Kill the Gods

by E. Michael Mettille

  Maelich was unconvinced, “You cannot discount the similarities. You both come to me in dreams. You both speak to me in riddles. You both seem bound to control me by invading my unconscious mind. Do you deny it?”

  “I do deny it,” Maulom rolled his eyes. “She and I are as different as night and day. I led you to your destiny, and she seeks to sway you from it. Surely, you must recognize the difference.”

  “I do not,” Maelich began, but before he could add anything else, Ding charged into the tent bursting with excitement.

  “Fires burn, south,” he could barely get the words out.

  “It is time,” Maulom smiled.

  Concern spread across Maelich’s face, “I hope they are ready. If these Tahnka are as fierce and formidable as you have described, our first fight, the Shaiwah’s first fight, will be no easy victory.”

  “Aye,” Ymitoth agreed, “no easy task at all.”

  Ding remained confident, “Shaiwah ready. Shaiwah fight. Tahnka die.”

  Maelich hoped Ding and the rest of his kin were as ready as the excited young warrior suggested they were. He was less so, but nothing could be known before the first test. He and Ymitoth had already strategized about how the Shaiwah’s first battle would go. They had trained the eager soldiers as best they could with the time given to complete the task. The ones who proved the most proficient with their swords became leaders to the ones who proved less so.

  All the thoughts of war and worrying about how his band of new warriors who would taste their first battle with the light of a new day completely dragged his attention away from concerns about horses haunting his dreams.

  Chapter 37

  The Warrior

  The land changed quickly as Perrin’s small group travelled away from the Lake, and not just the land, but everything. The shifts were slight, gradual, but undeniable. The vegetation had changed first. None in the group found that terribly odd. The fauna around the Lake had been so different than what any of them were accustomed to that leaving those wonderfully odd trees, flowers, and plants only made the land around the place seem even more enchanted. The trees and shrubs they encountered a mere few miles from it seemed more familiar. They looked like pines, oaks, maples, and a variety of other trees common in Havenstahl and the surrounding lands, but they were different somehow. After a few more miles, they seemed less like different trees and more like the same trees but unfinished. The grass on the ground changed in similar fashion. As they progressed it looked less like common grass and more like something else entirely. The sky seemed the biggest riddle. When they had looked out across the place where the maps don’t go while standing in the sweet perfection of the land around the Lake, blue skies stretched on forever. However, as they got deeper into this foreign land the sky changed. Directly overhead it remained blue, but in the distance, it was different, splashed with colors which did not belong in a sky outside of sunset, or even at all in some cases. Silver and green, the darkest blue and most delicate orange, even deep black and complete white, and more all mingled together, swirling and changing in patterns which were not really patterns at all. They were more like random happenings. At one moment this color existing in this shape, and in the next it was a different color in a different shape.

  A few days had passed before the land became hilly. Their path followed up hills or around them and down into valleys. None of it seemed strange until Glord realized they should have been traveling up a pretty steep incline for the better part of a day, but it had leveled off and began to lead them down into a valley instead.

  “I am no expert on this terrain, but we should be heading up a good-sized hill right now,” he said.

  “This land is inconsistent,” Ycharaz agreed with amazement in his voice.

  Perrin remained unsurprised. “It will only get worse,” she replied. “The Great Mother showed me a chaotic place. It resembled our surroundings but lacked any order at all. These gradual shifts we have been seeing will steadily become more consistent until the very ground we stand upon will shift and change constantly.”

  A bit of irritation slipped into Ycharaz’s tone as he replied, “You might have shared that with us before we left that perfect place.”

  “Would it have made a difference to you?” Glord snapped.

  “I suppose not,” Ycharaz shrugged as he glanced around, “but it would have been nice to know what to expect.”

  Perrin could not blame him. It was a shame to leave that place, but Geillan was more valuable than any amount of peace or comfort. She would eat dirt and sleep on spikes for the rest of her days if it meant saving her son from those vile demons—emissaries of a violent god—who stole him away from her. “I should have told all of you what Helias had showed me,” she sighed.

  Glord’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Ycharaz and replied to Perrin, “It would have made no difference.”

  “None at all,” Ycharaz smirked and nudged his horse forward.

  As one day drifted into another, it became increasingly difficult to discern the difference between them. At times, the night sky was brighter than noon on a cloudless day, while at others, day was as dark as a starless night. The land and skies around them continued to change as if contradicting themselves. Rushing rivers with rapids violent enough to be heard a mile off became trickling creeks before they arrived, or the opposite. One morning they woke in a field of orange-yellow grass as thick as small tree branches. That same spot had been heavily wooded with plenty of cover when they had made camp the prior evening.

  High cliffs began rumbling up from nothing and inching toward the sky as the trail dipped downward. The cliffs seemed rocky despite being light blue with green sparkles catching the red sunlight and casting orange shadows. By the time they stopped growing, the walls on either side of the trail towered at least two-hundred feet above them. Wide-eyed, Perrin took it all in until she saw movement. Dark shapes scurried about the rocks above. “We are not alone,” she whispered to Glord.

  “The queen is correct,” Darg piped up. “I spied them creeping around either side of the trail a few miles back, even before the cliffs they scurry upon grew up out of nothing.”

  “They pose little threat to us high among the cliffs,” Glord said as he surveyed the canyon walls, “but be prepared.”

  A scowl spread across Ganodin’s face as he looked up and boomed, “I will split any man or beast who wishes to challenge my queen in half. Best keep your distance or the name Ganodin will become well known in these lands.”

  “My queen, I know nothing of the beasts who dwell in these lands, but I make this vow. That beautiful blade you carry will have no cause to taste their blood. None will get close to you,” the sing song quality of Jorgon’s voice made the promise seem a farce, but he meant every word.

  Darg’s right cheek swelled as he sucked on his teeth. He shifted them back into place and boomed, “All your blades will remain starved for blood as I slay all these beasts before any of you have a chance to draw them.”

  Ycharaz nudged his horse close enough to Perrin’s that the two animals bumped hips. Perrin shot him a look. He returned the look with a wink, “They all speak gibberish. I will be the one to slay your enemies, my queen.”

  Halogren looked back and scowled, twisting the scars around his mouth into a grotesque horror, “You will all be boasting of your greatness all the way back to the Lake if you fail to stay sharp.”

  Perrin remained silent, scanning the tops of the cliffs. It was difficult to gauge the strength of the force tracking them. Shapes would move close to the edge and then push off disguising their numbers. Her best estimate put them at around one hundred strong. Her men could boast of their prowess with blades and vow to kill any creature who looked at her cross, but they would need her as much as she needed them. As she glanced around at her escort, she made a vow to herself to fight beside them not cower behind them.

  The cliffs beside Perrin’s group began shrinking away as the sky above changed. It looked burnt and
ashy, twisting like the remnants of a spent fire swirling in a cyclone. The path beneath them changed as if in response to the burning sky. Dry and cracked like a desert, it blazed bright yellow. The cracks moved constantly, flashing a glistening green as they zigged and zagged. Black things began springing up randomly across the cracked, yellow ground. They resembled shrubs but appeared prickly and dangerous.

  “They have our flanks. Charge,” Glord shouted the command as he drove his heels into his horse’s sides.

  The cloud of dust the horses kicked up as they charged across the cracked dirt was milky white with the faintest blue glitter haunting about it like a formless ghost. “This place is alive,” Perrin gasped.

  They charged half a mile before Glord called them to halt and form up. By the time they had circled round to face their pursuers, the dust hiding them from sight had settled. At least one hundred creatures resembling men but in proportions that made no sense charged toward them. Their heads and torsos were too small and their arms and legs too big. They wore furry animal hides that seemed wholly inappropriate considering the warmth of the surrounding lands. The weapons they waved above their heads were black and pitted. The beasts they rode were proportionally similar to horses, but bigger with fur that looked painted. Some were red, some blue, others striped of various colors, none of which made sense for any beast. They all had hooked tusks curving up from either side of their foaming snouts.

  “Not one step further,” Glord’s command dripped with all the authority of a general of Havenstahl’s army. If the approaching hoard heard it over the hollow slapping sound their horses’ hooves made pounding into the cracked dirt beneath them, they showed no sign.

  The smile which spread across Ycharaz’s face as he watched the group of not quite men riding their not quite horses completely ignore his general’s command oozed joyous insanity. He looked around his small group and laughed, “Show these beasts no mercy. A pound of tubber says I slay more of these monsters than any one of you.”

  “I will take that bet,” Perrin’s eyes narrowed as she drew her sword and drove her heals into her horse.

  Perrin’s horse had made it to a full gallop before Glord was able to call out, “Charge.”

  The ground between the two forces no longer resembled any kind of ground. The stuff their horses raced across looked like a cloudless, midnight sky with stars and moons and comets. Each hoof pounding the sky beneath them kicked up stardust instead of dirt. The sky above turned to a grassy field.

  Darg may not have been the best sword in the group, but he was by far the best pure rider. By the time the two forces collided, he was ten lengths ahead of anyone else. A moment before he crashed into that line, he jumped up onto his horse’s back. Another moment later, he leapt onto the rider immediately left of the space his horse slipped through between two riders. Not more than a second after that, he stood tall on a tusked, horse-like monster holding the severed head of the creature who had been riding it. He killed five more like that, leaping from horse-like beast to horse-like beast and decapitating its rider, before one of the monsters finally tackled him out of the air.

  There was precious little time for Darg to consider his opponent after tumbling across the starscape beneath them. The thing looked like a man with wonky proportions. It had long, hairless legs. Those odd legs terminated at a waist which sat midway between Darg’s own waist and his sternum, but its torso was so short the two were nearly identical in height. Its skin was the palest purple with large, reddish veins showing through more clearly than they should. Its face was hairless—not even eyebrows—but resembled a man’ face, only roughly half the size of a normal one. The small ridge above two slits where a nose should have been—under eyes twice the size of an average man’s—was the only thing which really kept the thing from looking like anything other than an odd-shaped man.

  The not quite man swung his black, stony looking sword at Darg’s head. The wily soldier spun beneath the attack and cut through those long legs right below its crotch. He continued spinning with the velocity of his strike and a tiny head was spinning through the air. “That makes seven,” he called out to Ycharaz who was slicing through the gullet of another while speeding by on his horse.

  “I count ten,” Ycharaz shouted back over his head as he halted his horse to stab another through the throat. “Make that eleven,” he shouted as he charged over the falling carcass.

  Ganodin was off his horse. He stumbled backward, losing ground against three as he blocked attacks with his mighty axe. His foot slipped on a comet and he tumbled onto his back. He brought his axe up in front of him to block a black blade arcing toward his face, but the blow never connected. Instead, the arm which had been swinging that blade landed harmlessly next to him. A moment later, a severed head landed on his other side, while another bounced off the blade of his axe. Then Perrin’s bright face peered down at him with a wide smile. “That makes six for me,” she said before spinning to parry a blow.

  A moment later, Ganodin was back on his feet. He worked his way over to Perrin and spun to defend her back. “My queen,” he called out, “I had intended to protect you from our foes, and instead you have saved me. Grant me the great honor of guarding your back.”

  “You protect mine, and I will protect yours,” Perrin yelled back. “We will show these beasts why all should fear the fiercest of Havenstahl.”

  The two battled like that, back-to-back, cutting down the manlike things attacking them. Perrin had a warrior’s instinct. Glord had trained her, but her movements were like art, painting the star-streaked ground with the deep auburn blood of her enemies. She barely registered Glord’s voice shouting above the fray, “Men, to the queen.” Moments later, all in her group formed up in a circle, battling enemies on all sides.

  Jorgon called out, “My queen, if this battle proves to be my last, I am honored to have fought alongside the fiercest queen Havenstahl has ever known.”

  “I am not a proper queen,” Perrin shouted out as she ran a man thing through the heart, “but I have a command for you. None of you have my leave to die on this day. This land may not be ours, but this battle is. Paint the stars beneath our feet with the blood of my enemies.”

  All the adrenaline, all the hubris, all the feelings of glory rushing through the veins of Perrin’s small group would not be enough to win the day. Their enemies boasted numbers too great to overcome. They continued to battle, slowly losing ground until their circle had shrunk to the point back touched back and elbow touched elbow. There was no more ground to give, but their enemies kept coming. The slightest bit of doubt slipped into Perrin’s awareness. It was barely a tickle in her consciousness, but it was there. The black blade arced toward her face. She raised her sword up to block the blow, but its force was great enough to knock her down to one knee. The next one might cut into her soft flesh.

  Before that finishing blow could come, a horn blared. The sound was melodic and deep, like a mountain scarra howling for her pups to return. Perrin looked into the eyes of the man thing looming over her. Was it fear she saw in those pink eyes? And then hoofbeats. She took advantage of the distraction to impale her attacker through the throat. He gurgled something inaudible as his sword hit the ground and he helplessly tried to keep the blood in his body.

  The beasts were suddenly retreating, racing back to where the cliffs had been. Horses—real horses, not those tusked monsters the man things rode—raced around them chasing away and battling with the beasts. Once all remaining alive in the horde who had attacked Perrin’s group were racing away as fast as they could, the calvary who had chased them off ceased their pursuit.

  “Men, hold,” Perrin said quietly, as she made eye contact with each of her men. “Let us find out if these riders are friend or foe.”

  “I pity them if they prove foe,” Darg chuckled before sucking hard on his teeth.

  The riders circled around Perrin’s group. The move was unsurprising. Perrin would have commanded her men to do the same if addr
essing an invading force, even one so small as hers. The men circling her group were different than the man things they had just battled with. These looked like any other man from any of the great cities. Before Glord could open his mouth, Perrin addressed them, “I am Perrin, rightful queen of Havenstahl. My son has been stolen by a horrible and vile god. I mean to challenge this wicked creature for my son’s life. I ask safe passage through this place and promise no mercy if you choose to hinder my mission.”

  One of the men leapt down from his horse. He had short, auburn hair that danced awkwardly in the light breeze. His face was clean with no beard to hide his cleft chin, and his dark eyes were easy to look at. “My queen,” he said, as he bowed almost deep enough to be satirical and disrespectful, “Dirk, at your service. You are more than welcomed in these lands and can expect no challenge from me or my men.” Once he had finished his dramatic bow, he smiled and added, “Forgive the blush in my cheeks, highness. A beauty such as that which my eyes behold is quite rare in these lands.”

  The compliment crossed a line with Glord. “Mind your tongue, lad. My fair queen is spoken for. The blush in your cheeks will melt right off your skull. Though I may be willing to forgive the folly, it could be her husband would be less forgiving. Perhaps you have not heard of Maelich of Havenstahl.”

  “The lad of the Lake? The Dragon?” Dirk smiled wide. “Who has not heard of him. He saved us all, did he not? And your queen is the wife of this great power? I feel honored to be in your presence, highness. You might well be queen of us all,” he paused as he scratched his head. “It begs the question, though. If your husband is the greatest power this world has ever known, why do you travel treacherous, foreign lands to rescue his son. Could he not simply will his son free of his bonds?”

  “Mocking my queen is only a good idea if you are not fond of your tongue,” Ycharaz snapped.

  “Thank you, my loyal friends, but I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself,” Perrin gently scolded her men. “My husband’s whereabouts are not your concern, and my mission is my own. If you have a mind to interfere with my quest, my faithful men will cut you down. If you care to help, the assistance is welcome. If neither of those are true, stand aside and let us pass.”