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

of Orisala as a young child, tales of her wondrous mother, Adelenia, who had died giving birth to her.
    High Priest Artorio had waited for him outside the convalescence ward. 
    “I — I would like to ... speak ... with you. Please, follow me.”
    Artorio led Breskaro away from all the buildings to a clearing hidden in the thickest part of the garden. Artorio stepped over to a rose vine that climbed a tall arbor. The vine was laden with golden blooms tinged with crimson on the ends. He examined several leaves then sniffed one of the roses.
    “My favorite,” he said. “It is the prize of our gardens. It has been here longer than I have. What do you think of it?”
    “Roses mean nothing to me.”
    “My apologies,” replied Artorio. “So … your daughter. You called her Orisala. And Nalsyrra called you Breskaro.”
    “What of it?”
    “Neither is a common name. You are Breskaro Varenni, a Champion of Seshalla, a colonel in the Issalian army, the commander of the Valiants, and a hero of the crusades.”
    “And if I am?”
    “I am not a fool,” Artorio replied nervously. “I know what you are. You died seven years ago. Your body was shown in Issaly. You were embalmed and entombed. Now you have returned from the dead by some sinister art.”
    “Have you told anyone?” Breskaro asked icily.
    “Not even our high priestess. I wanted to speak with you first. I don’t know your motives, save that I believe you have come to this temple in peace and that you must love your daughter very much.”
    “I have one motive. I am here to see that my daughter is safe, and in time, I will have in my possession a device that can restore her.”
    Artorio was astonished. “I am an expert on all known forms of healing. I have near heard of such an item.”
    “It is an artifact of dark magic.”
    “Ah, I see. And what will you do to secure this dark artifact?”
    “Whatever I must.”
    “That frightens me, Sir Varenni. Nothing good will come from embracing dark powers.”
    “Nothing good came from embracing Seshalla, either, and I was told all my life about what a just and loving goddess she is. My reward was an endless walk in the Shadowland.” He drew his sword. “I will do what I must, and no one will interfere with me.”
    Breskaro’s eyes flared as he intoned a short incantation. With a flick of his wrist, his blade sped toward the rose vine and snipped off one flower. Breskaro reversed his sword swipe and batted the flower against the priest’s chest. Artorio caught the rose and watched in horror as it withered and turned to dust in his hand.
    “If you report my presence or hers to anyone, I shall kill not only you but every member of this temple. Every invalid in your care. Everyone in the nearest town, friend or foe to you. I will then systematically hunt down every Keshomaean I can find.”
    The high priest’s eyes were wide. His mouth hung open. He backed up against a dense stand of bamboo. As Breskaro stared at him, a trickle of fire seemed to run down his blade. 
    Artorio swallowed, nodded. The dust that was once a rose fell from his hand.
    Breskaro sheathed his sword, dispelling the seeming that had caused the illusory flame.
    “Y-You are no longer the devout hero everyone admired. That much is certain.”
    “Am I not? That man was a shadow. Oh, he was a more appealing shadow than the one who sits before you now, but no less a shadow. What I would do should you betray me is no less than what we crusaders did to those whom the Matriarch named infidels.”
    Breskaro reached out the bag of money Nalsyrra had given him. The priest took it with trembling hands. Nalsyrra had suggested donating a dozen gold coins, five times what a common laborer could hope to make in a year. Instead he gave the priest all but that many, a small fortune. 
    “Remember what I have said, priest. I have been generous to you, as you have been to my daughter. When I return, I will reward you further. If you should cross me in any