by Tam Chronin
The word echoed around them, filling the air.
Oh no. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh, DAMN it all!
How did she find out?
"Your new friends want to kill me. And my brothers. And my sisters. My daughters and my sons." She stared into his eyes, trapping his gaze. "I plucked that bit of knowledge straight from your head. I saw it sitting there, glittering like a jewel. It taunted me and told me I should not know, but I found out."
"No," Krecek mouthed the word.
"You want me dead! I thought you loved me! You were my most entertaining high priest, and you want to betray me! How do you mean to do it? What imbecile gave you the idea that gods could die?"
"No one!" Terror made the lie difficult, but he forced it out. "No one," he said again, gently. At the same time his mind was a chant demanding that Agruet protect him and his secrets. "It's just wishful thinking. Mortals do foolish things when we're afraid. You made us this way."
"You’re hiding things from me," Nalia frowned, eyes narrowed. "I can feel it, like worms crawling on my skin. You’re trying to deceive me." She stepped in close and caressed Krecek’s cheek in an almost loving gesture. "Agruet is MY son, you know. I gave birth to him. He can only protect your secrets for so long."
"I don't want to upset you." Krecek leaned into her touch. "My thoughts are just jumbled and unworthy of you." Krecek took her hand, and he kissed the palm of it. He had been so lonely. Her touch was like a balm. It was dangerous, touching her. But maybe he could talk to her. Change the course of events by turning her to their side. "You created mortals to be an entertaining distraction. We became more than that. You, Nalia, you gave us that. Despite what the other gods meant for us. You said yourself that if we were just puppets and playthings, we would grow boring. Treat us better, and all this can end."
Her eyes softened.
Nalia's fingers lingered, pressed gently against his skin.
Was it possible?
Was she as lonely as he was?
Did this goddess crave a deeper connection that she hadn't yet found?
She snatched her hand away.
"I can destroy you. I can unmake you so utterly that it will have been as if you were never born. All of you!"
"Please," Krecek turned away as if embarrassed for her. "Threats are beneath you. You are the most powerful of all gods. I’ve seen that in you, I know the truth. I've known you as intimately as you have known me. If you meant to do those things, they would be done."
She slapped him then, and it sent him to the muddy ground, clutching his cheek and tasting blood.
"You DARE?" Nalia straddled his hips, hitting him with bone-jarring force.
At least she remembered that he was only flesh and bone. She managed not to kill him.
But she wanted to hurt him, to teach him a lesson.
And she knew exactly how far she could go.
He saw all that in her eyes as she shattered his body upon the rocks and the trunks of trees, throwing him around like a limp rag, and he did not fight back.
He did not even attempt magic to heal himself or lessen the blows.
"You dare to tell a goddess what I can and cannot do? You are MY creation! You are MY high priest! You are MY lover! You are MINE!"
She looked into his eyes. They both knew further harm would be his death.
He saw her temptation.
Her hesitation.
Her sadistic glee when she thought of the one thing she could do that would hurt worse than physical pain.
That would hurt him worse than death.
She tore the magic from him and devoured it while he watched.
"Beg me for its return," she said, kneeling next to him.
Something whistled as he took a breath.
"No," he whispered, defying her wish with his last conscious act.
If that was how he died, so be it.
He had no reason left to live.
"Death walks among us."
Aral was in the library, and those words stole her attention from her work.
Death? Had someone died?
Or, was Baedrogan here?
Garm burst into the door. "Aral. You need to see this."
Probably Baedrogan, then.
"What is it?"
"It's Krecek. Something...I don't know. He looks half dead. The god of death walked in with him, scared the pants off of half the base."
As soon as the words "half dead" had left Garm's mouth, Aral was out of her chair and rushing down the hall. He was at her heels, still talking.
"I don't know what's going on," he continued, "but how's this fit in with all our plans? Can we tell him our grievances? Can we get him on our side?"
"He already is," she said curtly. "It doesn't change anything." She stopped. "Where am I going?"
"Krecek's room. Thera and Raev guided him there. What do you mean, the god of death is already on our side?"
"This first. Answers later. Tell no one."
Aral ran.
She burst through the door moments later.
There were so many people in the room. Gawking. Staring.
There was Baedrogan, a head above everyone in the room but Raev. He seemed to hover over them all, like a vulture.
His head snapped up and he met her eyes.
The others in the room noticed her then.
Moved aside.
Moved so she could see the broken form upon the bed.
She was hit with shock. Horror. Disbelief.
Gods, how had he survived?
The urge to cry was overwhelming.
Instead, she forced a smile. "Thank you for bringing him to us," she said to Baedrogan. "For sparing him."
"I have more to ask of him," Baedrogan said quietly. "Him. You. Everyone here. Heal him?" The god looked like a child, asking a parent to fix a broken toy. "I hate to withhold death from anyone suffering this much, but I have to." He sat down in the chair by Krecek's bed. "I can keep him alive." There was a vulnerable quaver in his voice. "But, I can't..."
"We will," Aral said. Her voice was firm, no-nonsense.
In full leadership mode.
If she didn't fall back to her role, to the emotionless state of making decisions and barking orders, she would break.
Aral scanned the room, eyes meeting Thera's. "Do we have a list of mages with healing aptitude?"
"Yes."
"Ask for volunteers. Strongest ability first, but I'll take anyone who is willing. Set up a rotation of shifts, so no one burns themselves out."
Thera nodded. "Good idea," she said over her shoulder, already in motion to follow orders.
The room emptied, leaving Aral alone with Krecek and the god of death.
Baedrogan shook his head. "This is a message. A warning. From my mother. She means to end this war herself. Without the aid of armies. Without the other gods."
Not good, not good... "Does she know what we mean to do?"
"She does."
Chapter Fifteen –
The Beating of the Drums
Aral cursed under her breath, profanities passing through clenched teeth with a well-practiced cadence.
She paused. Oh, right. Baedrogan was a god.
"Not you, of course," she said, embarrassed.
"I've said worse. Today, in fact." He gave a pained smile. "Agruet and I are being pushed to our limits right now. She knows my brother and I are behind this. She pulled it from Krecek as she drew him away from here."
"I can't sit back and let her do this," Aral said. It was hard to think when all she wanted to do was help her friend. But, leaders lead, even when things are falling apart. "We'll call for attacks in Eglian and Beronasvan by the end of the week. I'll send out word to step up our efforts. If we attack the other great temples, the other gods won't be able to let her take it all on herself."
"Agruet and I are doing all we can," he said. "Your aid is appreciated." Baedrogan stood and put a hand on her shoulder. "I don't want to, but we need to speed everything up. We can'
t risk Nalia destroying everything for something as petty as revenge."
"Will you fight at our side, when the time comes?"
Baedrogan fell silent, staring into her eyes. He looked sad.
What could make a god look so sad?
What could make death look frightened on top of it?
She put her hand over his, about to say something comforting, but he shook his head.
"I must be the last," he said.
"The last?"
"The last god to die. If I'm not the last, or if I don't die, it won't work."
A shiver went down Aral's spine. She didn't like the thought of killing their ally.
Or, was it allies?
"What about Agruet?"
"My brother promised to join me," Badrogan whispered. "When this is over, we won't be alive to aid you further. The world will be yours."
Aral the leader dried up and disappeared at those words, set aside so that she could be a protective big sister to someone in pain. She hugged Baedrogan, beyond words.
She'd had no idea. The plan had been to kill the gods. A nebulous idea that had always been the ultimate plan somewhere down the line. None of them who knew the plan had thought of what to expect if they won. The compassionate side of her wanted to tell him they'd stop; they'd find another way. It was impossible, though. If there'd been another way, these two gods would have found it and jumped on it by now. He and Agruet had come to them, their mortal creations, to work toward this very end.
She couldn't back out.
Byrek walked in.
It was like a splash of cold water. Baedrogan took a step back, squared his shoulders. He wore composure like it was his everyday disguise.
"Did I interrupt?" Byrek asked.
"No," Baedrogan shook his head. "We were finished." He shot a look of gratitude at Aral for her compassion.
"I volunteered to heal Krecek first, but I'm glad you're still here. It's been some time since I've seen your brother. Is he doing well?"
Elves were usually guarded with their emotions, especially ones as old as Byrek. Aral was surprised to see such strong concern and agitation written across his face.
"Agruet is well. Busy, and trying to keep you safe on top of it, but fine." Baedrogan smiled. "You'll see him again." The smile disappeared. "We're accelerating the plan. Mother's gone off again, and we need to end this soon."
"Oh, joy." Byrek's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Alternate plan?"
Baedrogan turned to Aral. "It's time to gather all the mages you can trust. Byrek, teach them the spell. We can't wait for a human to discover it." His eyes flickered toward Aral when he said "human".
Aral furrowed her brow. "Me?"
Silence.
"I was supposed to figure out how to kill gods?"
There was something familiar about the idea.
Baedrogan sighed. "Your father was. Events unfolded in less than optimal fashion."
As he said it the feeling of somehow knowing that struck Aral, but when she pressed further for how she'd known, or who she'd been talking to, the idea retreated.
"Oh."
"You were our second choice, but your studies were derailed when you took command. Now that time is of the essence, we can't wait for the spell to be discovered naturally."
"I'm sorry," Aral said. What was she sorry for? Sorry for being too busy to think of ways to kill gods? Sorry for not being her father? Sorry for not taking on the responsibility for the end of the gods?
Sorry for not remembering something she couldn't remember being told?
"Everything must end," the god said. "Everything."
Byrek nodded, face placid once again. It took Aral a bit longer to compose herself, but she knew Baedrogan was right. All things needed an end. It was the reason there was a god of death in the first place.
She nodded.
"I'm sorry to ask this of you both. Your hearts are kind, and this will leave an indelible scar on your souls and your psyches." Baedrogan bowed his head. It was surreal for Aral to see a god apologetic and humbled before them. "It's an unfortunate necessity. I tried to keep the burden from you both. There has been an unseen hand fighting us at every turn. Remember this, when you need it."
With those words, Baedrogan disappeared.
Aral and Byrek looked at each other, reading the expression on each other's faces.
"No time to figure out what he meant by that," Byrek said, looking Krecek over. "We have work to do."
Krecek mended slowly.
Most people had at least some innate magic.
Nalia had taken it all from him.
The horror, the depth, of what it meant to be utterly bereft of magic hadn't dawned on anyone until they tried to heal him.
Without magic, Krecek had no internal reserve to fix himself, of course. That had been obvious and expected. The true problem was that other mages couldn't tap into his magic, couldn't synergize with it. Couldn't use his power to aid their attempts.
When he realized why it was taking so long, why it was tiring them out so quickly, he tried to regain it. He felt around within his mind for some way to unlock it or sneak it back.
She knew. Every time he reached for it, he heard Nalia’s voice mocking him, telling him to beg.
It was tempting.
A hunger strike, with a goddess of food dangling a gourmet meal in front of his mouth.
All he had to do was beg.
Krecek wasn't sure how he managed not to give in.
Perhaps it was because Aral spent so much of her time by his side.
She smiled and held his hand. She worked her healing magic upon him whenever she had a chance.
People were constantly coming and going, needing to talk to Aral, but she stayed. When she wasn't healing she was doing her paperwork by his side.
"Why are you still here?" It was the first thing he'd managed to say, coherently, in days.
"You're one of my best friends," she said. "I’m not letting you go, and I refuse to let you suffer."
Krecek tried to smile. The attempt ended with a wince. It was too painful.
"You're not just keeping an eye on me? To make sure I don't leave again?"
Aral laughed, setting down her paperwork. "Yes, if I took my eyes off you for an hour, you might reach the door."
If smiling was painful, trying not to laugh was torture. It ended in gasps for breath and tears streaming from his eyes.
Still, it felt good.
"I'm sorry," Aral said, placing a hand on his forehead in a comforting manner. "I didn't think that through. No more jokes, I promise."
He nodded, but he attempted a smile again.
"I hate to see you like this," she said. "God or no, I’ll see to it she pays for doing this to you."
"How?" Krecek croaked, his voice giving up after talking, laughing, coughing. His vocal cords had been just as abused as the rest of his body, mostly by screaming in pain while it had gone on.
"I’ll kill her myself." She set her jaw and determination glowed within her eyes. "I know how."
Krecek shook his head, squeezing her hand as hard as he could manage. "Not you," he whispered hoarsely. "She's jealous of you. She’ll fight harder."
"All the more reason for it to be me," Aral said. "She won’t be thinking straight."
Krecek knew in his aching, shattered bones that it was a mistake, but he wasn't in any position to stop her.
Davri had finished searching the woods, examining the scene of the conflict between Krecek and Nalia, without learning much that was new. It gave him insight into her frame of mind, by the strength of the traces of magic she'd left behind, but that was all.
Days of going over the minute details, for what? To learn she was upset? Angry? Scared? Possessive and growing irrational? He could already guess that. The faint stirrings of a plan began to gather in his mind, but what good was that? They were running out of time. They had to gather the rest of the gods to the same point, not just bring her solitary wrath upon them.
He realized it wouldn't do any good to stay out there any longer. It was time to help the healing efforts.
As Davri neared Krecek's door, he heard Aral's raised voice. "I'll kill her myself. I know how."
Well, shit. That would do no one any good. He could hear a rasping protest, but the words were lost to him. Too quiet, too rough and gravely.
Aral's reply was crystal clear. "All the more reason for it to be me. She won't be thinking straight."
"Neither will you," Davri walked into the room, coming up behind her, and he put a hand on her shoulder. "You shouldn't go after Nalia or Garatara."
Aral glared. "I don't get revenge?"
"It's a tricky spell. You'll need to keep a clear head, or it'll rebound and kill you." The nebulous thoughts he'd had in the woods coalesced into something he could use, and he grinned. "If you want revenge, though, I think I have an idea."
"I’m all ears," Aral said dryly, arching an eyebrow.
"The first thing we need to do is get Krecek’s power returned to him," Davri said. "If Nalia is jealous, she—" He stopped himself. Scowled. Saying her name was growing increasingly dangerous as she fought Agruet directly. "I’d feel safer talking about this if Agruet was here. He could let us know if it is a viable idea, and he'd keep others from listening in better than I can."
"Work on it and get back to me with your idea when it's fleshed out," Aral said. She sighed. Stood. "I have a lot to finish up today, and I only brought half the reports from this morning." Gathering her papers, she gave a terse smile. "Some of the scouts have reported some odd things. Maybe we'll see some activity soon."
And then, they were alone.
Davri sat down at the edge of the bed, staring at the closed door. His thoughts were awhirl, creating a plan. He hated it, but it was the only thing he thought would work.
They were fighting an enemy that wouldn't play fair. It limited their effective options.
Well. They'd deal with the fallout as they needed, not before. He looked at Krecek. Talking with that much damage to his throat must be terribly uncomfortable. "She didn't get much healing done, did she." He placed a hand over Krecek’s neck.
