“I don’t understand any of this. Why did you show me all of that? How did you bring me here? Why?”
“To talk. Yet even here, in the depths of my own mind, I am afraid I cannot say all that I wish to say. Cannot show you what you need to see. Despite my desperate desire for you to know, communication is not sacred. Not here. Not anywhere. I ask that you accept my apologies… And my gratitude.”
Gratitude? Why would he be thankful? To me, of all people?
When she’d begun the ritual, she’d expected hardship in the form of combat. Whatever this was… it was far beyond anything she could comprehend. The last thing she’d expected was for the Blessed Chosen to apologize to her, of all people. For the first time in a long while, Maiya felt truly lost.
“What can you tell me?” Maiya asked, desperate to slot more pieces into this ever-more-confusing puzzle. Part of her wanted to believe that the Blessed Chosen had lost his mind. Another, larger part, felt there was a method to his madness.
“When I took the mantle of the Blessed Chosen, I felt I was strong enough to resist their effects. I felt I could handle the burden. To thwart whatever it was they had in store for us. I… was wrong. If there is one thing you take away from this, Maiya, let it be that mortals have no business meddling in the affairs of gods. To try is to invite tragedy.”
“You speak of your god,” Maiya said cautiously. “Not the Prana Swarm in Mahādi, but these gods only you claim to know of.”
“The Swarm is nothing but a minion—a useful symbol behind which to rally,” the Blessed Chosen replied. “As are the rest of us. Unwitting minions. Minions who can never rebel or escape their prison. For who can rebel against Fate itself?”
The Blessed Chosen turned from the idyllic dockside scenery to stare Maiya in the eyes. Here, in this place, he was not the frail man on death’s doorstep. He’d returned to his large, muscled, and powerful glory. And yet, Maiya sensed no hostility from him. Only resignation… And the faintest glimmer of hope.
“He does not wish for what I am about to do. He feels that you will bring the end of realms. Yet, I am now convinced this is the only chance we have to save it.”
“I don’t understand,” Maiya said. “You speak of gods and their almighty powers… and you expect me to do something about it? Me, of all people? I have my hands full plotting the overthrow of two countries. I can’t do what you ask.”
“You must. I have seen you grow, Maiya. I have seen your rapid rise through our ranks. Have you ever once asked yourself how such a thing came to be? Have you once asked yourself how you rose so quickly through the ranks of Kin’jal? How you landed in that most sacred of chambers? How every event and decision in your life has led you to this place? Here? Now?”
Maiya took a half step back. “What do you mean?” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
“I mean that Fate is real. More real than you can imagine. And that there are those who seek to control it.”
Maiya’s world spun. She stumbled, finding the Blessed Chosen’s sturdy arm for support as the implications of his words landed.
“You’re saying that me taking the mantle of the Blessed Chosen… was some deity’s doing?”
“There are forces acting upon this realm, Maiya. Forces who have vied for supremacy against one another for millennia, locked in constant battle. Know this—more than who we are, more than our very identities as people, we are, first and foremost, but pawns on a celestial stage.”
“Why tell me all this?” Maiya asked breathlessly. “What makes you think I can do anything about this?”
“A feeling. Nothing more. Nothing less. Perhaps you will succeed where I have not. I sense… something different about you. I simply—”
The world of boats and winter disappeared, and the dim hollow chamber under the tree reasserted itself with jarring suddenness.
It was only Maiya’s years of trained combat instinct that saved her. She twisted away, just in time to avoid the dagger that had been bound for her neck.
The dagger sliced into her skin, avoiding her all-important arteries, throwing blood against the tree’s root. Blood that was absorbed, disappearing only moments later.
The Blessed Chosen? No, it can’t be…
Wielding the dagger was a giant of a man. The Blessed Chosen may have been a powerful man in the world within his mind, but right now, frail and sickly as he was, he commanded none of that imposing presence.
“The Silent One,” Maiya whispered, suddenly understanding.
“Why? I don’t want to fight you!” Maiya said, though her words were lost over the clang of her dagger with his.
Ordinarily, Maiya would stand no chance against a man wielding such immense natural strength.
Which was why the dagger she wielded boasted not just one, but two Enhance Speed orbs. What she lacked in power, she made up for in speed, giving her blade far more weight than it could otherwise have.
The Silent One, however, was fighting for his brother’s life, and would risk everything to do so. Even as their blades met, the Silent One swung, landing a clean blow on Maiya’s torso.
Such was the force of the impact that Maiya was lifted briefly off her feet, slamming into the roots that formed the walls just behind her.
Rolling, Maiya shrugged off the blow. While the thin fabric armor under her ceremonial robe was useless on its own, when strengthened by no less than five defense orbs, it gave Maiya unrivaled protection and mobility.
Even so, Maiya knew she couldn’t take many more of those before the orbs’ charge ran out. And there was no recharging them in the midst of combat.
She took a different approach.
The Silent One moved to strike. This time, Maiya opened her arms, showing not even the hint of aggression. She didn’t block. She didn’t dodge. She made no move to defend herself.
“I want to help him, too,” she said, speaking from the heart. “Can’t you see he’s dying?”
The Silent One’s dagger ground to a halt a hair’s breadth from Maiya’s chest. He turned, and perhaps for the first time, regarded his brother’s pitiful state.
Dropping his dagger, the Silent One rushed to the Blessed Chosen’s side, barely reaching the man before he collapsed onto the floor.
The Silent One sobbed silently, his body shaking as he held his dying brother in his arms.
“Weep not, Bheem,” the Blessed Chosen rasped. “For this is my wish. I am relieved of this burden at last.”
The Blessed Chosen’s eyes wandered to Maiya, and despite his failing body, there was a resolve in those eyes. A determined hope that Maiya would be the one to right all of his wrongs.
Maiya met those eyes… and held them.
The Blessed Chosen uttered only a single word before his heart stilled, and the air left his lungs for the last time.
“Try.”
Maiya had no time to register his passing. For the moment the Blessed Chosen passed, Maiya inherited his burden.
Her consciousness bloomed. Awareness expanded in every direction. And a heaviness settled upon her soul.
Unable to resist, Maiya clutched her head and screamed.
57
LEAPS OF FAITH (PART ONE)
“Imust admit, your tending skills are quite impressive,” Lagen said. The trio walked beside the Ash’va that had all been tethered together. Laden with armor and weaponry, they resembled a rich merchant caravan on their way to a lucrative sale.
“Please,” Gunin replied. “Without you, we’d have perished long ago. All I did was ensure we had enough beasts of burden to haul this stuff back.”