by Ramy Vance
“Yeah, so, about that,” Jean said. “The good news is that there’s already a crew of Others digging through the debris as we speak.”
From the way he’d said it, I gathered that wasn’t good news at all. “Let me guess: the bad news is that they’re on Team Dead Gods Rising.”
Jean gave me an appraising look. “Good name. And yeah, they’re pretty rah rah for the gods. We’re not getting inside. Not without a fight.”
“So we fight.”
“You don’t get it. We’ll need an army to get through.” He made an exaggerated show of looking behind me. “Seems you forgot yours.”
“What about yours?”
“Already called it in.”
“And?”
“They’re on their way.”
“Excellent.”
Jean shook his head. “I guess since we’ve gotten through all the good news, it’s time to give you the bad news.”
“Bad news? I thought you were just trying to bring a wee bit of levity to the situation. You mean to tell me that there’s some actual bad news?”
Jean gave me a look that I imagined he used just before shooting someone in the head. A combination of apology, regret and you-had-it-coming. “So, remember that little army of Others that attacked the base before we got here? Well, they’re here and they’re definitely on Team Dead Gods Rising.”
↔
Jean pulled out his tricorder, clicked a bunch of buttons that brought up satellite imagery of Okinawa. “This is the military’s version of Google Earth. Same concept and functionality, except we can zoom in close enough to see that freckle on your nose.”
A few more clicks and he zoomed in on our location. “We’re here,” he said, “and over here is the Celestial Solace Hotel where the hole first appeared.”
The image showed an aerial view a few hundred feet above the hotel, and there I saw what he’d meant by “an army of Others.” There were valkyries, angels, minotaurs, centaurs, sednas, chamroshes, wondjinas and baku and dozens of other Others. Hell, the resolution was so good that I could even see the hairy toes on a hobbit and the glitter a pixie farted out.
And of course, swooping about over the hotel was a whole flight of dragons. They comprised every color of a very deadly rainbow.
“Hey,” I said, touching a little point in the rock garden, “can you zoom in closer over there?”
Jean clicked the screen twice and we saw, in full HD, a makeshift thatch-roofed prison with dozens of Others inside. Others like Harry and Aki. “Great. Our only allies, as few as they are, are P.O.Ws.”
“Actually, I think they’re just prisoners,” Jean clarified. “I mean, given that they’re not military, you can’t really classify them as prisoners of war. Maybe human shields. Well, Other shields—”
“Yeah, because that’s the point.”
“Hey, words matter.”
“You’re an idiot,” I said.
He put a hand over his heart. “Words also hurt.”
I considered punching him in the nose to show him how fists hurt, but that would have just been a time-wasting distraction. And given we had little of that, my better angels overrode that urge.
“Continue with the bad news.”
“Ahh yes, that …” he said, rubbing his hands through his hair. It was more than a nervous gesture; he was also upset. Angry, even. “I tried to explain to my superiors what was happening. Told them everything except your part in this. It was already a lot for them to swallow without adding, ‘There’s this soulless girl who needs access to the museum.’ Anyway, the boys with brass decided that they’re going to launch a full-on assault. To put it simply, they’re the Empire and they’re readying their Death Star for a decisive strike against the rebel scum. We’re supposed to get off the island ASAP.”
“They’re going to nuke this place?”
“They’ve done it before.” Keiko’s wry tone betrayed raw, unbridled anger.
Jean shook his head. “I know we’re splitting hairs, but they’re not going to nuke this place—just drop enough megatons of bombs to kill every animal, plant and Other on the island.”
“It’s not going to work,” I said. “All the bombs in the world won’t kill a god.” Much less three gods, I thought. “We need to stop them.”
He tossed me his communicator. “They won’t listen to me. And before you say it, I have it on good authority that they’ve pre-written my eulogy in case of my untimely death in the line of duty. They’re going to bomb this place regardless of where my or your physical asses are located.”
“Of course they are,” I said. “What about the noro community on the island? They’re going to kill them, too?”
As soon as I’d said it, my mind flew to Blue, and my chest clenched. Seems once you love someone, you never stop worrying about them.
Jean shook his head. “Actually, that’s our rendezvous point and the only reason why this place hasn’t seen the full fury of their wrath yet. They’ve sent a few boats to get the priestesses off the island. Once evacuation is done, then …” He whistled a bomb dropping.
“We’re screwed,” I said. “They bomb the hell out of this place, stopping us from stopping the gods. They’ll rise from their tombs and enslave the world. We are literally dead people walking.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I know you’re right. But I’m out of options. They won’t listen to reason because they don’t believe in gods anymore—gone, dead or rising.” Jean lowered his head in exasperation. Then he chuckled to himself. “That’s not exactly true, what I said.”
“Which part?”
“The options part. I have one option and it’s a pretty good one. Go home, hug my wife and not let go until our overlords arrive. But even then, I doubt I’ll let go. You know, cold dead hands and all.” Jean was serious. That was exactly what he intended to do.
“It can’t end like this. It can’t. There’s got to be another way. There’s got to be something—anything—we can do.”
“There is one more option,” Keiko said, standing from the fallen log she had been sitting on. Her face showed resolve and deep contemplation as she considered her options. “It will mean breaking a sacred pledge I have taken as a noro priestess, but it may also mean salvation.” A single tear fell from her eyes. “There is one who may help us. He is a being of considerable power and we noro have offered him sanctuary. We have also sworn that we would never ask anything of him. That he could live the rest of his time in peace. This was our oath to him … an oath I am willing to break.”
Others and their oaths. They took them very seriously, and so too did their proxies. No matter how good Keiko’s intentions were, to break an oath would mean ex-communication from her noro home.
Still, when the alternative was no home at all … well, therein lies human practicality.
I nodded deeply at her sacrifice, knowing that if she had offered to do this, she had already thought long and hard and made up her mind. “Right now the only option we have is to ask,” I said. “Who is he?”
“Chronos.”
“The Titan?” Jean and I asked in unison.
“They’re still around?” I asked, giving Jean an I got this look. If anyone was going to express exasperated confusion, it was going to be me.
Keiko shrugged. “I don’t know anything about the Titans … and you’re thinking Cronos. I’m talking about Chronos.”
Sadly, as is oft the case in the GoneGod World, clarification only served up more questions. “And he is …?” I eventually said.
The noro priestess pursed her lips and then, without a hint of irony or humor, said, “Father Time.”
Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood
“There’s an Other called ‘Father Time?’ ” I asked in disbelief.
“He isn’t an Other exactly,” Keiko said. “And to call him an Other is strange. It is like calling a lion a cat. Or a zombie a human. He is more of the physical representation of the concept of time than anything else.”
I had heard of
these creatures before … Others so powerful that they weren’t created by a god, but rather came into being as the laws that governed the universe began to establish themselves. Even the gods feared them.
“And he lives here?” Jean asked.
Keiko nodded. “After the gods left, we had many travelers come to our island for sanctuary. Most wound up living in Celestial Solace Hotel, finding refuge there. But some of particular power and ability asked for seclusion and separation from the rest of the world. They did so because they feared that they would be seen as the new gods in this GoneGod World. Others, because they are creatures of such immense power that they did not wish to be used by humans or Others alike for purposes that did not align with their desires.”
“And Father Time is one of them.”
Keiko nodded.
“Who else?” Jean asked.
Keiko narrowed her eyes in suspicion by way of an answer.
Jean lifted his hands. “Hey, I’m only asking in case Father Time says no. I mean, if you have another Other there that could be of use, don’t you think we should play the field a bit?”
“No,” Keiko said with finality. “Father Time is the only one I believe can help, and thus the only one with whom I am willing to break my oath.”
“But there might be another who—”
“Jean,” I said, “I’ve seen that look on her grandmother’s face before. There isn’t a force in this world or any other that will get her to budge, so cut your losses and move on.” Turning to Keiko, I added, “So let’s go speak to Father Time.” I gestured for Keiko to lead the way.
↔
Keiko took the lead as we walked through the thick brush in silence, and Jean walked far enough behind that he was … what? Dilly-dallying, watching our rears? I really had no idea why he was so far behind. Not that I cared; as far as I was concerned, the farther away he was, the better.
Keiko must have sensed my anger, because she subtly slowed her pace so that before I knew it, I was basically walking next to her. When our strides finally matched up, she put a hand on my shoulder. “You know, you are being unduly harsh on the soldier behind us. You were gone a long time. At first the nio and shisa were content to just stare across the bridge, like unmoving, unthinking sentries. But something happened and they started to—”
“Attack you and Jean again?”
Keiko shook her head. “No, I believe they were trying to stop you from escaping. One moment they were still, the next, frantic. Desperate, even, as they tried to get across the chasm. Many fell to their deaths, but the few that managed to jump across immediately turned their power against the door, as if they were trying to destroy the entrance … or, rather, your exit.”
I thought about this, and from what I knew, that move made sense. I was winning against the gods and up until I produced the spear, the three dead gods and I had been in a stalemate, with neither side able to kill the other.
Certainly I wasn’t under any threat of death, and the best the gods could hope for was trapping me inside with my soul still in the void. That’s what they needed to do if they wanted a chance to rise again: keep my soul, no matter the cost.
Commanding the nio to seal off the entrance was a desperate move, but it was also their best option. Then they could do whatever they needed to keep me at arm’s length while they used my soul to power their resurrection.
Of course, that had changed as soon as I pulled out the Lance of Longinus out of … well, out of me. Of course, by then Jean had already made his way into the museum and, well, things went belly up from there.
But Jean and Keiko didn’t know about the spear. From their perspective, the nio were doing them a favor by blocking the entrance. After all, that had been our original plan: lock the door, keep the bad gods inside.
“Why did you come inside?” I said. “They were doing your work for you.”
Keiko nodded in agreement. “That would have been my choice,” she said. Her voice betrayed no emotion—just the cold, hard fact. “Your death in exchange for the lives of so many. But Jean insisted that such a sacrifice was unacceptable. He risked all to save you and …” Her voice trailed off, like she was debating whether to tell me what had happened next.
I remained silent. Keiko didn’t owe me anything at this point. I had chosen my soul—my happiness—over trapping the gods. Sure, that plan wouldn’t have worked, but we didn’t know that at the time.
At the time, I was operating under the assumption that locking the gate was the best we could do, and me going in anyway betrayed my own selfishness.
If Keiko wanted to tell me more, she’d have to do so without selfish me pushing her.
We traversed the island for several minutes until the noro priestess broke her silence. “You know, Benkei did everything in his power to prevent us from entering the museum, but as soon as you went inside, he stopped. Then, when the nio sought to destroy the entrance, again he did nothing. He only animated the second Jean’s intention to save you became apparent.”
“Humph.” I thought back to the warrior monk. He really didn’t want me to get in and had done everything he could to stop me. “Why do you think that is?”
“I do not know,” she said, “but I suspect that uncovering his motivations will do much for helping us undo what is being done.”
“Good,” I said, lacing the word with as much sarcastic venom as I could muster, “more mysteries to solve.”
“More mysteries to solve,” Keiko agreed with resignation.
↔
We marched forward until dusk, when finally we came upon a narrow path barely wide enough for us to walk on. The path led up the side of a rocky hill before we came upon a gateway where two old noro priestesses sat.
If either were troubled by the appearance of strangers, they made no show of it, smiling at us as we crossed under the threshold of the stone gates. We might as well have stepped through a time portal, because the village that met us didn’t belong in a world with airplanes, cars and smart phones.
Hell, it didn’t even belong in a world with steam engines.
We stepped onto a cobblestone road that led to a courtyard surrounded by old stone cabins with thatched roofs. From the activities going on up ahead, it was obvious that the courtyard served as the village’s heart, where everyone flowed in and out as they brought in crops and other goods necessary to sustain life.
The courtyard itself had a smart marketplace that, from the way the vegetables, fruits, fish and fresh cuts of meat were displayed, required no money to purchase the goods. The foods were there for anyone to pick up as needed. And from the amounts still sitting on the tables, it was clear that the people here only took what was needed and no more.
Also in the courtyard was a small clearing with a blackboard and chalk (probably the most modern amenities in the whole place). It looked like a small school where children and the newly mortal Others would be taught about the world they lived in.
Quaint, efficient, welcoming. This village was everything a community needed to survive.
But it wasn’t what was here that made this place feel ancient—it was what was missing. There were pipes and wires to govern the flow of water and power, but there was no soft hum or drone echoing in the background. Nothing was illuminated by the false hues of man-made light. And nothing was branded with the marks of commercialism or ownership.
I stood in awe as memories of my own village flooded my being. It had been centuries since I’d seen a place like this, and given the way the world was going, I would never see anything like this again.
“Here,” Keiko said, welcoming us into a large courtyard, “is where I was raised.”
She guided us to the main building standing opposite of where we had entered, and if I had been worried that we would be showing disrespect to a culture and community older than any existing organized religion, that fear was short-lived …
… and replaced by blinding fury. This peaceful village that had served as home to the prie
stess class for thousands of years was overrun by soldiers.
Home No More
Apparently we’d taken the back-door entrance, because as soon as we walked into the main courtyard, we were affronted by the hustle and bustle of activity.
Human soldiers flooded the village, forcing human and Other refugees alike from their homes and down the path toward the seafront. From the village’s hilltop vantage point, I could see several boats waiting for their unwilling passengers.
And they weren’t being nice about it, pushing the women down with apathetic vigor as they made them leave their homes. Homes, might I add, that they were planning to bomb the hell out of in a few hours.
I’m sure that in these guys’ minds, they were saving lives. That they were taking these people away from the mounting army of hostile Others who lurked nearby, away from the island before the bombs started to drop.
But that’s not how these women saw it; all they understood was that they’d lost their homes.
Now and forever.
A soldier pushed a young woman in a hurry-it-along gesture. The woman turned on her heel and kicked the grunt in the chin. He went down with a yelp as his buddies laughed. Out of sheer malice or thinking that somehow he was saving face, he got up and lifted a fist in the direction of the rebellious woman.
I didn’t know if he planned to hit her or just wave his balled-up hand in her face. Either way, I wasn’t standing for it and before he could get any closer to her, I stepped forward and kicked him in the back of the knee.
He dropped down to one knee like he was proposing to her and before he could stand up, I put a heavy hand on his shoulder and squeezed as if I was digging for his collarbone. If you squeeze just right that spot hurts the most, and when he gave me a satisfying yelp, I knew I was pinching the right nerves.
“Apologize to her,” I growled. “Now.”
He twisted his head to get a look at who was talking and when he saw a five-foot-nothing girl with impossibly beautiful auburn hair (hey, I’m pretty and I know it), I’m sure he thought this was some kind of joke. He started to stand and I pushed down with my hand, kicking him in the back of his knee once more. That forced him down again.
