“I do not argue with gods.”
“You saved me when you fought–”
Stanna silenced her with a look. “That was a messenger. It was in the wrong.”
Temmi nodded and kept her tongue.
When Tully looked away from the conversation the Blood Mother and her followers were gone.
They were not forgotten.
Myridia
The sun set, and eventually it rose again and still the men did their best to scale the stone cliffs leading to the Sessanoh. They had numbers and they had patience, but they did not have the upper hand, or spears to push back the fools who got too close.
Still, the work was exhausting.
“They will eventually get up here.” Lyraal’s tone was conversational, though she had been pushing back the army of men for just as long as Myridia.
“Yes, I know, but so far there is little else we can do to stop them.” The Sessanoh had been prepared to handle sacrifices, but they had certainly had little chance to gather weapons, or even food and water. So far they were lasting, but the fish they needed to eat were down with the men, and the water they had came from the shallow mirrored lakes.
“The gods have not answered our prayers?”
Myridia looked to her friend and scowled. “Do you see any of the He-Kisshi here?”
“Well, yes.” Lyraal smiled and pointed with her free hand even as she stepped closer to the edge and used the pointy end of her spear to send another man falling back with a wounded arm. They weren’t trying to kill anyone, but they weren’t playing nicely either and if the men fell the thousand or so feet to their deaths, then so be it.
Myridia looked and saw the odd, fluttering wings of an Undying as the creature descended and landed on the plateau where the vast stone fortress rested.
“You have called, Myridia of Nugonghappalur. I am here to answer your questions.”
She bowed formally, but quickly, and gestured to one of the younger girls to take her place on the line.
“We are besieged.” She pointed to the edge of the cliff leading to the sea. “Other Grakhul have come and decided that we are not fit to serve the gods. I do not want to harm them, but I also do not intend to bow before these men, who do not follow our ways.”
“You do not intend?” The hooded head moved closer. “What if the gods decree it?”
“I–” She closed her mouth. There was no proper answer. “I will obey the commands of the gods, of course, but I will not assume that these men know that will better than you.”
“I am Dowru-Thist. You are wise to call for an answer from the gods in these times.”
She bowed again, formally. “I await the word of the gods.”
Dowru-Thist turned its head and then looked up toward the sun above. The clouds were darkening near the mountains to the west, but the storms had not yet reached the Sessanoh.
She wanted to speak, but was wise enough to leave the He-Kisshi to do whatever it had to do.
That hooded maw moved closer again and she saw the endless eyes that fixed upon her. “They come from Trant’s Peak, and they have waited there in a great slumber for a time when the gods knew more of the Grakhul would be required.”
She frowned and looked over to the edge as Lyraal drew her sword and thrust the tip downward. A scream followed and when the blade was lifted the tip was stained a dark red.
“They are to join us?” Her stomach fluttered at the notion. The men were aggressive and demanding, and larger than any of the men she had been raised with.
“Your men are gone. You and yours will need to either serve the gods as the vessels of new children, or offer your services in another way.”
“But they are men, they are weak.”
“They are Grakhul – they are like you but their men do not follow your ways. They follow older ways.”
“How else can we hope to serve the gods?”
The He-Kisshi looked away and moved, studying the cliffside and the men climbing it. When it finally spoke it said, “Mate with these men and have strong babies, or find and kill Brogan McTyre before he reaches your old home.”
“Nugonghappalur is dead. The gods destroyed it.”
“It is destroyed, but the Lum-Hunnipih’ar still exists. It must be preserved.”
The Gateway, of course. Myridia nodded her head. The home of the gods themselves was beyond the Lum-Hunnipih’ar, a place where no mortal was allowed to go and surely the madman who would kill a god and enslave a race would be foolish enough to try to reach the gods.
“The gods fear Brogan McTyre?”
“The gods fear nothing. They do not wish to let the blasphemer know where they dwell. They do not wish their world tainted by his madness.” There was no anger in the words of the Undying, but there was a certain tone of reproach just the same.
Dowru-Thist continued, “You may stay here and serve as broodmares to the Grakhul who come, or you may serve your gods as warriors. The choice is yours.”
She had only to look toward Lyraal to know the answer. “We would serve as warriors to our gods.”
“So be it.” Dowru-Thist stepped toward her and raised its clawed hands into the air. The winds changed in that moment, sweeping up the side of the cliff with enough force to push the women away from their positions.
“Gather your forces. Go to the courtyard between the sacrificial pits.” The Undying moved away from her then and faced the cliff again, waiting patiently.
She did not defy Dowru-Thist, but instead called the others to her side even as she started toward the vast holes where the sacrifices were cast down to the gods.
“I don’t understand.” Lyraal looked at her, studied her as if searching for signs of an illness. “Why did you choose to leave here after all you struggled through to reach this place?”
“Those are not Grakhul men. They are aggressive, and they are demanding, and I do not wish to change myself to suit their needs. There are thousands of them and hundreds of us, and you already know that they would fight to see who could mate with the best of us rather than letting us choose mates.” She sneered. “Dowru-Thist said it himself. We could fight or we could be ‘broodmares.’”
Lyraal looked back toward the Undying and her mouth peeled open to spit a venomous streak of obscenities.
Myridia stopped her with a gesture. “We were given options. I chose the one I liked best.”
“Did you choose because of how you thought I’d react?”
“No. I did this because Brogan McTyre murdered my mate. Because he locked the children in cages, and us in chains, and planned to sell us as slaves. He killed our men and ruined our world. He chose his family over everything else.”
“And you blame him for this?”
“I might have thought to do the same, but that does not change what his actions caused. The world ends. Our world has already ended. You lost your man and I lost mine. We have traveled across foreign lands and been told that we have two ways to serve the gods. We can be used to make babies, or we can fight and kill the men who destroyed our world.”
She looked down at the closest pit. Far, far down in that vast, smooth hole leading toward the seas she could hear the sound of waves splashing against the sides. The fall would likely kill any who decided to dive down. Cutting the throats of the sacrifices was a mercy.
“I knew that you would want to fight but did you think that I would want to have a mate chosen for me? That I would want to be used by a man I care nothing about?” Myridia shook her head. “I will kill Brogan McTyre with my bare hands if I can.”
Lyraal smiled then and put a hand on her shoulder. “Excellent. Then we will kill the dog together.”
“The dog and all of his pack.” Myridia looked down into the depths, and only looked up again when the Undying came for them.
“Do you have faith in the gods?” Dowru-Thist spoke calmly enough, its arms folded so that it looked like a hooded man and nothing more.<
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“Yes, of course.”
One hand reached out and pointed to the deep hole they stood closest to. “Then show your faith. All of you. Jump.”
Myridia looked long and hard at that shadowy mouth. She waited for fifteen heartbeats, and then she did what she had to do.
She stepped into the pit and felt herself falling into the darkness.
Chapter Nine
Small Sacrifices
Bron
Five days of hard riding brought Bron and his escort to the new location of Stennis Brae. By all rights the kingdom should have been destroyed. There was no doubting that. He and those who rode with him saw the ruined mountains, the shattered stone and splintered crystalline shards that littered miles of land around the remains of the Broken Swords. A vast pillar of stone that looked almost like a leg was wedged into that chaos, a thighbone, perhaps, and the dual bones of the lower leg.
The things a man fancies he can see. Bron spat at the very notion and rode all that much harder to find his kingdom.
He very nearly wept when he saw first Brixleigh and then Kinnett and the cairns of the Brundage Pass, all of which had been situated in the mountains. He did weep when he finally reached Journey End and saw his home Stoneheart, nestled exactly where it should have been, in the very center of the city.
It was impossible, of course, but there it was, all of it, all that he ruled over as a king.
Bron rode hard, pushing his mount to the very limit of endurance as he made his way home. The children, his beloved Maura, they were all that he could think about. That they’d have been dead without the demon Theragyn’s help was something he did not miss.
The gods had tried to punish him for not sacrificing his son. The demon blocked that punishment.
Of course he would follow Theragyn.
Maura came to him and he clutched her in his arms, kissing her face, her neck and her hair. “You are safe. You are safe. I was so afraid you were gone forever.”
She stared at him with awestruck eyes, and her lips trembled as she spoke. “Bron, the very city moved. The kingdom moved. I do not know how.”
“I do. I have promised another our fealty.” He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “The gods have betrayed us, but Theragyn, a new god, has offered us protection.”
Oh, how wide her dark eyes grew as Maura shook her head. “Bron. We cannot disobey the gods.”
“I have already done so. If I had not, you would all be dead right now and I will not accept that possibility.”
Maura’s hands clenched at the cloak on his shoulders. “You don’t understand. You must not say these things.”
“What else can I say, Maura? The gods betrayed us. They would have let the whole of Stennis Brae be shattered with the mountains.”
Maura backed away, shaking her head, and her eyes looked down to the markings that ran along the backs of his hands and his fingers. “Oh. Bron. No. Don’t do this thing.”
“It is done. It cannot be undone and I would not if I could.” He felt his lips press together. “The gods betrayed us, Maura. They wanted me to offer our Liam as a sacrifice or for me to let you die, or Hemma. I could no sooner offer any of you than I could the very sun. You are that important to me.” And again he thought back on Brogan McTyre and understood all too well why the man had defied the gods.
Maura shook her head again and retreated.
“You do not understand, my love.”
The shape rose behind her. He saw the dark hood, so much like cloth, and knew then why Maura worried so.
Bron stepped forward and grabbed his wife’s shoulder, pulling her away as the He-Kisshi made itself known.
Had he seen this one before? He had no idea, but whatever the case it was as hideous as any of its ilk. The cowled mouth showed rows of teeth far back in the shadows cast by the sun. Amidst those teeth dark objects moved, so like worms, but part of the whole.
The He-Kisshi moved forward without seeming to walk. “The gods offered you mercy, and you have refused them.”
“The gods wanted me to kill my own. I cannot do that. I will not.”
The Undying shifted, craning that cowled head and examining Bron with its countless eyes. “You are foolish, King Bron McNar. The gods do not often offer mercy.”
“You are right, no mercy was offered. I will not kill my flesh to appease the gods who already make so many demands.”
He was not conscious of reaching for his axe, and yet it was in his hand.
“You would threaten me?” The He-Kisshi came forward again, its voice shaking with suppressed rage, the same fury its kind showed whenever any dared disagree with the gods.
Bron’s axe slammed deep into the belly of the thing, or would have if the folded wings had not been in the way. The hide was thick, and tougher than he’d expected. Rather than falling back and dying as he’d hoped, the monstrous thing screeched and charged forward, grabbing the king in its claws and lifting him easily from the ground.
Bron let out a yelp as he was lifted into the air and cast aside.
The He-Kisshi did not bother with him. It approached Maura instead and, even as she flinched back, the left hand of the beast caught her braided hair and yanked her closer.
“No! Don’t you do it! Let her go!” Bron was fifteen feet away and trying to regain his feet even as Maura was hauled closer and that vast mouth opened wider to show the full horror of the teeth usually hidden from sight.
Two arrows buried themselves in that maw, and the thing let go of Maura as it gagged on the shafts buried deep inside its wet obscenity of a mouth.
Maura screamed and screamed, her eyes wide and terrified.
Two more arrows hit just as fast and Bron rose to his feet, looking for the source of the shafts, and spotted two of his men. More of them came from other directions, all of their faces set like stone, and more arrows were clutched and notched.
Bron shook his head and rose to his feet, clutching his axe in both hands. While the guards kept the monster busy, he took a solid grip and then charged. The weight at the back end of his axe smashed into the back of the creature’s skull and dropped it to the ground as more arrows drove into the heap of screaming fur and teeth. Blood spilled from a dozen wounds and Bron lifted the axe again and brought it down on the back of the He-Kisshi’s head, which obligingly split in half.
It was not dead, but that was just as well. Undying was the phrase and Bron had no doubt it was a truthful claim. He gave commands and they were followed. The guards came forward with bonds, hard ropes and thick straps of leather, and Bron was among them as they wrapped that hideous form in layer after layer of constrictive strands, as surely as a spider binds a fly.
Maura wept openly as he continued with the madness, and he knew it was madness, because in thousands of years no one had ever managed to kill one of the damnable messengers of the gods.
Bron said, “Do not try to kill the damned thing. Bind it, gag it, silence the beast, and then we hide it away.”
Maura continued to cry, and as much as it hurt his soul, Bron ignored her.
The thing began to move. Blood seeped from the open wound on the monster’s head and it hissed and roared as it strained against the heavy layers of bonds. By all rights it should have been too damaged to move, and far too weak to do any harm to the rope and leather surrounding it, but the ropes creaked and the leather groaned and Bron was terrified that it might break free.
Nells, one of the captains of the guard, looked his way and offered, “We could bury it. Seal it in the ground.”
Bron considered and finally shook his head. “Bury it, yes, but leave the head out of the ground, that it might still breathe.”
Nells nodded his head and barked orders.
Maura wept.
“Maura, love, enough. It’s been done.” He thought his wife stronger than that, bolder. She had fought alongside him more than once when they were at war with Mentath. She had proven herself.<
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“Bron. You still don’t understand.”
“What is it?”
Her eyes were tear-stained, and her teeth were clenched and her hands were pulled into fists. “I was not allowed to speak. They swore the children would die if I did, but now, after this, I have no choice.” She stared at him, and fresh tears fell from her eyes. “Three of them arrived at the same time. I have no idea where they might have gone.”
Did Bron know fear in that moment? Oh, yes. He knew it and held it like a lover. “Find the Undying! Find them now!” Nells made sure the right ones listened. Some had to stay with the beast, lest it escape. Others ran to find the other He-Kisshi.
The king of Stennis Brae ran then, his heart twisting and screaming inside his chest. He ran for his son’s room. Liam was so small, only a baby, not even five years of age.
His old legs worked better than they had in over a decade as he pounded through the long halls of Stoneheart, his boot heels echoing on the hard floors, and pushed his way past anyone who stood between him and Liam’s chambers.
People who were unfortunate enough to bar Bron’s way suffered bruises to flesh and dignity alike and he cared not at all. Much as he was a king who would listen to his people, he was even more a father who would fight for his children.
When he reached the door to the chambers Bron came to a hard stop, his eyes flying wide at the sight before him.
Liam lay sprawled across his bed, his eyes locked in an expression of terror that Bron would never forget, never unsee. His chest had been pulled open, heavy claw marks showing where fingers had dug deep before ripping the ribcage apart with terrifying, casual strength.
Blood covered the bedclothes, the bared chest, and the face of Bron’s sweet boy. There was no breath within that body. There was no life to try to save.
The He-Kisshi held Liam’s heart in its hand, other bits and pieces torn from the body glistening darkly around that tiny prize.
“And so your people are spared, despite your folly.” The voice was barely above a whisper. “A wise man would call this a lesson and save wife and child from the same fate. Release your captive or I will show you how angry the gods can truly be.”
Gates of the Dead Page 9
