He walked toward the Gateway, toward his companions and the way back to their world. As he walked, he felt the differences in his body. He made massive strides but did not travel as far with each step. His body was shrinking, falling back toward a more human size.
Behind him the sword of Gla’Eru’Wrath continued to do what it had always done and the body of Sepsumannahun let out an odd sighing sound as the chest of the thing collapsed on itself, taking the hilt of the sword with it. A moment later the body flopped to the side, exposing a massive wound in the chest. There was no sign of the sword.
The world went gray for Brogan and he fell to his knees first, and then on his face.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gods Old and New
Daivem
There was nothing left to do, so she let the walking stick fall from her hand.
For over a decade she had held that stick daily, working her hands over the wood, making carvings and corrections as she needed, listening to the voices of the dead as they told her how to work the wood and make it better.
The stick was charred now. Not ruined, but weakened. She had never tried to hold the power of a god inside it, but she had used it to channel that power and the staff was not quite up to the task.
Neither was she. When she was a child she’d seen a man hit by lightning. He had burned from the inside. She had done the same, or it was close enough that she could not tell the difference. Inquisitors are trained to deal with pain, but this was different, this was crippling agony and she simply could not hold it inside.
Daivem let out a wounded cry and fell back on her ass in the dirt.
Jahda was there in an instant, his hands seeking to find spots where contact did not cause her agony. His success was limited.
“We go through the Gateway soon and then we return home, Daivem. I may come back here, but you are done with this place and these gods.”
She took no comfort in his words.
Stanna
Stanna shook her head and watched the madness of gods falling and a mortal man stumbling back through the battlefield where he had done the impossible and killed the deities they had been forced to worship their entire lives. He crashed to the ground and Stanna spat, and then started running toward him. Brogan McTyre had just killed the gods. He had fought them and slain them and now he was defenseless.
And like Brogan himself, Stanna understood that the fight was not yet finished.
She was not alone as she started for him. Harper ran alongside her, and so did others she did not know. Of those she did recognize, white-skinned Myridia was the fastest.
Brogan McTyre lay face down, panting in the dirt when they finally reached him. Myridia looked at the man but did not touch him. Her eyes were wide and she was gasping in deep breaths. Her hands were at her sides and seemed incapable of staying still.
Stanna looked down at the man and felt a confusion she did not expect. It wasn’t quite fear. He was too battered for her to be afraid of him, but there was something akin.
“How is he still alive?” Temmi asked the question.
Harper Rutkett ignored the question and turned Brogan over. His eyes looked hard at the face of his friend and then he placed a hand over the man’s mouth and nose, frowning. “He’s breathing. He’s alive.”
The Galean spoke up, “The gods are dead. The new gods will come now. The demons from the world we left behind, they will take this place and make it their own.” She looked over her shoulder and then around at the others who were still gathering. “We should not be here when that happens. They will want to feast and we are food.”
“How long will it take before they know?” The woman who spoke meant nothing at all to Stanna.
“That the gods are dead? They likely already know that. They will come soon if they can. That is their nature.” The Galean shrugged her narrow shoulders and frowned. “We should leave. Grab him and take him from here, but we should leave before it is too late.”
Brogan McTyre opened his eyes and sucked in a deep lungful of air. His voice was raspy.
His eyes looked at all of them, moving wildly, and he shook his head. “Leave here. It’s not over yet. I can feel them coming.”
“Feel who, Brogan?” Harper spoke softly, still crouched over his friend.
“The new gods. They’re coming here.”
“Then let’s go.”
Brogan McTyre pushed away the hand that tried to help him up and shook his head. “I’ll not be going, Harper.”
“What?”
“One last fight for me. One last time. I have to kill them before they can take this place, whatever it is.”
“What are you talking about, you fool?” The Galean’s voice was not unkind. “There have always been gods. There must be gods.”
He looked at her and shook his head even as he pushed himself up from the soil. “Why? So that they can do the whole damned thing all over again?”
“That is the nature of our world, Brogan McTyre. We live by the decrees of the gods. They make the world as they see fit and we live in it.”
“No!” He shook his head. “No more! I meant what I said before, no more sacrifices.” His hands clenched and he took three steps, pointing toward the Gateway. “Go. Get away from here. I’ll kill them all as soon as they arrive. They’ll die by my hands.”
“There’s not enough of you left, fool.” Stanna spoke softly.
“There’s enough.” He stared at her, daring her to disagree. “I can feel them inside me yet, the gods. They want out, but that’s not for them. They’re dead and I’m alive and that means what’s left of them is mine to use. It’s not much, I’ll give you that, but it might be enough.”
The Galean spat. Still, she turned and headed for the distant rift between the worlds. “In any event, I will not be here when the demons arrive. The knowledge of Galea must be preserved and that is now my duty.” She did not turn and look back, but started walking and kept walking.
A moment later the woman whose name she did not know nodded her head and looked toward Brogan. “I have to go with her, Brogan. Me and Desmond. I must.”
Brogan McTyre’s face betrayed him for an instant. He felt something for the woman, though he had lost his wife only recently to the gods themselves.
He said nothing but gestured with his hand. “Go with them.” Harper stared, his jaw working, the smile she’d almost always seen on the man’s face missing as well. “See them safely through,” Brogan insisted. “I am not coming home.”
“I’ll be taking my chances here, with you.”
“No!” Brogan’s voice was hoarse and it broke easily.
“We would all like a better world, Brogan McTyre. Not just you.”
“Watch them, Harper, get them home.”
Harper shook his head. “Bump’ll do that for me. Won’t you, lad?”
A shorter man, the one she’d seen walking away from Beron’s corpse, nodded his head. “That I will.” He stared at Brogan for a moment and then gave a small wave and turned. A moment later several others left with him.
“You’ve lost your minds.” Temmi shook her head. “You killed the gods. Killed the He-Kisshi from what I hear. But something has to rebuild the world.”
“There’s already something down there to do that. Don’t know what they’re called, but they’re supposed to rebuild. Maybe they’ll handle it and maybe they won’t.” Brogan brushed the dirt from his legs and stared at Harper. “You should leave.” His eyes looked around and found Stanna. “All of you.”
Stanna snorted. “What will you do with these demons?”
“I plan on killing them.”
“With what?”
He pointed back the way he’d come. “My axe is there.”
Stanna nodded. She looked at Temmi and then at Tully. “Go on with you then. I’ll be along when I’ve talked sense into this lot.”
Temmi nodded. “Just be quick about it.” She started away, muttering to herself and holding the back of her head where she�
�d taken the worst of the blow to her skull. She moved as if she were drunk. Stanna hoped that resolved itself soon.
Tully eyed her for a moment, not saying anything and then finally spoke. “You can’t fight demons. You’re only a person, no matter how strong you like to think you are.”
“I know what I am.” Stanna smiled and then swatted the girl on her backside. “Get on and watch over her. She’s not nearly as fearsome as she likes to think.” Tully looked like she might say something else, but then she closed her mouth and nodded. Was there a chance the girl would shed a tear? She thought not. Still, the girl looked away and then she started walking, catching up with Temmi, but not too quickly.
They moved into the distance, a small gathering of people, some she knew and some she had never known. Standing with her were two men she’d done her best to finish in battle. She’d failed in both cases and that was rare. Aside from them, there was one last Grakhul. One last servant of the dead gods.
“Do you really think you can fight these demons, Brogan McTyre?” She eyed him as she asked the question and he nodded before finally answering.
“Aye. I’ll kill them. Or at least most of them before I die.”
“What of the things remaking the world?”
It was Myridia that answered. “The Hahluritiedes.” The Grakhul looked at Stanna and squinted. “They are the shapers of the world. They follow the orders of gods.”
“And if there are no orders?”
“Then they sleep.”
“And if there are no gods?”
“Who can say? There have always been gods.”
Brogan spat. “No more.”
Stanna rolled her eyes. “Yes. That is the plan.”
Myridia sighed and unsheathed her sword. In the distance, far from where they stood, there was a disturbance. The ground shook and the air let out a screech as something began forcing its way into the realm of the gods.
“Just as well,” Myridia said. “The gods lie.”
Stanna nodded. She had no idea what the woman was talking about. Nor did she care.
“Something is coming.” Harper shook his head.
Brogan McTyre nodded and grinned. He made a gesture and the axe he had dropped was in his hand.
“You’ve still time to run. The lot of you. I’ll hold it back.”
Harper and Stanna snorted their responses at the same time.
It was nearly military precision. They stepped around and made a square, each covered by the warrior at their side. No words were spoken.
None were needed.
The first of the demons came crawling from the ground, a shadowy form that writhed and hissed as it moved to the surface.
It was not human. It was a beast, to be sure.
But it was not a god, either, at least not yet.
There were four of them and only one of the demon lords, so far.
Those were the sort of odds that Stanna could accept.
The thing noticed them and let out a shuddering scream that made her teeth ache in her head.
Stanna drew the Bitch and stepped forward into a proper battle posture. Her smile matched that of Brogan McTyre.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Tessa Moore, my beloved, for believing in me. Thanks to Charles R Rutledge and Cliff Biggers, who have helped me in countless ways! More thanks than should be possible go to Penny Reeve, Nick Tyler, Marc Gascoigne and the entire crowd of Robot Overlords! You folks do so much that no one ever sees…
About the Author
James A Moore is the award-winning, bestselling author of over forty novels, thrillers, dark fantasy and horror alike, including the critically acclaimed Fireworks, Under the Overtree, Blood Red, the Serenity Falls trilogy (featuring his recurring antihero, Jonathan Crowley) and his popular Seven Forges series. In addition to writing multiple short stories, he has also edited, with Christopher Golden and Tim Lebbon, The British Invasion anthology. His first short story collection, Slices, sold out before ever seeing print. Along with Jonathan Maberry and Christopher Golden, he hosts the popular Three Guys With Beards podcast. He lives in Massachusetts, USA.
jamesamoorebooks.com • twitter.com/jamesamoore
By the Same Author
The Tides of War series
The Last Sacrifice
Fallen Gods
Gates of the Dead
The Seven Forges series
Seven Forges
The Blasted Lands
City of Wonders
The Silent Army
The Blood Red series
Blood Red
Blood Harvest
Blood of the Damned
The Chris Corin Chronicles
Possessions
Rabid Growth
Newbies
The Serenity Falls trilogy
Writ in Blood
The Pack
Dark Carnival
The Griffin & Price series (with Charles R Rutledge)
Blind Shadows
Congregations of the Dead
A Hell Within
The Predator: Hunters and Hunted
Alien: Sea of Sorrows
The Haunted Forest Tour (with Jeff Strand)
Bloodstained Oz (with Christopher Golden)
Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Chaos Bleeds
Cherry Hill
Deeper
Fireworks
Harvest Moon
Homestead
Under the Overtree
Vampire: House of Secrets (with Kevin Andrew Murphy)
Vendetta
Werewolf: Hellstorm
The Wild Hunt
Slices (stories)
This is Halloween (stories)
Social Robotics
Get all the news by joining our mailing list, the New Robot Army
Follow us on Twitter
Like us on Facebook
Gaze in awe at Instagram
ANGRY ROBOT
An imprint of Watkins Media Ltd
20 Fletcher Gate,
Nottingham,
NG1 2FZ • UK
angryrobotbooks.com
twitter.com/angryrobotbooks
To kill a god
An Angry Robot paperback original 2019
Copyright © James A Moore 2019
James A Moore asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
UK ISBN 978 0 85766 746 5
US ISBN 978 0 85766 746 5
EBook ISBN 978 0 85766 747 2
Cover by Alejandro Colucci.
Set by Argh! Nottingham.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Angry Robot and the Angry Robot icon are registered trademarks of Watkins Media Ltd.
ISBN: 978-0-85766-747-2
r: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
Gates of the Dead Page 31
