Fallen Gods

by James A. Moore

  Brogan stared back at that distant spot where he thought, perhaps, he could see the skull of a god, and shook his head. “What am I supposed to do here? Am I supposed to climb this bloody thing and try to find whatever it is I’m supposed to discover?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea.”

  Brogan turned, his hand already pulling the axe from his side, and bit back a scream as he looked at Anna.

  “Gods, woman! You nearly got yourself killed!” His voice was loud, but despite his expectations did not echo back from the distant sides of the mountain’s interior.

  “The weather out there is getting worse. I’d rather be in here than facing the cold alone.”

  “You weren’t alone. My horse was with you.”

  She nodded. “Aye, and I expect he’s still out there. My best efforts to move him elsewhere did me no good.”

  “So you came to find me?”

  “I told you, I’m not staying out in that weather by myself.”

  “Did the bodies not tell you it’s dangerous in here?” He settled his axe back where it belonged.

  Anna in the meantime stared at the nearly faceless thing and studied it like she might a particularly fat and slimy slug.

  “They came through the bloody opening in the side of the mountain as if they knew where to look, and I suppose they did. I followed after them when the rains got too much and the freezing rains started.” She pointed. “What is this thing, then?”

  “I’ve no idea. He killed those things back there and then started following me. I felt it best not to argue the point with him.”

  Anna nodded. “Seeing what it did to them, I can understand that.”

  “What are they?”

  “Never seen their like before. They might be more things the gods have sent after you, or they might be summoned things. Whatever the case, if you can be tracked, you can expect you will be.”

  Brogan pointed up. “Can you believe this thing?”

  Anna scrutinized the giant from the new perspective, her mouth set in a soft pout, her brow knitted in concentration. Finally she looked his way and responded, “It was a god, Brogan. It was meant to rule this world at one time. There are a dozen different legends. It was a giant, or it was a god. It fought and was killed here. Maybe by the very gods that seek you now – or maybe it was one of them and died in taking this world. No one can say for certain.”

  Anna walked closer, her eye on the faceless thing. It looked at her but did not move, save to follow her with its gaze, as she got closer to Brogan.

  “I can’t make myself see it.” Brogan shook his head. “I see it with my eyes, but my mind wants to believe otherwise.”

  “That’s called wisdom. Sometimes it’s best not to study something too carefully unless you have to. Some secrets, once learned, cannot be unlearned, if you see my point.”

  “Aye, I do. And I don’t.”

  Anna looked away for a moment, once again studying the faceless thing with them. “The Galeans tell a story about a woman who grew too curious. She sought to understand the whole of worldly knowledge. First she studied, and when that was not enough, she summoned spirits and demons and demanded more information. When that wasn’t enough for her she made demands of the gods.

  “‘What would you know?’ they asked her and she said ‘Everything. All there is to know.’” Anna paused for a moment. “It’s said that the gods gave her what she wanted.”

  “And?”

  “According to that particular tale she cut off her ears, that she might never hear anything else, and tore out her eyes, that she could stop seeing the truths they revealed to her. The knowledge was too much for her to hold inside and so she wrote as much of it as she could down on paper and gave it to the queen of her land.”

  “She wrote them while blinded?”

  “That’s as the tale is told, aye.”

  “So where is that paper now?”

  “The Galeans say there were over one thousand books written down by the woman. No one could read them all, but they bound the pages and set them in a great chamber for others to see should they come seeking the secrets of the gods themselves.”

  “And where is that knowledge?”

  “Those books are the foundation of the Galean beliefs. Wisdom from the gods, granted freely to one person.”

  “She shared the wisdom?”

  “She said she had to get it out of her head and the only way was to write it down.” Anna paused. “You understand why I say this?”

  “I’ve no notion as to why. Tell me.”

  “Can you imagine how long it would take to write out the wisdom of the gods? No one has ever read all of the books she wrote. There isn’t enough time in a life to read it and understand it all.”

  “But she wrote it out?”

  “She was changed by the experience. I do not believe she was mortal when the gods were done with her.” Anna looked at Brogan and gestured to all that was around them. “I think this is like she was, Brogan. I think if you do this, you will be changed. You will no longer be mortal. Or perhaps I am wrong and this is a fool’s quest that will lead to nothing.”

  “No choice. It’s me and your husband, or the gods. One or the other must die.” Brogan shrugged. “I’ve a notion that it not be me. I’ve no desire to appease the bastards that took my family from me.” And he looked away. The wounds were still too fresh and he did not want to let her see them. Call it pride. Call it foolishness, but he wanted to be seen as strong, even if he felt weak.

  “Well then, I suppose we should discover what it is you’re seeking.”

  “And how are we to do that?”

  “I have not read all of the books of the Galeans. I’ve only touched four of them.” It was Anna’s turn to look away. “Still, I read and I learned. There are others I would speak with who might yet give answers.”

  “How long were you in Galea?”

  “Ten years of my life.”

  Brogan pointed to that vast area in the darkness above, where he might well have seen the head of a god. “I will look at that for a while. If you need to do something to make contact with your others, I will pretend I hear and see nothing.”

  Anna looked at him and slowly nodded her head. “It’s not true, you know.”

  “What’s not true?”

  “Hearing the rituals will not drive you mad, or take your soul. As rituals go they’re rather boring.”

  “Yes. Well, just the same I will try to decide if that is the head of a god and what it might look like.” He shrugged. “It’s not the words. It’s the rest of it.”

  She stared for a moment, and then laughed. “Oh. You mean the part where I dance around naked?”

  “Desmond would want me to look away.”

  “That’s not true either. Desmond would probably prefer it, as I did many rituals around him.”

  “Well then, I might look around a bit.” He nodded, and bit back on his possible disappointment.

  Anna looked his way for a moment with a half-smile and then started pulling supplies from her preposterous bag.

  Brogan spent his time looking around at the impossible skeleton, then looked back to Anna to see her adding several ingredients to a small copper bowl.

  “Do you really think this was a god?”

  “Well, it’s either a god, or a giant, or both. Whatever it is, I do not think we’ve ever seen the like on this world in the time of humans.”

  “I wonder how long ago it lived?”

  “I cannot conceive of that much time. Mountains grew around this. All that you can see was raised from the earth after this thing died.”

  At that, the faceless thing moved, sliding away from Anna and moving closer to Brogan again. The movements were not fast enough to cause alarm, but they were unsettling just the same.

  “Who will you speak to, Anna?”

  “As many of the Galeans as I can reach. They are, all of them, part of the knowledge I seek.”

  “What knowledge is that?” />
  “What else? What we might find here.”

  Brogan nodded.

  Anna sat on the ground with her supplies and Brogan looked away. Far above him a dead thing seemed to look back. He wondered what, exactly, it might see from that height.

  Chapter Seven

  Bloodshed

  Niall Leraby

  Stanna looked toward Niall, and her gaze was not gentle.

  “You never said you were royalty.”

  Her gaze actually made him feel guilty, though there was no reason for it. “I’m not. Not truly. I mean to say, my father is royalty. If my older brothers…” He broke off and looked down. “If my older brothers were still alive, I would not be considered anything but a gardener, which is what I have been training for since I came of age.”

  Niall looked her way and steeled himself. His feelings toward his family were complex. Mostly he loved them, but he wasn’t overly fond of any of them. He would miss them, naturally, but they had not truly been a large part of his life since he’d apprenticed to Mosara. Was he grieving? It was all he’d done the last few days as they traveled. He’d done it to the point that Tully kept eying him like he might crumble and she was ready to catch the pieces. He was grateful and simultaneously annoyed by the expression. He had not been raised to accept pity easily.

  Stanna scowled. “Yes, but you are now a duke, just the same.”

  “I am.” He nodded. “I am a duke to an area of the city that has been driven mad. I suppose I might be worth a bit of money if I could get to it. If that’s what you’re after.”

  He regretted the words as soon as he said them. Stanna’s scowl deepened.

  “If I wanted money from you, you worthless fuck, I’d lock you in irons.” With that she moved forward and Niall shook his head.

  Temmi rode forward as well, trying to talk to Stanna. “He didn’t mean it, Stanna. He’s just a bit thick in the head, really…” He didn’t want to listen to any more of the talk. The truth was he was being a fool and he knew it, but sometimes his mouth would not stop saying things.

  Tully shook her head and looked at him. “You are not very bright.”

  “I’m getting that. I understand it.”

  “Go forward and apologize for the insult, before she turns back and cuts your fool head off.”

  Niall nodded and listened. He was still not great on a horse, but he knew enough to make the beast under him go faster. The ride got bumpier as he was trotted forward and he almost lost his seat when he slowed the animal down.

  “Stanna, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I’m at a loss to say anything wise these days. All I can think about is my family and there’s nothing I can do to make them better.”

  Stanna eyed him dubiously. Her hand, he noted, was on the hilt of the sword she called the Bitch. Said sword was very large and, as he had seen for himself, very sharp.

  She moved fast and grabbed his tunic. Her hand pulled it tight and Stanna lifted him halfway out of the saddle. “Speak to me that way again and I’ll forget we’re companions and friends.” She did not talk so much as she growled.

  Niall nodded vigorously. The idea of enraging her did not sit well with him. His life was in turmoil, but that didn’t mean he wanted it to end just yet. Also, she might just maim him and that might even be worse.

  Her hand released his tunic. Without another word to him she looked forward and he took the hint, letting the slaver ride ahead.

  They had stopped a few times since leaving his hometown, but not for long. By dint of the fact that they needed a place to be and few of the small towns offered anything anyone needed, they’d agreed to move on to Torema. The city was large enough that they’d find accommodations and far enough away from Edinrun that they hoped to avoid the madness and the people who’d fallen to it.

  On two occasions people from Edinrun had come upon them. The slavers they rode with took care of the matter both times. No one was locked in chains and the slavers didn’t bother burying the corpses.

  Somewhere along the way, as he was lost in thought, Tully found her way to his side again.

  “There. It cost you nothing and might well have saved your life.”

  “There was always the chance she’d be less forgiving.”

  He looked toward Stanna again, as always fascinated by her. She was just so bloody large. He had never seen a woman anywhere near that size in his life and certainly not one so muscular.

  Tully pointed to the horizon. “There it is. That has to be Torema, doesn’t it?”

  There wasn’t much to see but a smudge on the horizon. “Well, we’ve entered the country. I suppose it’s possible.”

  Rhinen, one of Stanna’s men, nodded and spoke. “That’s the place. We keep this pace and we’ll be there late tomorrow.” He spat. “And glad of it. I’m tired of riding.”

  “How large is the city?” Tully kept her eyes on the distant spot.

  “Largest I’ve ever seen. You’ve got a dozen or more docks, and more ships than I have ever seen before in my life. Boats going to Kaer-ru and beyond.”

  “What lies beyond Kaer-ru?” Tully sounded like the notion pleased her.

  “There’s other lands beyond. I hear they have more kingdoms and wonders, the likes of which no one here has ever seen.” Rhinen warmed up to the subject, or to Tully, Niall couldn’t work out which, and felt his teeth grind against each other. The man was a slaver. Tully could do far better. Slavers might be people, and some of them, like Stanna, decent enough, but they sold others like property.

  Tully chatted with the man and Niall listened without hearing. They were words about distant lands and near as he could tell, those lands would probably fall to the same angry gods.

  He didn’t mean to speak. He had no intention of getting into the conversation, but his mouth seemed to disagree with that notion.

  “Do they have slaves over in these distant lands? Have you thought of trading over there?”

  Rhinen, who had been speaking, looked his way and tried to keep a polite smile. “You disapprove of slavery?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I can hear it in your tone.” Rhinen kept his voice surprisingly pleasant, but his eyes looked a challenge. “I’ve heard plenty of people protest it. I don’t actually own any slaves myself. I just get paid to move them when Stanna decides it’s time to move them. She got rid of the latest and that’s her call. I just follow orders.”

  Niall blushed. “I didn’t mean offense.”

  “None taken. I’ve a harder shell than that. But let me remind you, your dukeness, that the wall around Edinrun was built by slaves. They hauled the stones across miles of land, from the quarries to the city. They built the wall, stone by stone. They cost the royals of Edinrun a great deal less than hiring masons would have cost. That’s why it was done.”

  Tully looked from Rhinen to Niall and waited for a response.

  Niall shook his head. “I was not the one who paid for those slaves.”

  “No. I expect it would have been your grandfather, or, if he died young, your father. Back when rumors were buzzing around that Mentath planned to attack every land this side of the Broken Swords and it was all the fashion to use slaves to build vast walls.”

  Rhinen chuckled. “Way I hear it, the fine people of Giddenland decided to stop having slaves around the same time they realized they had to feed the poor bastards and care for them. Drained too much from the royal coffers.”

  “That’s not true. I’m sure there were other reasons.”

  “What were they then?” Rhinen continued looking at him and so did Tully.

  “I’d have to investigate.”

  “I’ll save you the trouble. I already did investigate. Wasn’t all that long ago that all five kingdoms were at war with each other every other day, and when they had villages they took over, they had new slaves. The slaver houses allowed them to sell those slaves for a profit. Those houses were in Torema and in Saramond. Those in
Torema shut down when Edinrun freed their slaves and sent them to Torema. They didn’t sell them. They gave them their freedom and sent them away. Said if they found any of the ex-slaves dirtying their doorways, they’d have them executed. That was all of forty years back as I heard it. Edinrun stayed nice, and clean as you please. Torema got all the wall builders sent their way. All of them. Hundreds died walking to Torema. Did you know that? They weren’t given any food. They had no water. They just walked to their new home, with soldiers making sure no one got any ideas about waiting around in the forests of Giddenland.”

  Rhinen didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. The area was silent of any conversation except theirs. Niall wasn’t sure exactly when that had happened, but it had. Most of the riders were looking back toward them too.

  Rhinen continued, his voice still remarkably calm and conversational. “Do you know Giddenland made a proclamation? They declared that there would be no more slaves in all of the country. What they didn’t say was where those ex-slaves should go. Once again a lot went for Torema. It was closest, after all, and there is always work in Torema if one knows where to look.

  “Now, my family, they were slavers in Giddenland and they were driven out of Edinrun. There was all kinds of taxes to pay if you owned slaves and didn’t agree with the new rules. Some of my people went to Torema. Others went north to Saramond. My parents went north. I managed to apprentice with the slavers up there. Got good at transporting. Not so good at breaking. I don’t like to hear people scream.”

  If he could have found a way to take his words back, Niall would have.

  Rhinen continued remorselessly. “There are five houses of slavers in Saramond. Well, there were five houses. Now I expect that trade is done. No new slaves because of laws started in Giddenland. No new wars, really, so why would there be new slaves? Born of slaves? They could be sold. That’s it. All of the older slaves were dying, and most didn’t have children, or if they did, they stayed with the farmers and workhouses that kept their families.