25. The Warlord
Chapter 25
The Warlord
T he clipping of my boots echoed through the empty tunnel that connected my manor to the Academy. It was small, not much taller than me, and I could reach out and touch both side walls easily, but it was secret, providing the necessary discretion and cover for these late-night visits. Not even Rohak knew of this tunnel.
He’d have a conniption fit if he knew I was venturing down here alone, especially slightly inebriated on the fine Hestin whiskey.
That was a great decision, taking that back with me .
I chuckled softly at the thought.
Grumpy, loyal, infallible Rohak.
What would he think about who I was visiting and what we were discussing?
The tunnel was straight and ended abruptly at a steel door that was locked to only recognize my magic signature.
Sensing my presence, the door unlocked with a click , and I pressed the handle down to open it. The room beyond the door was small and square, entirely cast in stone with only a few candles as light. There was a bed in one corner, a piss pot in the other, and a desk in the third. The last corner held a solitary chair and the object of my quest tonight. Aside from a singular book, the room was bereft of any personal touches.
“Keeper,” I growled, shutting the door behind me .
The magical descendants of Solace made my skin crawl on the best of days and my lungs constrict on the worst. Violence lived close to the surface whenever I was in their presence. It’s one, but not the primary, reason why I worked so hard to eradicate them fifteen years ago.
I almost succeeded.
Almost.
The man didn’t turn his head or show any physical sign of recognizing my presence, so I strode into the room until I was standing directly in front of him. Yet he still made no movement.
Fucker is communicating with Solace . Even her name brought forth an almost deadly reaction.
As the final magical descendant of Kaos, I felt his presence and mannerisms more acutely, especially lately. He hated Solace, so I hated Solace.
It was simple logic, really.
The Keeper blinked rapidly before tilting his chin, so his eyes met mine.
“Truthsayer.” His voice was a rasp from disuse and lack of water, no doubt.
Eh, not my problem .
“Any news for me?” I ground out. I refused to sit. I wanted this conversation done with as quickly as possible.
“The visions are . . . questionable at best.” Years of sitting in this room and subject to my finite patience caused the Keeper to speak when asked. Otherwise, I wasn’t afraid to restrict his already restricted diet even further.
“Explain.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, weary. “The visions are less clear, future pathways less resolute. There’s too much variance and, I’m starting to suspect that some of what I’m seeing are actual lies. Planted images and thoughts.”
“From whom?”
“Solace or the Matriarch.” He shrugged.
Fuck. The Matriarch messing with visions was one thing, but if Solace was permanently altering future pathways? That was something else entirely .
“Anything else about the book? Or the artifacts?”
“Glimpses, nothing concrete. Even less so than usual.”
“You think they know?” I asked. It wasn’t often that I asked his opinion, and the slight raise of his brows indicated as much .
“I think that’s an astute guess, Truthsayer,” he said sardonically.
“Fuck.”
“That about sums it up.” He laughed dryly.
I grabbed the back of my neck, pacing the small room and thinking.
“So, the visions are unreliable now. For you or for everyone?”
“We can only pull from the same well. What I see is the same as what everyone else would or could see. Even the Matriarch.”
“So, it is a gods problem, then,” I mused.
“It would seem that way.”
I stopped in front of him. “We’ll never entice them to come here.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, but it would take years, probably. It would be more efficient to go to them, yes.”
“I need to find someone to enter Meru.” The thought dawned on me.
But who? Who could enter the realm of the gods and live?
“I’ll return, Keeper,” I said, striding for the door. “I’ll send your rations down soon as a gift for your time.”
Apparently, I was feeling benevolent today.
Must be the whiskey.
“Truthsayer,” he called as I went to exit the room. “You’ll have to find a descendant if you want to enter Meru.”
I chuffed a laugh. “You’re looking at the last descendant of Kaos, Keeper. And if that’s the case, why don’t I just send you there? Sacrificial lamb and all that.”
He smiled a toothless grin and the glow of the candlelight gave him a skeletal appearance. “A true descendant, not a magical one.”
My blood ran cold. The gods hadn’t walked Elyria in centuries. There were no true descendants left, or, if there were, their blood was so diluted it wouldn’t even be potent anymore.
“They exist, Alois. You’ll need to find them and gather them if you truly want to win this war. Although, she already has one and is poised to take a second.”
I ran my hands through my hair before blowing out a breath.
“Any other useful tidbits before I leave, Keeper?” I was annoyed, confused, and beyond irritated at this point. Finding a true descendant would be next to impossible, especially if she already had one .
Something niggled at the back of my memory, something that would help me identify another, but I couldn’t recall it.
Fuck. It’s getting worse .
“Don’t bother with the rations, Truthsayer. This is the last time we’ll meet. I’ll be called back to Solace within the day,” he said quietly, and I turned my head to look at him fully.
He seemed at peace with that, though it made my next moves infinitely harder. Without a Keeper to give me visions to extract the truth from, I was literally walking blind in this war.
“It’s about time, Keeper,” I said as I left.
His maniacal, dry laughter echoed down the tunnel long after I closed the door to his room.