Chains of a Dark Goddess by David Alastair Hayden Read Free Book Online

them. A normal man, even as intelligent as Breskaro and with the power he commanded, could not have learned spells this fast. But Breskaro was not distracted by common thoughts, not after his years in death, and he didn’t require sleep. He could focus continuously on the recitation of the spells without his mind growing tired. And magic came to him easily.
    “Is it always this easy? To learn magic?”
    Nalsyrra laughed. “No. You are different. The power is drawn to you in ways you cannot understand right now. I am teaching you spells that take advantage of your current nature. The touch of the Shadowland remains on you. This changes everything. You have already learned what an apprentice would spend two years mastering. But to do anything more powerful than these spells, you will need a second qavra to use as a normal sorcerer might use one. If you attempt too much using the one in your chest it could weaken your physical form, possibly even break the connection between your spirit and your body.”
    “Why didn’t you bring me another qavra?”
    “If you survive the first task, you will receive another. I am certain of that. And it is best that you grow comfortable with what I have taught you and with the strange forces now beating in your chest. You don’t want to get your senses confused between all the different energies. You will be unique in your ability to use two qavra at once. A normal human could never master two. It would overwhelm them, and even if it didn’t, they would never be able to call on more than one at a time, so there would be no point to having two. A Qaiar cannot use two, for a Qaiar is her stone.”
    When she wasn’t meditating or teaching Breskaro, Nalsyrra practiced intricate stretching postures which she claimed she learned in the Far East. Breskaro tried to imitate her, but his body had never been that limber. Nalsyrra ate little, and Breskaro didn’t eat at all. Food didn’t appeal to him and he didn’t need it. He drank a lot of water, though, for he was often thirsty.
    “You can go weeks without water,” Nalsyrra told him, “though it would be best for you to drink as a normal man would to keep your tissues supple. As for food ... Eventually, you will need to feed . In order to restore your body. But you should not need to do so often. Maybe once per year. Perhaps less.”
    Breskaro braced himself. “On what will I feed?”
    “Something unpleasant. But you must discover that on your own.” She flashed her sinister smile. “Even if I knew, I would not tell you. I did not promise you a good life on your return.”

Chapter 8

    A high stone wall surrounded the Temple of the Rose of Keshomae the Savior and its grounds. A single iron gate led within. In the center of the compound stood a simple bell tower of white stone emblazoned with a large scarlet rose design two-thirds of the way up on each side. A young warrior-priest with a pike stood guard behind the gate. He tried to look menacing, but his round cheeks, tonsured scalp, and soft white raiment ruined the attempt.
    Breskaro and Nalsyrra dismounted and led their horses up to the gate. The young man looked at Breskaro, masked and hooded, and turned as pale as his robes. Nalsyrra cleared her throat.
    “M-Mistress Nalsyrra, welcome back. I see … I see you’ve brought a … guest … with you.”
    “I will vouch for him.”
    With trembling hands, the young priest opened the gate. “I’ll summon someone to care for your horses and notify High Priest Artorio that you have arrived.” He took two steps then turned around. “Oh, I am quite sorry, sir, but I ... I need to collect your weapons.”
    Breskaro glared at him and mumbled something under his breath. “I don’t think you do. Now go get your stablehand.”
    “Oh, right. Of course.”
    The priest ran off and they closed the gate behind them.
    “Noticeable,” Nalsyrra said, “but effective. Good for your first attempt. He’s out of sight now, you can release the