The Afterlife Series Omnibus: Heaven, Hell, Earth, Wasteland, War, Stones

by Mur Lafferty

  Amadeus leaned in close to her, and she tried not to shy away from him in disgust. “Forever bonded, my love,” he whispered, and she felt something cold against her wrist. She looked down just as the cuff clicked closed.

  Two heavy golden wrist cuffs linked with a silver chain now bound them. The chain glowed blue in the morning light, a bright current threading through the metal like veins. She removed her hand from his and looked at it, her eyes wide. A very faint pulse went through her wrist as she watched, and she looked up at Amadeus. He smiled at her with nothing but adoration on his face, and she tried to go along with her ruse as panic built in the back of her throat.

  “Where did you find a relic?” she asked.

  “Nada and Amy found it in the sun temple ruins. They believe it belonged to Barris, who held it in preparation for his marriage to the moon, before her first death. They think he flung it from Meridian once he realized she had died, and then when the city fell, his temple landed on top of it. Once we marry, we’ll be pronounced king and queen of Meridian. All relics will belong to us.”

  “What—” she swallowed, her throat very dry. “What does this one do besides link us together?”

  “It is a wedding bangle,” he said. “When you both concentrate, it will show you visions of your future together.”

  Julie had no idea how she was going to think happy future thoughts with Amadeus, once he asked her to do so, she might see her revulsion for him.

  “Let’s think about that after the race, it’s not time right now. Look,” she asked, focusing her words and thoughts on the runners nearing the finish line. “It looks like Timothy is going to upset Opal.”

  Amadeus whipped his head around, finally focusing on something other than her. The manacle at her wrist stopped buzzing, and Julie flexed her hand a couple of times, testing its strength and how much room her hand had. It was loose, and she thought with something to lubricate it, she’d be able to slip out. But it wasn’t as if Lathe tinkers were apt to store machine lubricant at the destroyed Meridian temple.

  Amadeus swore as the runners got closer. He had pinned his hopes on swift Opal, but the long—legged Timothy was just ahead of her. She pumped her legs as the finish line neared, but he still drew away from her, joy scrawled across his dark face. Zealous joy.

  He wants to die. This is all madness.

  “No,” Amadeus muttered, and Julie wanted to ask why he had set up the Games to send the best warriors to the Other Side if he wasn’t prepared for the occasional upset? Why not just stick a knife into Opal and be done with it?

  Because that’s murder, she thought. If it’s ritualized, it’s a reward; the best is given to the gods. If it’s just killing Opal with an order to find the dead gods, then it’s pointless. Meaningless.

  She looked at Marcus just as he glanced up, and she met his eyes. He wore a wide—brimmed hat; the fashion of Leviathan City refugees as living under the sun was hard on their paler skin. She couldn’t quite make out his features, but his mouth was turned down in a frown — he had seen her manacle, it seemed. She bit her lip.

  Timothy was running harder now, his final sprint toward the finish line lengthening his strides. Amadeus stared at him, gritting his teeth, tensing as if he could affect the outcome of the race.

  “It has to be Opal,” he said through his clenched jaw. “It just has to be.”

  “It looks like it’s going to be Timothy, Amadeus,” Julie said mildly. “The gods have chosen him. Prosper has chosen him.”

  “It can’t be,” he said, his voice hard with fury. He looked at her, the delight at his pet prophet erased. “That’s not what Prosper told me. He can’t be wrong. You don’t know what I have planned for Opal.”

  “You said the best at the Games would be sacrificed, yes? What’s wrong with Timothy?” Julie said, hoping to calm him down.

  “No, he’s not a believer! Opal has to be divinely chosen or else it won’t work!” His voice took on a high and panicked tone, and Julie stepped back involuntarily. The manacle held her close to his side.

  He returned his focus to Opal, who was behind Timothy but losing ground. She was badly winded and looked as if she wouldn’t last the sprint. As they headed for the finish line, right in front of the temple steps, Timothy’s lead lengthened. Julie could tell the moment that Opal gave up: her stride faltered and the tone of the crowd changed, growing louder as Timothy’s win became apparent.

  “I have to stop this,” Amadeus said, rummaging in the pocket of his robe with his left, free hand.

  Julie wanted to ask how his interference would not negate the “divine choosing,” but when he pulled out the key to the manacles, she bit her tongue. He slipped the key into the hole − on his side — and left her there on the steps. The manacle was still secure around her wrist, Amadeus’ side dangling beside her. Again, she sought Marcus in the crowd.

  Amadeus ran down the steps and pushed through the crowd, yelling for people to get out of his way. They parted for him, faster once they saw the knife he held above his head, the shiny dagger Julie had seen him carry. He ran out onto the road at the finish line. The children holding the ribbon that Timothy aimed for saw his face and fled.

  Timothy didn’t slow; Julie could tell that she didn’t even see Amadeus. Amadeus leaped in front of Timothy as he neared, knife raised. Julie screamed and Timothy skidded to a stop, tumbling as his tired legs gave out at the sudden ceasing of movement. Amadeus was on Timothy’s back at once. The knife flashed up, and then down, up again, and Julie finally ran, taking the steps two at a time.

  The crowd had scattered, screaming, and Julie saw Opal stop in the field, staring at Amadeus, who still stabbed with methodical focus. The glory of being a sacrifice lost its luster, apparently, and she turned and ran back toward Lathe, passing the straggling racers, who dodged her panicked dash away from the finish line.

  Julie saw Marcus soothing the struggling birds, and then he raised his staff. The green gem atop it shone brightly, and Marcus slammed the tip of the stick into the ground. The groaning sound wave was almost tangible as it burst from the staff, and the manacle on her arm grew warm. Everything around her turned an odd shade of green, and everyone slowed down, everyone but her and Marcus. He beckoned to her frantically, and she ran through the crowd without resistance. They moved with almost comical slowness, not even noticing her dashing past them.

  The manacle searing her wrist, she finally reached Marcus. “Let’s go,” she said. With those words, they raced away, pulling the birds behind them. When they turned a corner and left the crowds behind them, Marcus released his tight grip on his staff and the world sped up, bringing audible chaos back to them.

  Julie reeled, disoriented, and fell against an overturned statue of an angel, cutting her calf on the jagged broken stone. She hissed but got back up and followed Marcus as he hurried down the streets.

  The streets of Meridian, the safe ones cleared by the refugee children, anyway, were deserted, with everyone near the temple to see the games. Most everyone who had scattered had gone south toward Lathe, or into buildings, but no one had gone north. Their choices were limited, many streets in the city were still blocked by the ruins of whole buildings that remained too dangerous to clear with the rudimentary tools they had. Having grown up in the city, Julie led the way, darting down streets and around corners until the chaos of the crowd was well behind them, trying to ignore her throbbing leg.

  “So do you want to tell me what happened back there?” she asked, grabbing onto a topic so she wouldn’t have to think about that knife going up and down, into Timothy’s back again and again.

  “With what, the crazy boy or the murder and the botched race?” he said, catching his breath. His eyes were wide and fearful, and he was much more out of breath than she was.

  She indicated his walking stick. “Your artifact. What did you do, and why wasn’t I caught up in it like everyone else?”

  “Oh!” He looked down at the staff as if he had forgotten about it. “Thi
s is what I like to call a thief’s cross. It’s designed to help you in and out of tight situations. Sometimes you disappear, sometimes everything around you slows — or you speed up. I’m not sure which.”

  “Can you decide what it does?”

  He grinned ruefully, showing unexpected dimples, and some of the fear left his eyes. “No, it’s always a surprise. But it helps me more often than not. As to why it didn’t affect you, I bet it’s because you’re wearing that,” he said, pointing to the manacle.

  “Oh yes, this. Amadeus’ wedding present.” She grimaced and raised her wrist. The manacle felt very heavy. “I thought I was stuck for good when he put that on. It shows your future with the person attached to the other end. I can’t even imagine a future with him, so he wouldn’t have been happy with what manifested. I’m glad he got distracted.” She swallowed. “Although I wouldn’t have asked Timothy to pay the price.”

  “What happened back there? With the boy he killed?”

  “Amadeus wanted Opal to win. He had his heart set on her being the champion and going to find the dead gods. He said Timothy didn’t believe enough.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, combined with his actions,” Marcus said, frowning. “He just sent Timothy there as a martyr regardless.”

  Julie glared at him. “I wasn’t about to argue with him. You want me to go back and ask him?” Marcus looked abashed. She took a deep breath and changed the subject, point to Marcus’ thief’s cross. “I didn’t know that the artifacts would affect each other.”

  “Neither did I. I was going to try to run in and grab you. Clearly you didn’t need it.”

  Julie looked closer at the walking stick in his hand. He held it higher for her inspection. Now that it wasn’t in use, it looked like a simple cane with a roughly cut green stone on top. “Where did you get a relic like that?”

  “It’s an odd story,” Marcus said. “There’s a shop in Lathe that sells ideas.”

  “Ideas?”

  “Yes, just like if it came from your brain, only these come from little boxes. They’re churned out by a relic, and the shop was blessed by Barris before the Fall, so it’s been rather successful in the midst of all the chaos, especially since the authorities don’t seem to care that they make their living with an illegal relic. So I saved up my money doing errand jobs in Lathe, and bought an idea. It told me I needed to come to Meridian and look under a certain ruin. I went scavenging, I guess a couple of days before the first Games, and then found it in one of the houses the gangs had marked at condemned. It was under a bed.”

  He looked thoughtfully at the pouch at her throat. “Could I see a bit of the sand?”

  Julie’s hand closed around the pouch protectively. “Why?”

  “I just have a theory.” He held his hands up, showing no threat. “All right, I don’t need to see it, exactly. Can you just tell me, is the sand very fine and white?”

  “Yes,” she said cautiously.

  “And you went north right before the games?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that all that you brought back?”

  “No, some spilled on the gargoyle. I brought some back for Adam, but he didn’t get it.”

  Marcus nodded. “When I got the thief’s cross, it was a windy day. When I got out of the building, a wind blew and it knocked down the rest of the house. I barely got out in time. I got some grit in my eyes; I thought it was from the house debris. But that night I had my first dream about Daniel.

  “And that house was right under the spire where you and Adam exchanged letters. I read the open ones. I’m sorry.”

  Julie barely heard him as her fingers tightened on the pouch. “The sand is why we’re dreaming about the gods?”

  He shrugged and turned his attention ahead of them. “I think so.”

  And if Adam had gotten the sand instead of you, he might still be here. The thought wasn’t kind, but it was there, and it tasted bitter. She swallowed the resentment and they led the calming birds toward the border of Meridian.

  PART THREE:

  WASTELAND

  WHEN THEY REACHED THE NORTHERN EDGE of Meridian, where the worst of the crumbling buildings lay half—buried in the earth, Julie paused.

  “It feels like I’ll never be back here,” she said.

  Marcus stopped and looked back at the city with her. They could still faintly hear the crowd’s noise, although faint. “Maybe. If we don’t stop

  Amadeus, he definitely won’t let you back in.”

  They made their way through the rubble, the birds protesting and fluttering their tiny wings as they hopped from collapsed rooftop to ruined stone.

  “So where do we go now?” she asked, watching them.

  “Didn’t Kate tell you?”

  She frowned at him. “She may have wanted to, but someone woke me up before I finished my dream,” she said pointedly.

  He raised his hands. “Fair enough. Daniel tells me north is where we go.”

  She nodded. “That’s where the gods died.”

  “I’m surprised Amadeus didn’t have the Games there, since it’s a place of such power.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think he’s ever been. I think he’s really scared, wanting everyone else to take the risk for his cause. He would have found a way to kill me as a sacrifice today while staying alive himself, I’m sure.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry I never got a chance to sit down with him. His charisma must be amazing.”

  “You have no idea,” she said. “I can’t even tell you when things started to go wrong.”

  They cleared the majority of the rubble, and it was finally safe to ride their mounts. Julie turned to the bird she was leading — a beautiful creature with purple feathers and a huge beak — and put her foot in the stirrups. Then she realized she couldn’t straddle in her ceremonial robes. She adjusted the bird’s simple saddle so she could sit sideways.

  Marcus secured his walking stuck to the side of his bird. When he looked at her again, he made a face. “You’re going to slide off if you sit like that.”

  “I didn’t have time to pack trousers, sorry,” Julie said, glaring at him. He shrugged and got on his own mount.

  “What’s this one’s name?” Julie asked, petting the bird’s neck. It bristled and shook itself, and she grabbed tightly to the saddle.

  “I don’t know,” he said, his pale skin flushing. “We never named pets in Leviathan City.”

  “Can I name them?”

  “I guess so. I don’t really care,” he said. “Let’s move; I am betting Amadeus will send someone after you. The crowd was impressive, but I bet the stranger with the purple and green birds stood out rather obviously, someone will connect us.”

  “Right. Let’s go, and I’ll think about the names.”

  Glad of a task to occupy her mind, held on as the ostrich lurched forward to follow its companion bird.

  As they moved further from the city, the birds’ claws sinking slightly into the gray sand, Julie forced herself not to look back again. She would return, she told herself. How could she not? Meridian, with its ruins and lost glory, was her home. Amadeus or not, she would be back.

  The sand grew darker as they went farther north. The area got rockier as well, and the birds took them through a dry riverbed.

  Marcus pointed to their right. A small curve of metal stuck out of the dark gray sand. The rest of it was obscured. “That’s the bunker of air pirates. They lived up here and allowed Chaos to taint their bodies and machines. They nearly brought down the gods in an air fight. The wreck of their ships should be around here somewhere.”

  “Shelter would be good,” Julie said. “I suppose uncovering an entrance to the bunker to stay the night would be impossible?

  He pointed as if she hadn’t seen the mound of sand blocking all but the roof of the bunker. “The sand has been blowing over it for fifteen years. Of course we can’t.” He pulled a canteen from his saddlebag and pointed to Julie’s. “Thirsty? T
here’s a canteen in your bag.”

  Julie got her own, a collapsible bag made of an indeterminate white leather. A circle with a fuzzy, unclear outline was branded on the bag, the symbol of Leviathan City. Some said the circle was the sun seen through the water and dome of the underwater city. Others said it was the moon. Others said it was the view of the city’s dome as seen from the air.

  She took a long drink, wetting her throat, and then sighed. “What is this made of?”

  “That’s air whale leather,” he said. “Leviathan City people would hunt them when they dove into the sea to breathe.”

  “And the symbol?”

  He smiled at her as if she were a child. “That’s the sun.”

  “I don’t know, it could have been any number of things. We didn’t see a lot of Leviathan refugees in Meridian.” She looked at him curiously. “Does your skin ...hurt?”

  He screwed his face up. “Hurt? What in the world do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s so pale. I’d think it would hurt if it saw too much sun. I thought that’s why you wear that hat.”

  He returned his own canteen to his saddlebag. “Yes, if I get burned, I hurt, just like you.”

  He dismounted his bird and looked around while Julie swallowed her embarrassment.

  “We do need to find a place to stay,” Marcus said, walking around to stretch his legs. “The birds need to rest.”

  The sky was uniform white, and had been since they had moved into the gray—sanded wasteland. Still, Julie was fairly sure by the lack of hunger and fatigue that it was nowhere near sundown. “Why? If we don’t take the bunker, we could go much farther north before we lose the light. I was able to make it all the way to the battlefield and back in a day.”

  He staked his bird’s reins deep in the sand, and then loosened the harnesses that held its saddle.

  Julie got off her ostrich and mimicked Marcus’ movements. The bird was docile enough for her to fumble the saddle loose and stake its reins in the ground. While she had been fine riding it, she now felt awkward and ungainly on the ground. She took a few practice steps to get used to walking again. She squinted toward the mostly—buried dome of the pirates’ bunker. “What do you think? Full of dead pirates?”