this ageless being that she was inferior to another woman. But she looked up at him and the slightest smile touched her lips.
‘Your wife was a very fortunate woman, and you are dependable are you not? Can I depend on you Delegan?’ asked Axiatés.
He said nothing.
‘Ergeath Mothondo, rido al el lis di duhato,’ she said musically in a language as old as the mountains.
Those were words Delegan had often said to his wife, and no one else than the two of them had understood them. Delegan suddenly realized why he might be of some use. He and the Goddess were probably the only two persons left in the world that could still speak in the Old tongue of Sepulchra; no other scholar had ever bothered to learn the language.
‘Of course you can Your Excellency.’
Her eyes shone bright and suddenly Delegan was put on his back, a pain unimaginable lancing through his stomach. He cried out, writhing up and down seemingly wrestling with himself as something invisible clawed his insides. When it subsided, he waited for it to come back, convinced that the Goddess had decided to take his life. He sat up gingerly and looked at her in confusion, her face now still and unreadable. Strangely, he felt something had changed in him.
‘I have burned the cancer from your body Delegan. You can be my loyal subject for longer now. ’
Delegan felt his stomach, as though he could reasonably confirm what the Goddess was saying with his hands. ‘You are not ready to die yet old man, even though you long to be with your wife.’
‘That is true,’ said Delegan in a weak voice. A moment later Delegan realized the Commander of the Mortar was stirring against the wall. He had taken a very heavy blow, but he alone among the Mortars had been left alive. Him being spared made Delegan question whether there was some sense to the Goddess's merciless display beyond just the rage of self-preservation. He felt brave enough to ask, ‘Why Your Excellency, did the Mortar men have to die?’
‘They were going to convince me in some elaborate ploy that the men are especially loyal for cornering their own brothers for betrayal. I gave them an option… they could still show a change of allegiance to me at their last… alas, the leader of the traitors panicked given my ultimatum and showed his true colours.’
‘What about him?’ asked Delegan, pointing his hand in the direction of the Commander.
‘He was not part of it,’ said Axiatés simply.
‘What could they have accomplished once they gained your trust?’
Axiatés shrugged, a strange gesture for a being who seemed to know things. ‘Not all within Sepulchra want to hand me over to the Imperials. Maybe the Mortars would have steered me astray? Lead me to a place where they could entrap me in a vault? Whatever the case, they would have tried to prevent me from fulfilling my mission.’
‘Will… will we wait for a new escort? A loyal one?’
‘No, we will be a small group going to Doma Arak. It is better that way,’ said Axiatés.
‘It will be very dangerous!’ protested Delegan.
‘Delegan, I need the shadow of your life to be the bravest of your life. There are men who want to kill me. I need your wisdom and protection. I need you to see me through alive.’
Delegan was stunned. What kind chance did he stand against anyone the Goddess couldn't stop herself? It didn't make sense to him. But he felt he had little chance of changing her mind, and merely nodded.
Dawn came, the light of day coming through the antechamber very much like the wind was meant to filter through the house, slowly filling the room, the glass snake glistening.
When the sun hit her face, the alien quality was gone, and Delegan swore he saw the beauty of mortality. He called her a beauty because he did not know what to make of a being as celestial as the stars. The cheeks had the slightest hint of colour, the eyes were big and brown, the mouth and nose delicate. There was a thing about her that was not inviting. Some young man would lose his heart on her seeing her like this. And she would forever be more than any man could handle. And still they would fall at her feet, with just the slightest hope of being a suitor to her. He almost understood Lord Charlan's foolish notion of courting Axiatés. He could not deny he was somewhat entranced himself.
Basking in the sun, Axiatés was in thought. When she looked into Truth of Everything, a special place her mind could wander, she soon discovered that Delegan’s wife had not passed from this world peacefully. By chance, the Sigotor beast called Ultair had caught her soul in his web when she passed away, even though he himself is kept in his tomb. She sympathized with the old man and at the very least she would see if her soul could be freed. She was not about to tell Delegan about all of this.
A thousand miles away there was a man in the Gardens of Scithea that could possibly defeat Ultair, the soul eater. It took more concentration than she cared to admit - maybe the day had taken a toll on her, and this vessel of flesh that she lived in could bleed, fear and grow tired after all. But she accomplished what she set out to do. There was a sealed chamber in the ruined temple, deep in the catacombs, kept in check by many locks. She undid them magically. Ultair would walk free again.
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