by M. M. Perry
“They are foolish in that,” Chort said thoughtfully. “Though, the djinn could do little to help either side in any case.”
Manfred and Viola shared a brief conspiratorial look, and Viola gave him the smallest of nods, indicating he should press the god further. Manfred straightened his tunic and cleared his head of the dark thoughts that had so recently and unexpectedly sprung up there. He opened his mouth in an exaggerated way to protest but Chort held up his hand to stop him.
“I do admit, should the war be held on Xenor, they would most certainly court you. Apsos would very likely use his power to make you aid the old gods. But he knows your powers are limited outside of Xenor. And the war will not be fought there.”
“Why not?” Viola asked.
“Gods are stupidly sentimental, I’m sad to say,” Chort sighed.
“Really?” Manfred said understanding something Viola was missing, “They chose that over Xenor? Despite the benefits to be gained?”
“Would you two mind cluing me in?” Viola asked, “Where will they war, then?”
“The Plains, of course,” Chort sneered. “Everything has to have a little flair of godliness. That’s what their worshippers imagine most often when they think of the gods at war. So, that is where they will do it,” Chort said in a disgusted voice. Viola understood he meant the Plains of the Dead Gods.
Viola could hardly believe her luck. Knowing the location of the final battle would give them a massive advantage in preparing for it, and the revelation had come fairly easily. She had planned so many lines of overlapping inquiry, hoping to eventually tease out any particulars of the gods’ plans, and this vital bit had practically fallen into her lap. She took a deep, slow breath, chiding herself for getting overconfident. She still had to get Chort to reveal more about his role, or at least what he believed was his role. She had previously considered letting it slip that Cass had told them all about his staff and where it came from, on the off chance he’d tell them more about it, but now she decided against it. It might startle some information out of him, but Chort had trusted Cass to keep his confidence. Viola made up her mind not to push that particular line of questioning. Cass, who Chort had already confided in, would be more likely to get him to talk more about the staff without upsetting him later. For now, Viola decided to move on to a safer topic.
“You’ve been around a long time, Chort, and have probably forgotten more about the interactions of gods with mortals than we’ll ever know. But, do you think the gods might have decided to war on the Plains to protect us? I know the Plains are a silly symbol to them, but they are about as safe a place for gods to war as we could hope for, since they are mostly uninhabited.”
“You speak as a worshipper, empty-headed and enraptured, thinking the gods care about the lives of those who mewl about their feet, offering supplications and begging deprecations. It is not so and has rarely been so. If a god does anything with mortals in mind, it is for entirely selfish reasons. Their motives have little to do with anyone’s wellbeing save their own,” Chort said derisively.
“That may be so,” Manfred said, “but in this case it hardly matters. In this particular situation, their obsession with their image is to the clear benefit of the people that live and die in their shadows. It may be vanity driving them to war in the plains, but the people will be better for it.”
Chort sniffed and plucked a small piece of fruit from the table.
“I don’t think it will matter where they war. They will likely destroy everything on Centria by the end. The battle on the plains will merely be a kind of test. Feeling each other out. We’ve never really all out warred. Not like what’s coming. Not killing our own kind. Even I can see this war will be different, and I’m just an observer. No, the battle on the plains will just be the beginning of the war. The real confrontation will come later, elsewhere. Their interest in maintaining godly symbolism will end as soon as the first god truly dies.”
Chort’s eyes grew dark and his expression became slack. A sadness crept into his face that surprised both Manfred and Viola.
“Oshia is a bastard of the highest order. But he was smart not to try to battle our parents head on. Tricking them as he did, he defeated them all without bloodshed. But really, he just delayed the inevitable. The young are supposed to take the place of the old. It is the way of life. The old gods should have faded away, making room for the new. Instead they crowd the landscape, forcing us all to fight for scraps among the faithful mortals.”
“But why can’t you all live side by side? There are so many people, surely it doesn’t matter to you that you have to share. You just said they don’t really care about us and our mewling,” Viola countered.
Chort sighed heavily. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. For a moment, Viola thought he might be done sharing.
“Gods have few desires they cannot fulfill for themselves,” he began after a long silence, his eyes still closed. “Being loved by mortals, it has a strange effect on us. I’ve only felt it once, when I saved a small village from a gordonna blind with pain. It had been mortally injured, causing it to leave its herd. As it neared the end, it began acting unpredictably, thrashing through woods and field, destroying much in its path. I was sleeping in the town it was bearing down on. I wasn’t thinking about the villagers, I had long since stopped caring why any gods had any interest in the mortals. I didn’t want to be flattened was all. I can’t do much; that is something everyone knows. But I am not a fool. I act as such because it keeps me from being targeted by my siblings or even by mortals who might get it in their head to kill or capture a god. If you seem useless to people, they tend to ignore you. I knew if I timed it right, I could take down the creature with a bolt of lightning. It isn’t easy for me to control it. Mostly I can just call it down and it will strike somewhere close enough to be seen. I stopped using it to try to impress long ago when I took up this mantle of worthless god. It had never worked anyway. I never once earned admiration, only mockery. But this time, I knew I needed it. I called upon my power and it struck. Maybe it worked because my life depended on it, I’ll never know because I haven’t yet been able to repeat the feat. In any case, my aim that day was true. The creature was in its last throes, but the villagers didn’t know this. The lightning struck its broad head and it fell over, dead.
“All the people could see was that I had saved them. And the gordonna provided them a feast the likes of which they had never seen before. Gordonnas don’t die very often and when they do, it’s alone and away from civilization. People don’t hunt them for good reason. It’s impossible for mortals to bring one down. But the people of that village found out not only what the meat of the gordonna tasted like, but that a single gordonna could sustain a village for a year if preserved correctly. And I… I felt worship for the first time.
“Can you imagine, if you were a being that didn’t feel warm or cold ever, wet or dry, no physical sensations at all? You were impervious to the elements? Can you imagine what it might be like for the very first time to know what it was to feel warmth? All my life I never realized how cold everything felt. I had nothing to compare it to. It was just how things were. Without experiencing sadness, happiness would mean nothing. I felt warmth, and in that moment I knew how cold I had been. That’s what worship is to gods. You don’t even have to be near them when they worship. It comes to you in little bursts when they say prayers, leave offerings, or even mention you to others with reverence. Wherever you are, you get this rush of warmth. And when it stops, you are cold again. Never have I wished for anything more than that I hadn’t been in that village that day. If I had never known what worship could do, I would never have missed it so forcefully when it was gone.
“I became obsessed with keeping it. I stayed in that village for years afterward. That was probably my biggest mistake. Had I left, I would have been a legend to them. They would have erected statues and temples and told my story to their children, and their children’s children. But I stayed
, one instance when I was as foolish as the stories make me out to be. The warmth, it made me crazed, too crazed to see what was happening. I started to feel it less and less, so I tried harder to do as the people wished. The more I tried, the less warmth I got. I was no longer a god to them. I was a pathetic creature worthy only of pity. Because there was nothing I could do. My power had been stolen from me long before I was born. My brother sucked it from me before I even emerged from our mother’s womb. And so I was left, quite literally, in the cold. The people of the village let the one statue they had built of me crumble. Even the legend of the gordonna has changed over time. Now it is no god that saves them, but a great warrior, a story cut from whole cloth, yet that is the story they still tell. Because it is impossible for them to believe that I, a powerless god, could have ever saved them from such a disaster.”
Chort opened his eyes and looked from Manfred to Viola.
“Now, I know you are wondering why, when there is this intoxication to be had from mortals, why we would ever risk your lives. They wouldn’t, not normally. But there is something I know. Apsos told me long ago, when I told him I planned to kill Hadra and recover the power he had stolen from me. He told me I could not. That it was forbidden. I asked him why. What is so dangerous about it? It causes insanity, he said. He told me when one god kills another, he gains everything that god is and ever was. All his power, all his strength, all his creations…all his worshippers. The two gods become one like two rivers spilling into a lake. All that euphoria, in one big burst. It does things to the mind. It can’t handle it. Like getting more worshippers, only many times over. It is indescribable, the feeling. Tell me, what happened to Midassa?”
The sudden change of topic caught Viola off guard.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I felt him leave. I’m sure all the gods did. We share that connection. What happened to him? He was killed, wasn’t he?”
After a moment, Viola nodded, unsure of Chort’s reaction.
“Was it… was it perhaps Timta who killed him?”
“No,” Viola said shaking her head. “Cass did it. I mean, Timta was there… what are you saying?”
Chort didn’t answer. Instead, he stood, brushing a few bits of food from his chest. Then he made his way to the door and opened it. He stepped part way through, but then stopped, looking back to Viola.
“Then it was as if Timta held the blade. If it was through her the deed was done, and not by Cass’ own strength, then she would be the one to reap the benefits of that death. Imagine how Timta felt when that happened. Imagine discovering that feeling of euphoria. Imagine how she’ll see all the other gods when that feeling fades. Old fishermen call it a feeding frenzy when they see it in the waters. I think that’s the most appropriate term here as well. During a frenzy, nothing is safe in those waters. The predators are aware of nothing save the need to gorge themselves until there is nothing left. The only thing smaller fish can do to save themselves is flee.”
Chapter 10
Issa sat amidst the ruins of one of Timta’s temples. The city around her was in chaos: buildings burning, people looting. She noticed almost none of it. It did catch her attention that somehow the people had managed to burn the actual stone of the temple, turning what had once been large blocks of solid marble into brittle pieces of crumbling charcoal. Issa knew they couldn’t have done it on their own. Someone had helped them.
“Admiring my work, love?” a voice called from behind her.
Issa smiled. She had been expecting the speaker, knowing Oshia would come when he sensed her deep within territory currently claimed by the new gods. She was sure he was leading the charge against the old guard. She turned to see him standing there, more clothed than normal. He wore a rich burgundy, form-fitting velvet suit that covered him far more thoroughly than his usual dress. The color set off his fair skin and dark auburn hair, which was cut short in his current incarnation. The light in his lavender eyes danced, a unique talent Issa had never seen another god employ. There had been a time Issa thought those eyes were all she ever wanted to see. She felt otherwise now. He was still delightful to look at, however. She could not deny that. His shirt’s dark ruffles parted just below his neck, allowing only the smallest hint of his chest to peek through. In many ways Issa thought this manner of dress was much more tantalizing on the god of seduction than his more usual scant, diaphanous attire—more for her to reveal as she mentally peeled off the layers. She tore her eyes from his body and he flashed that irresistible smile of his. It was the kind of smile that made her cheeks ache when she forced herself not to return it. Issa allowed herself to smile back this time, though, wanting to keep Oshia happy with her for the time being.
“I see I can still please you, even after all this,” Oshia said, his voice dripping with charm as his delicate hands gestured around the ruined temple.
“Looking upon you was never difficult, Oshia,” Issa said, stepping forward and taking his hand. She brought it to her lips and brushed them across the smooth, soft surface of his skin. He smiled again, this time in delighted surprise.
“Have you come to join me?”
“Don’t you hate me for what I’ve done?” Issa asked coyly.
Oshia stared at her, his expression inscrutable.
“If you want the truth, yes, I came here thinking I’d kill you. I saw you here, among the rubble, and I thought, I’ll just tear her head off. Timta would be enraged, and I’d be happy to have taken a huge thorn out of my side.”
“What made you stop?” Issa asked, her voice even.
Oshia laughed softly.
“I don’t know. Maybe I wanted something more theatrical.”
“You do love your theatrics.”
Oshia took his hand back from Issa and turned from her, surveying the wreckage of the city around them.
“Why are you here, Issa?”
She began to wonder if Oshia still had feelings for her. He seemed genuinely bothered by the fact he hadn’t been able to bring himself to attempt to kill her outright. She had been prepared for him to at least try, her own powers already marshalled so she might deliver a single, decisive blow, but he had stayed his hand. She pushed these thoughts aside. They would only distract her from her goal, and the road to Oshia was one she had already trodden, long ago. It did not end in paradise. She made her final decision as she looked at Oshia’s back.
“My mother does not have the dragons,” she said, laying the first brick on her path to glory. Oshia’s own bold plan all those years ago had been impetuous and ballsy, and it had worked. With this act, she committed herself to her own audacious plan. This time, though, Issa would be the one pulling all the strings. She would be the one at the head of the table.
Oshia turned back toward Issa, doubt and confusion marring his attractive face.
“I spare your life and you toy with me?”
Issa shook her head, curls brushing her shoulders as she did so.
“I speak the truth. Cass is the one who has control of them, if anyone really can be said to control dragons. Of that I’m not so sure. I am sure, however, that mother does not.”
Oshia mulled this revelation over, scrutinizing Issa closely for signs of treachery.
“Why would you tell me this? Do you wish to join us?”
“I don’t wish to join anyone, Oshia. I want to be the one all the gods join. I’m tired of being tossed aside and used as a puppet. By both you and mother. I have the means to sabotage all of their schemes. And I’m giving you the chance to be by my side. Only you. No one else. If you don’t wish to join me, it matters not. My plan will work, with or without your aid,” Issa said, knowing full well she was lying through her teeth. She needed Oshia. She had Natan, but she needed Oshia. If he refused she would have to kill him swiftly and take his place among the new gods. That, she knew, would be touch and go. She wasn’t sure she could over power him, but she was going to try. She stood tall before him, exuding all the confidence she could muster.
Oshia’s face split into a smile so wide Issa thought the top of his head would pop off.
“You are so much more attractive when you are bold, Issa. We’ve never really had a leader before, not like that. I got rid of the old gods, but never really led the new ones. I don’t think they’d take to that too well. I still don’t. But if you’ve got a plan, I’d love to hear it. If it sounds feasible, you can consider me your man.”
Issa knew Oshia’s word was as firm as wet paper, and that even now he was scheming for a way to turn on her, but she was unconcerned. She was counting on his treachery.
Issa twisted around on the burnt remains of the pillar she sat on, peering into the distance incredibly farther than any mortal eyes could, looking for the first obstacle to her plan. Despite the smudges of char that covered the pillar, none of the carbon marked her elegant clothes.
“The first thing you need to do is get rid of Cass. I can’t do that. Mother would see it. We both know the other gods won’t help you, so you’ll have to find a way to do it on your own. And you’ll have to be tricky about it. If mother suspects you are going after her dragon tamer, she’ll be on you faster than the wind.”
Oshia laughed again.
“Way ahead of you. She’s going right where I want her to. It’s a shame I missed her on Xenor. Blasted little blue bastard took her away… but it doesn’t matter. That opportunity was an unexpected bonus that would have proven convenient for me. I began laying this trap a long time ago. It wasn’t meant for her, but she’s going to be scooped up in the net all the same.”
“A long time? How would you have known…”
Oshia cut Issa off.
“The big blonde one thought he went unnoticed those years I had that horrible little half breed in my clutches, but I saw him looking for her. It amused me for a time to watch him fail, at every turn, and to see his despair deepen with each defeat, and to show it to her. His failure and misery. But then I thought of how much more devastating it would be for her if I killed her man. You’ll see soon enough, dear Issa. You won’t have to worry about your little sister anymore.”
