Hearts of Chaos

by Kira Brady

  Lucia hoped the maidens were still alive. Zetian—or Tiamat—had let Kai live. But why?

  Muffled chanting rumbled from beneath the floor.

  The ceremonial chamber, Grace mouthed and led the way through the house. The walls were paneled in rich brocade and red silks. Every room was sumptuous, decorated to seduce the eye and lure the patron to forget his conscious worries. They passed through rooms filled with hors d’oeuvres plates and half-drunk mugs of mead. It looked like the party had been interrupted. There was no hint of the patrons who had been enjoying these earthly delights. The food was lukewarm.

  Grace creaked open a servant’s door and led the way to the back stairs. They were narrow, but sound, and led into the basement, where peepholes had been drilled through the thin walls. What kind of debauched ceremonies did Ishtar’s sacred whores perform down here? Her imagination jumped to provide the image of a buxom, blond Maiden in a white robe going down on a muscled, naked man. The man had raven-black hair and eyes ringed in violet. His hunger made the violet expand to swallow the coal-black pupil. His stern face relaxed, his lips parted, as the Maiden took him in her mouth. He wore nothing but the silver rings in his ears, and his stomach was a flat rock of muscle. A downy fine trail led down from his belly button—but there her memory ended and supposition filled in. Sculpted thighs and . . . she jerked her mind back from the precipice. Don’t go there.

  What would it take to unwind the Raven Lord? What kind of woman could bring him to his knees and make him beg? She almost knocked into Grace, who had stopped at the foot of the stairs. Grace put a finger to her lips and motioned to two peepholes in the plaster. The chanting was louder down here. High voices rose in an unintelligible language. The Aether flooded the air like the horizon before a thunderstorm.

  Lucia softly rose on her tiptoes to peer into the room.

  Inside, the chamber was alight with a thousand candles. Maidens of Ishtar in flowing white robes stood in a circle around the outer edge of the oval room. In the center, just like in her daydream, rose a yew altar with a sacrificial stone. A man lay across the stone. His arms and legs were chained to the four corners. She didn’t need a closer look to know that deep grooves would ring the stone to bring his blood to a trough at the foot. Her mind flashed to a similar stone in a similar sacrificial chamber. Reflexively, she clasped her wrists where her phantom scars burned.

  She searched the man’s face, but she didn’t recognize him. The stranger was naked. A woman stood over him with a familiar crescent-shaped piece of jade, the edge sharpened to a blade. Lucia’s stomach threatened to turn over. In the right hands, the Tablet of Destiny could be used to rewrite one’s destiny. Lucia hadn’t met the woman who wielded it before, but she would know her anywhere: the only female Dreki in the territory, Astrid Zetian, with the high forehead of her Norse mother and the cat eyes and black hair of her Mongol father. Gorgeous and willowy, she was a Dragon Lady and took no prisoners. There was no indication that she was anything other than Zetian, except the room buzzed with an Aether storm no dragon could call. But maybe with the Tablet she could.

  “Ishtar!” Zetian called, voice thick with the sparkling water of the universe. “Fulfill your promise to me. Aid me in my hour of need. Give me your army to be my eyes and ears. Handmaiden of death, return to me what was lost. Heal that which was cursed. Take this man, oh goddess of war, and send him into your sister’s kingdom to bring me back her Scepter. Take this offering and give me the Enkidu!” She sliced down and across with the dagger, and the man’s throat sprayed red. The Maidens’ hum grew. Lucia resisted the urge to vomit. She’d been on the battlefield and seen worse, but this felt different. This was torture, not self-defense. This was a ritual killing to power some dark magic. The Aether bucked.

  She watched in horror as the blood spread over his skin as if it were being drawn across with an invisible paintbrush. The dirt floor around the altar began to bubble. Earth sprouted up. Writhing slowly with a life of its own, the clay drew together and climbed up the sides of the altar toward the man’s jerking body. At first touch, his torso arched off the stone. The chains held him down as the earth penetrated his skin and disappeared into his body. Together the dirt and his blood-slicked skin mixed to form a red-brown mud. It weighed down his limbs, and his torso dropped back to the stone. And still the earth rose to fill his shell, and the Aether twisted, and the Maidens hummed. Concentrating, Lucia could feel the spell take shape even if she couldn’t see the tangled webs that formed the undeath.

  Grace tugged at the chain around Lucia’s neck. Lucia took the hint and pulled the Deadglass from beneath her shirt. Fitting it to her eye, she adjusted the gears on the side until the brimming supernatural world came into focus and light—that which was taken on faith suddenly became truth. A soft power, Grace had called it. The Deadglass gave eyes to those who walked in ignorance of the supernatural, much as the Crane was prophesied to lead the blind.

  Through the glass, she could suddenly see the swirls of sickly water that frizzed around Zetian’s body. A Dreki should appear a shadow, empty of soul, but Zetian blazed. She was so bright, she was hard to look at directly. Power glided off her. If this was what the ancient humans had seen, no wonder they’d deified the immortals like her. There was no refuting the truth: Tiamat’s soul burned in Zetian’s body. Was there anything left of the Drekar adviser? Did she fight for control of her own body as Grace had? Or had this new Tiamat, free of her bondage by the power of the Tablet of Destiny, squashed the Dreki’s mind like an ant?

  Tiamat broke the chains and the clay man sat up. He moved robotically. It was different from when aptrgangrs possessed their puppets, clumsily learning to draw the tendons and muscles of their new marionette; this was a programmed machine. He was meant for one use only, and when he satisfied that purpose he would return to the earth from which he had been made. His skin took on a hardened sheen like pottery in the kiln, set but shatterproof. He would be almost impossible to kill until his mission was complete. The clay man pushed himself off the stone and stood. The maidens stopped chanting.

  “I seek the Scepter of Ereshkigal, clay man,” Tiamat said. “The Scepter that was used to kill my corporeal form and take death away from my dragon children. I won’t live in fear of my sister and her Death. It is time the gods had a taste of what I suffered. I will eat their precious children and take the two Worlds back to be mine. Chaos will reign again. Go. Fetch the Scepter and bring it back to me.”

  The clay man moved smoothly. When he was still, he was still as the mountain rock. When he moved, he moved like a mudflow: fast, smooth, and dangerous.

  Lady save her. Lady save them all. Kai spoke true. Tiamat seemed to have full control of Zetian’s body and was able to manipulate the Aether for godlike spells. It was worse than Kingu, who had never achieved full power when taking over a human body. If Tiamat got control of the Scepter, she would wield the power of life and death for the whole world. She would be able to wipe out whole civilizations and bring back the dead. No one could stand up to her. They would all be lost.

  Zetian watched the clay man go, and then turned to the cloaked Maidens. “Come, daughters. We will move our party to a place worthy of our illustrious selves. There are warriors aplenty to serve us. My Thunderbird is waiting.”

  Lucia pulled back from the wall. Her knees locked. Kai was waiting for Tiamat? She stumbled on the first step. She couldn’t believe it of him. Kai had seemed so shaken by his run-in with the goddess. But if he had been anticipating her arrival, he was a better actor than any of them knew. Teaming up with Tiamat would be the ultimate card if he wanted to overthrow Corbette. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen in bed with the enemy, but was he a traitor?

  Lucia retreated up the narrow staircase with Grace behind her. It seemed much longer and darker this time. Or maybe her muscles simply were in shock. She expected the frantic beating of her heart could be heard throughout the mansion. Any moment Zetian would rip through the wall and find them. She tried
to hurry. Tried to keep her slippery grip from failing her on the banister. She had to get back to Kivati Hall and warn Corbette.

  She escaped out the kitchen door in time to see the clay man leave by the front and race off in the direction of the crater. His joints were well-oiled pistons. His smooth gait was like an air train speeding over rough terrain. The Gateway hummed far below their feet in a chasm half filled with water. Through that Gate and into the Land of the Dead, he would make his way to the Lady of Death and her Scepter.

  “We have to stop him,” Lucia said.

  Grace pushed her and they fled down the stairs into a nearby alley for cover. “Hurry then. The fate of the world depends on it.”

  Chapter Five

  “Me?” Lucia asked.

  Grace grabbed her sleeve and pulled her down the street. They had to get away from the House of Ishtar before Tiamat discovered them. “Lucia, I’ve read the prophecy. The land that lives in the shadow of darkness? That’s another name for the Land of the Dead.”

  “No, it’s this world. Haven’t you noticed? The Unraveling—earthquakes and volcanoes that turned the air black with ash. The lights and electricity doused. Dead who stalk the streets and wraiths that terrorize the living. Soul-suckers . . .” Lucia waved around to the ruined city. Panic started to bubble up. Go back into the crater? Was she crazy? “If there was a land in shadow and darkness, this is it.”

  “It’s all about the Gate. You can’t ignore the signs. The Unraveling, Kingu’s release, and now Tiamat’s servant to get the Scepter. Nothing will be made right again until somebody goes through that Gate and fixes it once and for all.”

  Lucia shook her head and took a step back. “The Raven is the only one with the power to travel between worlds. You can’t ask me to go back down there. You weren’t there. You didn’t see the Gate bulging out with angry demons and wraiths. It didn’t break around you—Lady!—no.” Her hands shook, palms sweat. Her breath, too fast, seemed to clog in her throat. She stuffed her hands in her armpits and clamped down. She’d come so far, but the memories were still too fresh. “Corbette can do it. The Thunderbirds. You! You know how to fight the dead.”

  “Hey, I understand what you went through, but the prophecy says—”

  Lucia shook off Grace’s hand. “I can’t pass through the Gate.”

  “Your blood opened the Gate.”

  “I can’t go back down there!” Her heart galloped in her ears. The alley started to spin. She pushed past Grace and stumbled. She hadn’t had a panic attack for months, but she was fooling herself if she thought she was over it. Gods, Grace was right—someone had to go after the clay man. But what use would Lucia be if she freaked out at the mere thought of seeing the Gate again?

  The Deadglass bounced painfully against her breastbone. Her panic drove the Aether to her, wild and uncontrolled as a spirit storm. The Change ripped through her. First, her skin peeled back from her muscle to let her long white feathers unfurl; then her leg bones shattered into the long thin legs of the Crane. Her beak led her into the air as her wings caught an updraft. The Change had never been so painful or so fast. Almost unthinking, emotion ripped it through her, a mad shattering of ligaments and cells. Aether crackled from her body. Was this what Corbette felt on a daily basis? How could he stand it? No wonder he kept himself so tightly wound, if the uncontrolled flow of Aether through his body threatened to rip him apart.

  She spiraled up, leaving the brick streetscape far behind her, and sped to Kivati Hall. Crows rose from their roosts in the trees, screeching the alarm. A few Crow guards and Theodore, in Thunderbird form, flew into the air at her approach. They searched the air for sign of her pursuer. A thunderbolt crackled from Theo’s wing. She crashed into the front doors of Kivati Hall. Her muscles ached. Her breath caught in her throat. She had to focus to force a Change back to human form. For a moment, she didn’t think she could do it, and then Kai was there and Lady Alice and Will.

  Kai crouched next to her and brushed back the tangled hair from her face. She jerked away from his touch. “What is it?”

  “Tiamat,” she croaked.

  His face tightened, and he dropped his hand. “Where? Tell me!”

  “Clay man. Gate,” she said. Her vision swam. She tried to get the words out, but they tangled together, locked in her throat. Her mind was still enmeshed with the Crane. Human speech wouldn’t form on her tongue.

  “Calm yourself, child.” Lady Alice shrugged out of her stole and covered Lucia. She drew her against her bosom and rocked her gently. Lucia curled into the heat of her body. She was so cold.

  “What happened?” Will demanded. “Where have you been?”

  “Let the girl breathe, Will,” Alice said. “All of you. I said give her room!”

  Lucia found her tongue. “Tiamat killed a man and turned him to clay. She sent him through the Gate to recover the Scepter of Death. Where’s Corbette?”

  Will crossed his arms. “He’s already gone.” He turned and started barking out orders. “The city isn’t safe. Call back the warriors and lock down the Hill. No one should be out tonight. If Tiamat—”

  “No,” Lucia struggled away from Alice. “Get everyone out. She’s coming to the Hall! She’s coming for Kai.” Kai’s nostrils flared. “Where’s Corbette? He has to stop her. She talked about a third pantheon and saving the Drekar from their undeath. She plans to build a new Babylon and take over both worlds. Where is the Raven Lord?”

  Kai swore.

  “You have to answer, Will.” Lady Alice turned on the Thunderbird general. An undercurrent of anger sparked between them. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. He wouldn’t just put you in charge and leave his duties. Not Emory. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word retreat.”

  “He’s already on his way through the Gate,” Will said.

  “But he doesn’t know about the clay man!” Lucia shouted. “Someone has to go after him!”

  Will’s eyebrows drew down. She’d never seen him look so somber. “You don’t understand. If Tiamat has returned, we can’t risk touching the Aether. Any message we send will be intercepted. She can’t know he’s gone.”

  “Why would he go through the Gate?” Alice demanded.

  Will turned away. He clasped his forearms behind his back. “He felt the blast of Aether when Tiamat rose and knew he couldn’t match her power. In his dreams, the Raven has been showing him the path through the Gate for some time now, and the Aether blast made him realize that he must follow his totem’s lead. His answers lie on the other side of the Gate.”

  “Now? This is no time for a spirit quest!” Lucia said.

  “Bullshit,” Alice said. “Emory wouldn’t abandon the Hill at a time like this.”

  “It couldn’t wait. Haven’t you seen it in his eyes?” Will spun to face them. “He knew as soon as Kai told us about his ‘encounter’”—his mouth drew back in a sneer—“that his totem had been trying to tell him the means of defeating Tiamat must be through the Gate. He will find whatever it is. Don’t worry. The Raven can pass between worlds. Kivati Hall is prepared for a siege. We’ll outlast anything Tiamat can throw at us until he gets back.”

  Lucia struggled to her feet. “He doesn’t know what he’s looking for.”

  “The gods will show him. It’s not our place to demand answers from them. That is the way the spirit quest works. You know that. When you went on your vision quest, did you demand the Lady answer your call?”

  “Yes!”

  “No. You simply went with an open heart.”

  Alice stormed to the open doors to stare out into the night. In trousers and a billowing shirt in pale blue, her long black hair hanging free to her lower back, she looked fiercely independent from her brother’s rule, but quite like him all the same. Brash. Arrogant. She rapped her knuckles against one massive oak door. “How can you tell me that my compulsive, controlling brother would abandon the Kivati in the face of a monster?”

  “He didn’t abandon it, Ali,” Will protested. “He le
ft me in charge. I will protect you.”

  “May the Lady help us all.” Alice stepped back from the doors. She looked meaningfully at Lucia. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  Will’s eyes widened. “She can’t go after him.”

  “Let me—” Kai started, but Alice blocked his path.

  “You will not lead Tiamat after Emory. She’s coming for you. You aren’t going anywhere,” she said.

  Lucia saw what she had to do. There really was no one else. The Thunderbirds and strongest warriors were all needed here to defend the hill if they had any hope of survival. No one could be spared to go after Corbette. No one but her. “Yes. I’ll go.” She tried to pull the Aether to her. It shushed against her skin like silk, but wouldn’t catch.

  “Tell him hello for me!” Alice said and shot a wave of Aether at Lucia. It dug in like the blade of a knife and gave her the extra power she needed to Change. Her human skin crumbled to let the Crane burst through. She shut her eyes against the pain and rose into the air. Looking back, she saw Alice blocking Will from following her. Kai watched from the doorway. She shot through the air toward the crater. Don’t think about it. Anything but the memories of her last time deep beneath the city streets. Instead, she thought of Corbette, of his sharp profile and angry brows, of his sleek muscled torso when he took his shirt off to fight, of that rare elegant curve of his mouth when he found her amusing.

  Plunging through the low cloud cover, she raced to the crater, folded her wings, and dropped down into the cavern. She couldn’t let herself take a breath; the fear would suffocate her. Down into the belly of the sacred earth, she fell. Dark swallowed the dim sky overhead until the earth closed over her like the mouth of a great whale. Don’t look. Don’t look. Waves crashed against the base of the crater. Hungry, grasping. She shuddered, but dove into the black maw, lined with earth stained red with her blood. So much blood.