by Brom
“And it is not enough that we were driven from Mother Earth,” Yevabog added. “From our dear moon and stars, now, now we are being driven from the very belly of death herself.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. The Green Coats, this new breed of godless souls. Ever since Lord Nergal left Styga, they have taken over. Taken over the docks, the stockades, and now they are burning the temples, driving away all the ancients.”
Veles face grew somber. “Is there no word on what happened to Nergal?”
“Just rumors that he went north to parley with Kali. None have heard from him since.”
Veles’s frown deepened.
“They will not stop,” Yevabog said. “Never. Not until we are all gone . . . all forgotten.”
“Such fools,” Veles replied, his tone turning acid. “What do they think will happen once we are gone? Those souls that do escape the demons will have to hide in caves. The nether region will truly become a place of death.”
“They burned my temple, my husbands . . . my loves,” Yevabog said, absently caressing her doll. “Our time is coming to a close.”
“Nonsense,” Veles said, shaking his head. “There will never be a world without gods.”
“They have their gods.”
“Bah, their Jesuses, Buddhas, Muhammads, they are aloof, distant. Why, they do not even show themselves. How can you worship a god you cannot see?” He shook his head, stood, began to pace. “It is time to remind these godless souls what a real god is. Time to become a beacon in this hereafter of death, a light in the darkness.” He raised a fist and the air crackled; lightning flashed in the air directly above them. Many of the souls walking nearby moved quickly away.
Yevabog clapped—a flat, lackluster pattering. “Oh, fireworks, that should bring them to you in droves.” Yevabog looked around at the line of dingy wagons, carts, and dreary souls, shook her head. “We were gods, now look at us . . . selling seekings and blessings, peddling wares, putting on little animal shows, and milking pilgrims on their way to oblivion.”
Veles frowned. “Why must you always be so bleak? What happened to the blood god I used to know? The wild spirit that torched any who encroached upon her clans?”
Yevabog’s eyes fell to her doll. “Life, even that of a god, is not meant to go on forever.”
“With that spirit, we will all be dirt soon.” Veles dropped into his chair and sat staring out at the caravan, a miserable look on his face. They all rode in silence, after a long while, Chet felt Veles’s eyes on him.
“Yevabog,” Veles said. “Lamia’s blood truly runs in Chet’s vein. You tasted it, yes?”
“I did. Why? What are you up to?”
“Chet, I am in need of a new champion. A courageous soul. One worthy of the honor.”
“Honor,” Yevabog scoffed. “That is a death wish. You have lost more champions—”
“Quiet, you,” Veles barked. “There is no glory without risk. Chet, you have shown great courage both in and out of the arena. I see in you the makings of a great champion, maybe even the greatest.”
Chet couldn’t think of a much worse fate than returning to the arena.
“Can you not see?” Yevabog said. “He does not share your thirst for glory.”
“He does not understand yet what I am offering. Martin, my chest.”
Martin bowed, slipped through the curtains and into the cabin.
“Chet, did you wonder how the champions were so strong, fast, agile? Those champions, they were common souls once, but the gods, they gorged them on ka, shaped, conjured, and crafted them into extraordinary warriors.”
Martin returned with a small brass box, bowing as he held it before Veles.
The box had no latch, no lock, no opening that Chet could see. Veles took it, danced his fingers along the top, and a thin blue line of light slid around the box, revealing a lid. Veles opened it, removed a roll of blue velvet, and unfolded it, uncovering four silver stars, each star about the size of a silver dollar. “God-blood. My blood.”
God-blood. Chet thought of Ado, how the man had lost everything trying to attain one of these stars.
Veles pluck one out, held it up. “Poison to a common soul. But Chet, you are no common soul. Lamia’s blood runs in your veins. You, you could partake. A half-god feeding on god-blood . . . the power you would wield. You would be undefeatable in the arena.”
“He is not a half-god,” Yevabog said. “Merely a soul with lilith blood, and having lilith blood does not make one a lilith. There is no telling what that coin may do to him.”
“Here then, let us find out.” Veles pinched one of the spikes off the star, held it out to Chet.
Chet just stared at it.
“Go on,” Veles said. “A pinch will not harm you. Not with me here to help you. Try it.”
Chet opened his hand and the god placed it in his palm. It wasn’t much larger than a fingernail, yet the weight of it surprised Chet.
“Imagine the warrior I could shape you into. Victory would be ours.”
“That would be cheating,” Yevabog said.
“Cheating? They all cheat,” Veles countered. “Only some cheat better than others. Hel uses sorcery. There is no other way her champion could win year after year.”
“Crafting ka is sorcery. Her sorcery is just better than yours.”
“Well, her man did not win this year, did he?” Veles retorted. “No, a slave won. My slave, so I believe that makes me the winner.”
Yevabog chuckled. “You are a dreamer.”
Veles shrugged. “All is a dream. One day, when the god of all gods wakes up, we will all just disappear.” His set a hand on Chet’s shoulder. “Go on, take a bite. Taste what it is like to be a god.”
“Do not, Chet. It will give him too much power over you.”
“By the moon, you do not know when to keep your mouth shut.” Veles snatched up a fur and tossed it over Yevabog’s cage. “Go on, Chet, try it.”
Chet shook his head. “No, I’m not seeking glory . . . I just need to find someone.” He tried to hand the silver spike back to Veles.
It wasn’t anger, but disappointment that Chet saw on the great stag’s face. “There is no need to decide now,” the god said. “Hold on to it. When you are thinking more clearly, take a bite. Once you have had a taste of what it feels like to be a god, you will return.”
Chet thought Veles sounded like a pusher, but kept the spike anyway, tucking it into his jacket pocket.
CHAPTER 49
Carlos and the Colonel hunched behind a cluster of boulders set high on a ledge overlooking the valley below. Carlos set the spyglass to his eye and watched as Veles’s caravan ramble its way up Lethe road toward the little village. “They don’t have a clue,” he said, handing the spyglass over to the Colonel. “See there, don’t even have any scouts out. If they’d heard about Horkos, they’d be riding full guard.”
The Colonel studied the wagons, then put the spyglass down. “I’m inclined to agree.”
“They’ll be sitting below the temple. With the fireworks and drums, they’re making it easy for us.”
“Uh-huh,” the Colonel said. “I’ll just need to get as close to Veles as I can before anyone starts shooting.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking. I don’t know if you should take such a risk. If we lost you now, right when we’re getting such momentum, it could derail everything. I think we should find someone else to carry the God Slayer.”
“Hard to ask a man to do something I wouldn’t do myself.”
“Hugo is more than willing. He was once one of Veles’s slaves. He’s just itching to take him down.”
“I think there’s a better man for the job. I’m talking about Gavin.”
“Gavin?” Carlos tugged his mustache. “That man’s got a screw loose.”
“That may be, but in a pinch there’s no one I’d rather have at my side.”
“He gave me trouble yesterday. Could’ve blown the whole deal.�
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“Gavin’s not real keen on us dealing with demons. Have to say I agree with him on that point.”
But it’s sure not stopping you, is it? Carlos thought, fighting the urge to call the man out on it right here and now, ask him just where his revolution would be without the God Slayer. “Well, one way or another he needs to learn to follow orders.”
The Colonel laughed. “You let me know how that goes.”
Carlos felt himself heating up. “He’s your man, Colonel. But I won’t have him riding with me again.”
The Colonel sighed. “I hear you loud and clear. Gavin’s not an easy man to deal with on any account. Like so many down here, he’s fighting his own inner devils. Sure full of venom for these gods though. Don’t think you’ll find a soul who hates ’em more. I found him during a raid. He was one of Lord Nergal’s slaves. He was so battered and broken, I almost left him behind. He’s been with me ever since and I’ll tell you again, never had a better man at my side. He’ll go toe to toe with anyone, anything—demon, beast, or soul. You take a good look at those guns he carries. He took ’em from a soulwarden after he’d cut the damn thing’s head off.”
“That so.”
“It is.”
The two men watched Veles’s caravan move up the valley, neither speaking for a long spell. Finally the Colonel broke the silence. “Back in the war . . . before a battle, I’d usually get a feeling in my gut. Good or bad. That feeling, it never failed to be on the money. Well, what I’m leading up to is . . . I got a good feeling about this. Not just about Veles, but all of it.”
Carlos grunted.
“Do you ever think about the good we can do once they’re gone?” the Colonel asked. “Once the gods are out of the way and souls are free of their subjugation and meddling? The progress we can make? We’ll be able to organize. Start up manufacturing. I understand that on earth above they got devices that run themselves on electricity now. Carriages that don’t need horses. You’ve seen ’em, right?”
“Yeah, they got all sorts of inventions. Some that even fly through the sky.”
“So I’ve heard,” the Colonel continued. “Well, with all the resources down here, I don’t see why we can’t have the same. Why we can’t make this a half-decent place to exist.”
Carlos thought about that, what it’d be like to have phones, radios, cars, even planes in purgatory. What a man like himself, a man with vision, could do with a division of tanks and a small air force. “That sounds real good. Trouble is getting these sad sacks motivated. Half of them is suicides to begin with and all they’re looking for is a way out of this hell. The rest of them is too miserable to give much of a shit.”
“They need purpose, that’s all,” the Colonel said. “Everyone needs purpose. Same as with the living. Think about all the souls down here toiling away their days. Why? Why do they build, sell, trade, mine with such ardor? It’s not for food, we know that. It’s because doing something gives ’em purpose, if for no other reason than just the ritual of it. They’re striving for a reason to exist.”
“Or maybe they just want some coin so they can buy a bottle of Lethe or a smoke of bone-spice.”
Colonel smiled. “I want to give ’em a real purpose.”
“You’ve done that. Killing gods. Never seen souls look so alive.”
The Colonel’s face grew pensive. “I’ve always thought there were two types of fanatics: those who spend their lives building something and those who tear down what others have built. I’ve done too much tearing down . . . in the states war and now this ugly business. But after these gods are gone, I’m hoping to be the kind of man who builds something, hoping to lead others along the same path. Think about it. All of us working together to make this a decent place to be.” He patted Carlos’s shoulder. “We can give them the purpose they seek, Carlos, just like these false gods. Only we’ll be doing it for the benefit of all, not just a few.”
“You’re beginning to sound a bit like a communist,” Carlos said.
“A communist?”
“It’s a political movement from after your time. People working together toward the common good of the state.”
“That sounds right good to me.”
Carlos smiled and could see the Colonel mistook it for camaraderie. Colonel, Carlos thought. Men are always going to need someone to kneel down to, someone to tell them what to do, and I intend to be that person.
CHAPTER 50
Martin approached. “My Lord.”
Veles opened his golden eyes.
“The temple.”
The great stag sat up, peered forward into the dusty haze. Dusk approached and the sky was shifting toward maroon. In the distance, Chet could make out around two hundred figures standing on either side of the road. Beyond them was a structure built from the surrounding white stone.
The land had turned arid and the long trek had left the caravan covered in a fine gray dust. It was in their hair, on their clothes and skin, making them all appear ghostly.
Veles scanned the figures as they approached, his face drawn. “Every year there are fewer. How long before I am greeted only by the wind?”
Farther down the road, past the temple, Chet could make out mud huts and caves cut into the low ledge along a wide, dry riverbed.
Veles stood, steadying himself on the rail as the wagon rumbled up the rocky road. He raised a hand outward and the figures cheered. They were a short, stocky people, solid through the shoulders and neck, with shaggy, reddish hair, protrusive jaws, and ponderous brows. Most were nude, covered only in swirling body paint, the same forest green as Veles’s fur.
“They look like Neanderthals,” Ana said. “Like little Neanderthals.”
“They are the first people,” Yevabog said. “The Edda. They were using stone tools while men were still in trees. They never had much heart for war, though, and thus fell beneath the swords of mankind. They considered me a demon, but they worshipped their beloved Veles. He tried to save them, but in the end, war, slavery, and interbreeding spelled their doom. Now their ghosts, the few that remain, sift the sands along the riverbed for copper.”
The great stag’s fingers danced, the golden corona hovering behind his magnificent antlers glowed, and the air around him sparkled.
The Edda responded with awed cheers; many began to cluck their tongues and spin in place. Drums started and those carrying baskets tossed handfuls of ash into the air.
“Look at Veles,” Yevabog said, her voice laced with scorn. “Look at him playing to them, like a little dog dancing for a treat. He has several temples in the river realms, several clans and tribes. Spends his days traveling from one to another, pandering his little animal circus, his little fireworks show. Do you want to know why?”
Chet shrugged.
“Because without them he would end up just like me,” she said bitterly. “Forgotten.”
When Veles’s wagon reached the end of the row of Edda, he spun away with a dramatic flourish, leaving the platform through the curtain to his cabin.
Yevabog sighed. “I guess the show is over for now.”
The caravan continued up the road to a barren field of stone just below the temple, where it circled and stopped. The Edda marched on to the temple. Martin hopped down from the wagon and accompanied their procession. When they reached the temple they set two large cauldrons ablaze, then entered.
Chet and Ana watched from the platform as souls jumped from wagons and carts and set about erecting tents and booths. It wasn’t long before Martin returned.
“Lord Veles,” Martin called. “All’s prepared. They await you in the temple.”
The curtain pulled back and Veles stepped out in a long flowing turquoise robe, holly and bright red berries hanging from his antlers. “How are the offerings?”
Martin looked pained. “A bit thin, Lord.”
Veles nodded, his lips tight. “Very well. I am sure they gave all they could. Now I must give all I can.”
“Be sure to dance well f
or them,” Yevabog said.
Veles glared at her. “Why is she still here? Put her with the other animals and curiosities. Put her next to Piggy.”
“Yes, Lord,” Martin said as Veles marched away through the curtains.
Martin quickly waved two servants over. They lifted Yevabog’s cage and carried her down the steps.
Martin looked at Chet and Ana. “I believe Veles is done with you for now. You’re free to leave.”
“That’s mighty gracious of him,” Ana said, not hiding her smirk. They followed after the servants as they carried Yevabog through the wagons. They came to the line of cages and set her down between a hairless goat and piglike creature. One of them scampered off only to return a moment later with a sign, a crude painting of a monster spider with bloody dripping fangs. He propped it in front of Yevabog’s cage. Chet thought Yevabog couldn’t have looked more miserable.
“Chet,” Yevabog said. “Do me a favor. Take that pretty sword of yours and stick it through Veles’s eyes. Would you do that for me? Please.”
“He might treat you a bit better if you weren’t so hard on him.”
“And where would the fun be in that?” Yevabog grinned.
Chet shook his head.
“Yes, I know,” Yevabog said. “I have become a bitter and resentful old grouse.”
Two Edda women walked slowly past, both staring at Yevabog as though she might spit poison at them. Yevabog bared her teeth and hissed. The women scurried on. Yevabog let out a long, pained sigh. “I would prefer Veles just burn me to ash than this.”
“I think he might know that,” Ana said.
“Yes, and I should be beyond caring.” Her tone turned morose. “Yet I am not. I keep reminding myself that oblivion awaits. It will all be over soon.”
Ana nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”
“C’mon,” Chet said, not liking where the conversation was heading. He gave Ana a tug. “Let’s have a look around.”
They wandered through as the colorful tents went up. Only a few vendors were setting up, mostly clothes and tools. They came upon a man selling the dark drinks. His sign read ELIXER OF LETHE.
