Chapter Twenty

Her anger was not with her when she awoke. Instead a throbbing pain and pressure behind her eyes. She was draped over a horse. She felt sand grit between her teeth as she struggled to call out. The rider in front of her placed his metal hand on her body that started to squirm.
“She’s awake.” Kyros said to no one. The horse stopped and he pushed her to ground, mercifully feet first. Asclepogenia was loosely bound and found her arms and legs tied together, and unable to help her land. She collapsed against the warm sand. Kyros dismounted an instant later.

“Where is Aja?” she asked looking for the girl. She was dizzy and her vision blurred as the blood rushed from where it had pooled in her head.
“In the palace where she belongs. She’s thrice widowed, which is odd for such a young woman.”
“Did you hurt her?”
“No, but my men unless I remind them to treat her well. I might foget to tell them if you misbehave.” Kyros pulled her up with his hand of flesh, sharpening the fingers of his other hand into blades he sliced the ropes binding her hands and feet. He left the one around her neck.
“I can tie you up but I can’t really stop you from using your magic, can I?”
She dropped her chin towards her chest, pinned by her obligation to the safety of the girl.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To meet my master.”
“I thought the Trode had no masters?”
“Everyone has a master.” Kyros said, motioning towards the horse. “Oxyathes has the only thing in the world that I can respect. Power. And unlike everyone else in the world he’s offered to share it with me.” He said as he climbed up on the horse. He extended his hand of Zro to Asclepogenia and helped her join him on the horse.

She thought of the last time they’d rode on a horse together. Gone were the days when she could rest her head on his shoulder. Now his very touch sent her skin crawling. She only clung to him for fear of falling off the saddle build for one.

“The Order just wants to horde it’s magic.” She’d heard that argument from him after they’d arrived in Thira. “They reach and reach for the gods, but why reach for the gods when you can become one!”

They had all been taught the doctrine of the Order. There was enlightenment which was the perfection of the mind through piety, but there was also foretold a time when the Torquetum would stop spinning and allow all enlightened Therans to ascend to the Astral Realm, or the World of Yetzirah
This Ascendence, could only happen when all Therans achieved their perfection, according to their scripture. Asclepogenia had always assumed the Ascendence was a metaphor rather than a literal thing that could be accomplished.

“No one can become a god.” She countered. “Even a perfect Theran is still a Theran.”
“Oxaythes promises that once we ascend we will become like gods. You’ll see, and if you give up your foolish beliefs you can join us.”
She puzzled the promise and proposal silently as they rode. As they traveled the desert sands gave way to hardened clay. Boreas’ watchers stayed at the edge of the desert, and once the two Therans were out of sight they crumbled, blowing away back to the dunes that had formed them.

Soon the pair came upon the a Trode encampment. About a dozen men gathered up their gear. They had camped next to the broad carved dais in the rock. A circle of high stones marked it as Theran-crafted. Oxyathe’s carriage was at the center of the riders. The road-weary advisor to the late Prince Ras consulted with the dark priest as Kyros and his quarry approached.

“I’ve brought you to the Oracular. I know nothing else. The Astronomers only ever meet us here.”

“How do you summon them?” Asked the priest.

“They simply come. They must see our need in the stars.”

Oxyathes frowned at this answer and as he did turned towards Kyros and the girl he was helping down from his mount. She pulled away from Kyros, as soon as her feet touched the ground. It was not the same girl he had taken in Al Shalad the day before last when, no this one was pale with scarlet hair that gleamed despite the dust from their travels which clung her uniform. Her dress instantly informed him that she was an Adept of the Order.

“What reason do you have to bring her into our midst? Who is she?” asked the dark priest. Kyros began to steer her towards his master, but Asclepogenia pulled again and spoke. “Asclepogenia of Trefos.” Before the words had left her, she felt the relentless pressure of his influence. It was common upon meeting someone trained in the art of magic to feel them observe you. It wasn’t polite to pry into another’s mind, yet in this moment Oxyathes had no restraint.

She grit her teeth and struggled to parry his intrusion into her mind. “That’s who you think you are, but what are you really?” Oxaythes brow was furrowed at her considerable resistance. There was something about her that he could not place. Something ancient. “You’re from the Order. You think you’ve come to stop us.”

Kyros interjected oblivious to the silent battle raging in Asclepogenia’s thoughts. “No, I brought her to join us. The pressure released from Asclepogenia’s mind as the wizard turned his inspection to Kyros.
Kyros had no defenses and the dark priest could easily penetrate his thoughts.

Oxyathes scoffed incredulous, “Ah, she’s an old childhood friend...and you love her? How foolish Have I taught you nothing, boy.” Kyros blushed at the intrusion and exposition of his inner thoughts.

The priest released him and stalked back and forth, “However, in your foolishness may have brought me a grand gift. I want to kill her and see where her soul travels once it departs from her body.” Oxyathes said licking his lips and drawing a ceremonial dagger from the folds of his black robes.

“Hold her down.” He commanded to Kyros. Kyros froze in disbelief.
“No, I brought her here to be with us, to help us.”
A second command, this time tapping into the boy’s mind brought his body to motion in jerky forced actions.
Asclepogenia was unarmed but not without her talents. She flung up a barrier of force between herself and the two men. It struck Kyros and sent him stumbling backwards.
Oxyathes had no need for the boy, but relished the thought of him taking part in the death of his beloved. He still had a softness about him that the priest hated.

“What are you?” He repeated, approaching the barrier. What would she do once it fell, she felt the thought occupy her mind weakening her resolve. It flickered and collapsed letting the priest near.

“Stop, she can help us gain entrance to the Torquetum of Thira. You said you needed it for your Ascension!”

So that was the plan, was it? Asclepogenia’s mind raced. Her body was coiled, ready to flee or dodge the wizard’s strike, but it never came.

Instead the wizard turned, knife still at the ready and approached the advisor of the Kingdom of Al-Shalad. “I’ll ask you again, how do I find the Ring of Hod?”
“I don’t know!” pleaded the man.
“But perhaps you do.” Oxyathes mused plunging his knife into the belly of the man. A tearing sound summoned both blood and entrails as Oxyathes pulled the knife higher. The advisor fell to the carved stone of the Oracular.
“Riders!” Oxyathes called as the man spasmed and spilled his blood along the hungry stone. “Search the area, find the Astrologers of Hod and bring them to me, unharmed. Only they have the secrets we need to reach Yetzirah

After the dust had cleared from the sudden and rachus departure of the Horde and the dying man gurgled his last bloody breath, Oxyathe began his ritual. “Though his mind was stupid and afraid, his entrails know much.” He said as he slipped his hand into the still warm cavity. When he withdrew it he had liver in hand.

Asclepogenia had turned away at the sight and her eyes fell upon the only other feature of the desolate landscape, Kyros. His gaze was still locked on his master.

This is wrong. All of this is wrong. She conveyed through the aether. She hovered just beyond the confines of his simple mind, she gazed at the spires of anger that rose up to form the landscape of his being. Anger and so much fear. This is wrong. She whispered to whatever part of him loved her. We must stop this.

He had heard, but perhaps not understood as he turned and glared at her. He swatted his face as if there was a flying insect buzzing in his ear. She withdrew her influence immediately.

Oxyathes continued his inspection of the dead man’s organ. A long pink rope uncoiled itself and spilled from the bloody gash. Frustrated with whatever signs they pointed to, he shouted at the pair of young Therans who watched him.
“Kyros. Go find the Ring of Hod. Take the girl, if you value your life. If she can be of no assistance then don’t return with her.”

Kyros seemed relieved to be away from the gore, Asclepogenia thought. They had traveled on foot beyond the Oracular. The dais overlooked a maze of canyons carved into the landscape. The high sandstone walls were too narrow for a horse, and occasionally almost too narrow for them.

“How can you trust such a monster.” She said once they had traveled for sometime.
Kyros ignored her.
“He was about to kill me for sport, or perhaps to see what my liver could tell him.” She protested.
“He acts for the greater good of all Thera.”
Asclepogenia laughed at the thought.
“The good of all Thera is to have a mad god? As if Odius was not enough?” she said invoking the name of the betrayer. Odius had sought to kill his father and marry his mother, and was punished by being banished from the Realms of Atziluth.
“His Ascension… our Ascension would allow us to destroy the false pantheon and free people from the rule of the Order.
“You’d usher in the rule Oxyathes, simply because of your blind hatred in a….”
He silenced her with his hand of Zro impacting with her throat. It came too sudden and unexpected for her to deflect it with a barrier and Kyros held her against the sandstone cliff.
His outburst startled him as much as it did the girl. He relaxed his grip but kept the stone at her back.
“I did it so that we could be free. I did it for you.”
“You’re mad.” She stammered. “You did this because you were jealous and afraid. Don’t you realize it’s a trick. Oxyathes won’t let anyone but himself Ascend. There would be no pantheon, only his word. There would be no law, only his whim.”
“You lie.” Kyros growled, she felt his anger growing again, but he released her. “Enough talk,” he prodded her forward. “We have to find this damned Ring before nightfall.”

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Writing Journal: # I wrote 4,457 words today! This brings my total written words to 38,494 out of 50,000. Words were flowing pretty easily today, but it did take a bit of thoughtfulness to flesh out the belief and magic system of the Theran's world. As of the 38,494th word we've definitely reached the final act. Bad guy has what he needs to put his plan into action, and really the only thing left is the big battle. The 4,457 words I wrote today seemed to arrange themselves into two chapters plus a few paragraphs of a third. At first I was worried that it felt like an awful lot to pour the big battle into, but I remembered I have a few chapters to insert from Kyros's point of view. This means, I suspect the finale to come in around word 45,000.