Chapter Seventeen: Homecoming for a Queen
Joanna
The main surface entrance to the village of the Erin-Vulur was a scar in the ice, a cavern that had been formed by the very tip of one of the tallest mountains, just barely thrusting up through the ice. According to Volistad, there were many other passages down to the village, most of them unused and locked. We could easily have snuck around to a lesser used tunnel and into the home of the Erin-Vulur, but we had discussed it, and the consensus said otherwise. To defeat Barbas, and whatever horrors he dredged up to kill us, we needed the Erinye tribesmen. All of them. The first step towards accomplishing such a lofty goal was to make an undeniable show of power and authority. And since I was the actual, living, breathing god in the group…
"Are you ready for this?" Though Volistad had crept up beside me in total silence, his presence didn't startle me. One of the fringe benefits of having become a god was that in addition to being utterly impervious to cold, my senses had gotten sharper and finer. Volistad had made no more noise than a whisper of air over a cold glacier, but I had been able to hear the metronome rhythm of his heart. I had been able to hear even the tiny, normally inaudible cracks of the ice beneath his armored feet.
I turned just my head so that my eyes met those of the ranger. “I’m a demigod. I’m much harder to kill, and I have power that will dwarf even that of the Stormcallers.” I grinned at him, showing all my teeth in an expression that, to him, would normally have appeared to be a threat. “Even with all that, Vol, I’m still nervous. Does that seem strange to you?”
Volistad returned my smile with interest- though the fangs that filled his mouth lent him the threatening aspect that I lacked. He matched the smile with his people's own pleased expression, a narrowing of his canted blue on brown eyes into a sliver of amusement. "It is not strange at all," he replied, speaking in the Erinye language. "You are strong now, but you were strong before. You have great power now, but once you made a machine that leashed the fury of a storm to your will. You may not have been a god before, but I dare say that you were closer to divinity than you might have admitted." The ranger gestured out to the open cavern mouth that would lead us, one way or another, to the home of his people. Those people had tried to kill both of us, not so long ago. I was immortal now, but not indestructible. I could still be slain. This could go catastrophically wrong, and if it did, this planet and everyone on it would only be the first destroyed. "Those people are afraid. They are right to be afraid, even if they got the reason for their fear so drastically wrong." He put a hand on my shoulder, careful not to scratch my skin with his exposed claws. "You're nervous because you don't feel much different than you did when we first met. You know yourself to be a god now, but you are not all that much greater than you were before. But take heart, Joanna. You could have done this without the power of Ravanur. How much more successful will you be now that you have taken your rightful place?"
I snorted. “You’re a flatterer, Ranger Volistad.”
Vol rose just as silently as he had come, and with easy, practiced motions, he strung his great bow with its braided steel string. He made it look so easy- as if the bow he wielded didn't boast a draw weight in excess of five-hundred kilograms. He fitted a matching steel arrow to the string and winked a predator's eye at me with a tilt of his head. "It isn't flattery if it is true, Akkandaka." Without another word, he bounded off over the ice and quickly disappeared.
I winced. Akkandaka. Storm Queen, in Erinye. All three of my companions had been calling me that since my ascension, apparently referencing the title of one of the mythical "First Stormcallers." I wasn't sure how I felt about being compared to the legendary figures of the Erin-Vulur religion and history. I was a demigod- and that had been hard enough to accept. I wasn't sure it was entirely healthy to be referred to as one of the great historical founders of Erinye magic and religion. It felt like a massive weight was settled on my shoulders every time one of them said it. Akkandaka. Storm Queen. I felt like an imposter wearing that name. After all, none of it was really magic. It was all ancient technology "sufficiently advanced," to quote Arthur Clarke. Try explaining that to the Erinye at large, I thought. My three companions had been there with me when their own central deity, Ravanur, had told us about the whole divine lie, and they still swore by her name and called me Storm Queen.
A figure appeared in the mouth of the tunnel, swathed in tattered ranger's leathers and a ragged fur cloak, leaning heavily on a blunted iron short spear for a cane. That was Thukkar, the other Erinye ranger in our group. Unlike Volistad, he had not been empowered by a crazy old tech shaman when he had nearly died. Instead, he had been forced to deal with the agonizing reality of his own injury, and he had kept up with all of us nonetheless. He really was amazing in action. I could see why Nissikul, Volistad's sister, liked him. Behind Thukkar, a cluster of fur-clad Erinye appeared, bearing a wide variety of weapons. Among them, I could see the ornate scrimshaw staff that Vol had told me would indicate our chief adversary in all this. Elder Lot, the Master of the Stormcallers- the one who had betrayed Volistad and all but killed him, and the one who had ordered my death. He was only one of several Elder Councilmen, but everything hinged on him. It was he that I had to defeat, if not by words, then by a dramatic and humiliating show of force. The Erinye may have looked much like humans, but they had diverged at a crucial juncture, long before civilization had developed on the third rock from Sol. They were predators- pack hunters, and like any pack of wolves, they responded to displays of dominance. It was almost time. It was time for Nissi's part in all this.
The wind hissed across the ice, scraping up clouds of ice fragments and turning them into a crystalline fog. I could feel the little points touching my face, though they did not sting the way they once would had. I was, regardless of my reservations, Akkandaka. The Storm Queen did not fear cold, ice, or lightning. The storm and this world were now my home. My domain. It would take more than blowing ice to make me flinch. Nissikul emerged from the thickest part of the glittering cloud, looking much as she had the day I had met her- the day she had tried to kill me. She was clad from head to foot in black plate armor, shaped by the strength of her own substantial powers from the witch-ice that was the symbol of Stormcaller power. Her missing arm had been replaced by a replica, made from the same dark ice, and in that hand, she gripped a jet-black great hammer that dribbled lightning in her wake. She strode directly towards Elder Lot, appearing from the fog with all the menace of the grim reaper. She passed Thukkar without a word and stood tall before her former master; her faceless helm tilted to stare down at the frail old mage.
For his part, Elder Lot was remarkably cool and unconcerned. Of course he was. Not even the specter of a Stormcaller that he had thought dead could shake him in front of those he purported to lead- not if he wanted to remain an Elder. Not if he wanted to remain alive. Though he was a full head shorter than the armored menace of Nissikul, he somehow managed to look down his nose at her. In a theatrically loud, commanding tone, he laughed with feigned joy and relief and said, "Nissikul! Daughter! We thought you dead along with the faaaaaaaaaalse god! How joyoussssssss is the return of a lost daughter to the servants of Ravanurrrrrrrr?" It seemed to me that the air of command that he was projecting was somewhat blunted by his tendency to stretch out his words randomly, but none of the Erinye around him seemed to think so. Behind the Master Stormcaller, the dozens of gathered Erinye muttered and shifted nervously. Despite Elder Lot's confidence, they were unsure of the situation. They could feel the tension. They knew something else was coming.
Another voice, much less booming, but no less commanding, spoke from within the crowd. “Lot! Is this the Stormcaller that slew the false god and smote down her foul tower?” The speaker emerged a moment later, dressed in ornate furs and cloaks, his short, colorless Erinye hair thinning a little at the top of his head and giving him the unmistakable aspect of a priest. “Surely we cannot be surprised at the survival of so great a warrior?
!” It was a pretty good bit of theater. Clearly, they had not been prepared for Nissikul’s return. The tragic death of a martyr was much easier for the rulers of the tribe to use to their own benefit than a living, breathing hero. For her part, Nissikul didn’t give them anything. It was not the time yet. She just stood, her black helm staring into the face of Elder Lot, and exuded raw menace.
The crowd around Nissi, Thukkar, and the Elders was still growing, and before long, the whole mouth of the cave was packed with eager onlookers. Good. We needed as many Erinye as possible to see this. Nissikul shifted the glowing hammer in her icy fist and planted its wide, crackling head firmly on the ice beneath her feet. The signal. It was almost time. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and reached out in my mind for the heart of my power. Stormcallers were marvels of technological design. They were mages who could call to the nanite "winds" that Ravanur and her fellow rebel gods had made so long ago. These clouds of nanites and ancient collective intelligence obeyed their commands, usually. A Stormcaller, sufficiently motivated, could create a storm much like the one my tower had produced so many weeks ago. With a wave of her hand, she could reshape the ice of the glacier, and she could move heat around with incredible efficiency. Sometimes, a Stormcaller could even hear the very edges of people's thoughts. I was not a Stormcaller. I was something much, much worse.
I called, and all the minor wind spirits within a hundred miles answered me. I gave them just a little push, a little suggestion, and the wind changed. The mist that Nissikul had summoned for her entrance was whipped away like a ragged flag before a hurricane. Clouds gathered in the sky, swirling in an ever-expanding vortex. My newly regrown hair whipped up and swirled around me in a silken halo, and I could feel static start to crawl along my arms and in towards my new, mechanical god's heart.
The gathered Erinye shouted with alarm and tried to back away, into the cave, but a new voice, both strident and commanding, froze them all in their tracks. "Stand fast you sniveling cowards!" It took me a moment to realize that it had been Volistad who had spoken. He stepped out into view of his assembled people, his crystalline armor reflecting the darkening sky, and shouted to rival the gathering growl of thunder. "Stand fast, Erin-Vulur, you who are the children of Palamun, the children of Ravanur! Stand fast and face judgment!"
Elder Lot sneered and began to speak, “Ah, the traitor yet li-” I gritted my teeth and concentrated, and the Elder’s words were swallowed in a titanic cascade of thunder that shook icicles free from the roof of the little cavern. Amidst the crash of shattering ice and the all-encompassing bellow of my gathering storm, any accusations the Elder might have been trying to make were lost in the clamor.
"Your deception lasted long enough!" Volistad roared back at the Master Stormcaller, who, to his credit, didn't flinch even as everything seemed to come apart around him. I watched Volistad carefully. He was furious, giving vent to all of his rage at the Elder's betrayal, all his fury at what that betrayal had cost him. I needed him angry, and he knew it. But if he went for the old man's throat, all of this would be for nothing. The ranger's fangs gleamed yellow-white as he bared every one of his carnivore teeth at Elder Lot- and there was not a happy narrowing of his eyes to soften the implicit threat. Volistad's eyes were wide and staring, locked on the Elder's own eyes in open, blatant challenge. Come on…. I thought. You just need to say… “Kneel! All of you! Kneel before the Chosen of Ravanur! Kneel before the Akkandaka!”
My cue. I stood and strode purposefully around the icy hillock I had been crouching behind. As I moved, I heard my call finally being answered by its intended recipient. Somewhere far away, another nanite spirit answered- this one much different from those I had tasked with gathering a storm for me. I marched straight towards the gathered Erin-Vulur, measuring each step. I had to look determined but not hurried. We had practiced this body language several times; Vol, Nissi, and Thukkar all coaching me on how to move my body like a predator. It had not been hard to learn. After all, I was the Tigress. Even as I approached the crowd, thunder surged above me, matched by a subtle chuckle in my mind. The voice of the Great North Wind reached my ears, amused. I see that you survived. Welcome home, my Queen. What would you have of me?
Give them a show. I thought back. Show them a tempest like they have never seen before. The North Wind’s only answer was an earsplitting peal of thunder, laughter writ large across the frozen sky. The spinning vortex over my head began to expand, growing like a flower in a time lapse video, its dark petals reaching down to surround the whole scene. Draw the curtain, I thought. Now the real drama begins. The Erin-Vulur watched me approach in silence, struck dumb with awe. They had room in their pantheon for new gods, both good and evil, and the appearance of a new one was not, in itself, very surprising to them. But to be confronted so directly, that was something they did not expect. Their nervousness struck them dumb.
Into the silence, Volistad's voice thundered. "I said, KNEEL!" Sheets of lightning reached from sky to ice and back again behind me, and most of the Erinye before me dropped instantly to their knees. There was only so much religious terror they could withstand. I drew even with Volistad, and as one, he and Nissikul stepped back so that they flanked me at my shoulders, Volistad on the right, Nissikul on my left. But not all of the Erinye would be cowed so easily. Elder Lot, and the lead priest, Vassa, had not budged an inch. Tight knots of their respective followers clustered around them, their faces tight and defiant. Each one of them grinned widely, showing their teeth in a pitiful echo of Volistad's naked fury. Elder Lot began to speak, and I held up a hand to stay Volistad's impulse to silence him. It was important that we let him speak.
“So,” shouted the Elder over the tumult of my colossal storm. “You survived your rightful execution, Dark One! And you have also somehow corrupted my youngest Stormcaller, Nissikul along with her brother!” He gestured to the other Elder with his chin. “Perhaps Vassa, here, was right! Perhaps they were just a weak bloodline!” Scattered laughter swept the assembly, mostly confined to the cohort of standing priests and Stormcallers that surrounded the two defiant Elders. “But my question for you is this! What have you done with the Deepseeker?”
I ignored the question and the mockery. “Lot Ekenad! Vassa Atralad! You stand accused of intentionally and willfully leading the noble Erin-Vulur astray! You have failed in your duties as given to your predecessors by the Great Mother! She has sent me to pass judgment upon you, to root out the corruption that infects your Elder Council and put any servants of the Dark Ones I should find to the sword!”
“Lies!” Vassa screamed, his pale face purpling slightly in rage.
I raised one hand and pointed at the Elder priest’s throat. He gagged as he tried to scream more denial at me, and then fell to his hands and knees, retching. In a conversational tone, I said, “I wasn’t done. Wait for your turn.” I turned my attention back to Elder Lot. “I see that you will not heed the words of the Great Mother. I see that you and those like you are too far gone, corrupted and lost. And so I challenge you to trial by combat. Let the matter be settled beneath the gaze of Palamun, and may the Great Mother feed her burug with the blood of the defeated!”
Now, sink the dagger. Volistad stepped forward; his eyes alight with a savage inner fire. “Or are you too much of a coward? Perhaps instead you prefer to stab your enemy in the back as you did with me?” Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and even some of the Stormcallers looked uncertain over at the Elder. It was considered highly shameful for an Erinye to slay another member of his tribe outside of a direct, face to face confrontation. There. That was what we needed. We needed doubt. We needed Lot to realize that failing to accept the challenge would forever weaken his authority. And no tribal leader, much less the tribal leader of a bunch of carnivores, could ever risk weakening his own authority. We had him and he knew it. “Fine,” Elder Lot growled. “But none of my Stormcallers, not even I, could fight one such as you in single combat. We of the Erin-Vulur have slain many false gods as a tri
be. It would be foolish to fight a god myself, or to order one of my own to do the same.”
“I agree,” I said smoothly, with a magnanimous wave of my hand. “And so you may select a champion. I have already selected mine.” On the ground at Lot’s feet, Vassa’s struggles were weakening, slowing to fitful twitches. I sighed. If I left him alive, he would be a problem. But my goal here was to turn as many of the Erin-Vulur to my side as I could. And that meant swaying or bloodlessly replacing as many of their leaders as I could. I flicked a finger in his direction and willed a short command into the nanite spirit that was filling his throat with witch-ice. A moment later, Vassa slumped with relief, not even trying to get up, panting like a dog. His mouth worked soundlessly, but he didn’t dare to speak again. Good. He had learned his lesson. Perhaps the others would as well. This would get a lot bloodier very quickly if they didn’t.
...
Volistad
I stepped out onto the dueling field. It wasn't really anything special- just a flat section of ice around which had been gouged a wide circle. I had stripped to the waist, and the only weapons I carried were an iron short spear and a hunting knife. My opponent was already waiting. I ignored the throngs of Erinye huddled around the dueling grounds in their furs. I needed to focus on my target. He was one of Vassa's priests, a big man named Kotikedd, and he was the spitting image of the broad-shouldered statues in the village shrine. His eyes were narrower than mine, and his jaw jutted dramatically, thanks in part to the oversized lower fangs that protruded from behind his lips. He looked like a feral throwback of an Erinye, one of the big, vicious curs that Palamun had saved from starvation and extinction so many cycles before. Doubtlessly, he was strong. Obviously, he was tough. But so was I. A magick heart beat within my chest, and the strength of an Erinye champion was mine. I met his narrow, burug-black eyes and grinned with all of my teeth.
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