by M. M. Perry
Chapter 17
Cass tried her best not to weep openly, but she couldn’t completely stem the flow of her tears—two small rivulets silently streaked down her checks. Suman’s eyes were open, so she knew he could see her, and she needed to be strong for him. What was left of him lie before her. At least a third of his body had been devoured by the lichen. She could see Midassa’s magic fighting with the lichen in patches were the lichen didn’t completely engulf him currently. Suman was being eaten only to regenerate and then have that same rejuvenated flesh devoured again a few seconds later. His limbs were nothing but sinew and bone, and the skin and muscle of his abdomen had peeled back to reveal the glistening viscera inside, which had, once free of their restraint, slumped in a wet pile among his pelvis and femurs. They still pulsed intermittently—a mass of thick, sick worms searching futilely for the burrow they’d been disinterred from. It was the most horrible thing Cass had witnessed. She knew Suman still had days, weeks even, left to go before his contract with Midassa was up. Despite the lichen’s best efforts to consume Suman fully, it would be unable to devour him until Midassa took back the immortality he had temporarily leased to Suman.
Cass turned toward Timta, who stared disinterestedly at the grotesque tableau.
“Before we do this, can you at least lift him out of the deathsglove first? And maybe let him talk, just for a minute? No pain though, I don’t want him to be in pain,” Cass said.
“One boon, Cass,” Timta reminded her.
“I’m aware. I’m not asking you to heal him, or interfere with Midassa’s magics. But there must be something you can do that is allowed and isn’t so significant an act that it has to count as the boon you owe me. Halt his healing or whatever. Freeze time around him. Do something. I’m not trying to trick you by getting more than you’ve already offered. But I’ll need to ask him about my boon, and what I want to do for him… to him. I told you about this. While he’s in there he can’t speak, he’s paralyzed. And if not for him I never would have made it to you—I’d be dead several times over and you wouldn’t have your precious sunstone. Although you may not feel like that rises to the level of deserving a boon from you as well, it should certainly count for something. Something! Are you a god or not?”
Timta sighed again as her cheeks pinked with exasperation. She wanted to argue, to point out just how much time was being wasted on this unnecessary diversion, but she finally decided it would be best to simply acquiesce to her daughter’s demands. After all, she decided, there was much still to be done, much of it by Cass, so it would be better to have Cass firmly in her debt, and this was, as Cass had guessed, a minor bending of reality that she could weave without doing too much harm. She raised her hand, fingers splayed, out in front of her and as she did so Suman’s body seemed to rise out of the lichen in parallel. It took Cass a moment to realize that it wasn’t just that Suman was being moved, although he was being levitated, but that the sickly pale green slime that engulfed him was receding, visibly popping and roiling as if it were being burned away. Timta gestured towards Cass and Suman’s body floated over and settled next to Cass. Cass knelt down next to Suman, and she was relieved to see the deathsglove hadn’t yet eaten his face away. She touched his cheek.
“I take it,” he began to rasp dryly, but then was racked with choking coughs, spittle flecked with blood flying from his lips as parts of his body rebelled against the action of speaking. Once they subsided, he continued.
“I’m taking it you got your memories back?”
“I did. Couldn’t have done it without you, Suman,” Cass said gently.
Suman smiled. He tried to think of something funny to say to lighten the mood, but found he simply didn’t have it in him. Cass steadied her emotions.
“And I need your help. Just one last time” Cass said.
“Cass,” Suman said, then he stopped and coughed a bit, “I’m not trying to be rude, but seeing as how much of my body is missing, I don’t think I’m going to be much help. The spirit is willing, but the flesh… well the flesh is everywhere.”
Cass started to laugh at Suman’s grim humor and even thought a smart retort but she stopped knowing she had little time. She knew he was putting on a brave face for her, and that made what she had to say next all the harder.
“It seems my meritorious service to the gods has earned me a boon. Anything I want, or as near as they can deliver. And my boon, Suman, is for you,” Cass said. “I asked them to make you whole, to return you to us… but they tell me that can’t be done. That there are rules that can’t be broken, and saving you would violate them. So, I need your help.”
Cass stood and walked out of Suman’s line of sight. When she returned she was tugging along a man clad all in gold from head to toe. He was a young man, slight and speckled with jewels that adorned every possible place. His arms were pressed tightly to his chest, and despite his jaw working madly and his eyes darting around from Suman, to Cass, to Timta, and back to Suman, he did not appear to be able to open his mouth and speak. Suman thought he saw something shimmery covering the young man’s mouth and torso—a wavering heat haze that blurred the air around his head and upper body ever so slightly.
“Suman,” Cass said, “Meet Midassa. Now, here’s the thing. No god can interfere with, to alter or break another god’s contract with a mortal. The best she can do is make you whole again now, since the deathsglove was never part of your pact with Midassa, but she can’t release you from your contract. In a few weeks when your time is up, Midassa still gets to come end your life and claim your spirit. But here’s the big backdoor in all of this. There are no rules that forbid one god from killing another, or at least not in helping said deicide along. Now I, apparently, can’t kill a god with my own two hands, despite how much I’d like to. Not with normal methods or traditional weapons. But Timta says she’ll let me borrow a knife she’s got access to that’s special made just for god killing. Apparently they locked it away—hard to believe, I know, that they wouldn’t just leave such a thing lying around for any disgruntled mortal to pick up—but she has access to it. But if I want to use the knife to kill Midassa, that’s a boon. Or, I could have her heal you, completely, and that’s my boon. But you’d still be under Midassa’s contract, so you’ll still die in…”
“Kill him,” Suman said, interrupting Cass.
Cass looked down at Suman, “Are you sure? In your current state, you won’t last long after I do it.”
“Kill him.”
Cass held out her hand to Timta. Timta flourished her empty fingers in the air and magically produced the knife in question. It looked rather plain—a simple wooden handle and a dull blade, lacking even a cross guard, something more at home in a kitchen than a battlefield. Cass assumed it must have magical properties not apparent to the untrained eye. She snapped up the blade and in one smooth, continuous movement slid it up to the handle into Midassa’s neck. The god slumped to the ground immediately, leaning against Cass, without even a jerk of pain. Cass kicked him away from her and into the deathsglove. She handed the knife back to Timta who, upon receiving it, promptly disappeared.
“I guess she’s afraid I’ll ask for something else,” Cass said looking at the place Timta had recently vacated.
Suman could feel his body dying. He let out a sigh of relief. He reached up to Cass and gestured for her to come closer so he wouldn’t have to speak as loudly.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“You’re welcome. I wish I could have done more.”
“You’ve done so much. Do you even realize? Now everyone in the Golden City is free. I hope they get to discover what it is to live life again, like I did.” Suman chuckled. “Well, the living part. The dying could be a little tidier and less drawn out, I think.”
“They will, Suman, I know they will,” Cass said pushing the hair off Suman’s face.
“Fleer root, highsong blossoms and water from a purified spring. Can you remember that?” Suman asked.
“Yeah, why?”<
br />
“Put it together and make a tea with it. Then have the goat drink it,” Suman said. He could feel his body giving in to the cold.
“Fleer root, highsong blossoms and water from a purified spring,” Cass repeated.
“Yeah, and make sure he’s outside Urgana when he drinks it. I know he hates that place, but trust me. Make sure he’s there, and that he drinks the tea there. And make sure he knows the tea works both ways. Thank you, Cass. That really was the only thing I regretted, lying here. Not telling that bastard…”
And Suman’s eyes closed for the last time.
Cass had been camping there in the clearing, waiting, for several days for someone to come out and acknowledge her presence. The satyrs were all around, she was sure of it. She saw signs of them everywhere, but they were clearly purposefully avoiding her. I wasn’t until the fourth day that Patch appeared at the edge of the woods, a disgusted look on his face.
“I’ve been hoping you’d just leave, but you are as stubborn a human as you are slow-witted. I told you already. I don’t want anything from you. Not your gratitude and not anything else either,” he said angrily. “You’re bothering all of us. I wouldn’t have come out here at all except yesterday when you started calling out ‘Oh my little Patchie-poo, oh Patches, you little rutter you, where are you my little billy goat gruff?’ which, by the way, ever single satyr I met on the way here repeated to me word for word and even, in one case, delivered in a ribald song, they’ve somehow managed to piece together that you may perhaps know me and were threatening to tie me up and deliver me to you just to get you to go away.”
“Sit down, Patch, and have some tea with me,” Cass said. She produced two tin cups and put a little kettle she had been carrying around for just this meeting over the fire. She quickly began to double check all the components she needed, then set the kettle going.
“Tea? You think this is funny? Perhaps I’ve failed to mention just how badly my people get along with yours, and how being seen as someone that is friendly with a human might just, perhaps, cause me a few problems?”
“You have mentioned it endlessly. ‘Oh I hate all humans, oh I hate you, oh I hate, hate, hate.’ You are more full of piss than Gunnarr the morning after he’s been at the tankard all night. Let’s take all that as a given for the moment, and you just sit down. And be quiet. I like this place, it’s very peaceful. I enjoyed just sitting out here, alone, waiting for you. So let’s not talk for a while longer, okay? And once it’s ready, we’ll have our tea, then I’ll go,” Cass said, “and you never have to see me again.”
Patch looked at her suspiciously. He grumbled as he did so, but he sat down next to her in the grass. After Cass got the kettle started on the fire, they simply sat and listened to the insects and the birds and did nothing else. Cass enjoyed the warmth on her face. When she noticed the kettle boiling she picked it up and filled the cups, completely covering the wad of herbs she’d already dropped into each.
“This is nice. We’ve never had any time to just sit together and not worry about things, you and I. I’ll have to make sure I get the chance to do this more often with all my friends,” Cass said as she blew on her tea.
Patch picked up his tea and sipped it, seemingly unaffected by the heat of the liquid.
“I’m not your friend. Let’s just get whatever it is we’re doing, which is far from nice, by the way, over with,” he said grumpily.
“You really should learn to like humans more. I mean, some of us are pretty nice,” Cass said taking another sip of her tea.
“I can’t believe you. I can’t. Humans have hurt us too often, too deeply. Only the gods have done worse to us than humans. Even claiming my friendship as you do, I know the first time it comes down to a choice, humans or satyrs, you’ll…” Patch stopped talking. He stood up abruptly, letting his mostly empty tea cup fall to the ground. Cass looked around as well. The field, empty a moment ago save for them, was now filled to overflowing with lovely young women. Most were walking about, stopping to touch the grass and flowers lovingly, as a mother would her children. A few were sleeping quietly. They all had the same sad, lost expression on their faces.
“How did you… they’ve been here all this time?”
“Apparently. I suspect that’s the god’s way of getting yet another joke over on you. The sick bastards.”
Patch ran up to the nearest nymph and tried to grab her hand. The young nymph jerked her own hand away in shock, frantically looking all around her. She looked back down at her hand, scared and frightened.
“They can’t see me!” Patch said desperately.
“Suman said the tea works both ways. I’m assuming that means she needs to drink it, too.”
“Suman…” Patch turned back toward Cass.
“I let Suman choose how to use the boon Timta gave me. Well, I mean, I let him choose if he wanted to live out his remaining days healthy, or if he’d rather see Midassa offed as his last act on Tanavia,” Cass said.
“And the stupid human chose death,” Patch said.
“He chose to save all the rest of the people in The Golden City from his own fate,” Cass said.
“Those people won’t feel like they’ve been saved, even if they are. They’ll feel like their stupid lives have been ruined.”
“Well, Suman hopes they’ll rediscover living.”
“He’s a fool, a stupid fool,” Patch said, but Cass could tell he didn’t mean it.
Patch couldn’t bring himself to thank Cass. Instead, he said “I know a war is coming.” His people had been unable to speak of anything else for the last several days. They were sensitive to the magical flux that Cass’ recent actions had set in motion, and could guess at what it portended.
“You be careful. I suspect you aren’t done playing your part in their game,” Patch said. “And I know you’ll be right in the middle of all of it, whatever it is, like you always seem to be. I would rather… I would rather you not die. You are the least disagreeable human I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. I always am, right? I’ve already been here too long, and there’s at least one more thing I need to take care of, so I’m going to take me leave of you now, noble satyr. Besides, I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do with these nymphs. I’m leaving the ingredients for the tea here, in this tin. In case you run out, it’s made of fleer root, highsong blossoms and water from a purified spring. I take it you’ll be able to figure out a way to get them to drink the tea on your own?”
“I’m a satyr, human. My people have been scouring the earth for our sisters for thousands of years, battling humans, gods, and monsters along the way. I think I can manage a kettle.”
Cass lay nestled in Gunnarr’s arms in the middle of the big bed, surrounded by fluffy blankets and pillows lightly scented with something floral and very pleasant. Gunnarr stroked her hair slowly, enjoying every second. These small moments were the things he’d missed in particular during their long separation. He leaned over to his side of the bed to retrieve the little jeweled flask that Manfred had given Cass all those years ago. He opened it up and offered it to Cass.
Cass took the flask and looked at Gunnarr with puzzlement.
“Did Manfred refill this with Djinn ale when I wasn’t looking? Are you sure you want to drink it? It’s heady stuff, you know.”
Gunnarr shook his head, “You know Braldashad tradition? We save a drink for the end of a voyage.”
“When did you fill this? Before you came to rescue me?”
“When you went into Oshia’s temple,” Gunnarr said shyly.
Cass tried not to laugh as she spoke, “How can you be bashful about anything after what we just did?”
Gunnarr’s face turned red and Cass relented taking a sip from the flask without further comment. Her face turned sour.
“Ooh, this puts a new spin on aged ale.”
She took another swig and passed it to Gunnarr. He downed the rest of the contents in one pull. Cass smiled at Gunna
rr and put her hand on his.
“You are full of surprises, big fella.”
Cass leaned back and put her arm behind her head as she gulped a little wine to wash down the old ale.
“Nice of Callan to let us use the best room in Faylendar’s Castle. Well, best besides his own, of course,” Cass said.
“Of course,” Gunnarr replied, “‘After all, a regent’s got a certain appearance one needs maintained,’” he mocked in a more than fair imitation of Callan’s voice, which set them both into fits of giggles.
Cass finally broke the spell they’d been under since she’d returned from her trip to see Patch the night before.
“I don’t think we’ll have long before things get crazy,” she started. Since she’d returned and they’d absconded to their private room, they’d done nothing but celebrate being together again in all the most rambunctious manners they conceived of. The serious subjects of Cass’ previous captivity and fate hadn’t come up once, until now.
“We never do,” Gunnarr said.
“Issa came to see me,” Cass said.
Gunnarr sighed heavily.
“When you said we didn’t have long, I wasn’t really expecting you to say we’d have to wake up tomorrow and go to war. I thought we might get a long weekend away together, at least.”
Cass decided to change the subject.
“Viola’s girlfriend is nice.”
Gunnarr looked down at Cass and lifted her chin off his chest so that her eyes were locked with his. Cass frowned.
“She said my secret is out. They know I’m the daughter of Timta. They know Timta is the one leading the charge. She said it won’t be long before the new gods start to target me to get at Timta. She also made some snide comment about that being stupid because Timta hardly seems to care very much for her demi-god spawn. But I suppose that’s beside the point, well aside from me being a demi-god. You have to admit, that at least sounds pretty awesome. I am a demi-god. Little g god, but still… good work if you can get it. Hey, shouldn’t you be worshipping me about now?”
