by AB Bradley
You can. You will.
His guide veered upward. Iron clawed at the water more than swam through it. A bubble escaped his nose and rolled like a rubber ball up his brow.
The fish angled for an odd patch in the ceiling where spears of light gave the water a few slight flesh wounds.
His heart fluttered, both from excitement and surrender. Iron poured his strength into his aching arms and kicked with all the mad desperation of a drowning man.
One hand grasped the light. Another broke the surface. Iron gripped a stone edge and hauled himself into the open.
He swallowed air, sweet air. His lungs expanded, thanking him as they cooled. He swung his arms over a marble lip and hacked the briny seawater from his throat. For a calming moment, he lay his cheek on the floor and closed his eyes, listening to his pulse fade into regularity.
“That was too close.” Iron rested a moment longer, then came to his feet with little more than a grunt.
A mosaic of gemstones so deep blue, they flirted with black studded a round wall. Diamonds sprinkled between the gems and made the walls and ceiling their own miniature dome of the night sky. A woman’s statue towered in the center. Her hair fell over her shoulders in gleaming waves while she clasped her hands beneath her swollen belly. From her knuckles, the sea dripped onto toes peeking from her flowing dress. She stared forward, a loving smile shining despite the lonely eternity she faced.
Iron smirked and walked forward. “So you’re the Burning Mother. The books don’t do your statues justice.”
He went to her belly and kissed it. When before the god of loving sacrifice, Sander said it was a boon.
“Of course, we worshipped her,” a hoarse voice whispered. “They are the ones who raise the Suns. Without them, life drowns in the void.”
Iron spun around. He went for his sword, only now remembering he’d left it behind. Another stupid decision, the next in a long line of foolish ones he’d made.
A figure floated above the water’s undulating table. Pale braids flowed over his shoulders and ended at his knees. His skin was pale as a snow hare’s fur, and he watched Iron with wide, amber eyes. He smiled, two fangs protruding from his lips. A robe fluttered around his feet. Like everything about him save his eyes, it lacked any hint of color. The creature blinked slowly, so slowly, like one who had eternity to act.
“You aren’t human,” Iron said. Pulled along a line of curiosity, he stepped closer to the apparition. Something about the alp looked so strangely familiar.
He grinned, flashing those sharp fangs. “No, Fireborn, I am alp.”
“Have you come to kill me?” Iron marched toward the water’s edge. “Or are you going to take me to the heretic king?” His eyes frantically searched the water. “And where is the fish? Have you killed her? If you have, I swear on the Sinner—”
“I have not killed her. I served her.” He floated from water to the stone. “Blessed is the Mother, for all bow to her, and she bows to none.” The alp flowed past Iron and prostrated himself before the statue, Iron too stupefied to stop him. Why did the ghost look so familiar?
The alp rose and faced Iron. His robes drifted around him like a summer breeze toyed with them despite the still air. “I have waited long for you to come, Fireborn.”
“You call me Fireborn. She called me by that name in my dream. What does it mean?” Iron didn’t care if this was an alp. If he had answers, Iron wanted them.
“A child forged. A diplomat. A peacemaker. A warrior. A weapon. The Fireborn is the Son of Prophecy and Champion of the Six if only…” He paused and shook his head. “…If only he can forgive them.”
“Forgive what? Tell me, please. You’ve got to have some answers, and I’m so tired of riddles.”
The ghostly alp nodded and stared at the Mother’s statue. “Listen to my story, and you may find some. I have waited countless generations to speak it. This is not the whole truth, but it is as much of it as I could find before my time ended.” He turned to the starry wall and waved his arm. The gems flared, and a story in them unfolded as he spoke.
“Two titans ruled under the First Sun, stronger than the the rest and more beloved by the Six than any others. Their names were Freidon and Asgeron, and their strength sculpted mountains, their feet dug valleys, their very voices thunder echoing across Urum’s plains. Freidon was given the frozen north beyond the Sapphire Sea, and to Asgeron they gifted the verdant south.”
The priest sighed and dipped his chin. “There was peace for an age longer than any other that would come after. Life flourished. Urum flourished, but nowhere did it flourish more than in the south. Asgeron’s kingdom was unparalleled in creation, and the Six showered him with praise for his stewardship, not knowing that their blessings cast a shadow to the north.
“In his icy home, Freidon’s heart withered. The titan grew jealous of his southern brother and spawned a hatred for the Six. Freidon gathered the titans in his realm and spoke poison in their ears. He blackened their hearts as his was blackened to the gods. And so, Freidon raised an army against his brother, and while the gods’ eyes shone upon Asgeron, Freidon destroyed the temples of the Six and blinded them to the world they so lovingly created.”
Iron watched the wall of stars shift and glow as the story played out. He saw Asgeron and Freidon. He watched the temples burn and the gods fear for their children.
“Freidon’s army washed across Urum. Few of Asgeron and his allies remained, and they were vastly outnumbered. In a last, desperate gamble, Asgeron built a shrine to the Six so small, so insignificant, Freidon would never find it. He pleaded for their help, and through his prayer, the Six gained vision on the world and saw the devastation wrought across creation. The gods spied Freidon’s victory and realized he would bring his bloodlust to the heavens next.
“The Burning Mother made the First Sacrifice then. She fell from the sky and poured herself into the titan she loved, bestowing in him the strength of a goddess. But should he fail, she would fail. Should he die, so would she. Asgeron rose and battled his brother. They burned Urum with their rage, but in the end, Asgeron defeated Freidon. As his brother died, the mighty titan saw the desolation their war had wrought, and that he alone survived. He asked the Mother why they would create creatures capable of such devastation, but she could only say that the the gods’ children were more like the gods than he could ever know. Night fell, and as it did, Asgeron took his own life, so broken by the war he had become. Thus ended the First Sun of Urum, the greatest of all the ages.”
The alp looked at the Mother’s face and ran his hand down her belly. “It feels good to say that.” He turned to Iron. “Now you know a truth no others of your Sun know.”
“It’s an interesting story, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“Think. The Six did not defeat the titans, Fireborn, although they did bless a champion. It took one titan to defeat another.”
Iron’s nerves constricted in a cold shock. “But that would mean…”
“Yes. The truth is upon you. This is the secret of divinity. This is the key to almighty.”
“The Six never defeated the titans.” Iron stumbled backwards as the apparition faced him. “They never defeated the alp either. We’ve been wrong all along. The scriptures, the stories, they say the Six stopped the wars. The Six never did!”
Red rimmed the priest’s amber eyes. Tears fell in streaks down his pale skin, and he trembled, sobbing as a torrent of barricaded emotions shattered the cage of his heart. “I loved my brothers and sisters. I loved them all. I had to destroy them or they would have destroyed creation. No, the Six did not destroy the titans. A titan must destroy a titan. An alp must destroy an alp.” His gaze met Iron’s. “And a human must destroy a human.”
“But who is the Serpent? He’s the key to this, I know it, but know one knows about him. No one ever seems to hear about him until he returns.”
The alp shook his head, his chin dipping. “I sought the answer, but failed in findin
g it. The titans whispered of him, but few of those whispers survived into my Sun. I only know the circle is broken because of him, and if you do not repair it, then the Third Sun will set, and when this war is done, no human will see the Fourth one rise.”
“So if I don’t succeed, no matter what I do, everyone will die.” He looked to the Mother. “You never loved me. You cursed me. How could you do such a thing?”
“Don’t say that. Never say that!” The alp swelled in his vision until he stood as tall as the statue. Those amber eyes swallowed Iron. “She loves you as all the Six love you. There was no hope for the titans. I tried, but the Serpent had corrupted my people beyond repair. There is hope for you, and you have a choice. You can save them, Iron. You can save all mankind before it’s too late. Do not fail where Asgeron and I did. Find the titan’s lost shrine and complete the story I could not. Do not fail. Fly.”
“But how?” Iron stalked forward, teeth clenched. Gods be damned, why did he feel like he’d seen this alp before? “How do I do this?”
“You must forgive them. Learn their secret shame, and forgive them. There is still time.”
“But I don’t even hate them. I doubt them now, but I don’t hate them!”
“You don’t know them. There is a secret hidden to us, one buried and forgotten. The circle is broken. Find the shrine, learn the secret. Forgive them.” The priest reached into his robe. Tears still wet his cheeks, although his smile was one of pure joy. “Take this. It is my gift to you, passed from one Fireborn to another.”
He produced a sword that glowed with starlight. Odd runes ran the length of the curved blade. The weapon’s blade curved like a backbone before ending in a vicious point. He’d never seen the strange metal it was forged from, but somehow it looked familiar.
“Take it,” the alp said, shoving the sword toward him. “If you want to save this Sun, you will need this. Do you have the strength? Will you deliver mankind?”
Iron stared at the weapon. Bizarre. He hadn’t met a single person other than Sander until a few weeks ago. He shouldn’t want to risk his life for the angry, cold people of this world. He shouldn’t want to fight a war for them when they’d just keep warring long after his bones turned to dust. He shouldn’t want to do anything but read books in a cabin hidden in the snow.
But then he thought of Ayska and the scars she bore. He thought of Vigal and Gil and Fiolle and lanky Thip with his horrible cooking. He thought of Sander, the man who sacrificed everything to raise a boy not his own. He thought of Kalila and the distant, saddened glimmer in her eyes.
She was innocent. Blameless. They all were.
Iron didn’t know what the circle was or why it was broken. He didn’t know the gods’ secret shame. For the first time in his life, he didn’t really care anything about the Six or the mysterious Serpent who hated them. Real people lived in his life now, not a bunch of distant gods now fallen. Those people didn’t deserve a war that would destroy them, and if anyone could find a way to stop it, he could.
Iron grabbed the weapon, and a brilliant aura ignited around the priest. “And so it is done. From one Sun to the next, let the champion rise. Forgive them, Fireborn, or perish creation. He who wields the Fang of Asgeron alone can stop the Serpent’s rise.”
A burning, blinding flash engulfed Iron. As black overtook him, he finally realized why the spirit’s looks bothered him. The alp skin, fangs, and eyes threw him, but now he realized the ghost’s face and his were the same. Black swallowed him, and the world vanished.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Celebration
Strong hands wrapped beneath Iron’s arms and pulled him from a pit of black. Voices carried through the abyss as if on wind. Something hard pressed against his back.
Iron heaved and vomited. Light blinded him as he twisted onto his hands and spilled the contents of his stomach on a hard surface. He blinked, and his eyes focused on his surroundings.
No gems dotted these walls. No statue of the Burning Mother towered over him, and neither did the spirit of the second Fireborn champion hover over the rippling water. No, he stood in the mural-slathered hall of empty alcoves, that place where he’d first seen the pale fish that led him to a secret knowledge and hinted at a forgotten shame. His clothes lay in a pile beside him, the sword he left now replaced by the one called the Fang of Asgeron, sheathed as it was in a nondescript scabbard.
“Bless the Six, he’s alive!” Sander’s voice penetrated Iron’s stupor. Blurred figures gained clarity as he blinked seawater from his eyes.
“Alive?” Iron rubbed his aching temple. “Of course—”
Sander darted into view. He slid onto his knees and embraced his apprentice. One of Sander’s arms coiled around Iron’s torso while the other cradled his head. Iron recognized the man’s smell. He’d grown up with it, and it brought back memories of happier, ignorant days.
“You gave me a scare, boy,” Sander whispered. “Don’t do that to me. I couldn’t bear you to leave me like that. Not sure if my heart’s strong enough to take it.”
Master, they lied to us. They never fought the evil, they sent us to fight it, and each time, the war destroyed the world. Our faith is a lie. Everything is a lie. The words wrestled behind his lips, but he forced them down instead of out. He coughed briny water and wrapped his arms around his master. Feeling Sander’s heartbeat calmed his own.
Iron pulled away and slapped on a silly grin. “Like I’d let the great Sander Hale fall to a broken heart. Didn’t you always tell me the only true way for a Sinner’s man to go is in a final blaze of glory? I mean, that’s why you’re so scared of fights, isn’t it? You’re just saving all your bravery for that last big, hopeless brawl. With girls watching…Fun ones, not ones like Ayska.”
Sander laughed and squeezed him again. “You’re a stupid boy and you get on my last nerve. But yes, that’s probably how it all goes down, when the sky’s on fire and the world’s watching.”
He smiled wider and wiped the last few drops of sea from his brow. If Sander only knew how much like prophecy those words sounded.
The man released Iron and narrowed his eyes. “What in all the hells were you thinking?”
“I, ah, well…I just got mad, and…” He looked into his master’s dark eyes. The wrinkles around them deepened with the man’s worry. All Sander’s life, he worshiped the Six. Telling him the truth now bordered on profane for someone as dedicated to the Six as Sander. The time had come for Iron to keep his visions to himself.
“I saw the ruins in the hole and thought I’d go exploring. It was deeper than I thought.”
“Oh, you wanted treasure? You could’ve at least waited for me to come with. It’s been a day or two since I went on a good hunt and you should know better than to go diving into a fucking underwater maze without me around to help you.” His eyes cast about. “Find anything?”
Iron’s eyes shifted to the enchanted sword piled on his clothes. He pointed his shoulder toward the weapon. Even covered, it shone like moonlight, its guard and grip pulsing gently. He latched onto the grip and lifted it before his master. “What do you think?”
Sander traced the length of the sheath. The man cocked his head and scrunched his nose into a wrinkled wedge like he’d just walked behind a greyhorn with bad gas. “How much seawater did you drink?”
“Very funny.”
“Your sword? It’s not what I would call humorous, more like sad. I mean, it’s not a bad quality, but I wasn’t exactly rich enough to give you the best of the best.”
Iron dropped the sword in his lap. He ran his thumb across the grip, and it left a shimmering line in its wake. Sander couldn’t see what Iron saw. This weapon, whatever it was, wouldn’t let Iron flash it around so easily. “I guess I did drink a little too much of the sea. I thought I picked up a weapon. I guess my own had fallen.”
“You’ll need to clean it tonight. I should slap you upside the head for diving in with a steel weight strapped around your ass, but I’ll let it slide.”
“I’ll clean it. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry for even storming off in the first place.”
That last bit was true at least. Sander helped him to his feet. “C’mon, the others are worried. Let’s just forget our little talk before you ran off and have a good dinner. Ayska wants to throw a party, show off the little kingdom she’s claimed.”
“Master?”
Sander paused at the exit. “Yes?”
“If the Six ever wronged you, would you forgive them?”
The man laughed and crossed his arms. “The Six can’t go wrong. What a silly question.”
“Yeah, but just say theoretically they could do something wrong, something that would even shame them. If they asked you to forgive them for it after you’ve spent your life serving them, could you do it?”
“Hmm.” He pinched his chin and furrowed his brow. “If the highest of the gods could wrong me so greatly it required their forgiveness, I suppose I’d wonder if they were the right gods in the first place. Then the question begs, do we worship gods for their power, or because they are an example of how we should be? A god worshiped for power is no more a god than a wildfire or an avalanche. A god who makes us aspire to be someone greater than who we are, now that is true divinity. Let’s get you onto the surface before all this philosophical talk puts me asleep.”
“You never answered my question.”
“I don’t really accept the premise of it, and neither should you. We’re Sinner’s men, boy, and we’ve got real problems facing us. Better to not waste time creating new ones for our heads to ponder.”
Sander waited at the tunnel for his apprentice. Iron nodded as if he accepted the answer and followed the man on the gentle upward slope. While they walked in quiet darkness lit by the glowing weapon only Iron saw, he thought on Sander’s words. They were wiser than his master knew, and more apt than the man would ever admit if he knew the truth.
A god worshipped for power is no more a god than a wildfire or an avalanche. For the first time in his life, Iron began to see the Six more as avalanches than as examples.
