Harper spat into the snow.
“Gather your belongings. We ride.”
Mearhan spoke, “But your companions–”
“Will have to escape on their own! The world is trying to end on us. We get captured, we get taken, then the world ends that much faster!” She flinched at his tone and Harper found he didn’t much care. “Did you not say it yourself, girl? We are to be sacrificed! We ride on and try to avoid that!”
Laram looked uncomfortable with his words. Harper found he didn’t much care. It was time to go, that was all. They had so far to travel and there were plenty of threats to face along the way, of that he had no doubt.
Brogan McTyre
“I don’t understand.” Brogan spoke carefully. Really it was a delaying tactic. He’d heard the words clearly enough, but he wanted to make sure of the meaning.
“You’re hardly a stupid man, Brogan McTyre.” Anna’s eyes stared into his. Her voice was stern, but her expression was kind enough. “That head you’ve been admiring. They say what you need is up there.”
“Did they by chance say how I’m supposed to get up there? I don’t see an easy path.”
“There are… well, there are bones to climb and surely a few of those shards will work as a bridge to get part of the way from one point to another.”
Brogan looked again, slowly considering the tremendous height of the dead giant before him. Scaling the sheer cliffs that thrust from the Broken Swords would be easy in comparison to climbing the bones of the giant. There were places where climbing would be easy, around joints, for example, but much of the skeleton looked frighteningly smooth. Also there was the sheer height. How high to the top of the mountains? Almost as high to the head of the dead thing he’d been searching around for a few days.
While Anna had performed her communications, he had looked around, finding small mysteries, but nothing that long distracted from the enormous thing that filled the mountains themselves. While he walked, Faceless, as he’d come to call their silent companion, often shadowed him and did nothing else.
Intermittently he’d hear sounds in the distance, echoes that traveled from the gods knew where and every time he paused to see if he could locate the source. They weren’t just noises. They were stealthy noises, like whispers in the distance and the occasional clash of items dropped or struck against a surface.
He was worried about that, but felt no need to alarm Anna as yet. Whatever he was hearing would distract her from her tasks and she needed to accomplish those if he was to know what was needed to finish this business once and for all.
He looked at Faceless and said, “I don’t suppose you’d make the trek for me?” Not surprisingly, the thing gave no answer.
Anna slapped at his arm, only half playfully. “What you need rests up there. There’s nothing for it. If you would have a chance to fight against gods, you must make your way up there.”
“Did these voices tell you what I might be looking for?”
“Oh, yes. They say what you seek is the life of a god.”
“Say again?”
Anna stared hard at him. “So, apparently gods never truly die. It’s true his flesh has faded with time, it’s true even that he is nothing but bones, but apparently the life force of a god is something that does not go away, even after thousands of years.”
He pointed toward the skeletal remains. “So that is still alive then?”
“No. The body is dead. Look at it. It’s dead. Or at least as dead as gods get, if what I’ve been told is true.”
“So the life of a god is up there?”
“That’s as I’m told, aye.”
“Why hasn’t anyone ever taken it before?”
“No one knew where to look. Well, that’s not quite true. A man named Roskell Turn found the information in one of the books of Galea.”
“And he never did anything with that knowledge?”
“But he did. He shared it with me so that I could share it with you.”
“Why did he never come for it himself?”
Anna shook her head and the look she gave him was the sort his mother had cast his way when he was being foolish at a younger age. “I can’t say. Perhaps he has no need for the life of a god.”
“But surely if he knew–”
Anna sighed. “Brogan, before the gods killed your family would you have had any need of something powerful enough to let you fight gods?”
“Well. No. I just mean, if I’d known…”
“Would you have climbed to the very heights you must now climb just to have something you might never need?”
Brogan stared at the distance he would have to scale and nodded. “You’ve made your point.” He looked up and up and shook his head, “It’ll take days.”
“Then I’d recommend we get started.”
“We? No, no. Desmond will have my hide.”
“It is neither Desmond’s decision, nor yours.” The look she cast his way brooked no argument.
“What if you were to fall?”
“Then I suppose I will fall. What if you slip and have no one there to catch you?”
“Then at least I don’t take you with me.” He glared at her, and she looked back, unimpressed by his attempt to intimidate. “Then at least Desmond doesn’t experience my grief.”
“And while I feel for you, Brogan, Desmond won’t live to experience your grief unless we get done what we must do. We’ve already wasted enough time while you tried to suss out what you’re supposed to look for. Let’s be on our way.”
He clenched his teeth. “You’re a vexing woman.”
She made an obscene gesture and headed for a thick chunk of crystal that ran at a low angle from the ground and aimed a distance toward the skeleton. It actually touched the thigh of the impossible thing. Annoyed by her, Brogan followed Anna just the same.
Faceless followed, too, once again at a distance.
“There might be things here, Anna. Things that will pursue us or try to attack. I have been hearing sounds.”
“Aye, and so have I, you daft fool.”
He stared hard. “You heard them?”
“I’m not deaf, Brogan. I hear as well as you.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“And neither did you.”
Brogan thought back to her earlier words, ignoring the useless debate about whether she should have told him what she’d heard or if he should have told her. They’d argue it soon enough, he knew, if only to break the silences that grew between them.
Finally he said, “I didn’t mean to start the end of the world, you know.”
Anna shook her head and cast another withering look his way. “What did you think would happen if you angered the gods?”
“I was prepared to have them take me and spare mine. I would have accepted that. I would have done anything at all to keep my family safe.” His teeth ground against each other as he walked.
“Be that as it may, your plan fell through. I appreciate you’re trying to fix things. If I didn’t, I’d not be here.” As she spoke she started up the gentle slope of the crystal and Brogan followed. The surface beneath them was sheer, but lightly angled. Up ahead the shard had facets facing in different directions, but he didn’t foresee any issues, at least until they reached the bones. Bones curved, at least mostly, and he wasn’t sure they would find the surface so easy.
“I’m very aware of my failings in this. That’s why I’m here, too. I intend to stop the gods. Having seen this,” he gestured to the massive frame of bones, “I tend to think my chances are slightly less than good. Still, it’s the only option that works for me. I’ll not see my companions killed for what I did.”
“They knew what they were doing. Desmond and I had a very long discussion about his actions when he came home.”
“Oh, did you? How did that go then?”
“He ducked the pan I threw at his head. I was kind enough not to actually take a cleaver to him. He made a promise to me, and that promise
included not getting himself killed on fool’s errands, no offense meant.”
“I can’t disagree. Just the same I’m grateful to him and I intend to see him out of this alive and healthy if I can.”
“You had best.” She moved faster and he followed, and knew without looking that Faceless continued with them.
When they finally stopped for the night it was out of necessity. The sun had set and the vast crystals no longer reflected the glow into the area. They sat in a small circle and despite his initial worries, Brogan barely even gave their location a second thought. While he supposed there was a chance of falling to his death if he tossed too much in his sleep, it would have to be a very long and fitful toss before he would get anywhere near the edge. The translucent stone was vast indeed and at so gentle a slope that there was no true cause for concern.
Anna managed to get a fire started, though he was sure he had no idea how. There was little by way of kindling or firewood and yet she did it. He thanked her for that and then thanked her again when she pulled a hard loaf of bread from her sack. It wasn’t much, but it was a nice change of pace from dried beef.
They didn’t talk much. There wasn’t much to say.
In time they slept and when Brogan awoke it was with his arm around Anna’s waist and with his body spooned to hers. He moved away as carefully as he could to prevent waking her. How they wound up together he could not say but he’d not give her reason to call him names or, even worse, to consider herself unfaithful to her husband. They’d done nothing. They were fully clothed; still for some of the people he’d known in his life the fact that they had wound up in a situation like that would have been enough to cause shame.
Faceless sat across from the dead fire and stared at him with those round pits for eyes. If the thing had any thoughts about what had happened, it did not share them.
This time, Brogan was grateful for the silence.
Interlude: Lowra-Plim
Lowra-Plim crouched at the tip of one of the crystals thrusting from the mountains. It needed to mend and it needed perspective.
It felt the gods, of course, as it always had, but they seemed distant.
Lowra-Plim mended as it waited. The wounds were slower to heal than they should have been and he understood the reason. Demons were vile things, diseased and corrupt. Their servants were much the same.
The He-Kisshi did not need to speak in order to be heard by the gods. They were the divine collectors, the voice of the gods, the eyes of the gods, and their most common method of punishment.
While Lowra-Plim mended, it heard the words of the gods and understood. The world was awakening to the peril. The gods were angry and they would not be appeased without blood.
The leaders of the Five Kingdoms had been told to make a sacrifice if they wanted to survive. Even now they traveled to obey or sent messengers to handle the matter. Some headed for Gaarsen, not to ask the gods for mercy, but to conspire with the wretched beast that lay under the nearby hills, the better to betray the ones they had already disappointed.
Snow settled on Lowra-Plim and half buried the He-Kisshi; still it mended and it was aware. The gods had their plans and it would be needed soon to deliver a message and to handle difficulties that were rippling beneath a seeming calm in the world on the western side of the mountains.
So far there was winter, ice, and snow. Soft and peaceful.
That would end soon enough and the gods would make their statement.
Bron McNar
Hillar Darkraven and Opar had returned home. There was no choice, really. There were kingdoms to run and, truly, there were people to kill.
Parrish and Bron, along with Jahda and Pardume, made the exceptions. They rode together, heading for Gaarsen. For Parrish it was going home. For the others it was an attempt to find a different path to redemption. They did not speak of the matter but ultimately they intended to talk with Parrish and possibly even with his new god to see if there was anything at all that could be done about the gods and their current destructive path.
Rather than ride their horses, they shared a carriage that was as merciless as the king of Mentath. The vehicle was drawn by nine horses and covered in a thin layer of beaten metal. Around them three scores of Mentath warriors rode in formation. Where he could see their hands and arms, Bron could see the same markings that covered Parrish’s flesh.
Bron did his best not to be impressed. His people were of a different stripe. They fought hard and they fought well, but they did not wear the same sort of armor as Parrish’s warriors and they were not known for their ability to ride in formation. They were known for ferocity and surviving the elements. The men around him were dressed in layers of armor, some plate here and there, scales in some spots, leather and chain in others. Bron found himself wondering how they managed not to fall off the gigantic horses they rode.
Parrish smiled in his direction. “We will be there soon. You look restless.”
“No. Worried. We run shorter on time than I’d like.” A lie. His concern was about what would happen if Parrish decided to attack his country a second time. The king was not showing all of his forces. He was practically bragging about his military – and Bron acknowledged it was a military guard and therefore meant to show the best example of Parrish’s army – but there was no doubt at all in his heart that Parrish was holding back.
Jahda looked long and hard at Bron and then turned to Parrish. “What sort of deal did you strike, Parrish? How is it that you and your finest have these markings? What do they do?”
Parrish smiled thinly as he answered. “They offer protection. They are not like armor… No, that’s not true. They are like armor for the mind. The Galeans are said, some of them at least, to have abilities to steal a man’s soul or to make him see what is not there.”
“And what do they cost?”
Parrish looked toward Jahda and his smile fell away. “What do you mean?”
Jahda leaned back in his seat, his dark face half lost in shadows. “Gods are greedy enough. They demand sacrifices merely to be allowed to live, as we can see. Demons are supposed to be worse. Demons, I have heard, demand blood and more blood.”
“Who said anything about demons?”
“I did. Either you are dealing with a powerful Galean – doubtful – or you are dealing with a god – also unlikely – or you are dealing with one of the ten Imprisoned who are locked away in this world. Gaarsen lies near the desert. The desert in the southern parts of Mentath is known to be the home of two separate demons that were used to punish the people who once lived there, just as a third is said to dwell in the north.”
Parrish too leaned far back in his seat.
Bron stayed exactly where he was, interested to know where the conversation was heading.
“My ancestors were not always wise when it came to the gods, that’s true enough. Half of my kingdom is dust and sand and little more.” Parrish crossed his arms. “That does not mean I follow in their methods.”
“Of course not.” Jahda smiled. “If you did the world would be ending because of you. Your previous kings refused to offer sacrifices or follow other laws of the gods.” He was silent for a moment and the smile faded, the man’s eyes seemed droopy but Bron knew better. The nominal leader of the Kaer-ru was looking for just the right words.
Finally he said, “There are no laws against worshipping other gods. The gods we have are said to have killed the ones who came before them.” He gestured to the Broken Swords, where the remains of just such a deity allegedly rested. “As there were no other gods, they would not need to concern themselves. And yet, here we are and you have obviously found a patron of some sort that is not mortal. My sources say that the slavers have found another to follow, a different patron if you will. And then there are stories of a small tribe of shadow people who wander the lands and seek to take sacrifices for their new master. They come, as I understand it, from a place that is forbidden by one of your barons.”
Parrish did not sp
eak for so long that Bron wondered if the man had been struck dead.
Finally, however, he responded. “As you say, there are no laws against it.”
“You continue to obey the gods. You continue to make your sacrifices. Still, you offer only what you must. I think your fealty belongs to a different master.”
“You keep using that term. I have no master.”
“We all serve someone else, Parrish. At the very least we serve our people and do all we can to keep them safe.”
Parrish nodded. “As you say, three times Mentath has been punished by the gods.”
Jahda nodded. “Gods are fickle, it seems. One offense and nothing happens. The same offense in a different place and their wrath is vast.”
“As you say, I break no laws.”
The leader of the Kaer-ru nodded. “That is why we travel now, yes? We must explore options. And that is why I ask you what the cost? If I am to consider what is best for my people, I must know what price they might be asked to pay.”
Bron looked out the window. The snow fell heavily but none of the riders seemed to care. Even as he considered that fact the wagon rolled into a heavy stream and the horses slowed down at the urging of the carriage master.
Parrish leaned forward again and looked at Jahda and then at Bron. “There is a price, to be sure. But here I am and I have paid it and I am still me. I still rule.”
“What price?” It was Bron’s turn to ask.
“Fealty.”
“So you have no master but the master you serve.” Jahda nodded.
“As you say, we all have someone we must answer to.” Parrish pointed a finger toward Jahda. “Tell me this. What is a demon?”
Jahda answered, “I do not know.”
“How did the gods become gods? How did they take down the gods before them?” Once again he looked at each of the men with him. “No answer? Very well then. I will tell you. They found worshippers.”
Fallen Gods Page 18
