by Ruby Dixon
It’d be an impossible feat for any normal human, but of course Aron isn’t normal. Or human.
He tosses the length of rope back down to me and I catch it. Aron leans over and peers down at me. “You won’t be able to climb.”
I shake my head. “I’ll try.”
“No, Faith. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. There’s a loop at the bottom I made. Slip your foot through that and I’ll pull you up.”
Thank god. I step into it and wrap the rope around my hands to anchor myself, and then Aron’s pulling me out of the sewer and into the moonlight. When I get close to the top, he takes my arm and hauls me onto the grass and I lie there for a moment, panting with relief.
At least, I do until I look up and see that he’s anchored his rope to what looks like a creepy white statue. Huh. It looks like something you’d see in a graveyard. Of course, when I take a look around, I realize that that’s exactly where we are. “We’re in a cemetery?”
“At least it’s quiet,” Aron says. “No mob here.”
He’s got a point. I stare around me in the darkness, still shocked at what I’m seeing. Headstones and monuments dot the grassy yard we’re in, and distant trees rustle their leaves against an iron fence. For such a big city, Katharn has a very crowded graveyard, and I get to my feet, shaking my clothes off. “How is it that there’s a grave over the sewer?”
Aron looks at me as if I’m crazy, then points at the cobbled gutter I appear to be standing in. “No one’s buried there. They’re buried in the grass.”
I study the graveyard itself. He’s right. The graveyard itself is about the size of a football field, all told. There’s the gutter that cuts through the middle of the graveyard and ends right in front of a fountain. The gutter itself is angled and sloped so the water runs away from the hillsides and over the grass itself, there are headstones. Not dotted and delicately arranged like in the graveyards I’m used to, but lined up in tight rows with nowhere to step except on someone’s final resting place. It’s clear that space optimization is the name of the game here, and there’s not an inch to be wasted in Katharn’s graveyard. Even the trees aren’t wild growing. They’re in enormous earthen pots set at the four corners of the courtyard, and at the center of the courtyard, there’s a fountain with another statue of an enormous robed man with big shoulders and a cowl hiding his featureless face. He’s got a sword made of bones in one hand, a skull in the other, and the crown atop his cowl looks as if it, too, is made entirely of fingerbones. At the base of the fountain’s lip, there are dozens of old candles, half melted and all unlit. This has to be a representation of another god, though the name escapes me. All I know is that he’s a scary-looking motherfucker. I turn to Aron and point at the statue.
“Rhagos, Lord of the Dead,” he says, and then gestures at the cobbled gutter and the stepping stones raised up inside it. “If you’re done fawning over his visage, I’d like to get going before someone realizes we’re here.”
“God, you’re such a cranky bitch,” I snap at him, moving to his side. I nearly trip over one of the stepping stones, and kick it, my mood foul. “And why are these stones raised up in the gutter? A person could fall and hurt themselves.”
“It’s so you can cross when the gutter is full.” He narrows his eyes at me. “I worry about your cities. It sounds like they’re a mess. No sewers, no gutters, no cemeteries.” The god shakes his head. “I’m picturing a bunch of helpless fools sitting atop a mound of trash and calling that home.”
I grind my teeth. “My home is very nice, thank you very much.”
He only snorts in disbelief. “If it’s so nice, then why are you here?”
The throbbing vein in my forehead threatens to explode. “Oh my god. I don’t WANT to be here, Aron! I’m trapped here! You—“ I break off in shock when he glances over his shoulder and there’s a hint of a smirk on his firm mouth. He’s joking. “Oh, you are such a dick.”
“A dick that wants to leave this place behind for fairer cities, yes.”
On that, we’re agreed. When he puts his hand out for me, I take it again and move to his side. My sodden cloak squelches and slaps against my legs when I move, but I can’t abandon it. At this hour, it’s growing chilly, and my breath is starting to frost over. At least his hand is warm, and I instinctively move closer. “It’s really quiet. No one’s here in the graveyard even at night?”
Aron shrugs. “The prayer candles are dark. I guess no one bothers when they know Rhagos is not in his deathly kingdom to hear them.”
I look around, half expecting to see mobs of people with torches in the distance, but things are quiet. Off at the front of the gates, I see what looks like a lantern, but no one’s coming to check us out. Why guard a graveyard? Are they having trouble with looting? I’m afraid to ask Aron because he might make another salty comment about where I come from and make me feel stupid. Still, I can’t help but wonder. “It’s odd that no one’s checking out this part of town. They were all over the place every other street we turned down.”
He grunts. “We might have lost them.”
“But there are guards at the gate and they’re not even bothering to look for us,” I point out. There’s something about this I find creepy and wrong. Either we lost them, or people are deliberately avoiding this area.
I wait for Aron to make another shitty comment, but he’s only thoughtful. He gives me the grunt that tells me he’s considering what I said, but doesn’t stop moving. He tugs me forward and I wince at the fact that we’re walking over people’s graves. Other than staying in the gutter, there’s just not many other places to walk. “Where are we going?”
“Away from the city.” He points at the far side of the graveyard. Past a few more decorative trees and the endless lines of tombstones, I can see a break up ahead that looks a bit like a road in the moonlight. “That leads out. We’ll follow it for a bit and regroup.”
“All right.”
We move silently through the graveyard, the only sound the cold, wet slap of clothing against our bodies. The farther we get from the fountain and the center of the graveyard itself, the more…run down things look. The graves go from stone to wood, and they look even tighter together than before, which I didn’t think was possible. Even here, the poor get screwed. I bite back my whimpers when we cross over fresh dirt, because I know it’s just superstition, but it creeps me out.
Of course, then we come to the mass grave, and then I’m really freaked out. How is this okay with anyone? I stare in horror at the cloth-wrapped bodies carelessly tossed atop one another, as if they’re discarded dolls instead of people. “What is this, Aron?” I grab his arm and make him stop. “I don’t understand.”
He gazes out at the enormous pile of dead in the trench, and the curt comment I keep waiting for doesn’t come. “There must be plague.”
“Plague?” I have to bite back the shriek rising in my throat.
“Either that or the poor have no money to bury themselves and so this happens.” Aron gestures at the pit of corpses. “I think I prefer the thought of plague.”
“Well, I don’t,” I hiss back at him, trotting at his side when he starts to walk away. “Aron, what do we do if there’s plague? Like…black plague? From rats? Are there more plagues than that one?”
“I would not know. I am not the god of plagues.”
Right. Health and sickness is someone else’s forte. “So is this happening because that particular god is nearby? His Aspect?”
He pauses and gives me a hard look. “You keep asking these things as if I have the answers.”
“That’s because I’m scared.”
Aron turns toward me and to my surprise, he tucks my hand into his, giving it a comforting squeeze and slowing his steps so I can walk at his side. “Do not fear. I am with you. I will keep you safe.”
I study his face and some of my panic subsides. If I’m safe with anyone in this crazy world, I guess it’s with him.
Well…unless one of his Aspe
cts shows up and tries to murder me. But overall, it’s nice to hear him be understanding and not a dick. “Thanks, Aron. You’re all right sometimes.” Before he can say something douchey, I add, “But only sometimes. Don’t let it go to your head.”
He snorts. “Are you going to chatter all night or can we leave this place?”
“I would very, very much like to leave,” I tell him, and I can’t hide my eagerness. “I’m not a fan of Katharn, or its crazy-sized sewers or its bloodthirsty mobs. I would rather be anywhere but here, in fact.”
“You and I both.” He thinks for a moment as we walk. “Well, almost anywhere.”
“What’s worse than here?” I can’t get past the fact that my cloak is covered in filth and slapping against my legs, or that if I breathe deep enough, I can probably smell the dead piled up nearby.
“Tadekha’s Citadel.”
I’m silent at that. Tadekha was very strange, true. She fed me and clothed me—and okay, made me sex crazed—but I’m surprised to hear him say that. I don’t know what to think. Was me touching him (and him touching me) so awful that he prefers this? Why are my feelings hurt at the thought? You’d think I was rubbing him off with a damn cactus instead of my very eager hands.
Arrogant jerk.
How much does it suck that I still think about that night? Like, a lot?
All the time?
Obviously I’m the only one who even gives it much thought at all. But I force a laugh to my throat. “Yeah. That was the worst, wasn’t it?”
“You nearly died and ended our journey very abruptly.”
“You were the one that wanted us to leave quickly! How was I supposed to know the rope was too short?”
“I was referring to the fact that we were both suffering from the parting sickness, but come to think of it, you nearly died twice.” His tone is utterly sour.
Before I can make a protest to that accusation, there’s a low, creaking groan that rolls through the cemetery. Aron pauses, his hand going to my breast as he pulls out one of his blades. I want to point out that he’s grabbing dangerously close to tit-meat, but the look on his face is anything but playful.
There’s danger here. I scoot behind him, my heart pounding as the nighttime cemetery is silent around us except for the blowing wind that teases at my hair.
The creaking sound happens again, followed by a scratching. It’s weird. The sound seems out of place here, and I squint into the darkness, trying to figure it out. “What is that?”
“Hsst,” Aron tells me with a sharp look, indicating I should be silent.
I bite back my irritation, because the sound happens again, followed by another round of scratching. Then more scratching.
Then it sounds like the entire graveyard is full of scratching.
My stomach clenches uneasily. I move closer to Aron. I want to ask what it is. Rats? Lots and lots of rats? An army of insects?
Near my feet, one of the graves shivers, the earth moving. I yelp and stumble backward, and as I do, I turn and see another mound moving, the loose dirt piled atop it rolling away so something can break free.
Oh.
My.
God.
That sound of scratching? Of groaning? It’s people trying to get out of their coffins.
Dead people.
I think of the mass grave, completely uncovered, a moment before I hear a low, gurgling moan coming from that direction.
32
“Aron,” I manage to choke out, wrapping my hand in his cloak. “I would really like to leave now.”
Instead of making a dick comment, he nods tightly and sheaths his blade. Wait, that wasn’t what I suggested. I want him to protect me, damn it. He’s the one that knows how to sword fight and I don’t even have a thing to use as a weapon—
In the next moment, he grabs me by the hips and flings me over his shoulder like I’m a sack of potatoes. I don’t protest. I grab double handfuls of his cloak to anchor myself and choke out a “Run!” as Aron sprints down the path, my stomach slamming into his shoulder with every movement.
All that matters is escaping this place, which seems to go from bad to worse with every moment that passes. Aron sprints out a large double gate, and I hear a man bark out a warning. Aron doesn’t even stop, and when the man races alongside him, he casually reaches out, crushes the man’s windpipe, and then keeps sprinting.
Well, then.
Aron races out of the graveyard and into the dark hills. The lights of Katharn dim with every bobbing step and the trees grow thicker on the edges of the road, the hills seeming taller and more shadowy. My stomach begins to protest, bile creeping up my throat, but I fight it back. I can’t be sick right now. I’m still thinking about those awful, scratching sounds and the groaning. The mass grave that was open to the world. I can’t stop shuddering, my skin crawling at the thought of the dead rising.
Eventually, Aron slows, and he’s barely breathing hard. He pulls me off his shoulder and sets me on the ground. “I think we’re a safe distance away unless there’s a few dead along the side of the road.” He glances around, his features creased with annoyance, as if it’s irritating him to run away from the undead.
Me, I can’t stop shaking. I sink to the ground and press a hand to my forehead. “I need a moment.”
“Why? You weren’t running.” But he parks himself on the ground next to me and puts a hand on my nape. “Sick?” At my nod, he rubs the back of my neck, trying to comfort me.
Even though he can be frustrating, I know he's trying, in his way. Plus, his hand feels really good. I close my eyes, willing my stomach to settle, and concentrate on his nearness. "Thanks, Aron."
"That was not something I expected to encounter this night," he admits, and I guess that's the closest he'll come to saying “whoops, I made a mistake.”
"Is it normal for the dead to rise? Here in this world?" I shudder, rubbing my arms. I want to hug my knees close to my chest, but my lower body is filthy.
"No. It is not a good thing. Not a good thing at all."
"King of the understatement," I mutter to myself. "No shit it's not good."
"It means that all of the gods have been exiled," Aron says thoughtfully. "Not just some, but all. I wonder at the reasoning behind this."
“You were all very naughty children?”
He grunts. “It seems foolish to make humankind suffer because we are disobedient.”
I stare at him in shock. That is not a very Aron thing to say. “Maybe he was sick of your shit and cleaned house. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but no one cares what mortals think. I mean, hello, you’re not exactly the most understanding guy yourself.”
“Mm.” He frowns, thinking. “I do not think we should go to the coast after all. I think we should visit the Spidae.”
"The Spidae?" I furrow my brow, trying to think where I've heard that before. "Wait, aren't those the fates?"
"The three lords of fate, yes." He nods, looking a little worried, even as his hand remains possessively on my neck. "We will go to their tower and look for answers there."
"Wait, they live here?" I look at him in surprise. "Like…there?" I gesture at Katharn, horrified. If I were a god, I wouldn't want to go anywhere near a place like that.
"No, they have a tower at the far ends of the land, past the Ashen Sea." He gets to his feet, brushing off his clothes. "That is where we are going."
"Um?" I look up at him in surprise. "So we're not going after your Aspects? We're not going to take out the other 'yous'? I thought that was the whole plan."
"Plans change." He offers me a hand, and I take it, letting him help me to my feet. "If all of the gods have been exiled, this world is not safe to explore at a leisurely pace. Best we visit the Spidae and get answers quickly. They will help me.”
I swallow hard. "So…we're going to go visit the fates. Do you think they could send me home? I thought we were going to get you back to the heavens so I could go back to my world and everyone could be happy."
>
Aron gives me a sharp look. "You think about yourself?"
"Well, yeah. I don't belong here, so my goal is to get home. I thought that was your goal, too."
He scoffs. “I should think it is far more important for me to get home than for you. I am the one that is a god. Let us focus on me first.”
I just roll my eyes.
33
We start moving again, and head through the dark hills, avoiding the thickest parts of the trees and underbrush. There's a wide path along this way, but we avoid it for obvious reasons, opting instead to go cross-country. I climb rocky slopes and avoid bushes the best I can in the darkness, but I eventually start to stumble and I'm relieved when we run across a small, bubbling stream that cuts through the woods and Aron suggests we stop here.
I move to the bank and wash my face, doing my best not to think about e. coli or giardia or any other parasite that might be in a wilderness stream. It can't be worse than what I was wading through back in the sewers, after all. Once my face is clean, I realize just how nasty the rest of my clothing is, and immediately start stripping layers off so I can wash them. I wade into the water to my hips and begin to scrub. My cloak, my leggings, and the hem of my long tunic are all encrusted in filth, and they're going to be clean before I put them on again, damn it.
"Once you're done with those, wash mine," Aron says.
I look up and he's stripping his clothes off, getting absolutely naked in front of me. He's all pale glory and scars, and I swallow hard, averting my eyes. I am not going to creep on him. Not at all. I'm certainly not going to think about that evening at Tadekha's Citadel when I was all over him and his hands were between my thighs. No siree. "How about you get in here and wash them yourself?"
