by Nazri Noor
It didn’t take long to scrub and soap myself off, after all, and soon I was ready for bed, too. I threw myself on top of the covers, sighing. It was weird going to sleep at, what, nine in the morning? But it wouldn’t have been the first time. We needed all the rest we could grab for whenever the Midnight Convocation would arbitrarily decide to summon us for their trial by combat. Probably the same night, even.
But no sense dwelling on all that. I closed my eyes and settled my breathing into the same, singular rhythm. Carver had taught me to do that, to help regulate the rare but dangerous tendencies for violence and brutality that bubbled up in my blood, no doubt a byproduct of the shard of star-metal that had been left lodged in my heart. I was too tired to think, regardless, and soon I’d drifted off to sleep. I dreamt of a woman made of stars, of the diadem in her hands. I dreamt of a coronation.
My eyes fluttered open. The sunlight beyond our bedroom blinds wasn’t so bright anymore. I guessed it must have been some time in the early afternoon. Still tired, though. I looked down at myself, surprised to find that a blanket had been pulled exactly halfway up my chest. Smacking my lips, I realized I was thirsty. I reached for my side table to pour myself some water out of the pitcher that Olga had set out for us, only to find that a glass had already been poured for me.
Groggy, though oddly giddy, I smiled to myself. Herald must have done all that, woken up midway through his nap the way I had. I chugged down half a glass of cool, crisp water, then staggered to the bathroom for a quick pee. I washed my hands and came back out to find Herald still asleep on his back, snoring gently, his hair an artful mess on the pillow. His blanket had tangled around his legs somehow.
I slowly made my way to Herald’s side, so as not to wake him. Before I crept back to bed, I fixed his covers, so that they were pulled exactly halfway up his chest. I poured him a glass of water.
Chapter 24
Might be that I slept for hours, but it truly only felt like minutes. That journey to the Lunar Palace really had taken so much out of me. Was I really on the moon? Was I really in space, or was it simply how the Midnight Convocation designed their shared domicile? It had all felt like a dream.
“Wake up,” a familiar voice cooed in my ear. “Dustin, time to wake up.”
“Five more minutes,” I grumbled. Fuck off, was what I really wanted to say. I was riding on a dragon’s back, fighting the Eldest, and I was winning. I didn’t want my dream to end.
“No, seriously. You have to get up.”
I ruffled my hair in annoyance, rubbing my eyes to clear my vision. I looked around for the source of the voice, perplexed, until I saw him sitting on my side table. With his shiny copper skin, Scrimshaw blended in too well with the polished wooden furniture of the Twilight Tavern, looking more like a very ugly lamp, or a tiny statuette. He stood with his hands at his hips, his belly thrust out.
“Well? Come on. You’ve got work to do. The Convocation is calling.”
I sat up immediately. “The entities want me now?” I panicked, feeling around my bed for my phone. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Calm down,” Scrimshaw said, holding up his hands. “They want you to assemble an hour before midnight. The cairn, on the peak of the hill. It’s only seven-thirty right now.”
I frowned at him. “Then why are you waking me up?”
Scrimshaw huffed and folded his arms, insulted. “Well excuse me for thinking that you might want to grab some dinner before your big fight, or maybe a light snack.” He sniffed, staring down the end of his hooked nose. “Might want to pump those flimsy muscles too, scrawny.”
“Hey man. We talked about body shaming.” I grunted and rubbed my forehead. “And okay, thanks. Food isn’t a bad idea.” I looked around, realizing we were alone. “Where are the others anyway? Herald?”
“The sorcerer? Downstairs. They’re talking tactics, which is part of why I decided to wake you up.” He rubbed his sharp little claws against his chest, as if polishing them. “The Midnight Convocation didn’t say anything about me giving you a little extra boost.”
I grinned out of the corner of my mouth. “That’s – awfully decent of you, Scrimshaw. And they sent you?”
“Don’t get any ideas. I figured I’d help you out a little after I shortchanged you the first time around. And yeah, they sent me,” he said, puffing out his little chest, proudly snapping on the suspenders he wasn’t actually wearing. “I’m freelancing.”
“Wow. Nicodemus is pretty generous about letting you take on extra work, huh?”
Scrimshaw scoffed. “That old fool? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I have days to spare. The moron’s developed a taste for smoking wizard weed. He’ll be astral projecting to the stars, whether he likes it or not. He won’t even know I was gone.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Scrimshaw. Admit it. You planted that wizard weed in with his regular herb, didn’t you?”
He snorted, then gave the tiniest, evilest grin. “I have no idea what you mean. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Scrimshaw disappeared in a puff of farts, and I started retching and coughing. A cloud of brimstone and fire, if you want to be technical about it, but it always smelled like rotten eggs. I could never get used to it. Mammon, conversely, didn’t make such a smelly fuss when it entered and left our reality. But frankly speaking, farts and all, I think I’d take a visit from Scrimshaw over one from the demon prince of greed any day of the week.
I washed up, jumped into a fresh change of clothes, and slung my backpack over my shoulder, hurrying through the corridor and down the stairs. I could only hope that the nullification enchantment across Silveropolis wouldn’t apply during the trial. That would be completely unfair, and not just to Vanitas. I wouldn’t be able to resort to casting flames or shadows, either.
“They’ll probably have a special arena or something, right?” I said, bursting into the dining room. The guys looked up from their discussion, Scrimshaw sitting cross-legged at the table, like he was part of the team.
Herald cocked an eyebrow. “They’ll have us cordoned off from the rest of this reality, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, no, of course they will. I’m just worried they’ll dampen our magic to give them an edge.”
Gil shook his head sternly. “The entities are many things, but I wouldn’t think they’d stoop to those sorts of tricks. The Midnight Convocation is mostly made up of gods, too. Fickle as they are, I’d say they’re still above that kind of underhanded trickery. I wouldn’t say the same for demons.” He shot Scrimshaw an apologetic look. “Present company exempted. No offense.”
“None taken,” Scrimshaw said, licking at his fingers.
He was scooping up tiny handfuls of clotted cream, a dish of scones sitting nearby, what the Twilight Tavern’s menu said were baked in-house especially by Olga. Scrimshaw casually ignored them, his other hand dipping into a separate little bowl of marmalade. It was mesmerizing, watching him go to town on what was essentially bread spread.
“We’re going to be fine, Dust,” Sterling drawled, leaning lazily against the table, his hand cupping his chin. “Remember what I told you ages ago? Carpe noctem. Seize the night. We already work best in darkness, and now you’ve got a full moon in the mix? This’ll be a cakewalk.”
I eyed Gil cautiously. “You’re going to be fine fighting full dog, right? I mean, it’s not like you’re going to go berserk and turn on us.”
Gil scratched the back of his neck. “Well, you see – that’s not impossible. So make sure to let me dive in first and stay out of my way.”
“So, hypothetically, let’s say you somehow eliminate everyone we’re fighting. All our enemies go down, and only Team Boneyard is left standing.” I folded my arms and fixed him with a leveled gaze. “There’s a possibility you’ll turn right around and start slashing and biting us, isn’t there?”
Gil sighed. “Sterling will bring the chains, just in case.”
“Listen,” Sterling said, an unlit cigarette clamp
ed between his fingers. “You’re making a huge fuss out of nothing. What we have here,” he said, slapping Gil on the back, “is a whirlwind of fangs and fur. The big dog. And he’s going to tear all those entities brand new assholes. The rest of us are just gonna hang back and watch. It’ll be that easy. You’ll see.”
“I wouldn’t get that confident about it, exactly,” Herald said, nudging his glasses up his nose.
Sterling clucked his tongue and shook his head. “And I was just starting to like you, Igarashi.” His chair scraped as he stood up. “I’m gonna go smoke this outside. The rest of you stay here and stress out over nothing.”
As the door to the Twilight Tavern creaked shut, Scrimshaw wiped at his mouth and burped. “He’s right, you know. You have an advantage, just as much as the Convocation does. Full moon and using the shadows to bolster your magic and all that.”
“Right,” Gil said. “Listen to the imp, he speaks the truth. And we’ve got so many other things to fall back on. You’ve got Vanitas, you’ve got both shadow and fire magic, and Herald here can freeze stuff faster than I can blink. We’ve got this.”
“If you say so,” I said.
I picked a slightly dry finger sandwich out of the huge tray that Scrimshaw was still working his way through, what I was now realizing held leftovers from afternoon tea. I bit into it. Hmm. Not terrible, as far as tuna and cucumber sandwiches went. Maybe it was taking some time to fine-tune, but Odin might have something going with this whole bed and breakfast thing after all.
“Don’t fill up on those,” Herald said. “Olga and the others are preparing dinner.”
“The others?”
Gil leaned it, jerking his thumb towards the kitchen. “Turns out there’s a whole team of valkyries in there. I chatted with a couple while you guys were sleeping. Typically these ladies are all about battle and retrieving the souls of the heroic dead, but when Odin mentioned the possibility of opening a business to pass the time, a lot of them volunteered to work here. Olga wasn’t kidding. Apparently immortality really is that damn boring.”
I leaned back against my chair, almost angrily chewing at what turned out to be a pretty decent margarine and sardine sandwich. “See, this just proves my point. The entities just don’t give a damn about the Eldest.”
Herald shrugged. “Then maybe it really is up to us humans to defend our home. Our plane of existence. It’s the only one we’ve got.”
I blinked at him, chewing thoughtfully. “You know, that’s what Nyx said. But it’s not just our home, and that bothers me. We’re all affected by this. If the Eldest raze the planet, what’s left of the playground for gods and demons to frolic in? It’s like they know, but just don’t care. It’s selfish.”
“Maybe they’ll be more willing to listen if we win this fight tonight, Dust. We’ll do our best to dominate, and maybe then the Convocation will give you the time of day.” Herald took a slow sip of his tea – cream and two sugars, I noticed – then settled his dainty little cup back down on its saucer. “They might not pay much attention to the words of just another human mage. But someone who wears the Crown of Stars? Someone they selected as their chosen, their champion? Maybe then.”
“Maybe,” I said.
A champion. That’s what I needed to become. A hero. That’s who I needed to be. And then, maybe then, even the gods themselves would listen.
Chapter 25
We stood on the peak of the hill, just me, the Boneyard, and that one dude who makes lots of ice. I was ready to fight, ready to kill. My belly was full of fire. Also dinner. We had sausages, and some schnitzel. It was delicious.
On my back was my enchanted leather knapsack. Vanitas wriggled impatiently inside it. He’d been dormant long enough, and he’d come to life just as soon as we’d climbed our way back to the cairn. The gods had loosened something in their nullification field, creating a gap centered around the hill.
The four of us stood with our backs to the cairn, watching for signs of the entities. Nothing, for some minutes, but as the clouds parted and revealed the fullness of the moon, I started to see a change come upon the plateau.
“It’s happening,” Herald muttered.
The circle of dead trees around us rushed away, moving further and further from the center. The plateau was widening, somehow, growing, as if to create room for battle. And the trees themselves creaked and crackled as they stretched ever upward, reaching dead branches like fingers to the darkened sky.
“Children of man,” a voice said behind us. “Welcome to your trial.”
As one we whirled and backed away from the cairn. Nyx hovered above it, the deep midnight of her skin and the twinkling of the stars within her body almost camouflaging her against the night sky. Light poured from her mouth as she smiled.
“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “This is not an ambush. If you will take your positions,” she added, gesturing to one end of the newly-formed arena, “then your opponents may prepare themselves as well.”
We did as we were told, standing to one side of the cairn, which remained where it was even as the plateau expanded, marking the arena’s center. I looked across from our team, squinting, but not catching sight of the entities we were meant to fight. I did see shapes moving in the darkness, just among the dead trees. I recognized some of them, too. It was the members of the Midnight Convocation, gathered at intervals around the arena. They’d come to watch.
The beating of wings heralded the arrival of other, more diminutive guests. A pair of ravens lighted on the branches, their eyes gleaming. Were these Odin’s companions? Muninn and Huginn, the ravens that spied for him and brought him knowledge. Had they come to witness as well?
The four of us stood in a rank, Sterling to one side of me, Herald to the other. Gil was off to the edge, making it easier for him to launch into the fray uninhibited once the transformation took him. I clenched and unclenched my fingers, watching the field for any sign of movement, readying myself to wield either flame or shadow as the situation called for it.
I heard Herald muttering under his breath, thin streamers of violet light emanating from his fingers as he bathed our bodies in protective cocoons. It was good to have him around, almost like having a copy of Carver to fight with us, one that wasn’t quite as cruel, yet somehow had more significant anger issues.
“They’re here,” Sterling hissed, pointing somewhere among the clouds.
My back stiffened as I saw them, three beams of light piercing the night sky, each a different color, all moving at the same speed. One was made of fire, the second of lightning. The third shaft looked very much like moonlight.
As the tunnels of light struck the arena, vaguely human silhouettes formed within them: two men, and one woman. The beams cleared, leaving only the figures. Each of the four of us gasped, but only Herald spoke.
“This is not good,” he muttered. “Dustin. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know it was going to be them,” I muttered back. “Who the hell is the third one supposed to be, anyway?”
The three figures stepped forward, each wearing a similarly smug expression. I knew there was something familiar about the man with the glowing sword. He was going to fight alongside his siblings, he said. I hadn’t expected his siblings to be gods that I’d already faced in mortal combat.
Gods of the Japanese pantheon, to be specific. Out of the pillar of fire walked Amaterasu, goddess of the sun. From the bolt of lightning came Susanoo, god of storm and sea. And the last god, his smile hugest and most radiant of all, strode from out of the brilliance of a shaft of moonlight.
“Tsukuyomi,” Herald said. “The god of the moon.”
“Wait,” Sterling snarled. “I thought we were fighting members of the Midnight Convocation. Nobody said anything about a damn sun goddess.”
“I’m just as surprised as you are,” I said. “But this is the deal. We bring them down, or this Tsukuyomi character takes my head.”
“These were the rules set out by Tsukuyomi
from the very beginning,” Nyx said, as if she’d heard us talking. “As Dustin Graves was permitted to bring allies of his selection to battle, so is the moon god free to choose his fellow combatants. In this case, his siblings.”
“How kind of you to explain,” Tsukuyomi called out across the field, beaming. “Dustin Graves. I know you have met both my wife and my brother.”
What the – wait, did he say wife?
“I thought she was your sister,” Sterling yelled back.
Amaterasu wore the same enormous raiment she preferred to don for battle, the thing that was half-kimono and half-battle armor. The ambient fire coating her like a mantle burned even brighter as she frowned.
“Listen,” she said, her arms folded. “It was a different time.” She nodded at me, speaking again with more than a hint of haughtiness. “Well met, shadow beast. I see that you’ve brought your sorcerer friend once more. The frostbringer.”
“I’d say something nice and polite,” Herald said, his hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone, “but I know you guys are just going to be snippy with me again.” He waved limply at Susanoo. “Hey, man. Nice to see you again, I guess.”
Susanoo gave a little salute, the light of the full moon reflecting in his sunglasses, his hair swept up and dyed electric blue. “Sup,” he said, grinning. He wore an outfit very similar to the one he had on when we first met: a leather vest with no shirt underneath, tight jeans, and steel-toed boots.
“I like his sense of style,” Sterling said, leaning towards me.
“I figured as much.” I reached over my shoulder, loosening the flap of my backpack. “You two can swap style tips if we survive this.”
Vanitas floated out of his pocket dimension, and in my mind he made a strange sucking sound, something like a gasp. “Ooh. Three gods? Really? This is going to hurt for all of you.”
“You’re getting better at this understatement of the century thing,” I thought to him. “Worse? Yeah. I meant worse.”
