Two (The Godslayer Cycle Book 2) by Ron Glick Page B

there were the swords.  Oh, those God-be-damned swords!  Nathaniel glanced over to where the two swords in his possession leaned against a nearby tree. One and First .  That was what they each called the other.  To his eye, they looked identical in every way – except that in the pommel of One was a single pitted die engraving, and that of First was unmarred by any marking whatsoever.  Otherwise, they were the same.  Identical it seemed down to the length, composition and immaculate etchings upon each blade.
    Nathaniel risked a glance in Brea's direction.  She still visibly avoided looking in his direction.  Her body language was difficult to read – a mixture of anger and shame, was the best he could ascertain.  The stranger's violation of their minds, memories and emotions seemed like a distant dream on many levels now, but the feelings those changes had left behind – the sense of intrusion and defilement – those remained.
    There was a new resentment that each now carried, a fresh wound that none knew how to heal.  Though in his mind he knew who was to blame, Nathaniel could not help but to feel a certain amount of frustration at Brea, as well.  He knew – he knew – it had not been her fault.  But it felt as though she had taken advantage of him, used the enchantment cast over them all for her own pleasure.  By Charith, he was not even sure whether the memory of their coupling was a fragment of false memory or true.  Yet regardless, he could not escape the feeling that he had broken his marital vows, and in doing so, he could not escape blaming the temptress with whom he had shattered them.
    The feeling must be true for them all, Nathaniel reasoned.  They must each hold some resentment against each other, for there was no way to exorcise the false memories completely.  Some were too intertwined with real ones to completely dismiss – like the memory of his physical relations with Brea.  If it had happened, it had been wonderful, blissful.  Yet those feelings were betrayals all by themselves, for they meant he took pleasure in another woman.
    The Old Gods had made a promise to him.  They promised that if he could find the New Order's Goddess of Death, Elevan – that if he could slay her – then Charith would gain control of Mari's soul and they could resurrect her, bring her spirit back into her body.  The Pantheon kept Mari's body in stasis, keeping it from deteriorating. 
    Another task Nathaniel had to find a way to complete, yet he knew even less of how to find or summon Elevan than he did in finding his son.
    Three tasks then, none of which he could complete.  He knew not where to find another sword, his son, or the New Order's Death Goddess. 
    And none of that included trying to find out who their intruder had been.  All any of them knew was that he possessed one of the nine swords, one that could manipulate memory.  Or perhaps it manipulated reality.  Nathaniel was not really sure which.  But it was dangerous, and it represented a genuine threat to them all.
    Another thought occurred to Nathaniel then – why had he not sensed the other sword?  Why had he not received a vision as he had with One ?  When that sword awoke, he had dreamed of being One , of being embedded in the ground.  He had later seen himself as though he were being wielded.  But even when visions did not flood his mind's eye, he could sense the sword, knew which direction the sword lay in. 
    Yet Nathaniel sensed nothing of the sword the stranger had wielded.  Nothing at all.  Not its presence, and certainly not where it was now.
    A hand touched his arm gently from behind.  “Nathan?”
    Nathaniel turned around to face Brea, pulling his arm from the priestess' grasp – though he found himself doing so far more delicately than he once would have.  Was that shame at work, he wondered?  Guilt?  Or something more insidious – a lingering desire to not drive her away perhaps?
    “We should talk, you and