Ashhur glanced at Jacob for a long moment, then sighed. He placed two fingers on Brienna’s cold forehead before rising to his feet. The god backed up, looking down on his most trusted servant. He seemed beyond sad at that point. In fact, Roland thought he appeared ready to break down himself.
“I cannot do what it is you ask,” Ashhur said. “You must understand, Jacob, I do this because I love you. If I granted your request, you would hate me. What I can give you would be a shell and nothing more. You would never forgive me for it.”
“If you deny me,” Jacob said, his words halted, broken, “that is what I will never forgive. Bring her back. Now.”
Ashhur let out a sigh that seemed to come from the very deepest part of him.
“Because I love you,” he said. “Remember that when you see what you have demanded of your god.”
He snapped his fingers, and the air shimmered. Roland watched in awe and horror, as Brienna’s chest rose and fell. She sat up sharply, as if pulled by a string, and her eyes opened, staring straight ahead. For a moment, Roland felt overjoyed, but that joy ended when he saw black, rotting gunk trickle from her slightly parted lips, when he noticed that her eyes were still glossed over and milky from death.
It seemed as though Jacob didn’t, however. His expression was one of mad glee, and tears of joy poured down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Brienna’s body, holding her close, sobbing into her neck. Brienna didn’t respond, not even when he whispered how much he loved her into her ear. She simply stared straight ahead, unmoving, and Roland’s heart broke.
Ashhur frowned at the display.
“When my brother and I created life,” he said, “we did so at great cost. A piece of our immortality went into each and every one of you, just as a piece of Celestia went into each of her creations. The power it required to accomplish such a feat was enormous, and when we finished, we found ourselves to be much lesser than what we’d been when we soared through the heavens. It is strength that we will one day regain, but that is a slow process, one that will not reach its fruition for millennia. Such is the price of creation, but both Karak and I paid that price willingly. Neither of us can give you what you want.”
“You gave her back to me,” Jacob sobbed, as if he hadn’t heard a word the god had said. “You gave her back.”
“I did not, my child,” said Ashhur. “Brienna is not alive. I have animated the shell, but what was contained within that shell has moved on. You hold a puppet, nothing more. Her essence has returned to the goddess and is once more a part of Celestia’s heavenly host.”
Jacob kissed Brienna’s cheek, then looked at Ashhur.
“Then summon it back,” he said. “Pull her soul down, or ask Celestia if you must.”
“I cannot,” the god said, his lips forming a tight line of despair. “And even if I could, I still would not. Jacob, this life, this world, is only a beginning. And since it is a beginning, it must also have an end. How many times have you yourself lectured on this? Life is a cycle, a wheel, a gift. You act as if the reversal of death were no greater than the creation of life. But look at what my children do with their own imperfect, frail bodies, with lives as long as the flame of a candle. They create life together, yet can any one of them face death and make it tremble? The time for eternity is coming, but it is not here. It is not now. I will not break the greatest of laws, not even to ease your sorrow. Is this not what you have told me the people of my Paradise must learn to accept? Is this not what you have insisted my children are unprepared to face? No, Jacob. You are the First Man. You are the greatest. And you of all should know the limits of life and death.”
“But you are immortal,” Jacob whispered. “You made me immortal. Does our very nature not contradict your limits?”
“No,” Ashhur replied with a shake of his head. “In my present form, even I can perish. The only eternity that exists will not be found in this mortal realm. We are all beings with a beginning,” he snapped his fingers once more, and Brienna’s body went limp in Jacob’s arms, “and an end.”
“No!” Jacob shouted, hysterically trying to keep her corpse upright. “You bastard! Bring her back! Bring her back!”
In a movement much too quick for a being his size, Ashhur grabbed Jacob, pulled him away from the corpse, and then touched Brienna’s forehead again. He muttered a few words, and her body lit aflame, the fire devouring her remains in mere seconds, until all that remained was a clump of ash lying in the grass, holding her form for a short second before Ashhur blew on the pile, scattering the ashes to the wind.
“NO!” Jacob screamed once more, reaching for the billowing ash, trying to pluck it from the air.
Roland collapsed to his knees and then let out another sob. The finality of it all struck him dumb, left him feeling like he’d been stabbed in the gut. And, oh, how much worse Jacob appeared.
“Your love for her and her memory must never end,” Ashhur said. “But I will not watch you debase yourself as you cling to a rotting corpse. The flesh is dead. The soul lives on.”
Roland knew by the look of dismay on the god’s face that it was perhaps the most difficult thing he had ever done.
Jacob’s expression slowly changed. It was like watching a broken thing gradually rebuild itself, only with jagged edges and everything not quite in its proper place. His eyes, which had shimmered with life and knowledge, now glared at his deity with a dark rage that left Roland terrified.
“The soul may live on,” Jacob said. “But the men responsible live as well. You must act.”
“What do you mean?”
He went to the horse that had collapsed, the one holding the mad priest’s corpse. He violently grabbed Uther’s head and lifted it, showing the distorted, burned, and broken face to Ashhur.
“Do you know who this is?” he asked, his voice dripping with disdain. “Uther Crestwell. Placed in charge of the men who have been tormenting the children of Drake-your children-for months.” He threw the dead man to the ground and lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “We watched their citizens butchered by the son of Karak’s Highest. Will you sit back and deny your brother’s hand in this?”
“Uther shamed his family. He left Neldar on his own. Whatever force he commanded up north, he did so independent of my brother’s knowledge.”
“Do you really believe that?” Jacob asked, aghast.
“I do.”
“Why? How? Look above you, my Lord. The moon will be full in two days. When your brother marches into the delta, do you think he is going to do so innocently? Do you think the people there will grovel at his feet and beg for mercy? His army already killed more than forty of them three months ago. Are you willing to let even more perish?”
“Such is the way my brother has chosen to discipline his children,” Ashhur said softly. “It is not my responsibility to stop him, as I have told you.”
Pulling at his hair, Jacob kicked Uther’s corpse and began to pace. Roland felt ill at ease. His master seemed unstable, ready to snap-sorrowful one moment, raging the next. He had never seen Jacob act in such a way. It scared him almost more than the ritual performed by Uther.
Finally, it seemed Jacob could stay silent no longer.
“They are people,” he said. “They aren’t toys! They aren’t playthings for you and Karak to divvy up like children. You act as if you care for my sorrow. You tell me to love the one lost. What of the delta? What of those people? Their families will wail. Their children will scream. You will sit idly by and watch death befall hundreds, if not thousands, and for what? In order to not interfere? To prove that your way is better in this sick little game you two brothers play? What will it take, Ashhur? What will it take to convince you that Karak will not stop until your people are crushed, and the nation of Neldar spans all the way from the east to the west?”