Fragile Chaos

by Amber R. Duell

  Wet pieces of hair quiver against his forehead, his gaze distant. Disbelieving. Hurt. “I would have done it for you,” he says quietly.

  My breath quakes, a shiver to each exhale. “Theo, please listen.”

  “I would have, but I won’t now.” He leans away from me, a new type of fire dancing in his eyes. “Let Ebris do what he will. I’m going to let Volkana slaughter every Kisken they can get their hands on. When they’re done, when you know your brother and every other islander is dead, I’ll show enough mercy to let you meet them in the Netherworld.”

  Bile rises in the back of my throat. This isn’t the Theo I know—this is a new person. No. This is a god.

  “You don’t mean that,” I whisper.

  “Oh.” The statue’s shield shatters beneath his hands, puffs of powdered plaster coating my shoulders, and he shoves away. “I do.”

  My knees buckle and I slump to the floor in a heap. Theo leaves me there without so much as a second glance.

  I knew he would likely hate me, but to kill an entire race of people? Even if he loathes the fact that he accepted me, the deal is done. Ebris won’t let him break the agreement. Cy admitted that much. I stumble to my feet.

  Unshed tears blur the room, then the hall, the courtyard, and finally the temple. I’m not sure how I made the short walk but, when I reach Ebris’ altar, I collapse. I can’t travel through the portals myself without Theo’s ring, but the note to Astra went through. Maybe my prayers will too.

  Using the stone wall, I push myself back onto my feet and fumble with the small gold hoops in my ears. There’s no box on the altar to place them in, so I cup them in my palm and press the jewelry onto the wooden surface.

  “Ebris, King of Gods, please accept this tribute.” I swallow hard, unsure if this is right. I’ve never prayed a day in my life. There’s an equal chance I’m insulting him as there is I’m honoring him. “If you’re there, if you can hear me, I hope you’ll listen.”

  Heavy rain pelts Gull Island, a long outlying strip of land belonging to Kisk, but I barely feel it as I make my way down the hill. I’m too numb. Too angry. Too blindsided to care that freezing water soaks my clothes. My mouth is full of the acrid taste of betrayal. Metallic. Bitter.

  Cassia knew.

  She knew almost from the beginning. Before the first night I kissed her. Is that why she kissed me back? Why she took care of me after the explosion? It has to be. She avoided me before that. I’ve been around long enough to know the difference between true compassion and false sympathy. At least, I thought I did. The concern on her face as she washed me seemed so real. Maybe I’m too far out of my comfort zone to know anything anymore.

  But there are still two things I’m sure of: war and vengeance. My siblings have played me long enough. I’m certainly not going to let a mortal do the same. Ebris be damned. I won’t let Cassia steal everything I’ve worked for. If he wants to banish me to the Between, he can fight me for the chance. I held onto some of my supernatural strength and am better with a sword. I certainly won’t make it easy for him.

  “Theodric, I didn’t expect you back for hours,” Goran calls. His voice is barely audible over the splatter of rain. He rushes toward me from the edge of the camp where the escaped prisoners are holed up and wipes the water from his face. “The men have all been seen by medical now. Eighty percent are able to hold a weapon.” He stops short and scowls. “What happened?”

  I stop at the edge of the barren crop field, now nothing but mud. Brown tents stand erect in neat rows, ten wide and twenty deep. Ten thousand Kiskens are beneath those canopies with the last five thousand due to arrive tomorrow. Some hobbled about on crutches when they got here. Others are missing limbs. Still more are unable to get off their cots. A piss poor army if I’ve ever seen one. Easy to destroy. I’m not sure how I saw promise in them earlier. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

  “What happened?” I repeat in a hard tone to keep my voice from snapping. I want to lean on Goran, if only for a minute. To share the agonizing pain of having my insides ripped apart. But I can’t; I won’t. Cassia doesn’t deserve to bring me that low. Instead, I’ll kill her brother before moving on to the rest of her kinsman. “Where is Colonel Stavros?”

  “In the center tent,” he says. I brush past him and he darts after me. “What’s going on? Have we been discovered?”

  I grip the hilt of my sword. The cool metal is reassuring at my hip. Unwavering. A trusted friend. The only one I have other than Goran. I fix my interest on the one tent that breaks formation, rising up in the center of the rows. “I’m going to do to him what I should have done to his sister that day in the temple,” I rumble.

  Goran’s shock sparks at my side. “What?”

  She lied, I almost blurt. The truth sticks in my throat. I can’t forgive her. I won’t. Manipulation is something I’ve come to expect, but I truly thought she was different. If Cassia wants to trap me into one course of action, I’ll show her the power of a god. Even one as reduced as I am.

  “Cassia knew about her brother. That’s why…”

  “What?” Goran shouts. “How? When? How?”

  “Astra told her.” I breathe heavily, the rain pouring down my face. “She’s known long enough to deceive me.”

  “Wait.”

  Goran steps in front of me and I almost run him into the mud for it. “What?”

  “Are you saying she did this on purpose?” he asks.

  I glare at him. His disbelief is salt in my open wounds. Cassia is good at this game, too good if she fooled us both. I crack my elbows, pulling my attention away from the throbbing in my chest. “Of course she did.”

  “Theodric.” He must catch the pity in his own voice and rubs at his mouth. “I’m sorry. She didn’t seem like…I never expected it from her.”

  I raise my eyebrows. Seem like what? I want to ask but I’m too afraid of the answer. “Neither did I.” I step around Goran and continue toward the center tent where the commanding officers will plan the salvation of their island.

  “You can’t kill the Colonel,” Goran wheezes. “We still need him if we’re going to save Kisk. He’s the highest ranking officer we have.”

  “We aren’t going to save Kisk.”

  “We aren’t going to save Kisk,” he repeats, halting between words. “We have to.”

  “I won’t lose, Goran.” My grip tightens on the hilt. “I can’t. I’ve come too far for some mortal to swoop in and snatch it away.”

  “Listen to yourself. This isn’t a win-or-lose situation. Ebris will never let you see the light of day again if you don’t hold up your end of the sacrifice,” Goran warns. “Don’t let yourself fall into this trap.”

  I’ve already fallen.

  I storm into the tent, my shield up, and gag as the stench of rotting meat slams into me. A man in a tattered gray jumpsuit cradles his right arm to his chest. His head, covered in bald patches and jagged scabs, rests on the pole behind the bench.

  Goran flies in behind me. “Colonel Oren Stavros,” he huffs, motioning to the broken man, “is one of the twenty percent unable to fight. He has a mind for strategy though and can still lead from behind the scenes. Please, Theodric. In four hundred years, I’ve never asked you for anything, but I’m begging you not to do this.”

  The Colonel can’t be more than twenty-five, promoted for the sole purpose of leading the aide missions to Asgya, but his paper-thin skin ages him. Protruding bones make him almost skeletal. Yet, somehow his features are so like Cassia’s that it’s hard to look at him. “No,” I say.

  A man in a matching jumpsuit ducks into the tent with a tray of medical supplies. Bandages, scissors, an assortment of medication. “Sir,” he says. “Doc sent me over to check your arm.”

  “It’s fine, Gregor,” the Colonel says. A weak smile cracks his parched lips. “I doubt that woman’s credentialed anyway.”

  Gregor carries the tray with shaking hands. Greasy hair falls across his cheekbones. “She may be a pirate, but she’s be
tter than those hacks in the Shell.”

  “It’s hard to be worse than a butcher.” He shifts with a groan. “Like I said before, they can have my arm in the morning.”

  Gregor sets the tray down on a warped tabletop and tugs the Colonel’s wounded arm away from his chest. He turns green. “No offense, sir, but this can’t wait.”

  The Colonel tugs the bits of worn sleeve down but there isn’t enough material to hide the gash on his forearm. Pus oozes from blackened skin. Nothing on that tray will do any good. It needs to be amputated before the gangrene spreads.

  “Plenty of men have issues more pressing than this thing,” the Colonel says. “They can chop it off at dawn if it makes them happy, but the others need to be taken care of first.”

  “But, sir—”

  “Find Major Buros.” He coughs and nods to the medical supplies. “Take that and tend to someone else.” When the man hesitates, he adds, “That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gregor whispers. He lifts the tray with a bowed head and turns.

  “Wait,” he calls in a hushed voice. “Do the men from the other camps still think I’m a traitor?”

  “We’re working on it, sir,” Gregor says apologetically. “They’ll understand soon enough and will follow you when the time comes.”

  The Colonel waves him off before collapsing against the post, but he watches the silver tray until it disappears from the tent. An image of Cassia giving the emaciated man half a loaf of bread flashes through my mind. I squeeze my eyes against it, willing away the rawness in my chest, and pull my sword from the scabbard.

  “Theodric,” Goran pleads. “Don’t do this.”

  I grind my teeth. “I won’t let Cassia get away with betraying me, and Astra needs to see what her meddling leads to.”

  Goran steps between me and the Colonel, shaking his head. “I don’t know what happened, but this isn’t something to do out of anger. If you kill him, there’s no going back,” he says. “Not with Ebris and not with Cassia. They won’t forgive you.”

  My mind flashes again. This time to Cassia climbing out of the pit. The petrified look on her face as I nearly took her life wedges between my ribs, splintering the bone. I should have known she would do something like this. I tried to murder her. There’s no way she could care for me.

  “I don’t want to go back,” I rasp. “Even if I did, it’s already too late.”

  “If you insist on killing him, at least wait a few days,” Goran urges. “When your temper has cooled, speak with Cassia again. Get the whole story first. You can’t bring her brother back to life if you find out there’s a misunderstanding.”

  That he thinks there could be a misunderstanding is laughable. I know what I heard. I saw the challenge smoldering beneath her fear. I lied to her as much as she lied to me. I know it, she knows it, and the crushing weight on my shoulders knows it. Even if there is something I don’t know yet, something that will make her appear innocent, I’m not sure I can believe it. My heart is stone again, shielded by an iron fortress. Impervious to charms or excuses. A barrier keeping me on track.

  “One day,” Goran says.

  My pulse convulses against its newly formed walls. Pounding to be free. I glance at the Colonel as he takes labored breaths on the bench. “Damn you,” I growl. “One day. If his arm doesn’t kill him by morning, I will.”

  Goran exhales, pushing back his dripping mop of hair. He thinks this will buy time to salvage the war. He’s wrong. I’ll spare one man for a single night, but the plan to sabotage the island hasn’t changed. I glare at Cassia’s brother, then throw a final look at my adviser.

  “Don’t expect the remaining prisoners to arrive in the morning,” I call over my shoulder. “This war is still mine.”

  The Cursed Jewel is docked between the Kisken mainland and Gull Island, its massive black sails tethered to their masts. The rain isn’t falling here, but a heavy fog coils across the ship’s deck. I squirm in my soaked clothing. The crew is too busy unloading supplies to notice me sprint up the wooden gangway unshielded, but Hex doesn’t miss a beat. She greets me at the rail with knotted, windblown hair and a deep frown on her sun-kissed face.

  “You better be bringing my payment,” she snaps. “There’s no other reason for you to step foot on this vessel.”

  “Half before, half after, like we agreed,” I say. “You’ll see the rest when the job is done.”

  She crosses her arms. “Which job is that exactly? The attacking or the smuggling?”

  “Turn your men around.” Disgust swirls around me like a cloak. “Keep the supplies, sell them. I don’t care. As long as you sail away from here. You’ll receive payment when you’ve reached an eastern shore.”

  “Which eastern shore?” she asks without moving her jaw.

  “Any eastern shore. Don’t come back until word of Kisk’s fall is heard in the farthest corner of the world.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She glares at me. “First I’m supposed to attack Volk ships, then you have me smuggling Kiskens, and now you want me to disappear? What do you think this is? Rent-a-Pirate? I have an empire to run.”

  “I’m making you richer than you ever imagined.” I step closer, my hands in fists. “Do it. Now.”

  Her laugh is a bitter, piercing sound. “I’m not going anywhere. Keep the rest of your money. We’re done. We’ll drop the rest of the cargo and return to the cove.”

  I sneer. “Do that and I’ll make sure Volkana comes for you as soon as they’ve mowed down every Kisken in their path.”

  “Try me.” She shoves my chest with her fingertips. “Who do you think you are?”

  A god!

  “Theodric!” My head snaps toward the source of my name, the hair rising on my arms. Brisa stands at the bottom of the gangway, shielded from the pirates. “Get down here,” she snarls through her teeth.

  I turn back to Hex and point my finger in her face. “Today.”

  The pirate’s shouts follow me all the way back to shore. She’s still going when I trail my sister around the corner of a boat house.

  Once we’re out of sight, I throw my shield in place and Brisa rounds on me with unwarranted fury. “Are you completely insane?” she snaps. “What are you doing? Do you want to live in the Between for the rest of eternity?”

  “I won’t let Ebris banish me,” I snap.

  “Oh, lose the cocky attitude.” She steps closer, leaving an inch between us. “You might have been a challenge to Ebris before, but now you’re as good as mortal. He’ll toss you in there like a rag doll.”

  Her words scorch through me. While it’s true I’m not as strong as I should be, as I was, I’m nowhere near as weak as a man. I have the will to beat Ebris. The determination. It’s about time someone did it. He can’t run around unchecked because the others are too afraid to stand against him. I’ve never been scared; that’s why he hates me.

  “Stop this suicide mission and get your act together. Listen to Goran. Make the right choices. Like it or not, you have to save Kisk,” she hisses.

  “I have to do nothing,” I shout, spittle flying. “You stood there in the middle of the Ostran War and let Ebris do this to me. He asked me to wage that war, and, in return, he took everything from me. I played nice for centuries to earn back what’s mine, and all I’ve gotten in return is suspicion and games. More games.” I press a hand against my sternum. Scar after agonizing scar rest there. The latest wound—Cassia’s cut—is still wide open, and Brisa has the audacity to give me orders.

  “If no one else plays by the rules, there’s no reason I should,” I say.

  “This is exactly the type of drama I try to avoid.” She squints up at me. “I don’t want to see you banished, okay? But don’t blame your poor choice of a partner on Astra.” She holds her palm up when I open my mouth to speak. “Yes, I know all about it. Astra came crying to me after you kicked her out of your house. She thinks you’re going to kill your new bride and that it’s her fault. You chose Cassia, Theo
dric. This isn’t some fairy tale where you get to ride off into the sunset. The girl hurt you, I get it, but boo-hoo. Snap out of it and do your job.”

  My ears buzz. I can’t breathe. The weight is too crushing. Doing my job is all I’ve ever tried to do. All I’ve ever wanted to do. They’re upset because I refuse to let them hold my leash anymore, but they haven’t seen anything yet.

  “Stay out of my business,” I say. Then I turn and walk toward the main island. Toward the Asgyan and Volk troops. The Kisken revolution will end before it ever gets off the ground.

  “Don’t say I didn’t try to help you,” Brisa screams at my back.

  All my tears have long been emptied into my pillow, leaving me dry and aching. Raw. I haven’t cried like that since Oren’s supposed execution. Not even after the bombings. I’ve lost track of time, drifting in and out of sleep, but the sun is bright as it filters through the sheer curtains. I’m tempted to pull the covers over my head and ignore the world a little longer. I have nothing to get up for; my brother’s likely dead by now, and it won’t be long before I am too. But I can’t waste what little time I have left wallowing. I’m not a wallower; I’m a doer. Not that I know what to do. I’ve lost any shred of influence I had with Theo, and I’m stuck in his realm until he decides to send me away.

  “Goran?” I call in a hoarse voice. He’s been sitting quietly outside my room for an hour now. He gave up trying to talk to me awhile ago, but I sense his steady presence through the door. Apparently he brought breakfast again. It smells similar to the one he brought me my first morning here. Bacon and eggs. A hint of coffee. My nose is too stuffed to be sure, but I really hope the last one is right. “Are you still out there?”

  He looks like hell—dirty, matted, and bone-tired—when he ducks his head into the room. “Yes.”

  I sit up and rub my nose with the back of my hand. “What are you doing out there? Shouldn’t you be helping Theo destroy Kisk?”

  Goran pushes the door in and leans against the frame with his arms folded, fists tight against his side. His blond hair is weighed down against his head with random tufts rising above the rest. “I’ve come to see Theodric as more than a god in the last four hundred years. We’re friends.” He studies the carpet. “But I’m not interested in helping him dig his own grave.”