by Ramy Vance
The warrior monk didn’t move and for a long moment, I thought he wasn’t going to do anything one way or another. Frustrated by his impassivity, I walked over to the edge, trying to find a way inside, when I heard heavy footsteps behind me. I turned to see Benkei charging at me, and from the way he ran, he meant to knock me into the chasm. I banked to the right, seeking to tumble out of the way, but the warrior monk was too fast and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt before leaping in the air.
This once-upon-a-time human, now divine warden, leapt over a chasm that was easily twelve yards wide like he was hopping over a babbling brook. And before I had a chance to say, “What the f—?” he threw me in the museum.
I tumbled down the hall, almost slipping in the void before righting myself. Up close to the entrance, I saw Izanami’s incorporeal essence slowly flowing out of the void. She wasn’t fully out yet, but she would be soon.
Benkei did not enter with me. He did, however, toss me his naginata, the bladed spear sliding across the floor toward me.
“Hell yeah,” I said, picking up the weapon. I bowed deeply toward the warrior monk. He returned my bow with one of his. Formalities done, I turned to face the void so that I could kick some godly ass.
↔
I jumped into the void, naginata in hand, and as I did, I searched for a light or something to show me where the gods were at. But in the endless darkness, I couldn’t see anything. They were hiding.
They had to be.
So I did the only thing I could think of: I turned on the lights. I focused my will like I had done the first time I faced off against the gods.
But nothing happened.
I tried again, this time adding a wee bit of gravitas to my efforts.
Nothing.
“Let there be light,” I cried out.
Still nothing.
Whatever powers I seemed to have before were gone now. And just when I was starting to panic over my sudden ineffectuality, I heard a thousand voices chirp, “Your soul isn’t here anymore. We gave it to our sister, Izanami, so that she may rise and clear the way for our own ascensions.”
“GoneGod damn it,” I cursed.
A Brief Interlude from Charon
Running away is not something that Charon is accustomed to. Normally it is others who run from him, but now that Charon is mortal, he finds himself running for his life and, as it becomes clear what is happening here, the lives of everyone else on this planet.
He is behind the girl and her escorts, and although they are too consumed with their blind mission to see the trap being laid before them, Charon is not. He sees the woodland Others as they goad them down a path and toward a trap. He watches as they walk into it and he knows that he is powerless to help.
So at the forest’s edge, Charon watches as the two humans are questioned, then taken into a large tent. He does something that he is used to doing.
He waits.
↔
Charon doesn’t have to wait long for what comes next. He watches as the Others try to kill the girl, followed by the appearance of Gabriel and the half-dead Others. He witnesses the exchange between the angel and Gabriel, and knows that the latter is shaming the former. It is the angelic way when one of them strays off the very narrow path their god has provided them.
Finally, Charon observes Izanami’s resurrection, the goddess rising from below.
The human girl has jumped into the hole. Presumably she is chasing her soul, but this is a fool’s errand, for her soul is no longer in the Kami Subete Hakubutsukan. It is in the Rooh Ina’ah—the Soul Jar—that hangs around Izanami’s neck.
Foolish girl. She is running from the place she should be.
So Charon continues waiting, not sure what he must do next. He is not the only one; Izanami also waits. She waits for the other two gods to join her. Waits for her powers to grow in this new world.
Waits for the moment she will be strong enough to truly rise.
↔
And in her waiting, many things happen. It starts when the angel, freed by the other human, takes to the air. Charon watches as the creature who so desperately wanted to see these gods rise shoots above him and toward the beach. Why? Charon can only guess it’s a form of penance.
For that is what angels were created to do: serve, or redeem.
And when, several minutes later, the two opposing armies join forces against the rising god, Charon knows that this angel sacrificed much to turn the tides of war.
Too bad it is too late.
A lechy riding the legendary Pegasus charges at Izanami, the angel by his side, while the armies below lob every ounce of weaponry and magic at the god. It is all in vain, for as weak as she may be, she is still a goddess.
And goddesses are an immutable force that cannot be killed by blade, volley or magic.
She swats the ground. The tremors break the earth apart and swallow half the army whole. Then she swats angel and lechy alike out of the air.
The angel and lechy do not survive the fall, but the legendary Pegasus does, regaining control before his body slams into the earth below.
Landing, the winged horse looks at the rising god with fury and defiance, and that is the moment when Charon finally knows his wait is over.
Now is the time for action.
↔
Picking up a fallen blade and leaping on Pegasus’s back, he commands the horse to take to the air. Riding the beast is not like being on his ferry; the journey is wrought with bucks and twists, rises and falls that the ferryman would happily trade for a ride on the roughest of waters.
Charon is not built for flying.
Nor is he built for fighting.
But he understands the ways of the dead and living better than most gods, and instructing Pegasus to fly toward Izanami’s neck, he gets in close enough to sever the rope that binds the Rooh Ina’ah to her.
The jar falls—not that she notices; Izanami is too busy swatting away the nuisances that are the attacking Others.
The jar falls to the ground and so does Charon, leaping after it. Under the will of the shaking earth, the jar jumps around, flailing about until finally he manages to catch it.
Uncorking the jar, he coaxes the soul out.
But there is nowhere for the soul to go. And without his ferry, he has no means to guide it anywhere.
So the glowing essence hovers about the jar, waiting for instructions. He needs a carrier. He needs a way to get it to the girl below.
And just as Charon falters, unsure what to do next, he hears a voice ask, “Is that what I think it is?”
End of Brief Interlude
Mortal Kombat … The Gods’ Edition
Stupid, stupid, stupid, I thought. This is a trap. Of course it is. Take my soul outside, use the Raspy Man’s soul inside. Hobble the only person who could possibly stop them. It was exactly what I would have done in their place.
“Very good, mortal girl. One soul above, one soul below. Divide and conquer.” Quetzalcoatl’s thousand beaks laughed. Turning, at he and Baldr stood together, their bodies illuminated by an inner glow that I interpreted as their way of smugly relishing their victory.
Behind them floated Gabriel. The archangel was obviously in great pain, but it was more than that. He was nearly transparent, as in literally fading away. Whatever magic he had burned or powers he’d used to help us up above had cost him dearly.
The archangel tried to speak, the words coming out more like a crackling sound than anything coherent. Quetzalcoatl turned and put a shushing finger over his lips. “Shush, shush, shush. Conserve your strength,” the dead god said in a caring, almost loving tone. “We don’t want your essence fading into the oblivion too soon. After all, you are one of the great witnesses and it is only fitting that you are here to witness us rise.”
So much for a loving tone, I thought. Pointing my spear at them, I said, “OK … now what?”
“Now …”—Baldr snapped his fingers, and whereas before he had been floating several yard
s away, he was now on me—“you die.” He produced a dagger from only the GoneGods knew where and stabbed me in the stomach. “Painfully, slowly, eternally … you die.”
↔
The blade dug deep into my stomach as blood floated out of me like bubbles from a child’s toy. I watched the crimson orbs drift around me and knew that I had minutes to live. Minutes—if the dead god didn’t stab me again.
But from the obvious joy painted on his face, I knew that he was relishing my slow demise.
I tried to move, to fight. To use my last moments doing something useful, but I couldn’t. The pain was too great, the loss of blood too fast. I was dying and the only thing I could do was go with it.
I thought of Justin and one of our pillow chats before things got weird and bad between us. He had asked me what I would do if I knew I only had five minutes to live. “How would you spend them?” he asked.
“Five minutes isn’t a long enough to do or get anywhere,” I’d said.
“Play,” he admonished me. “Let’s say you could wave a wand and be anywhere, do anything, but you only have five minutes and then nothing. What would you do with that time?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I suppose I would want to see my father again.”
“But he’s dead.”
I gave Justin a look of mock surprise. “He is?”
“Come on, be serious.”
“I am. If I could do anything—you know, wave that magic wand—I’d want to see him again. Say I’m sorry. And tell him I love him.”
I coughed and I noticed that the pain in my belly was fading. That was a bad sign. I’d been around enough death to know that the body reaches a point of no return and usually that point comes with no pain. The body’s final gift: a peaceful passing.
I wondered how many breaths I had left. A hundred? Maybe less? And as the darkness of the nothing that comes next washed over me, I heard an old, familiar voice:
“Hello, Kat. It has been a long time indeed.”
↔
I looked up and saw my father standing before me. He was wearing the old family tartan and the smile he gave me every time I walked into a room. It was my smile, his little gift to me for being me.
“Hello, my wee little Kat.”
“Father,” I said, my voice weak, fading. Was this the gift of death? To see the ones you loved most before drawing your final breath?
“Aye, it is me.”
“Oh Father,” I said, tears welling as they threatened to burst over. “I am so sorry. I am—”
“Katrina, enough of the self-pity,” he said, his voice stern, loving. Commanding.
“But I am sorry. Sorry for killing you. Sorry for all the pain I caused.”
“Aye, and pain you did cause. But seeing you here, seeing you now, I see that all you have done and all that has been done to you was perhaps for a grander purpose. You are about to kill three gods, are you not?”
“The gods … another item on my long list of failures. I’m done,” I said. “Done before I’ve done anything of worth.”
“No, yer nay done yet, my wee Kat,” he said. “Yer far from done. The road to atonement is long and hard and miserable. And, my dear daughter, yer still only at the start of it.”
“I don’t know that this is the start of anything. I’m dying. I’m dead. And now that the gods are gone, death is the end,” I said, surprised at the relief in my voice. I was ready to die. No—that wasn’t true. I was ready to rest.
“Yer nay dying,” he said. “Yer only beginning.”
I looked at him curiously, and placing a hand over my stomach, I drew my hand back and saw no blood. “What …?”
“Look,” he said, pointing at the abyss. There I saw two unmoving gods standing statue-still. And behind them, near the entrance to the void, floated Jean, his arm frozen as if he had just thrown something. Somehow he was inside again. Whatever claim he had over this place granted him access, just like my missing soul granted me access.
My father pointed at Jean. “That man has risked much to give yer soul back.”
“My soul?” I felt around me and knew that my father had spoken the truth. Seems that as soon as Jean entered this place with my soul out of the jar, I became whole again.
My soul wasn’t just into the void anymore—it was in me.
“Aye, and with yer soul, they dinnae stand a chance, my wee Kat. Now, go … do what ye must.”
I floated next to my father. “Is that really you? I mean, you you, and not just a conjuration in my mind?”
He laughed. “How can I answer that honestly? If I were a construct, I would say, ‘Aye,’ because that is what you would want to hear. And if I weren’t, well … me answer would still be ‘Aye.’ ”
I pursed my lips. He was right: I had no way of knowing if I had the power to actually call him to me or this was a lie that I’d created using my soul-power. Either way, I took what I could and gave him the biggest, hardest hug I could.
Some lies are best embraced.
“I love you,” I said. “And I am sorry. I will make up for the wrong I have done. I will make you proud. That is my oath. My promise.”
“Aye,” he said, wiping away his own tears. “You are already halfway there, my wee Kat, for I am already so proud of you, my darling, my heart. My daughter.” He put his hands out before him, and in them he conjured the mask of the Divine Cherubs. “Here, wear our family’s clan tartan and send those fiends back to Hell.”
“Aye, Father. I will.”
I put on the mask and, pulling the spear before me, I searched for the spearhead of the Lance of Longinus. Having a soul in this place made the impossible possible, and I summoned the spearhead instantaneously.
Then, unfreezing time, I charged forth. Not for the world, but for the man who had twice now given me life.
↔
What happened next literally took place in less than a second. I unfroze the gods before slicing them in half with the spearhead. Damn, now I get why Michael Bay does all those slow-mo fight scenes. There was way too much cool missed.
Jean floated down. Summoning him toward me, I drew him in like a tractor beam on Star Trek.
“How the hell did you do that?”
“Phenomenal cosmic power! Itty bitty living space,” I said, gesturing to myself.
I flew over to Gabriel and freed the archangel. But it was too late; he was so close to gone that we could hardly see him. But I had a soul in a place where souls were gods. And, knowing this, I did the soul equivalent of CPR, imbuing him with a couple pumps that brought him back to—if not life, then at least opaqueness.
The archangel, freed and whole, did not thank me, but rather floated to the door. “It is too late. She has escaped.”
“Then we use this,” I said, gesturing to the spear.
Gabriel shook his head. “That only kills gods who are dead or wish to die.”
“All I got from that is ‘No, not possible,’ ” I said. “So what do we do?”
“She has not fully escaped. Only part of her is outside.”
Confirming the archangel’s assumption, Jean said, “Only her upper body is out. The rest of her is in the hole.”
“So if we can close the museum and send this plane of existence on its way,” Gabriel said, “then we can—”
“No good,” I said. “Aki said the rotation won’t happen for a while still. Weeks, if Aki is right.”
“The tanuki is rarely wrong.” And with a heavy, un-angelic-like sigh, continued, “I fear all is lost.”
“No. I refuse to believe that. There has to be something in the museum. Some magical item, some weapon that—” I snapped my fingers twice, pointing at Jean. “What did Father Time say again?”
“Not all time is created equal. Whatever that means.”
“I think I know,” I said. “And we need to get out of the void. Now.”
↔
Jean didn’t need to be told twice, and we left the void as fast as his karayushi
-wearing ass could float. Thankfully I was there to help him along. At the entrance, I stood on the other side of the door, Izanami’s ghostly essence slowly pouring through the doorway.
Gabriel joined me on the other side of the doorway. It seemed that whatever I did had brought him back from the dead. As in, literally. He was now flesh and bone. Well, flesh and feathers and talons and whatever else angels are made of.
“You’re alive?”
“No,” he said, “I am something in-between. Not that that matters now. Tell me, Katrina Darling, what do you plan to do?”
Standing at the open doorway, I said, “You know, you Others always say things in mysterious, cryptic ways. But that’s not exactly true. What you guys really do is give us pieces of information and leave the bridging up to us.” I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out the hourglass that Father Time gave me. “Bridges—like how not all time is created equal. Time flows differently in this place than outside it. Ten days in our time is … what? A minute in there?”
I flipped the hourglass so that the sand started flowing. “Father Time said this hourglass will give us all the time we need. Crazy old bat. Still, not all time is created equal, right? So let’s see what happens when we force a minute of our time to happen in there.” I tossed the hourglass inside and watched the thing float into the void, sand pouring through its narrow sieve.
And as the final grains fell through, the void disappeared. In its place stood a rock face with a doorway that had somehow been built inside.
A loud, thunderous boom shook the cavern we were in, like something impossibly heavy—godly heavy—had just fallen and I knew what had happened. I had forced the void to move on, and because Izanami hadn’t fully exited yet, I had cut her in two.
