The Gods Beneath

by C. M. Raymond

  “Perfect,” Ezekiel said. He turned back to Curtis. “But for now, let’s see if we can’t finish patching this wall. Why don’t you point me toward its most vulnerable points?”

  ****

  Parker and Hadley cleared the plates, allowing Hannah, Aysa, and Karl to lean back in their chairs and revel in their full stomachs. Just as they returned and took their seats Laurel spun into the room carrying a steaming pot, with Gregory, arms full of mugs, on her heels.

  “Nothing like a little kaffe to settle the stomach.”

  Sal, who had been snoring in the corner, shot his head up, his beady eyes as wide as they could open and head darting in every direction.

  “No, Sal!” the room’s occupants cried in unison.

  Sal growled, and walked in a circle before curling himself into a ball on the floor. Deep, gurgling snores replaced the growls in a heartbeat.

  Laurel poured the kaffe, sending a mug sliding across the smooth tabletop to each member of the Triple-Bs.

  Aysa sniffed hers and wrinkled her nose. “I know I’m supposed to love this stuff, but it’s got too much of a bite.”

  Waving his flask over his head, Karl caroled, “Ye have to attack the bite with a bite.” He uncorked his vessel and poured a generous portion into the hot brew in front of him. Sipping, he exhaled and winced slightly. “’At’s better.”

  “Sharing is caring, rearick,” Aysa said. Karl tossed the flask high just to watch the Baseeki’s long arm and giant hand in action. She grinned, knowing his trick, and thanked him before uncorking the flask. She took a deep whiff, its intoxicating fumes making her head spin—if only a little. “What the devil is in here?”

  “Scheisse, lass. Mika passed it to me on the way out of New Romanov. Said it’d put some hair on me chest.” He pulled the neck of his shirt down, exposing a thick patch of reddish hair. “Think it’s workin.’”

  “Gross,” Aysa mumbled, tilting the flask and letting the liquid glug into her own cup. “Hope it doesn’t do that to me.” She shrugged and took a pull of her hard kaffe. “Not bad.”

  “So, what are the teams for the mission?” Gregory asked, passing the flask to the next person without taking a shot.

  “Tonight we drink and laugh,” Hannah replied. “There will be time enough for planning.” She pushed the kaffe toward the middle of the table and took a pull directly from the flask. Her eyes grew wide, and she exhaled hard. “Smooth!”

  “Aye, lass. Mika is a total badass.” Karl grinned as he finished his coffee. “Imagine she bathes in the shite.”

  Before most of the kaffe mugs were empty, Karl gathered as much ale and mead as he could carry. It didn’t take long; laughter and shouting filled the room as the bottles grew light.

  “Who’s got a story?” Aysa yelled over the din, with a hint of a slur in her voice.

  “Lass, I got a thousand ‘n one.” Karl licked the foam off his moustache. “Ye want a tale of love or loss, adventure or acclimation?”

  “Acclimation?” Aysa giggled.

  Karl waved his hand. “I don’t bloody know what that means.”

  “I want love and adventure.”

  The rearick looked at the ceiling as if he were counting the boards and checking their seams. Finally, his head turned toward her. “Well, I got a yarn or two to tell about ‘em. Let me see…” He stroked his beard, which was growing back nicely after being burned off in the fires in Urai. “Ah! Of course. Here ye are...

  “When I was a lad, about as old as them assholes there,” he nodded to Parker and Hadley, “I was out walkin’, mindin’ me own business. Naturally I was sippin’ some mead me ma made out in the back shed.”

  “Naturally,” Aysa said, her eyes starting to swim with the alcohol.

  “I scrambled down some rocks and slipped through a gap in the cliffs. A damned dangerous hike, if I’d ever taken one. Breakin’ through a little stand of shit scrub, I popped out on a tiny ledge, barely big ‘nuff to stand on. Damned if the sight didn’t take me breath away and make the ol’ nutsack tighten up.”

  “Thanks for the visual,” Aysa interjected again with a giggle.

  “Well, like I said, I’d been drinkin’ mead and me bladder was about to bust wide open. I scooted along the ledge to drain the lizard, but you’ll never guess what I saw when I looked down at me feet.”

  Aysa’s eyes grew wide. “A beautiful woman!”

  Everyone laughed except Karl. “What?” he shouted. “The hell did that come from, lass?” Aysa shrugged, and Karl continued. “There, tucked into a crack in them rocks, was somethin’ gold.” He lowered his voice to a hush, and Aysa leaned in to listen. “I reached me hand in there—damned thing barely fit—and pulled out a wee lamp. The thing was dirty with decades of filth—had to have been in there since before the Madness—so I rubbed me sleeve over it.”

  Hadley laughed. “And with a puff of smoke, a genie appeared from the lamp.”

  Karl gave Hadley a quick wink. “Aye, ya heard me tale around the Heights, did ya?”

  “Who hasn’t? It’s what made you famous.”

  “Well, I don’t mean ta brag none, but yer damned right.”

  He looked at Aysa, who was listening intently. “Dammit, Karl. Get on with it. And somebody pass the mead.”

  “Well, dat big-ass genie looked at me and said, ‘Ye have freed me from eternal captivity, me handsome friend. What can I grant ye?’” Karl swigged his drink, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “As genies do,” Hadley added authoritatively.

  “Aye. Yer right, mystic. Was the hardest damned question I’ve ever been asked. I scratched me head, and then it hit me. In those days, the Arcadians were asking fer more and more amphoralds. I wanted ta be rich and powerful, so I said ta ‘im, ‘Ye get me all them amphoralds from the mines and put ‘em in neat stacks in me yard.’”

  “Good one,” Aysa said.

  “I thought it was. The genie thought about it fer a second and then said. ‘I’m sorry, most handsome and charmin’ master, but all them crystals in the depths of all them mines… It be impossible!” Karl slammed his hand on the table for effect. “‘Even with all me power, I’d never be able ta do it.’”

  “He had a point,” Hadley added, elbowing Karl in the ribs. “Could never happen, even with genie magic.”

  “Aye, I guess he did. He told me to come up with another request, so I looked that genie in the eyes and said, ‘OK, then. I love me wife, but she’s a bit of a mystery to me. How about this, genie? With me wish, I want ye ta make me be able ta understand her feelings, know what she wants, what makes her happy, and how ta never piss the ol’ girl off again.’”

  “That’s sweet,” Hannah chimed in.

  “Ye bet yer ass it was. So that genie, he looked right back at me and said, ‘Ye want them amphoralds in the front yard or the back?’”

  The team burst into laughter—everyone but Aysa.

  “Karl, I didn’t know you were married,” she said, drawing deeper laughs from the others.

  Laurel laughed so hard she snorted. “That’s the oldest one in the book, but it still gets me every time.”

  Aysa’s straight face broke into a smile. “Shit. I get it now,” she blurted, which only drew more laughs from the group.

  Karl’s joke inspired others to share their favorites as Team BBB continued to drink and laugh. Their spirits were, for the first time in a long time, truly light.

  The evening ended in a blur, with Hadley weaving a final tale about an old mystic man who drank so much elixir that he ended up wandering into a meeting with Master Selah butt-naked, thinking he was walking to the head. The tale was accompanied by masterful moving images, including random artifacts from the temple—a lamp here, a stack of books there—positioned just perfectly to cover the old man’s private parts.

  Aysa smiled more that night than she ever had in her whole life. As the crew began to wander off, Aysa reaffirmed to herself that she had made the right choice when she boarded Unlawful. This w
as her real family, and no matter what hell was coming for them, this night would make the fight more than worth it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  There were two parallel railings on the deck of the Unlawful where Laurel knew there should only be one. The lines blurred and bounced, even though they were motionless in the still night sky. Laurel closed one eye, bringing the two blurry images together—a trick she’d learned years ago when she used to steal wine from her father’s cellar for her and her friend Arryn to drink in the forest on cold winter nights.

  “I’m a little drunk.” She giggled as Gregory slid down next to her. They leaned against a wooden crate fastened to the deck.

  “A little?” he asked, brows raised. She leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips. It was awkward and sloppy, but the engineer enjoyed it nonetheless.

  He straightened her up and smiled. “You’re so agile most of the time,” he said with a grin. “It’s nice to see you at my level. You’re not going to be sick, right?”

  “Only sick with affection, dear Gregory.”

  Gregory could feel himself blush, and he was glad that the dark cover of night hid his embarrassment. Laurel was far better than he was with showing her emotions. Flirting, affirming—anything that came with being in a romantic relationship were out of his skill set. Being alone with Laurel still felt a bit like doing magic. Theoretically he knew all the right moves, but in the moment he still had a difficult time pulling any of them off.

  “Well, if you’re going to be sick…” He trailed off, not knowing what he meant.

  Laurel snorted and slammed her hand against his chest. “You. Are. Hilarious. You know that Gregory? H. I. L. L. L. A. Shit.” She swore a lot when she drank, and apparently her ability to spell vanished.

  “Um… No. ‘Funny’ is something I’ve never been able to master.” He exhaled hard and tried to do better. “But you are, Laurel. Funny, and…and...beautiful.”

  She looked into his deep brown eyes. Without even thinking about it, a smile took over her face. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

  “Done what?”

  She waved her arms, pointing to him and back to herself. “You know. This. Us. Girls.”

  “Girls?” Gregory asked. “Of course. There was Anne.”

  “Who’s Anne?” Laurel asked, drawing back a little in feigned jealousy.

  “My first true love,” Gregory said, his eyes counting the stars on the horizon. He felt Laurel’s body go rigid in his arms. “She was a noble. A true noble. Beautiful, and she had everything she ever wanted. She was smart and funny and kind, even to the servants working in her home. And, when it came down to it, we were perfect together.” Gregory exhaled a dramatic sigh.

  “So what happened to my nemesis?” Laurel asked.

  “I thought she was the one,” Gregory replied, pulling Laurel closer. “But it wasn’t meant to be. There was just too much we couldn’t agree on. I was ruined when it finally ended, but, in the end, I couldn’t give her what she wanted—what she needed. And now that I look back, she felt the same.”

  Laurel turned her face toward his, her eyes softened with alcohol and compassion. “What was it?”

  “It was serious, I can tell you that.” Gregory paused again, making her wait. Then he finally said, “There were only so many colored pencils. Green, blue, red. Very serious, really. She wanted the red to color something of little consequence, but my picture of a house required it. There are things I’ll yield for love, but not my art. I crawled back into my stroller and my mom pushed me home to our house in the Quarter.”

  Laurel snorted again and landed another swat across his chest. “I hate you.”

  “Don’t hate me.” He smiled. “Hate youthful love. I will never forget Anne, or our playtimes together.”

  “So… I’m your first?”

  “Well, if you want to delegitimize my playmate and all she meant to me, then sure—you’re my first.” They laughed together, and he pulled her more firmly into him. “Which explains a few things, doesn’t it?”

  “Gregory, I love you the way you are—awkwardness and all. You’re like a dainty little flower that just needs a little guidance.”

  His heart leapt into his throat, then dropped into his feet. Looking down into her eyes, he said, “I love you too, Laurel. More than you know.”

  She stared back at him. “Damn. Maybe you don’t need any guidance.”

  They sat like that for a while, their hearts beating in unison as they looked at the foreign sky. Neither of them could believe that they had found each other. It was fate, or radical chance, or some divine power that had put them on the same path. But here they were under these unfamiliar skies, feeling nothing but familiar.

  “She’s going to separate us, you know,” Laurel finally said. Her words made them both suddenly feel a bit soberer.

  “Hannah? Maybe. She’ll do what she needs to. And we will go where we need to go.”

  He could feel Laurel nod. “Yeah. It’s the job we signed up for. There’s something that I want you to take with you, though.”

  Laurel leaned back and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. The folds of her cloak responded, and Devin scrambled out of her cloak to sit on her shoulder.

  He leaned back and stared into the beady little black eyes that leered back at him. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”

  Laurel laughed. “No arguing, love. If we’re separated—which I’m pretty damned sure we will be—I want to make sure you’re safe. Devin’s going with you.”

  Gregory laughed. “Well, then I’ll sleep with one eye open, because I’m pretty sure your little friend here is going to gouge my eyes out if I ever give her the chance.”

  “She would never!”

  Devin chattered a little and jumped onto Gregory’s shoulder, sniffing at the hair hanging over his ears. He froze. “You sure about that?”

  “I am very sure. She’s more of a ‘go for the jugular’ kind of squirrel. But she’ll keep watch over you when I can’t.”

  Gregory glanced at the squirrel out of the corner of his eye. “That’s what I’m worried about. Now would you, like, send her back into your cloak?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t start a drunken make-out session with her watching.”

  Laurel rolled her eyes, and Devin scrambled back into her master’s cloak. Gregory leaned in and kissed Laurel deeply.

  ****

  Parker wove down the tight corridor, keeping his eyes on Hannah’s swaying hips to prevent himself from collapsing to the planks below his feet. The alcohol swimming in his blood at that point felt more powerful than all the energy in the Etheric, and Unlawful’s gentle bobbing was not helping.

  Hannah leaned against the door to her and Laurel’s cabin. “Thank you for walking me to my room, Parker. I’ll see you on deck in the morning.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, finding the corridor empty. “I’m sure Gregory will keep your roommate away for long enough.”

  “Long enough for what?” Hannah asked with a raised brow.

  “Long enough for a strategic encounter,” Parker countered with his own raised eyebrow.

  Hannah turned the knob and pushed the door open. “Nothing gets a girl’s attention like a man who wants to talk strategy.” She laughed as she half-stumbled through the door and landed on her bunk. She pulled her legs onto the mattress and scooted over, making room for Parker.

  Dropping down next to her, he laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the bunk above them. “I can only hope the big scaly beast doesn’t join us.”

  “Sal? He was snoring like the world was coming to an end when we left the galley. I think we have some time.”

  Parker laughed. He wasn’t sure if the cause was Sal’s narcolepsy or the fact that they were on an airship thousands of miles from the ruins of the Boulevard—a home he never thought they would escape.

  “How does it all end?” he asked.

  “Tonight? We’ll
see if you’re a good boy.”

  Parker couldn’t help but laugh again. Finally he clarified, “The whole damned thing.”

  “No bloody clue.” Hannah closed her eyes for a moment and her breathing increased. Parker feared he had lost her to an early slumber, but her eyes shot open. She tilted her head toward him, eyes inches from his. “It starts with a bang, but it ends with a simmer.”

  His eyes widened. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Hannah convulsed in laughter. “I have no fucking clue. It sounded poetic, though.” She steadied herself. “Honestly? It ends however it is supposed to. We stop the damned Skrima attacks. Close the Rift. Case closed.”

  “I know.” He paused for a moment. “Then what?”

  Hannah rolled onto her side, resting her weight on him. Parker could feel her even breathing and the pressure of her breasts on his chest. She held his eyes with her own. Her hair spilled onto him, and in that moment he didn’t need to know the future. This was all he required—now and forever.

  But finally she answered, “After that—after all is won—we begin to rebuild. Start over. Make a city that is exactly what it ought to be from the first stone to the last slate on its highest tower.”

  “Like Ezekiel with Arcadia?”

  Hannah nodded.

  “But he failed.”

  “Did he? I mean, he had to leave to save Lilith. To bring us here. Zeke did precisely what he needed to when he needed to. When we end all of this, when Lilith is secure, we’ll be able to do what he didn’t have the opportunity to do. Parker, we’ll build a place where people will be safe. Where all have the opportunity to be what they were made to be. We’ll accomplish what Ezekiel had hoped to do without Laughter or Skrima or even remnant stopping us.”

  “Sounds like a dream to me,” he responded. The words made his heart heavy.

  “Not a dream. A vision. And without a vision of a better future, the people perish. That was our problem during our time in the Boulevard—we couldn’t imagine a different future reality. But I can now, so it can happen.”