The Book of My World

By Melissa Cuevas

Ten years ago, with the rise of the Llyrian threat, Mirach's champions had come from their home world to stand in her defense as their ancestors had centuries before. Tiernan Hartwell's life had changed then when he had been chosen as a holy companion to one of these champions, the great loan goddess Dyre Wrathbourne. He'd stood at her side for a decade, fighting for her and fighting for his own people during the darkest of times...or so he'd thought. But now he understood the true darkest of times with the sudden disappearance of the loan gods from his world, and the loss of the woman that he had built his heart and life around.

He has one choice...accept her loss, carry on with his life, or to challenge the very fabric of magic and his society by going after her, to bridge the gap between his world and hers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa Cuevas
• Release date: Apr 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370959648

Melissa Cuevas

Military (US Air Force) brat, housewife, mother of two. I live in rural SW Wisconsin with my beloved husband and one clingy little cat. I'm also a dyed in the wool gamer, both table top and MMORPGs.

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Copyright © 2017 by Melissa Cuevas

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

Published by Melissa Cuevas

First Edition: March 2017

This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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Chapter One

The rain outside did not fall, it drove, pounding into the windows. The drops rattled against the glass and Tiernan knew that there was ice forming with them. It was a bitter, angry night indeed, a night that would be terrible for those less fortunate.

But Tiernan was a fortunate man, or so most around him would believe. The glass held off the freezing rain and held out the chill drafts, but since that was not enough, heavy curtains kept even the breath of weather at bay. There was a lushly patterned carpet on the floor behind him. Books held their ranks on the shelves that surrounded him. A fire radiated warmth and light into the dim room. He lived in luxury, but his heart beat with misery.

Tiernan. The voice behind him was heavy, oddly kind, but he bridled against it. He knew what was coming, he sensed the 'I told you so!' coming loudly and clearly.

Damn it, I know. You told me. You warned me! Now what the hell do you want? You want me to admit it? Fine! I admit it! The words surged from his mouth, and it took a gargantuan effort to halt them. If he got started, he would rage, and then he would cry. And he would die before he cried in front of his elder brother. The shame of that would be too much to bear, and he already had so much going wrong with his life without adding to it.

Ryland sighed, coming up behind Tiernan and rested his hand on his smaller, younger brother. Tiernan. He repeated mournfully. We are here for you.

I… I want her back. I need her back. I can't do this without her. She promised, she swore to me that I would be with her forever.

We do not get to keep the loan gods, Tiernan. Dyre is a loan goddess, she is not ours to hold forever. She stayed with you for a long, long time.

Years. Dyre had been in his life for years, all of his adulthood had been experienced at her side. Everything he had seen, everything he had accomplished had been because of her. And now, now she was gone from him. She had always led, he had always followed. What did he follow now?

You were never fond of Dyre. He accused bitterly. Ryland had argued against Tiernan becoming one of the holy companions, begged him to avoid the Choosing. But like so many other youngsters, the siren's call to serve had stirred in Tiernan's soul, and he had slipped away to be present at the Choosing. And he'd been chosen by Dyre on that beautiful morning. In spite of his anguish, the memory still brought a smile to his lips.

Wrong. Ryland disagreed, I am exceedingly fond of Dyre.

That was news to Tiernan, and he turned to face his brother, letting his expression ask the question instead of his lips.

Dyre is the finest example of loan god I've ever known of. Ryland admitted, going to the shining walnut sideboard and helping himself to a snifter of brandy. She is strong. Beautiful. Loyal. Thoughtful. She cared well for you, put you ahead of much. Unlike most companions, she left you with a home. He motioned around the room with his glass. A fortune. Properties. She sponsored your schooling. You are young enough to find a wife, have children, and live a very good life from here on out because of her.

A wife. Tiernan's heart crashed at the very idea. Settling for another woman instead of Dyre? It was worse than laughable, it was a horror to contemplate. Certainly, he yearned for children, but he yearned for his and Dyre's children, not some other woman's. But Dyre was a loan goddess, and they never bore children. Rumors claimed that loan gods sired children, but Tiernan had seen precious little evidence to that. He firmly believed that somehow it just couldn't happen. He had pages of notes, thoughts, trying to figure it all out, but that didn't change it. If Dyre had been able to bear his children, then surely she would have. Even if she knew she had to go away from him, she would have given him such a gift to hold on to. She wouldn't leave him alone like this. No, no wife.

Maybe not now, Tiernan. But no, I don't hold anything against Dyre. She treated you so much better than the others treated their companions. She saved your life. She signed the papers to make you her heir when she was no longer able to stay with us. She never replaced you, never treated you poorly from what I saw. Never shamed you. If you had to be a companion, then I am so very grateful that she was the one who chose you.

Tiernan could only nod in mute agreement. So many loan gods were not nearly as decent as Dyre had been. So many of them seemed to view their companions as slaves, playthings, pets or death fodder, taking undue risks with them, under equipping them, forgetting them in bizarre places and leaving them. Tiernan had died multiple times under Dyre's companionship, and it was a terrible, cold and lonely experience, but he'd always felt she went out of her way to avoid it. She was always quick to bring him back to her, but likewise, she had fallen before him. And he had been quick to bring her back. Dyre had been decent, kind, generous and he shouldn't complain. Everything that Ryland said was true, but instead of making it easier to take, it made it so much more difficult. How was he supposed to replace that, how was he supposed to fill the hole that her loss had left in his life?

Tiernan. Your life is not over. I can't say that I know what you're going through right now, but companions survive their service and go on to live prosperous, full lives. And I am damn well going to make certain that you are one of them, my brother. Ryland frowned, and Tiernan studied his brother for a long, solemn moment.

He meant well, he truly did. Tiernan could feel it, but the bond that Tiernan shared with Dyre was so much more than the usual one. But he knew better than to try to explain it, he didn't have the words for it himself and his vocabulary far exceeded his brother's. Tiernan was the highly educated one, Tiernan was the brilliant one, and he was at a loss for words to describe what he felt. But he deeply appreciated Ryland's concern, it was rarely displayed openly.

The man prided himself on being manly, tall, broad, strong and silent, while his younger brother only managed the tall part. Tiernan resembled Ryland, they had the same coloring, the same general facial structure, but the devil was in the details. Although Tiernan actually had the greater experience with war, with conflict, Ryland looked to be a soldier and Tiernan looked to be the sort of young man kept by those who kept young, pretty sorts.

It was irony, actually. Ryland Hartwell was a businessman who looked like he'd lived his adult life on the line. Tiernan Hartwell had lived most of his adult life involved in some sort of skirmish or outright grinding war, but he looked like he wouldn't know which end of a sword to pick up.

You'll stay the night. Tiernan stated, unwilling to carry on the conversation anymore.

Ryland wouldn't understand, couldn't understand. Everything with him was solid, concrete, palpable. Tiernan had been warned for years that he would not be able to keep Dyre; therefore, he should accept her loss. That was how Ryland and the rest of Tiernan's family viewed this. Tiernan had been well compensated for his service to Dyre, but now his service was over. He should just get on with it.

It was just so simplistic and Tiernan Hartwell had never been known to be a simple man. Simplistic thoughts didn't peel back the fog of reality, didn't have the depth to manipulate the flow of magic woven into the world, and then the power to bend it to an adept's will. Although he was able with a sword, and a decent enough archer as well, Tiernan's weapon was his mind and his mind was an incomprehensible piece of work for the majority of those around him.

Dyre had been one of the few to grasp and accept that, to truly value it. To truly value him, the youngest son of a large and struggling, barely noble, family. To see what he could become and then to help forge him into that.

He owed everything to her, and he couldn't even begin to give her anything in return. His hope, his unstated dream, was that he could be what she called him, companion, in the waning days of her life. To be there beside her as she aged, as she slowed and was unable to pick up her sword and lead the way into battle. To be there when it became their turn to take care of her. He would be honored, overjoyed, to live out the rest of his life with her.

They could adopt, raise a passel of war orphans, give them their love, stability and experience even if they could not pass down their blood. Or they could take in any number of Tiernan's nephews and nieces and raise them as their own. There were plenty of those, his brothers had not gone chasing the dream of being a holy companion, they had settled down, married and begun breeding with a fierce purpose. It would be a relief to those families if Tiernan was able to take on the responsibility of feeding, training and educating some of those younger children.

Thank you. Ryland said and Tiernan waved it off.

It wasn't as if it would pose any hardship, Dyre cherished hospitality and her reputation as a host. Her home reflected that. She used this home as a headquarters, a place that her band could always feel safe and secure in.

It was the place that Tiernan considered to be his home, fully equipped with the perfect sanctum, laboratory and library to keep him amused in the off time between conflicts. But more than that, it was Dyre's home. She didn't require a sanctum or a laboratory, and while she was well read, his library was beyond her.

Here was where she let herself be exposed, where she ceased being Dyre, Champion-General of Mirabilis and became the woman he adored. She had been funny, calm and loving. And now, this place was a constant reminder of her absence but Tiernan was unwilling or unable to leave it for a more neutral location. He'd tried, but he felt even more lonely and lost when he wasn't surrounded by things that she had touched, created, loved and cherished. When he wasn't surrounded by memories of her…

"Tiernan. You have been through so much, maybe now is the time for you to recover. To take time for yourself. Maybe to return to Hifford to pursue your calling further. Your masterwork trials. You did have that goal before the war, if I remember correctly. You had so many ideas that summer, but then Dyre was pulled off to lead the way into Llyr. You mentioned having a shop, we have experience with those. We can help. We want to help you."

I know, Ryland, I know. How could he explain that the war had changed everything? He couldn't, only those who had been through it would understand that there was a gulf of difference between the Tiernan Hartwell who had gone in, and the one that had come out the other side.

It had been his crucible, the force that turned him from a fuzzy cheeked youth agog with the concept of following one of the loan goddesses into war into what he was now, a hard bitten veteran and a coiled killer. There had been no choice, it had been change or die. And he'd changed. While Ryland had been safe, well behind their forward lines, Tiernan had stood, soaked in blood and worse.

He'd been exhausted, cold, hungry, terrified. He'd died so many times that it had become second nature, and those deaths had just added to the chill in his soul. But Dyre had been the force to keep them going, had driven them when the way had become too harsh to take anymore. And they'd been victorious, they'd done more than push Llyr from their borders, they'd retaliated with a push deep into their enemy's lands.

He'd stood on the roof of the great Llyrian College of Magic, his footsteps a trail through the mortar dust on its floors. He'd seen it. He'd been a part of its conquest. His library was stuffed with its volumes, and Dyre had come away ornamented from head to toe with its gold, its gems. She had ground it into the very dust beneath it.

She had driven terror into the hearts and minds of Tiernan's enemies, and he had celebrated. The night after the fall of Llyr, he'd bedded her in the Dynast's bed, on lush furs and the finest of silks. If any night should have produced a child, it would have been that night. But it hadn't.

What were your plans when your warring days ended, Tiernan? I know you had them, you always have plans. You plot constantly.

Yes, yes he did. Unfortunately he had never really made plans that did not include Dyre being in his life. I planned to settle down here with Dyre and adopt children. Grow old and die my true death by her side.

Ryland's expression grew even more pained. My brother. He whispered impotently, and Tiernan only shrugged, finally moving away from the chill window and letting the curtains fall closed.

It is going to be a harsh night out there. Llyr had been like this in late autumn, wicked cold and damp, blowing winds. He'd had much poorer lodgings then, sleeping in Dyre's command tent, underfoot. He'd trade this luxury in a heartbeat to be back there, wrapped up with her, deep in the comfort of their combined bedrolls. He'd never felt closer to anybody else than he had in those moments.

Yes. It will ice soon, but… Ryland waved again at the room, You have all of the comforts of a fine home to ride out the storm in. Why don't we play rampage like we used to? Sit by the fire and spend time together? I've missed you.

That would be nice. Tiernan said, and he meant it.

It wouldn't even begin to shift his mood, but it had been quite a while since he'd spent any real time with his brother. Even the few times he'd come home during the War, he'd been in a hurry, distracted; usually because Dyre had sent him back to bring her things, run messages, browbeat officials all part of the usual tasks for a companion.

He'd been better than most, able to portal under his own power without relying on Dyre to move him along to where she wanted him to be. He had the ability to go where he pleased, when he pleased. She'd never tried to leash him to her, like so many other loan gods did. She'd paid for his training, given him the time to complete it, and she'd been well aware of what it would teach him to do. She'd never treated him like a possession.

He led the way into his study, piling up the sheets of vellum littering the ink stained felt surface of his writing table, dropping it down to its horizontal position. Ryland pulled up the other chair from its lurking place in the corner, sitting and resting his elbows on the table.

I'm worried about you. He finally admitted, cautiously resting his brandy on the table. You're taking this hard.

Tiernan snorted, turning to the wall behind the table. He didn't have a chest of drawers, or a desk with drawers, the entire wall was inset with drawers of various sizes. He retrieved the first one of the decks he could find in them, dropping the wooden box down on the table in front of his brother.

I will not take my own life. He stated firmly, knowing that was what had crossed Ryland's mind.

It was not an unheard of action from an abandoned companion, but he was a stronger man than that. And what happened if Dyre returned, but he was no longer there for her? He had spent ten years at her side, there every step of the way. The only place he could not follow her to was her own world, where the loan gods came from.

Maybe, just maybe, she had returned there to find someone else to sire her children. If she brought them back to him, he'd be ecstatic. The idea of raising the offspring of loan gods, Dyre's children, here in Mirabilis was a glorious idea indeed. Unfortunately, he believed that if that was her plan, she would have told him, prepared him for it.

He inspected the deck, shuffled it and dealt the hands. Even before he'd gone off to war, he'd been a better card player than his brother. Now, he was vicious and skilled as well as intuitive and brilliant, but he wasn't in the mood to win, win, and win. Where was the joy in showing up a man who was just trying his best to make Tiernan feel better?

Ironically, it seemed as if Ryland had decided that letting Tiernan win, win, and win would, in fact, make him feel better. The challenge became playing so badly that he wouldn't win, couldn't win, and that was actually more of an intellectual pursuit than winning was.

You're losing on purpose. Ryland sighed, shaking his head.

"And you're trying to lose on purpose. Tiernan smiled slightly, leaning back in his chair and propping his foot on his knee. I'm just succeeding at losing better than you are."

So, you're winning. Ryland chuckled.

Absolutely. But now that it had been acknowledged, it wasn't amusing anymore and Tiernan tapped the edges of the cards in his hand against the felt thoughtfully.

So, Tier. What do you like in a woman? Ryland looked uncertain to even ask the question.

It had never been a consideration before, Tiernan had been barely sixteen when he'd gone to the Choosing, close mouthed and timid about such things. All of his brothers were older, and Ryland was the oldest of them all. He'd been married for years at that time, and hardly the ear to bend over which of the young women around had caught Tiernan's eyes. And then Dyre had been there. She'd been his first. She was his only. And with that question, she was the only answer as well.

Dyre. He responded evenly, but bluntly. No. He wasn't going to have this discussion. If he'd been a widower… Ryland, would you ask me the same question, this soon, if Dyre had gone to her final death?

His brother recoiled as if he'd been struck, dropping his cards on the table. Of course not!

What is the difference? Do we even know what happens to them when they no longer return? Do you know that… Oh, that was a terrible idea that had never even crossed his mind before.

What if something tragic had befallen Dyre in her own world? What if she really had gone to her final death? What if that was the reason she had not returned? Because she wasn't able to? What if she had died so far away from him, alone? What if she was captured? Injured?

He was aware that she was using a fixed portal system to bridge the gap between her world and his, what if it had fallen? Been taken? Drained? He should have asked more questions, gotten more information, but Dyre had always been less than forthcoming with information about where she was from, and how she got through the portal to Mirach. If she had been intending to voluntarily remain in her own world, wouldn't she have told him beforehand? Said goodbye? It wasn't like her to leave him anguishing like this. He deserved better, he deserved more.

Do you know that Dyre isn't dead? He finally whispered, and Ryland went milk pale across from him.

Tiernan, she went home. They do that.

"Do they? How do we know that? How do we know anything at all about what goes on over on that side? They're not the ones who tell us, but somehow we just know? If Dyre meant to leave me and never return, she would have told me! She would have put my fears to rest, at least. She would have warned me, she would have prepared me! This isn't like her, and I am afraid!" There. It was out, made whole and real.

Tiernan was terrified, sickened by Dyre's inexplicable absence. If she was missing on this side of the gap, he'd be bringing together their warband, making plans, plotting her rescue. But this made him feel lost, impotent, helpless.

To find Dyre would mean doing the impossible, crossing over the gap. No one did that, ever. Even as one of the finest mages in Mirabilis, one of the brightest intellects his people had ever birthed, Tiernan had no clue where to even begin the research on how to pass through. Dyre's world was forbidden to him, or was it? No one had ever actually said it was forbidden, just that it was impossible for him to reach and Tiernan could handle impossible so much easier than he could swallow forbidden. It was definitely something to consider when the house was quiet, dim, and he was left up to his own devices.

I don't know, Tiernan. I've never even thought about it. You are the mage, I would have thought that you were the one to know the answers to that. Ryland's gaze was puzzled, and Tiernan shrugged.

That was the bad thing about being as bright as he was, often the world around him simply assumed he knew and understood everything going on around him. And contrary to popular belief, he honestly didn't. It seemed like the more he knew, the more questions opened up that he didn't have answers for, and the less he actually understood.

I don't. He admitted slowly. Dyre kept that information very close. All of the loan gods do. And it had not, at that point in time, seemed to be something he was supposed to question. Now he despised his complacency, he should have asked. He should have pushed, pried, he should have learned this from Dyre. It staggered his mind now that he hadn't. It would have given him some place to start from…

To start what from? The idea stirring in the shadows of his mind was insanity. He could go after Dyre. She had gone after him when he'd been captured in Llyr. She'd arrived full of piss, vinegar and righteous rage, painted with the blood of those who had dared to try to take him away from her. Didn't she deserve the same response from him? He had to know. If he didn't, her loss would always be a shadow dogging him. It would always be something that would keep him away from that 'rest of his life' that his oh, so very optimistic brother felt he should be looking forward to.

He couldn't settle down until he was absolutely certain that Dyre was safe. That she had voluntarily remained on her world. That she was where she wanted to be. Then he could consider his service done and contemplate his other options, whatever those might be. Until then, no. He was still Champion-General Dyre's holy companion and he intended to act just like that.

It grows late. He noted softly, and Ryland nodded, his eyes flicking towards the windows in Tiernan's study as if that would tell him the time.

It would not, the outer shutters were closed securely, the heavy curtains drawn tightly. Tiernan had once again neglected to tend to the water clock and it had stopped days ago, silent and still on its pedestal in the corner, but he doubted that even if it was working if his brother could read it. To Tiernan it was just a toy, something to tinker with since he had an innate ability to track time in his head. And Dyre seemed to share that ability, she'd had little interest in or need of a cantankerous piece of gears that occasionally made a decent stab at keeping track of time.

Of course it is, Tiernan. Which room do I sleep in?

Top of the stairs. Tiernan decided, standing and leading the way. It was deathly quiet up here, he couldn't hear the tempest of the weather. The house was like a great stone, it didn't so much as creak in reaction to it.

The tabots were nowhere to be seen, and even if they were around, they tended to be silent as well. He opened the door to the best of the guest rooms, peering cautiously within. This was the home of a loan goddess and her sacred mage companion, things occasionally happened within its walls that weren't supposed to. He practiced full on magic within the blue granite walls, most of the impact muted by the wards of his limestone lined sanctum, but not always.

Dyre caused the very world around her to react to her presence, and that had been absorbed into the great wooden beams, the porous wool rugs and wall hangings that she so loved. And then they'd added the tabots to the mix, arcanely forged pets created and beloved by the Llyrans.

But everything looked to be well in order and he nodded, stepping out of the doorway to allow his brother entry. He knew the expression his brother wore before he even glanced into his eyes. Ryland tried to disguise it, but it was difficult to ignore the wealth, the luxury, and the reaction it incited and the trail of greed was easy to follow in the utter silence.

Such a waste for Tiernan to have that house, empty. Our children do without, while he rattles around in it like a pea in a crate.

Ah, so that's how it was. The thought…no, the memory…wasn't in Ryland's voice. It was in Ryland's wife's voice.

Tiernan supposed there was some true logic to that, it was much more house than he needed. It had been much more house than he and Dyre together truly needed, but she'd liked to surround herself with those who had bled for her, fought with her, to give them a place to call home when it was needed or wanted. That did not extend to Tiernan's family, whom Dyre treated with a distant reserve and a distinct lack of welcome.

Your wife covets what is mine? He asked, and Ryland hissed in answer, all the confirmation that Tiernan needed was in that noise.

It was rude to admit that he could, and did, catch thoughts like those from people around him. Only Dyre remained completely silent, never a thought, never a snippet escaped her inner mind. Usually Tiernan kept them to himself, but Ryland had known since Tiernan had been a small child that the air spoke words to him.

Tiernan…

No, no. There's nothing to say. And there really wasn't. This was all Tiernan's, Dyre had made certain of it. Tiernan was in no mood to share. He needed his privacy, his space, those around him needed to understand exactly what he was.

This was a dangerous place to those who didn't understand or respect what went on within its walls. The tabots were highly strung and volatile beasts. The books contained knowledge that had to be held safe. No. He would not open his house up to his sister in law. Once she had that foothold, she would push and push until he would be forced to respond with greater impetus. Anyway, it was not his responsibility to care for Ryland's household.

Sleep well, my brother. He sighed, closing the door between him and Ryland and striding down the hallway to the room he had shared with Dyre.

The door was, as usual, ajar, and he opened it without the same caution that he had used on the guest room. All three of the tabot were curled up on the foot of the bed, and all three of them raised heads to watch his approach. They roughly resembled their core being, they had originally been forged from cats, but the magic woven into their creation had changed them, warped them. They made superlative familiars, vicious household guards, much too intelligent for the good of those around them who might be up to trouble.

My brother is staying the night. He stated firmly, dropping his jacket onto the chair in front of the fireplace. The three of them glanced between each other, and the dominant one coughed a noise up, dropped her head down to the furs and promptly went back to sleep. The two submissive ones simply stared back at Tiernan, the male, Reeavak, hopping to the floor and crossing to him. It sat beside him, butted its head against his leg, before returning to the warmth of the clutch.

The male was his familiar and a war trophy, it had come home with him, tucked into his robes. Dyre had carried the two females back, bundled and asleep in her saddlebags, on their return from Llyr. They were worth as much of a fortune as the golden treasure she'd brought away with her.

Tiernan stretched, undressing and scratching at the edges of the broadest of the scars which traced their way across his abdomen, a permanent reminder of the time he'd been taken in Llyr.

"Dyre's consort is as pretty as a