Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1) by Kathryn Kingsley (great novels to read txt) 📕

dead, they’re…gone.” She paused. “But I have the urge to pray to them for guidance. Does that make me a fool?”

“You are not a fool, Miss Ember. Prayers, even those that are not heard, carry more power than you may believe.”

“How so?”

He weighed his words. “Magic is nothing more than exerting our will on energy. On using our desires to bend the fabric of existence around us. Prayer, at its core, is identical. It is the act of asking the world, or the powers in control of it, to grant us what we wish. Indeed, for thousands of years of human existence, prayer and magic were identical. The shamans of old would light their candles and place their sacrifices on an altar to work their will.”

“But both are attached to the gods who rule it. Your magic comes from your Ancients.”

“Our magic comes from the world the Ancients created. They are the same, but distinct.”

“That makes no sense.” She laughed.

“My wife pulls her power from the moons overhead. I draw my power from the blood that runs through the veins of every living creature in this world. And that blood was put there by the Ancients. Think of it like a stream. They are the mountains that gather the rain that send the rivulets downward. But I draw from the rivers.”

“Yes, but if the mountains suddenly crumbled, the rivers would dry up.”

“But nothing in this world can ever truly be destroyed. Matter and energy are simply repurposed. The rivers empty to lakes, and the lakes evaporate and create rain, which creates new rivers. The ocean cares not for the crumbled mountains, for it only knows them as the sand upon the shore.”

“You’re saying that the gods I pray to have simply been…repurposed. That’s a charming thought, but I’ve seen too much of my world consumed to think that the life that has been spent is going to anywhere but the void. I watched Gioll atrophy. Where did all of that go?”

“I do not know. Likely to the Dread God who caused it.” He looked up at the stars. “Forgive me. I’ve launched into one of my theological debates once more.”

“Don’t apologize. Trust me, I’m just glad to have someone to talk to.” She patted Cricket’s neck, scratching the mane that stuck out between the plates. With her other hand, she held the amulet she wore that carried the sigil of the Grandfather. “If your Ancients died, Lyon—would you still pray to them?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“In hopes that if I poured enough of my energy into them, they might return to us.”

“Why would you want them back? They seem cruel.”

“Oh, indeed. They play their games. But without them, I never would have found this place where I belong. I never would have known true happiness. And for that, I am devoted to them, and will always be.” Ice blue eyes turned to her. “That you worship dead gods to whom you owe nothing is what sets us apart. I pray with thanks. You pray with hope.”

“You see what it’s gotten me? Nothing.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He took a moment to think once more before speaking. “I have lived a long time. Not as long as some. But one thing I have garnered a knack for is knowing when strings are being pulled. When there is more at work than meets the eye. I would not surrender so easily.”

“If your world has plans for me, I can’t wait to see what they are. Whatever your Ancients want from me can’t be worse than the life I came from.” She grinned at Lyon.

Lyon’s expression was a serious one when he answered, killing her smile. When he spoke, his tone sent her mood falling like a rock.

“Of that, I would not be so certain.”

18

Jakob hummed as he poked at the fire with a long stick. A few of Dtu’s people had arrived with animals to be cleaned and cooked. He hadn’t ever seen creatures like the ones they brought in. Some of them might resemble deer, or moose, if they had been crossed with someone’s nightmare.

But meat was meat, and they were all starving. It had been a long and brutal day of marching through the woods. They had abandoned the road to take a “faster route.” Faster for Dtu and his kind, perhaps. But not so much for a gaggle of survivors who weren’t used to travel and who were scared for their lives.

Jakob frowned and flipped the piece of meat on the skewer he had rigged over the fire. He wished he had grabbed his tent and bag before everything had gone wrong. Sleeping on the ground was getting old, and it had only been one night.

“How do you fare?”

Jakob yelped in surprise, whirling to see the giant undead wolf next to him. Dtu. Jakob put his hand to his heart. “You scared me!” He laughed. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

“I fear I’m incapable of doing anything but.” Dtu sat on his hind legs then lowered himself to the elbows of his front legs. “It’s nothing personal.”

“I guess.” He smiled and sat down on a log next to the fire and poked at the coals again. “I fare just fine, thank you. I’m used to long hours on the road. Would you like some meat?”

“No, thank you.”

“Right. You don’t eat with others.” Jakob reached out and took the end of the stick he used to skewer the whatever-it-was steak he had been given as a ration. It looked cooked about right.

“And cooking food is a waste.”

He grinned at the giant wolf. “I would rather not get sick, thank you.” He took a bite out of the food. It was tender and tasty. Gamey and a bit like deer. He liked it. Perhaps this world is an improvement.

Glancing at Dtu again, he smiled. A real improvement. He felt safe next to the big creature. And he rarely, if ever, felt anything of the sort. “Your friend seemed really upset when she came back. Is everything all