the decision to be careful with our horses. Coryn and Peiris draw their swords, and I gather my magic, but the zombies don’t attack. They just stand there, circled around us. Coryn looks to me for guidance, and I do a quick headcount.

Twenty-five.

Between us, we could probably take them. But…

I try to think like Coryn. This isn’t a public road, so the trees press close and there isn’t a lot of space to maneuver. Leicht can’t help us when we’re under such dense cover. Jaimin might be able to defend himself, but he’s armed only with knives, and any zombie that came within reach of those would be too close for my liking. Arimen absolutely cannot defend himself. Plus, we’re surrounded, and we don’t know how many more of them are in the woods.

Fuck. I open my mouth?—

“My dear nephew. What a charming surprise.”

—and close it again as Uncle Domys rides down the road toward us, flanked by an older man and a young woman. The woman seems familiar to me, somehow, but that thought is knocked aside by the realization that they knew we were coming. They had to, to have had time to get their horses saddled and ride down from the house. How, though?

“You’re surprised to see us, of c?—”

“Not really,” I interrupt flatly, because I’m not willing to give him any satisfaction. My gaze skims casually over his companions, whose clothing identifies them as part of the temples. The man’s a priest of Wasianth—the high priest, according to his sash, and I hope Jaimin is keeping an eye on Arimen. The last thing we need right now is him deciding to give a lecture on service to the gods.

The woman serves Malna, and again I feel that tickle of familiarity. I haven’t had that much contact with the temple of Malna—the most significant was my clash with the high priestess in Len?—

Ah. She was with Hierane and Coryn’s father that night. I can’t remember her name, but that’s not too significant. “Priestess.” I smirk. “How unfortunate to see you again.”

She smirks back. “For you, perhaps.”

“Yes. That’s why I said it. I’d really hoped never to encounter your kind again.”

Her jaw drops and she sputters, and the high priest narrows his eyes. “You will show respect when speaking to a?—”

“No.” A singular hatred I didn’t know I felt echoes through the word as I lock eyes with him. He’s not particularly a memorable man—medium height and build, dark hair liberally peppered with gray, and I’d bet that beard is an attempt to hide a weak chin, because it certainly doesn’t suit him. But every atom of Wasianth within me loathes and despises what this man has done in my name. “You will not speak to me of respect.”

His mouth snaps shut, and his jaw works frantically. I try not to wince as I realize I used some god power when I gave that order.

“What did you do to me?” he croaks finally, obviously having given up on his plan to lecture me about respecting the temples.

I don’t bother to answer, turning my gaze back to my uncle. “Was there something you wanted?”

“One of our spies saw you getting off your ship and sent a bird to let us know,” he says, proving everything I’ve ever thought about his intelligence.

“That’s nice for you. Irrelevant, but nice. Anything else?”

He flushes dark red. His face, which is an older, less attractive version of my own, always manages to look a little bit mean, but anger really brings it into focus. “Don’t talk to me that way, boy. You might think you’re special, but you’re going to die in the dirt just like your bitch sister.”

Time stops as my rage rises to consume me, echoing through the woods on Leicht’s unholy scream. The other horses dance nervously as my uncle and his cronies look up in fear, but Sweetie is solid as a rock beneath my shaking limbs. I raise a hand, magic pooling around my fingers?—

“He’s mine,” Leicht demands. “I will make him suffer untold agonies of fear before I let him seek solace in death.”

The shaking stops, and I take a deep breath as I lower my hand, letting the kinetic power that is my magic resume its path through my energy meridians. By the time they take their eyes off the glimpses of sky above us, I’m even smiling a little.

“I’ll ask again, Uncle. Was there something you wanted, or are we going to stand here all day?”

My composure seems to rattle him, and he glances at the high priest, then says, “If it was up to me, you’d already be dead. We’ve been trying to kill you for months—ever since he got his answers. We could have done the rest of it ourselves… though we didn’t know you’d come here. But you just wouldn’t die.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, but the last bit is pretty clear. “I’d apologize, but I’m not interested in making you happy.” They’ve been trying to kill me since he got his answers? He is presumably the mage behind all this, but what answers? And they could have done the rest of?—

“Where is the godsborn?” the high priest demands, obviously out of patience, and a puzzle piece slips into place.

“Not here yet,” Arimen says, startling me as he brings his horse up alongside me and Coryn. “Holy father, I’m so glad to have found you. I beg you, free me from this duty. He has the stone—take it, and let me leave the company of these savages and return to my studies.” His green eyes are wide and earnest, and if he hadn’t started with a flat-out lie, I might actually have thought he meant it all. I make an outraged choking noise to give his story some credibility.

The high priest looks confused for a moment, then blinks as though remembering something. “You are the acolyte who was assigned to ensure the holy stone remained safe?”

Arimen bows his head. “Yes, most holy. I am Arimen, from the Sanctuary.”

Uncle shifts impatiently in the saddle, but the high priest studies Arimen’s downturned face. “You say the godsborn isn’t with you? You know of whom I speak?”

Nodding, Arimen says, “The Baswegian told them the prophecies, and they desecrated the holy temple at Caimae to find a sacred engraving.” His voice trembles with repressed fury, and I have to admit, I didn’t think his acting skills were this good. Coryn shifts slightly, catching my gaze, and I shake my head infinitesimally. Our odds haven’t changed—we need to get out from the trees, where we’ll have more room to fight and Leicht will be able to help. The other two dragons, too.

“A sacred engraving?” the high priest repeats. “The Baswegian prophecies didn’t say anything about that.” He shoots me a scathing look. “And no matter what story Silverbright has made up for his mage friends about the gods acting through him, we of the temples know the truth.”

Do they, though? It doesn’t seem like it. But if he knows we told the councils that Wasianth would act through me, then his source—the necromancer mastermind—is a councilor. That information was restricted to the combined councils to prevent excessive disruption to my life later.

More puzzle pieces click together.

“That story was made up,” Arimen agrees. “They didn’t want the councils to know about the godsborn. But the Baswegian said it’s a thing with their prophecies that sometimes they don’t become clear until the moment the information is needed, and then they realized there was this one line, I think it was scroll thirty-two? Or maybe twenty-three? I-I-I’m sorry, I’ve never seen the prophecies and?—”

“Yes, yes,” the high priest interrupts. “So the prophecy guided you to the temple?”

Arimen nods. “Yes, most holy. There was a stone in the wall with an engraving, and when he ”—he tips his head toward me—“read the sacred words, the life stone began to hum, and then the godsborn came out of one of the inner chambers.” He rolls his eyes up as if in religious ecstasy, and I fight to hold in a laugh. “It was the living being of holy Wasianth, and I wept for joy.” His expression turns scathing. “These savages had no respect.”

My uncle is starting to look confused, but the two priests are enthralled. “You saw him?” the priestess breathes. “Did you speak to him?”

A hand flies to Arimen’s mouth to cover his gasp. “I did not dare! I am merely an acolyte and not worthy. But he spoke to us, and said we must come here and he would meet us when his task was complete.”

“Weasel,” Peiris mutters from behind us, and the priestess glares at them.

“What task?” the high priest demands, and Arimen spreads his hands.

“He did not say, and I would never dare ask.”

The high priest presses his lips together. “You will come with us,” he declares. “All of you. Until the godsborn arrives, you will be our guests.”

I’m pretty sure that with my father on trial for treason, I own this place now, but I don’t get a chance to point that out.

“What?” my uncle whines. “I want to kill Talon.”

“I really don’t know where all this hostility is coming from,” I murmur. “Could it be because I’m younger, better-looking, and a more Talented mage than you?”

He makes a strangled screeching sound, and one of the zombies starts toward me.

“Call it off, Uncle, or I’ll aim my magefire at you . The zombie may kill me, but you’ll be dead also.”

The zombie freezes midstep, and that tells me everything I need to know. My uncle hasn’t used transference to spare his soul—he still fears death. Whether he doesn’t know about it or didn’t have the skill for it, I don’t care. He can be killed without fuss.

“Stop this foolishness,” the high priest orders. “You can kill him later.”

Uncle glares, but finally jerks his head sullenly. “Let’s go.”

We fall in behind them, and I reach out to Leicht. “Are you ready?”

“Of course.”

“Wait for my signal. Are there more zombies around the house?”

“Yes. Perhaps two score that I can see in the grounds, and more elsewhere on the estate. They’re just standing vacantly—I don’t think they’re armed.”

That’s good. “When I tell you, take my uncle. I’m sorry to thwart your vengeance, but he needs to die fast, before the zombies can attack.”

“He’ll know fear before he dies, and that’s enough for me.”

I glance sideways at Jaimin and quirk a brow. His face is set, and I know having so many zombies close by makes his skin crawl, but he rallies and nods slightly.

“Oh, Arimen,” he chides sorrowfully. “I thought you cared for us. We care for you.”

Arimen’s eyes widen, and a stricken expression crosses his face before he hides it. “I was your hostage!”

While they distract everyone, I reach out with Wasianth’s power, carefully probing the zombies around the estate. As I suspected, most resonate with Domys’s soul energy, but some have a different tune. Luckily, they seem to be gathered in clumps. The academic part of my brain wonders if zombies raised by different necromancers are kept separate for a reason, but ultimately, it’s not important. I reach out to Leicht again and tell him where the other necromancer’s zombies are. “Could you ask the other dragons to take care of them once we act?” I don’t know if their necromancer will be able to tell what’s happening and give them new orders at this distance, but either way, I want them gone.

Next, I reach out to Sweetie. “Once we’re through the trees, wait for my signal. I’m going to need a distraction.”

“Can I throw you?”

I wince. “If you have to. Try to be gentle, though.”

Her eye roll is almost audible.

“I don’t understand why you want the godsborn here,” I say loudly, nudging Sweetie to bring me up closer to the priests, alongside but back a little. “He’s going to kill you.”

The high priest turns to give me a scathing look. “He will not. He is my god. It would have been easier had we been able to take possession of the stone and seek him out ourselves, but he will still accept our obeisance and lead us to a new age of the temples. With a living god among us, no longer will we have to kowtow to filthy mages and cower from dragons!”

“Ouch,” I mutter. I’m really going to enjoy the look on his face when he realizes how wrong he is.

The trees begin to thin, and I catch a glimpse of the manor house—the house I grew up in—up ahead. My chest tightens. Don’t worry, Tia. I’m cleansing this plague from our home.

Coryn catches my eye, and I know he’s ready for whatever comes. I can’t see Peiris, but I’m confident they’ll have my back. Jaimin subtly moves his horse closer to Arimen.

We break out of the trees, and the spring sunshine makes me squint. The road is fully visible from the house here, but in a moment, it dips slightly—barely enough to notice when you’re on it, but enough to make it hard to see from the house.

“Now.”

Sweetie stretches her neck out to bite the flank of the high priest’s horse, who immediately shies into my uncle’s horse, distracting both of them as Leicht begins his descent. Sweetie and I fall back, but not too much, and I see the delicious moment when Leicht’s shadow falls over them all and my uncle looks up.

Terror looks good on that mean face of his.

Then he does me a huge favor, and in his fear, he summons the zombies surrounding us forward to protect him. They can’t, of course—not against a dragon. But that leaves us free to fall back, gather together, and arm ourselves.

Leicht snatches Uncle from his saddle with such artistry that his terrified horse is untouched, and as he swoops away, the zombies collapse to the ground, corpses once again.

Uncle Domys is dead.

The priestess shrieks and urges her horse to run for the house—to what end, I don’t know—but Peiris kindly circles ahead and herds her back toward us. The high priest is staring at the pile of zombies with his mouth agape.

“That’s what happens when a necromancer dies,” I say coolly. He turns to look at me with real fear. “I’m not at all sorry to inform you this isn’t going to go the way you expected.”

“Wh-Wh-Wh?—”

“What do I mean?” I study them both, then draw on Wasianth’s power. “From this moment, any priest who was complicit in this plan, any who placed greed above the needs of the people, who chose to chase power instead of heeding the dictates of their gods—those priests will be stripped of their ordinance and cast out from the temples. All who meet them will know on sight that they transgressed against the will of the gods.”

The words resonate through the world, and the high priest’s eyes widen as he realizes I’m the godsborn.

“Holy Wasianth,” he gasps.

“Tell me now, did you give the order for the Sanctuary to attack us? Be honest, and I won’t kill you.”

He swallows audibly, then stammers, “Y-Y-Yes, holy one.”

Before I can reply, steel flashes, and Coryn’s sword cleaves his head from his body. Blood sprays as it bounces with a sickening thunk , and the high priest’s body topples, startling his horse into bolting.

“For Tia,” he says, then turns to meet my shocked gaze. “What? I didn’t say I wouldn’t kill him.”

The priestess screams, slides off her horse, and runs. Peiris shakes their head. “How far does she think she can get on foot?”

“It doesn’t matter. Her life is in pieces now, anyway. Let her go.” I watch her run away, knowing she doesn’t yet realize that there’s nowhere for her to go anymore.