by Rin Chupeco
And then I blacked out.
“About time you woke up,” Noelle said dryly, as I struggled to sit up. “Though you didn’t miss much.”
“Don’t move so quickly,” Sumiko cautioned, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“What happened?” We were still there by the foot of the mountain, and the crew still stood guard over us and the other Devoted, but the goddess herself was gone.
“Couldn’t stop her,” Noelle said, nodding toward the Abyss. “I don’t think anyone could have.”
She’d taken me out the same way I’d taken her out on the Brevity. I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind. “How long was I out?”
“No more than an hour.”
“And why aren’t we going after her?”
“She left behind enough of her people to make fighting our way through rather difficult.” The steward sounded calm as always, but there was no mistaking the edge to her voice. “Our best bet would be to wait and see if anyone sends back word.” She glanced at me. “But I don’t think that’s something you’re interested in doing.”
“Hells, no,” I growled. They might be at an advantage, but I wasn’t going to be stopped by some inexperienced chits still learning to gate. Janella was the most dangerous of them all, but she’d left for the Abyss with Odessa. One less threat to worry about.
Of the ones who remained behind, I’d singled out Slyp as having the best mastery of his gates. They’d been smart enough to separate most of the Devoted from each other, to stop them from scheming when their backs were turned, but if I played it right, then I wouldn’t need many to overpower them all. Much to my relief, the undead Devoted and the shadows that hovered just beyond our camp were gone as well.
“I don’t know if Her Holiness intended it,” Noelle whispered, “but all the shadows and the undead Devoted went with her.”
That was the goddess’s first mistake. Another was allowing Sumiko to speak to me. I focused on the other Catseye. “You know that Odessa’s going to be in danger at the breach, right?”
Sumiko nodded, looking worried. “I know what you intend. But I cannot recommend you entering the Abyss, Lady Tianlan.”
“Not a—” I paused, took a breath. “You know I have to.”
“Then what do you propose?”
It all worked rather well, if I may say so myself.
“Stay away from me, you liar!” Miel screamed, shoving Gareen away with a knee and attracting the attention of everyone in camp.
“What did I do?” The poor Mistshaper sounded sincerely confused.
“I’m sick and tired of you messing with the other girls!” the girl shouted. “You pay me compliments like you care about me and say we could be more, but now I learn you said the exact same things to Halida and Filia. And you have the absolute gall to say you love only me?”
The normally confident Gareen was stumbling, “I—of course I meant it, I would never have—”
“What?” Filia shouted, struggling to her feet despite her bound hands. “You told me that I was the only one you ever loved!”
“You damned liar!” Halida screeched. “You told me you would propose when we return to Aranth!”
Most of Odessa’s loyal Devoted had moved toward the fighters, and I saw Sumiko scamper nimbly to Gracea’s side amid the commotion. It took a good amount of effort to pull the girls away from Gareen, and despite knowing what was going to happen, I couldn’t help but feel amused at the sight, even as I inched closer to Aleron.
It was Slyp who first noticed Sumiko missing, and his eyes narrowed when he saw her attending to the Starmaker. “What are you doing?” he demanded threateningly, and the gate in his eyes opened—
—and he immediately dropped to the ground, Noelle looking ruefully down at his crumpled form. “Sorry,” she muttered.
The others turned, but were immediately bowled over by the unexpected bright light singing from Gracea as the Devoted channeled her powers to their fullest extent. I’d turned my head away just in time, finishing up my healing of Aleron. The Icewright sprang into action, partly encasing the other guards in ice to immobilize them, even as Sumiko and I moved to the next imprisoned Devoted, working swiftly to heal their gates.
The tides turned quickly at that point, and now it was the Devoted who stood guard. “That was a good distraction,” I complimented Sumiko. “I’m surprised they even agreed to do this.”
Sumiko coughed. “It wasn’t scripted. It was Noelle who told Miel, making sure the others were close enough to hear.”
“And they . . . had no idea Gareen had been cheating on all of them?”
“I suppose love can be blind in a lot of ways.”
“They’re no danger now,” Gracea reported tersely, coming up behind us.
“Bind them. Aleron, remove the ice before they develop hypothermia.”
“It’s no more than they deserve,” the Starmaker retorted.
“My orders, Gracea. Keep the Icewrights surrounding them in case they attempt anything else, but no one is to be harmed.”
We stared warily at each other for a few seconds. “Odessa’s safety is paramount,” I finally said. “I want a vow from you this instant, a promise not to harm her or her followers until we return to Aranth, where any punishment will be decided by Asteria herself.”
Gracea’s lips twisted, but she nodded. “I promise. Though the idea sorely tries my patience.”
“I intend to make for the Abyss and find Odessa.”
“You’ll need someone to light the way.”
I wasn’t expecting her to volunteer. “No. You’re needed here.”
“I’m coming, too,” Noelle said quietly.
I knew better now than to argue. “I can’t guarantee what might happen inside that chasm. Or what might come out of it.”
“We know our duties.” Gracea extended her arm and sparks of light illuminated the plains. “We will see to them. I’ll light as much of the path leading in as I can.”
“Let’s go, then,” I said, trying not to think about the last time I found myself near these mountains, and stepped toward the chasm, into the horrors that I could only imagine waited for me there.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Arjun the Domestic
THE HUTS WERE EMPTY. It didn’t look like anyone had made this place home for a long time, no doubt because of their nightmarish neighbors next door. So near to the Abyss, who knew what atrocities had come climbing out to visit?
“They were close enough to see the earth split when it did,” Haidee said, hugging herself. “They saw the world break.”
“I guess we’re the only idiots to choose to get closer instead of running away. We’re going to have to risk whatever spirits are still lingering in this place and rest up in one of those huts, though. Maybe we’ll learn more.”
The house we finally picked was a solid stone affair, with the roof still intact, at the center of the village. I guessed it was the head chief’s house, being larger than the others. There was a collection of wooden and metal instruments in one of the rooms, and I puzzled over their use until Haidee laughingly informed me they were cooking utensils.
“Hell of a lot of doohickeys just for food.” The only things we had back in the desert were a large pot, a spoon big enough to stir the stew, and a small spit for meat to roast over a fire.
“The cooks used similar things back in the Golden City. I don’t have as much experience with cooking, but I can try.”
Her eyes wandered to something behind me, her cheeks coloring, and I turned to look. There was a large cot taking up half of the room, its size clearly a sign of luxury in these parts. The fabric had rotted and fallen in, but the wood itself looked stable even after years of neglect. We could get one of the canvases from the rig and stretch it over the frame for a comfortable dayspan’s sleep. It was even large enough to accommodate my height.
It would be large enough to accommodate the both of us, actually.
I felt my own face he
at up. “Ah,” I stumbled, “I’ll find another place.”
“No!” she nearly shouted, and then blushed again. “It’s the only bed here, and I’d rather we didn’t have to split up into separate houses to sleep. We need to stay together in case something happens.”
Something sure as hell was going to happen if we slept on the same cot together, but I hadn’t worked up the nerve to say that to her face yet. “I’m going to see if we can start a fire,” I said, deciding that sleeping accommodations were future Arjun’s problem. “And I’ll bring the tarp in and see if we can fix the bed with it.”
“I’ll see if there’s anything edible outside,” she offered shyly, then eyed the bed again tentatively. The weather here was almost pleasantly temperate, but I found myself sweating all the same.
It took nearly half an hour to stretch the tarp out over the bed—it was still lumpy in some places, but infinitely more comfortable than being cooped up in the rig. I kicked away as much of the debris as I could into the corners before venturing out to see where Haidee was.
I found her at the edge of the village, closer to the mountain, with a bundle of greens gathered in her hands. She was staring out into the Abyss that loomed just beyond, a strange look on her face. “Do you see that?” she whispered.
“What?”
She pointed with one of the leafy plants. I screwed up my eyes and peered out—within that dark fog, half-hidden by the darkness, was what looked to be the remains of a structure, large enough to be visible at this distance, albeit clearly in ruins.
“Brighthenge.” She took a step forward, like she wanted to keep marching on until she’d reached it.
“You’re not up to strength yet,” I warned her. “And neither am I.”
She paused and nodded reluctantly. “I’m getting better, though.”
“Better isn’t good enough. We won’t waste much time if we spend another dayspan resting. We’re here already, and neither the chasm nor the mountain’s going to run away if we wait a few more hours.”
“I suppose. I just—it’s here. Brighthenge is right in front of me. I’m so close to finding out if there’s anything worth discovering inside it—or if it’s all been for nothing. I don’t know what I’m afraid of more—whether I’m going to be proven wrong, or right.” She looked down at the plants in her hands. “I’ll go prepare these.”
Haidee was good at figuring out edible plants, but she was hopeless when it came to making food. So while she tried to make our temporary living space just a little more livable, I went back to our stores and added to the pot some pieces of Betsy’s meat that had survived our journey, muttering a brief apology to the damn whale’s spirit as I did, because Haidee was a bad influence on me.
It took a while to finish the stew, but it wasn’t like we had anywhere else to be. “All set,” I called out, and turned—and saw her standing by the doorway, clad in nothing but one of my shirts, her hair a soft shade of rosy pink and wet and sticking to her neck. Burn me.
“I found a tub,” she whispered. “At least, I think it could be a tub. There’s a stream nearby, and I gated some water into it for a good scrub. It was only big enough for one person to fit—but I heated some more water for you, if you’d like?”
Goddess burn me. “Meal’s ready,” I muttered, suddenly aware that my tongue was halfway out my mouth. “I’ll, uh—I’ll go and find that spring—I mean that tub—and I’ll just—I mean—yeah, I’ll go.”
I’ve never washed myself so quickly in my life, and there was still steam curling up from our bowls by the time I’d returned, hers still untouched. “I wanted to wait for you,” she offered, but she was shaking slightly, and it wasn’t because of the cold.
I closed my eyes, not sure whether I was going to regret this. “Haidee. I meant it last time.” I sat myself gingerly on the edge of the bed. “I’m not—I don’t want to impose anything on you.”
“Impose?” she whispered.
“It isn’t just because this place is a damn shithole and you deserve better for your first . . . uh, for any experience, really. We’ve gone through a lot the last few days, and if we both want to take a step back and breathe for a moment instead of rushing into things . . .”
I’d guessed right; I saw the brief flash of relief on her face, though it was swiftly replaced by worry. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, pulling her legs up to her chest. “I really did want to . . .” She blushed. “I’d almost lost you. And I started thinking about all the what-ifs. What if I never have another moment with you like this? What if we never have a next time?”
“Hey,” I whispered, tugging her closer, and waited until she was settled against me. “You know that I, um . . .” Trying to explain the importance of my relationship with her by talking about a previous relationship was probably not going to be the best course of action, but I knew I had to make a point. “Was with someone before. In the past, long before I’d even met—”
I received a poke in the side for my efforts. “I know you’ve had a lover, you idiot.” Her face was buried against my chest, but I swore I could feel her rolling her eyes. “I get it. You don’t need to trip over yourself trying to make me feel better.”
I harrumphed. “And like I said, we weren’t serious. I liked her, but if I had to be blunt about it, I’d admit maybe we both just wanted a distraction from everything else going on. You and I”—and I started stumbling again—“it’s the opposite. We don’t need to do anything else for me to know that I care about you. I’m not concerned about the what-ifs. Spending time with you—that’s all I need.”
She pressed her mouth against my chest, and I knew she could feel my heart racing through the thin fabric. The bowls were still untouched on the table, but I wasn’t hungry. “You surprise me sometimes. Thank you. For giving me that choice.”
I looked down at her head, at the rippling colors of pink and red and purple suffusing her locks. “You shouldn’t thank me for something you’re supposed to have anyway,” I said gruffly.
I don’t how that functioned as some kind of come-on, but she was all over me in an instant. Her mouth was hot and sweet against mine, and it was she who forced my head back, demanding. I groaned, threading my hands through her riotous hair.
“Can we—just—do this?” she asked breathlessly in between kisses. “Nothing complicated, but—just like this?”
“Shut up, Haidee,” I growled, meaning every word, and tipped her backward onto the bed.
It might have all been her idea, but she wouldn’t stop blushing even several hours later, frequently casting looks my way that were a cross between dazed and aroused, and it took everything in me not to break my promise and do more. It had been pleasant to wake and find her sprawled atop me, though the faint spasm in my back informed me the bed had not been as comfortable as we had both let ourselves believe.
Worth it, though.
Occasionally, she would look at my hands and give an alluring little shudder, and I remembered all too clearly where they’d wandered, the soft places on her body they’d explored—and the strangled, pleasured sounds that left her throat when, on a stroke of sudden genius, my mouth had moved farther down.
“Did you like it?” I drawled. She’d practically passed out afterward, so I knew just exactly how much she’d liked it, but my male pride required that I hear it from her all the same.
She gave another delightful little shiver and turned away. “Shut up,” she muttered.
I grinned at her back. Damn if I didn’t love this girl.
Focus. Not the best time for romancing when you’re heading into hell.
Sobering enough to remember, the closer we got to the Abyss. The hours had done little to lessen the strange fog surrounding Brighthenge; every now and then we caught glimpses of a broken pillar or a row of shattered columns before the dark mist returned to sweep them back out of sight. Beyond that ruin, the chasm beckoned, a black maw on the ground that stretched on into nothing.
“You think there’ll be
more demons there?” I asked aloud, wanting to float that idea in case she had suggestions, or perhaps some alternate route in mind.
“According to the stories, all manners of horror came crawling out of that pit when the world broke,” she said tersely, paler now. “It explains the abundance of strange creatures roaming the lands, but . . . I would imagine quite a few of them still make this place their home.”
“Well, we survived everything the dregs of the world had to throw at us, so no reason to think we won’t do the same here, right?” I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re gonna tell me you plan on backing out now?”
“No. I’m just scared about what we might find.” She set her shoulders. “All right. Let’s go.”
The cold wind gripped us on all sides as we approached the remains of Brighthenge. It reminded me of the crumbling old structures I sometimes saw out in the desert after a sandstorm had done its number on them, leaving nothing in their wake but broken hulls of what must have been flourishing civilizations.
Considering its location teetering practically over the edge of the Abyss, the shrine was in better shape than I first thought. Much of the structure had fallen in on itself, but the main roof was intact, which suggested that anything housed within could have possibly survived, if the years and the dirt hadn’t gotten to it first.
Beyond the temple was the awfulness that was the Abyss—the bane of all our existence, the physical manifestation of the world’s breaking. The dark fog obscured the rest of that gaping chasm, preventing me from seeing how wide the fissure went, but I wasn’t brave enough yet to look out over the edge to see what lay beyond it—or within it.
I paused to stare at a large statue outside of the temple. Like the mountain, it had been split in half. It also bore similar features to the statue at the hot springs consecrated to Inanna. Its ruined face gazed back down at me.
There was an inscription carved on a plaque by its feet: A life for the west. A life for the east. Immortality below.
