Here, as with Nugonghappalur, the presence of the gods was obvious. Here, their connection to the gods would once again be complete. Despite her exhaustion, Myridia joined them in the song of thanks to the gods.
Was there joy? Yes. Was there sorrow? Of course. Somewhere in the middle of that was her love for the very gods who had threatened to destroy the world and then tasked her and the remaining Grakhul with stopping them from ending everything.
She was not surprised at all when three of the He-Kisshi descended from higher up. Ohdra-Hun was among them.
Myridia lowered her head as a sign of respect. The Undying’s open hood faced her and she knew that the He-Kisshi studied her.
“You have done well and the gods are pleased. Less than a day away from here the children of your tribe continue their trek across the land. They will join you soon.”
Myridia opened her mouth to speak but Ohdra-Hun silenced her with a gesture. “Your tasks are not completed. The Sessanoh must be sanctified. Choose carefully among your followers and prepare them. Let the blood of the Grakhul be offered to the gods as a sign of your faith.”
“How many?”
“Seventy-two. You must choose the ones who are offered, Myridia. As the leader of this gathering that task falls to you. Do not disappoint the gods. They are watching and they will judge your decision.”
On the cliff west of her, the other Grakhul continued to pull themselves from the water and up the side of the cliff, the last stragglers finally joining her.
The He-Kisshi moved toward the edge with their odd, waddling gait, and then spread their wings and dropped from the side of the cliff before rising on the winds.
For a moment Myridia had dared think the worst of her trials had been finished, but now she knew better. She was to lead her people and that meant she had to make life and death decisions.
“Seventy-two.” Her voice broke as she muttered the words.
Lyraal placed a hand on her shoulder and Myridia turned, pulling the other woman into an embrace and silently begging the gods to grant her the strength to choose who among her brethren should die.
The gods had made their decree and she would respect that, but for the first time in her life she felt the sting of what she and her sisters had done since they were old enough to offer the rituals and prepare the sacrifices.
They had killed so many over the span of her life, far more than seventy-two.
She did not say the words, she dared not, but she thought them. She thought to herself that at last she understood why Brogan McTyre had come to them and slaughtered so many of the Grakhul.
Killing others to prevent the pain of loss was a concept she could finally truly comprehend.
The gods demanded sacrifice. The gods offered her the wisdom to understand her enemies at the same time.
Truly, she was blessed.
Tully
“I had my hands on the bastard and he got away.” Stanna shook her head. She was not as grim as she sounded. She was, in fact, rather amused.
Tully looked at her and shook her head. “You sound like it’s a good jest.”
“Tully, lass, do you know how many people I’ve caught with these?” Stanna held out her hands. Tully looked at them, suitably impressed by both their size and the sheer number of scars they were decorated with. It was easy to forget exactly how massive Stanna was, especially since she was usually sitting down. They weren’t currently sitting. They were looking up the slope at the spot where the first of the Hollumites was finally visible. “The thought that I had Harper Ruttket in my grasp and he got free is very funny to me. And annoying. That was a good amount of money I could have made.”
Temmi snorted. “Now she wants to be a bounty hunter and a general.”
Stanna merely smiled.
They came down the gentle slope in wagons, not one or two but over a hundred, drawn by horses and loaded with every imaginable form of supply. Even as they watched, one of the runners hurried toward them, moving as fast as a street weasel could, and waving one arm.
Torema did not have an army. Torema did not have watchers. What Torema had were people who would do nearly anything if money was involved. Darkraven was paying Stanna and she shared the wealth. The street runners were some of the finest pickpockets around. Like Tully they belonged to the Union of Thieves. She made certain they offered the proper oath, and then, just to be safe, she made sure they’d stolen nothing anyway.
The boy stopped in front of Stanna, and like most people looked her over twice to make sure she was real. “They’ve more than I knew could come here.”
“Speak clearly, boy.”
“There’s hundreds of wagons. Hundreds. Behind them, there’s more people than I can count. They go on as far as the eye can see.” The boy’s brown eyes were wide. “They’ll flood us like a river. They can’t all fit here.”
Stanna looked around and spat. Next to her Temmi did the exact same thing. Tully could not say that the two were lovers, but she wouldn’t have bet against the possibility and expected to keep her coin.
Stanna said, “I was afraid of this. It’s the whole city. How many people in Hollum, Tully?”
She shook her head and thought hard. “Impossible to know. You were there at the same time. The city was almost doubled from all the people leaving Saramond.” Her stomach fluttered at the thought. “Must be over a million. I don’t think we can stop them. I don’t think all of Torema can stop them.”
It was Temmi that answered. “So we push them east. Near the city but not in it. They’ll move that way if they can avoid a fight and the other side of the docks has enough land they can settle their tents.”
Stanna squinted at the sky above, where the rains were still falling, and then looked up the long sloping hill toward the masses that were starting to trickle down behind the wagons.
Finally she nodded. “I like it.”
She gave a sharp whistle that was loud enough to make Tully’s ears ring and several more runners came out of the crowds. Tully watched them all with a hawk’s awareness.
One little boy started to reach out but her hand slapped him across the face and sent him rocking back on his heels. All of ten and already too aware of the world to be shocked into crying by a hard slap. He started to protest and she shook her head. “You made an oath. Want me to call you an oath breaker?” Oath breakers tended to get themselves skinned alive when they were found guilty. No one in the Union stayed ignorant of the penalty. When it happened the Union made a show of it and left the remains where they could be seen. Didn’t matter what city one visited, that was the way of the Union.
He nodded his head and kept his hands where she could see them.
“Find the captains. Tell them to meet me right here, right now. Be fast and there’s an extra five coppers for each of you.”
They couldn’t have dispersed faster if they’d had burning brands shoved up their bums.
“Look at them. They’ve an army that couldn’t be stopped if they attacked.” Temmi was looking up at the crowds again. They were half a league off and appeared for all the world like a wave of flesh coming to swallow the town.
The captains arrived. Not surprisingly a number of them were Stanna’s trusted men. There were others, of course, as the slavers alone could not hope to hold the city.
“Lads. We are not fighting that.” She pointed and they looked.
“Thank all the fucking gods.” Rhinen’s voice was loud and clear.
Stanna smiled indulgently. There were occasions where she’d have likely broken his jaw for speaking out of turn, but she wanted her men happy and that meant being tolerant.
The more Tully studied the other woman the more she admired her. She was capable of incredible violence, had actually beheaded an Undying with one stroke of her blade, but she also understood restraint, and reward, and methods of fostering loyalty.
“We’re letting the wagons into town. They have merchandise and they can trade. Hillar Darkraven is waiting toward th
e city center. She’ll deal with them. Sans?” She looked toward the slaver and he nodded, his thick mustache bobbing up and down. “I want you to lead them down. Anyone gets foolish gets an arrow in the face. No exceptions. We will maintain control, or I will know why we failed.”
She was looking at Sans, but all the captains nodded their understanding.
“The rest of you will lead everyone to the east. They want to come into town; that’s not an option. They go east. Anyone wants to argue too badly gets chained or killed at your discretion. Do not lose control of them. There are too many for that. Urge them along and be as nice as possible, but be firm.”
Stanna looked to one of the newcomers, a man almost the size of her, with tattoos all over his face and arms and shaved head. He looked like a bull that had been covered in colors and then trained to walk like a man.
“Argus, you get to keep control over all of it.” He nodded and smiled. It was not a pleasant smile and Tully knew that if she ever saw the man in a dark alley she’d cut his neck into a second smile before she’d let him touch her. He reeked of violence and the way he looked at most of the women, her included, spoke of how much he enjoyed dominating his partners.
Tully did not like being dominated. Not ever.
“I’ll keep them moving east, Stanna.”
The newly minted general nodded and then looked up the hill. “Let’s get this done. Wagons down here. Everyone else east, dead, or chained. Anyone needs to be an exception, you bring them right here to me.”
The captains nodded and headed back to their posts.
By the time they’d reached their destinations the wave of flesh was well on its way.
Tully stared. The wagons were coming. Somewhere in those wagons, she’d have bet every coin she could steal, Blood Mother Theryn was sitting and waiting, planning how she would take over the Union of Thieves in the area. Tully knew it in her soul, and the dread that notion created was an ice storm in her guts.
As she watched, the masses of soldiers and mercenaries gathered by Stanna did their part and rode up the hill, many on horses, more on foot and carrying spears and other weapons. The spears stood out. They were fine weapons in the sort of situation coming their way. Anyone charging would find out the hard way that a barbed point could gut a running fool with ease. More importantly, they looked intimidating. Smart people ran from that sort of thing as quickly as they could.
The first of the wagons came to a halt, and then rattled down the hill as the soldiers let them get past.
The people behind the wagons hesitated and then, thankfully, paid attention. The wall of soldiers was set up well and kept the peace as the refugees from the end of the world moved to the east and down the hill toward a far less populated area.
Temmi laughed. “I didn’t think that would work.”
“You suggested it.” Stanna looked at her with a half smile on her face.
“Didn’t mean I thought it would work out.”
“Well, just the same, it isn’t over yet.” Tully shook her head and kept watching as the wagons moved to their left, wending their way through the soldiers and toward the city. Sure enough there was a fortune strapped to most of the wagons.
“You expect trouble?” Temmi was looking at her.
“I always expect trouble. I hope against it, but I expect it.”
Temmi nodded. “There’s a lesson I’ve learned these last few weeks.”
Stanna patted the hilt of her sword, the Bitch. The thing was impressive, and Tully considered whether or not she’d have the strength to pick up the damned thing, let alone wield it.
She thought she could lift it. Not much more.
“It’s a lesson we all learn. My father was an excellent teacher.” The way Stanna said those words made her doubt the man had intended to teach his daughter to be prepared. More than one man had made use of a daughter as a toy. She shook the thought away.
In the distance one group of refugees decided to fight. The skirmish lasted all of thirty seconds before it was put down. Spears went up. Spears went down. Swords did the same thing. After that the crowd followed directions and moved to the east and the ocean.
It was a long, slow process. Tully watched on and wondered how many of the people in the distance she had known back when she lived in Hollum. Best not to think about that. Best to be happier with her new life.
The clouds had come in and the rains had started, but long before the migration of Hollum’s people was finished, the hellish part of the storm had reached the city of Torema.
They were soaked through by the time their work was done.
Stanna made sure to post soldiers along the edge of the city. A great number of soldiers. Almost all of them had spears, the better to intimidate anyone thinking of moving for the city proper.
Chapter Eleven
Here In The Dark
Brogan McTyre
The chamber was immense, but in comparison to the inside of the mountain it seemed almost tiny. In the distance, through the open mouth and the holes where nose and eye sockets were, Brogan could see the faint light from the crystals as the sun glowed through them. He had no idea what time it was. It hardly seemed important.
This was supposed to be the destination he sought. There was nothing he could see that was very impressive.
How many days did it take to scale a giant? He no longer knew.
Brogan sat on the ground – or what most closely resembled the ground – and grunted. His muscles shook from the strain of climbing.
Anna seemed to be in the same situation.
Faceless, the bastard, was perfectly fine. Of course there was the possibility that the damned thing didn’t breathe or strain muscles. It was hard to say.
It had continued to change; there was a face of sorts, rudimentary as it might be, and the hide of the thing had smoothed out as if a proper craftsman had sanded and shaved the rough, wood-like surface of the thing and then polished and lacquered it to a fine finish.
Anna looked up at the depths of the giant’s skull.
“The sun sets soon enough. We should make camp and prepare for the morning. I think we’ll need more light than we have right now.”
He nodded his head. “I’ve doubts we’ll get much brighter. None of the glow comes into this area like it did in others, but we can make a fire, I suppose, as long as we’re careful.”
She turned her head to study him. “Do you think we’ll smoke ourselves out?” Anna’s voice carried an amused note to it.
“Likely no. There’s plenty of air in here.” He smiled at her tone. “But one can’t be too careful.”
“One can. We have enough to do; I think we’ll be safe from a blaze in here. Safe from smoke. I can feel the breeze blowing through here.” Anna held up a hand. “It’s constant and moves toward the mouth of the thing.”
Faceless looked at each of them with his unsettling hollow sockets. Brogan knew he saw, but still had no idea how.
“Faceless?”
“Yes, Brogan?”
“Have you figured out what you are yet?”
“No.”
“And does that worry you?”
Anna got that look on her face, again. She had been fine with Faceless when he followed them but knowing that the thing could talk left her unsettled.
Brogan frowned. He wasn’t quite sure when he’d started thinking of Faceless as a male. The notion made him uncomfortable, too. Thinking of Faceless as a male meant thinking of the animated shape as closer to human. He wasn’t sure he liked that notion very much.
Faceless remained silent for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. He was not familiar with the gesture, but he had seen both Anna and Brogan use it and had apparently intuited what it meant.
“I am not sure. I’ve never thought about it before. I merely am.”
“You’re changing.” Anna spoke softly. “You have fingers now, and toes.” She looked him over. “And if the rest of you keeps changing I will have to ask Brogan to help you d
ress yourself for my sake. I’ve no desire to see what is forming between your legs.”
Faceless looked down and shrugged again, apparently not at all impressed by the penis-shaped lump forming where before he had been smooth and genderless.
“How long have you been here, Faceless?”
“I do not know, Anna. I have always been here for as long as I can remember, but I only met Brogan recently.” He turned toward her. “And then you.”
Brogan set to starting a small fire with tinder and flint. As she had before, Anna managed to rummage in her bag until she found a small bundle of wood. Brogan did not like to think about that. Sorcery in any form unsettled him. And yet here he was, working out the details of a sorcerous attempt to fight the gods.
What else was there? He was a man. The gods were not mortal. He could die and if the gods could die they needed help to remember how.
“What is it we do here, Anna?”
She looked at him for a moment as she set the wood in place. The small stack of tinder was burning properly and if she did her part the fire would be enough to give them light for the rest of the evening.
“We’re making a fire. I think you mean something else. Speak clearly.”
“I’ve said what I want. Will we be able to do it? Truly?”
“The Galean I spoke with has shown me what must be done. I have what I need. You brought the final part of the mix.” She pointed to the saddlebag, which even now pulsed slowly as the contents sought to escape the bindings.
“That?” He looked at the bag. “The hide of an Undying?”
“I do not question the Galeans. They had much longer than me to study the Books of Galea. If we are to succeed, we will need that hide. We will also need to find what it is we seek here.”
“What do we seek?” Brogan looked around. “I see nothing.”
“Not all things are meant to be seen. You can’t see the wind, and yet it is a powerful thing.”
“Still, how do we find what can’t be seen? I can feel the wind. I can watch the path the wind takes. Here there is nothing.”
Fallen Gods Page 27
