by M. M. Perry
Oshia felt his feet forced to step forward toward Issa. He was no longer in control of his own body. The feeling was new to him, and not entirely pleasant.
“What…will you say to them,” he said as his feet planted him at Issa’s side.
“There will be a contest. Only those who survive will be allowed to serve me.”
“Aren’t you worried they’ll become too strong and try to defeat you?” Oshia asked. He felt like he was in the grip of a great stone hand, holding him to his spot.
Issa smiled, her teeth gleaming like a predator’s.
“Oh, don’t worry, love. I’ve made sure that’s not possible anymore.”
Oshia looked out at the temple floor, at all the blood everywhere. He wondered then when Issa had tallied up just how many gods she’d have to kill to have the most power of any who survived. Was it on the Plains of the Dead Gods? Or had she been sitting at the River counting heads all this time? He tilted his head, new admiration forming for the woman forcing him to sit at her side.
The warriors shuffled outside into the thick mist. Once again Cass couldn’t decide if it was smoke or just mist. The air smelled burnt. She was not relishing seeing the battlefield of the gods.
“Where do you think it is?” she asked quietly.
“Well,” Gunnarr said, “They circle their prey. It probably didn’t want to attack the pub. It has some patience. Not a lot, but some. Best we be rid of it though. We were lucky it didn’t attack us when we rode up. We weren’t very noisy. But the next person might not be so quiet.”
They walked in step together, shoulder to shoulder in rows. Their footsteps made a rhythmic drumbeat in the earth. They moved toward the plain, since that was where the others said they’d last spotted the beast. Cass could sense something was moving in the mist, but it was difficult to tell for sure. She could almost spot something causing the mist to swirl like water as it passed through. If it truly was a leviathan with legs, it would be silent. In the water, they made little to no noise before attacking. The group moved up a rise in the land. As their feet covered the small hill, the mist and smoke got thinner, the thicker layer separating and lapping like water around the small hill they were climbing.
Cass noticed a flick of something in the mist. A thin black line appeared just above the thicker mist below, cutting smoothly through it. Something violently disturbed the mist behind the line, moving in quick jerks. As the beast crested the thicker mist, Cass’ eyes opened wide. She’d never encountered a leviathan before. Her time at sea was fairly minimal. It certainly looked odd out of water, this creature that was so clearly built for the seas. Its skin was smooth and the color of the stormy waves, stripes of darker grey and blue breaking up the back of the creature, and likely making it more difficult to spot for prey. It walked like a great lizard on four odd little legs. Cass imagined that in the god’s haste to create it, they hadn’t really thought things through on an aesthetic level. It would look humorous to her if it hadn’t been barreling down on them, all seventy or so feet of it. The legs seemed more than adequate to hold the weight of the beast however as once it spotted the group, it began moving quicker, its sloped nose and dark eyes pointing right at them, rows of sharp teeth glistening in its mouth. Something green and viscous dripped from between its teeth, and yellowed the thick grass it fell upon, killing the vegetation with hissing pops.
“Remember,” Gunnarr said as he felt the group of warriors loosen their stance slightly at the sight of it. “Don’t break apart.”
The beast came at them then, charging. Cass felt her fingertips dig into her hands as she braced for teeth raking against their skin. But the leviathan turned at the last second and walked by them sideways.
“He’s considering whether or not we are prey. We can’t have a stalemate, though, we will need to strike,” Gunnarr said in a low voice.
“What do you suggest,” Cass asked.
As the beast came back around for another pass, an angry scream erupted from the pack of warriors. Sword flashing, legs pounding into the ground, Hrnngir charged the leviathan. Cass’ mouth dropped open but before anyone could shout out the creature turned impossibly fast and struck. Hrnngir was in its mouth, screaming, this time from pain, as the beast tore her into chunks between its razor teeth. Cass was afraid the sight might put Gunnarr in a state, the trauma of that day long ago replaying in his mind, but instead he gripped his hilt and shouted out, “Now!”
They charged the beast as one. Warriors unsheathed their swords and ran shouting toward it. The beast was taken by surprise as they crashed into it. Even with all of the warriors, they were dwarfed by the creature, but they managed to get to its softer underbelly and strike. Great steaming gushes of blood washed over Cass. For a moment, she was elated, they had done it, and so quickly as well. Then everything changed in an instant.
The smell was the first thing she noticed. It was unlike anything she had ever smelled before. Or, as the memory flooded back to her, she had. It was the smell of dissolving flesh, and she had smelled it once before. She had pushed it from her mind, but there it was. Suman’s face, his body half eaten. The smell. Cass did not want to see what was making the smell. She never wanted to see it. But she forced herself to look. Half the warriors were drenched in the blood of the leviathan, the other half were melting. Some of them were still alive, their eyes opening in unimaginable horror and pain, unable to cry out because their lungs were being eaten away by whatever was dripping from the leviathan’s mouth.
“By the gods,” Cass screamed out. She felt someone grab her arm, the grip was desperate and urgent, so it hurt a great deal. The pain of it snapped her attention away from the horror before her. She had thought that somehow they had cut open the poison sac hidden within the leviathan, but that had not been the case. The beast had reacted to the attack by spewing them with the stuff.
“RUN, CASS! RUN NOW!”
Her arm was almost pulled right out of the socket as another great gout of the green viscous liquid gushed from the leviathan’s mouth. Two more warriors succumbed to the flesh burning liquid as Cass was pulled away. She could see that a half dozen other warriors made it out in one piece. She turned, knowing that it must be Gunnarr pulling her, but a small part of her was fearful it was not. When she saw his arm she stifled a cry. The burn looked bad. The smell was worse.
“Gunnarr, your arm,” she said as she was pulled along.
“I know,” he said wrapping his arm tightly around her waist as they moved, making it awkward for her to run. She tried to pull out of his grasp but his grip was firm.
“We cannot stop. That thing will finish us if we do. We just need to outrun it. Its wounds are fatal. That much I know. But it needs to bleed out first. I’ve hunted them many times, Cass, trust me on this. We have to keep moving. They are most dangerous when they are dying.”
“Fine, but I’ll be faster if you let me go. Gunnarr! Let me go!”
Gunnarr ignored her cries and instead fell into even step with her making the running smoother for the two of them. Cass gave up trying to pull away and kept moving forward. The small group ran deeper into the mists of the plains. Cass briefly had a moment to worry about harpies before she thought better of it. They likely fled their territory when the gods came. Then she thought of her griffins. And then of Selina, and their home. Their home, in the base of a statue.
“Gunnarr! We can hide in my old house. It shouldn’t be able to get us in there.”
“Ok, we’ll try for that.”
They ran hard, hearing the thrashing sounds of the wounded and angry beast behind them. It made no howls of pain, but it was clearly still pursuing them. They were able to slow a bit after twenty minutes of running, as the creature was slowing as well. They moved at a trot, stopping every few minutes to listen. It was still there, somewhere behind them, and still capable of hurting those that survived. When they were nearly to Timta’s statue, the sun began to blaze down on the plain, turning the mists away. Now only a smoky haze remai
ned. They could see the creature lumbering toward them unrelentingly. It was slow enough now they could walk, which was fortunate as the group was growing shorter of breath with each minute. Cass looked around as they moved through the plain.
The field was scorched and blackened. Glowing ash floated upward into the sky until it winked out and disappeared into the darkness. Body parts were strewn all over the plain before them, most unrecognizable as anything but charred meat. Almost all of the statues of the gods had been toppled. Only Natan’s still remained in relatively unharmed condition, save a large chunk missing where the serpent’s tail joined with the torso of a man. Cass found it curious that particular statue remained mostly unscathed, given Natan’s recent actions. Timta or Issa would surely have smashed Natan’s statue had they known he killed Laota. She walked through the blackened grass, the half dozen warrior recruits following her. Gunnarr was just to her side, his left arm burnt and oozing from several places, his right arm tight around her midsection still. She couldn’t worry about his wounds now. Cass would tend to them when they weren’t running for their lives.
They came upon what was clearly a dead god strewn in the dirt. Cass couldn’t put her finger on how or why it was so easy for her to tell gods from men even when they were dead. It wasn’t a visual thing, or anything so obvious and easily explained—it was a gut feeling. Everyone who had seen a fallen god described the same sensation and utter certainty, so Cass knew she wasn’t imagining it.
This body, she could see on closer examination, belonged to Freesus, or at least it looked like the images of Freesus she had seen. It was badly scorched and only recognizable by her face, which had somehow managed to escape damage despite being torn from her body. Cass tried to pull away from Gunnarr to kneel down to look at the dead god more closely. He stopped her.
“There’s nothing there,” he said sternly.
Cass took another look around at the devastation then back at the scraggly crew of warriors still with them.
“We’re going to need a bigger army.”
“Soon enough, yes. For now, let us keep moving. The beast may live another six hours or so, and we need to rest. I am not the only one wounded.”
Cass looked at the other warriors confused. They seemed fine to her. Then she looked down at herself. Gunnarr had been holding her around her midsection the whole way. She had assumed it was for support, that perhaps he had hurt his leg. She gingerly peeled back a finger to see a loop of intestine hanging out of her side.
“Well, well, well,” she said in shock.
“Come, it is not deadly if we tend to it soon. Selina’s house might still have something we can use in it,” Gunnarr’s lie came out easily enough that Cass didn’t doubt it.
Cass let Gunnarr put his hand back over her side, keeping her insides from falling out, and they moved toward Timta’s toppled statue. By the time they reached Selina’s house, Cass could no longer rely on the adrenaline of the situation to hold back the pain. Every step was agony. Gunnarr lifted her up and carried her the last few feet. Cass, bleary from the pain, looked around. The leviathan was still lumbering toward them, though now in the bright sunlight, she could see the streak of blood it left behind it.
“Do you think that spit can eat through the stone?” one of the surviving warriors asked.
“Let’s hope not,” Gunnarr said as he kicked the wooden door open. It took a great deal of force to wedge it open, as the statue’s base had been badly damaged. The house inside was still primarily intact, although none of Driscoll’s trinkets he’d collected from years of adventuring remained on any shelves. Gunnar set her down on one of the two beds in the house and carefully moved his hand. Cass craned her neck to see the wound.
“Stop that,” Gunnarr admonished. “You’ll make it worse squirming.”
“Alright, I’ll lay back. But how much experience do you have putting people back together again?”
“I’ve more experience than you think. Lots of things happen on those long voyages at sea hunting larger prey.”
Cass looked at the door where the other warriors were warily peering out.
“Can you see it?”
“No,” said one turning. Cass recognized the red-bearded man, Oleg, from before. “I can hear him though. Sounds a bit like death throws, but I’m not planning on checking any time soon. We’ll investigate in a while. Come, help me bolster this door back up.”
Oleg gestured to the other warriors still standing to help him. They busied themselves putting the door back in the frame and placing some heavy furniture against it. Cass winced in pain as Gunnarr investigated.
“Oleg,” she gasped.
The huge man came closer. When he saw Cass’ midsection he made a face. She tried to ignore what that face meant.
“What can I do to help,” he said thickly. He was as weary as the rest of them were, but still willing to help out.
“Over there, that low cupboard under the wash basin. There is a large wooden box. Get it and bring it here, please.”
“Cass, be still.”
“I’m sorry, but it hurts too much. The case will help. It’s Selina’s medicines. We used to come back banged up all the time, Driscoll and I. She became something of a healer. I don’t know if she could have fixed something like this. But she had pain stuff. Things that will make it easier for fixing.”
Gunnarr nodded and turned to receive the wooden case from Oleg. He opened it up and hundreds of pouches and vials blinked back at him.
“I… don’t recognize any of… no wait, this is blue bark. We also used this. It will work, some, but it is not very powerful,” he said picking up a vial.
Cass squeezed his arm as another wave of pain overtook her.
“Just, anything, use anything. Even if it only helps a little.”
“Do you remember anything from this case?” Gunnarr asked as he opened a little vial of bright blue powder and sniffed it to confirm its contents.
Cass shook her head, “No. I was not ever really much for all this… medicine stuff. Selina used to scold me. Said it could save my life one day. Heh, pretty bad timing remembering that bit of advice just now.”
Gunnarr pursed his lips.
“I need water.”
Oleg searched until he found the cabin’s water pump. While he began drawing water, Gunnarr placed his hand on Cass’ head. Her hair was still caked in blood from the leviathan. Gunnarr took her hand with his free hand. He brought it to his lips and rested them there while closing his eyes.
“No.” Cass said strongly. “No. Do not do that.”
Gunnarr opened his eyes and looked down at her.
“It is not a cut, Cassie. The skin, it is gone. I cannot sew it up if there’s nothing to sew.”
“It is not over. You got me here. You did not do that to say goodbye. I can live, it’s not bleeding is it?”
Gunnarr looked down again at her stomach.
“No. It is like a burn. Little blood, but much damage.”
“Then I won’t die from bleeding. Infection. That’s what we need to watch for, right? Oleg, boil some water. We’re going to need to clean it.”
“Cassie,” Gunnarr leaned in, his hand stroking her face. “You cannot take that kind of pain. No one could. I cannot touch your insides with hot cloth without knowing what in this case will keep the pain away. I will not do that to you.”
“Then find someone who can. Because we are not done,” she said, gripping his hand in hers. “The visions. They haven’t come to pass. I have to live.”
“No,” Gunnarr said sadly. “There were three, Cassie. The first…,”
“Is not going to happen!” Cass said.
“Something out there is very close, and still moving around. I don’t know if it’s the leviathan,” one of the warriors at the door said.
The room became very quiet. Oleg, who had put a pot of water over the fireplace and had begun to start a fire, stopped.
“Have the gods come back already?” he asked.
/> A light went on in Gunnarr’s eyes.
“Ask Timta!”
“She won’t come,” Cass said shaking her head.
“Pray to her, maybe…”
“No, she won’t come. She sent Issa rather than talk to me.”
“You’re her daughter,” Gunnarr insisted.
This pricked the ears of everyone else in the room.
“I’m her game piece. She made me so she could free the other gods. She had no interest in me other than that. I mean very little to her, of that I’m sure.”
“You could try. You could try, for me.”
Cass looked up at Gunnarr and sighed heavily.
“Oleg, on the mantle above the hearth, there is a small statue of Timta. Please bring it to me.”
Oleg began looking on the floor.
“Nothing is on the shelf anymore, it’s probably somewhere down he…” he stopped midsentence as he looked from the floor up to the mantle to see a small statue of Timta still standing there. He found it hard to believe he hadn’t noticed it before.
He pulled it down reverently as Cass sneered.
“Timta never falls. I tried so many times when I was a kid to knock her off without Selina noticing. It was a game I played. Nothing knocked her off that perch. You have to take her down with the proper intent.”
Oleg carefully handed the statue to Cass. Cass clasped it in her hand and closed her eyes, concentrating everything on requesting Timta’s help. A loud knock rang out at the door and everyone started.
Gunnarr grinned from ear to ear and Cass shook her head.
“Gods don’t knock.”
The warriors carefully removed the makeshift barrier at the door and finally pulled the door out of the frame. Nat stood there staring into Selina’s old home. He placed his hand on his chest and leaned heavily on the door frame.
“I’m so glad to see you all. You would not believe what we came across just a bit ago. Or maybe you would, you were probably there. I can only assume that mess was at one time brave people. But now… And is that a leviathan with legs out there dying?”
