by Tam Chronin
"War. Rebellion." Aral stood and began walking back to Raev’s shop. "We're not looking for attention. Our aim is to bring real change. You said yourself, you're a spy. For now, only people I trust know the larger plan. Earn that first or leave."
She managed only a few steps before she heard laughter behind her.
"She’s either brilliant or she’s mad," Breev cried out to the sea.
"Let us hope she is both," Shista's distant voice replied.
Thera looked around the empty room with a small sigh. Hodarian's Bay was crowded with refugees. They'd been doubling people up, at least two to a room, in the underground base.
This room was the only room left vacant.
"What if he doesn't show up?" Thera looked over at Aral, fussing over the empty bed. "He might not. No one's seen him since Anogrin's fall."
"I know," Aral said. "But he's a good friend. He took care of me. He taught me more about magic than anyone else except my father. He was there for me when I was at my lowest. He tried to warn me about the priest that betrayed me."
Her shoulders slumped as she said that bit.
Thera stilled, looking at her friend. Aral probably regretted not listening to that, more than anything. It had to be hard, knowing she'd brushed off a friend when she could have used it the most. Even now, years later.
"I'm not giving up on him," Aral's voice was quiet. Nearly inaudible. "He never gave up on me."
Thera picked up the pillow and threw it at Aral. Time to break the tension. "You sound like you're pining after a lover. Something you're not telling me?"
Aral stared for a minute.
Thera made a silly face, and Aral finally laughed. "No! Believe me, no way. There are too many reasons not to, ever. Starting with Porrellid. When things...were intimate...with that...with him...I could feel the eyes of that goddess, watching us, the entire time with...him. Krecek has the same look in his eyes, now. I can feel it it even through the communication spell. I have it on good authority that his goddess has sexual relations with her high priests, and I just can't. He's a friend, and I miss him, but no."
"They…he did that? They DO that?" Thera found herself unable to put all her thoughts into words at once, as warnings and lessons and memories all scrambled for attention at once. "You trusted him, even knowing that? I mean—" She huffed a little, nose wrinkling. "You're the one who told me that sex could reveal our secrets, and you go off and befriend someone who has slept with one of our most powerful enemies? How…I mean…he betrayed us, just by being…what he is. Or was. Or whatever."
"No," Aral said with a firm shake of her head. "I don't trust him. He trusted me."
Did that really make a difference? Thera grimaced, not even trying to hide how skeptical she was.
"He knew what would happen. He warned me from the start not to trust him with any of our secrets. And, there are certain spells that can keep gods from knowing certain things."
"Wait, what?"
Aral held out a hand, stopping Thera. "We couldn't even rely on that. So, he was only given as much information as he needed to be able to help us. Meanwhile, he told me everything."
"Wow." That was, well, it explained a few things. "So, what's this spell? I've never even heard of anything like it."
Aral sat down beside her. "It's time I trust you. Completely." She was wearing her "leader" face. Serious. Sincere. Profoundly removed from emotion and attachment. "You showed great initiative and a level head in Anogrin. I've been told that you helped save many lives that night. You guided people to safety. You organized them as they fled. I want you to be one of my closest advisors."
"Wow. Um. Sure! I mean, I'd be honored," Thera said. "So, the spell?"
"It's not a simple spell that keeps our secrets. It's, well, the god of secrets is on our side. He's been guiding us and helping us from the start. I know it's dangerous. He's a god. He might betray us just because he's bored. But if he does, we still fight. His help has been invaluable so far. We use his name, and his complicity. Without it, we'll all fail."
"Wait. So. We're rebelling against the gods. because another god told us to?" That was the last thing she thought Aral would confide. Thera chewed the inside of her lip, thinking. "You think we'll actually be able to...change things?"
"We already are." Her voice was firm. Resolved. "I don't think we'll end up with everything we want. I wouldn't even make a bet on any of us surviving. I'm willing to risk it." Aral paused. Nodded. "I know. I have nothing to lose. If we don't win, I'm dead anyway. How can I ask that from anyone else? So, I'll be up front and honest with you. That's where we stand. Figure out now if you'll stay, and advise me, knowing the truth. Or, go home, subject yourself to the whim of gods and priests, and live a safe life. I won't hold it against you. I mean, I might, if I had the choice."
Thera stood up and started pacing the room. "I'm fighting because, well, there's so much to gain from forcing the gods to listen to us and take us seriously. Things can't keep going the way they are. I want my death to mean something for everyone that's stuck here, still alive." She stopped, looked Aral in the eye. "Sure, I've got a lot to lose. But I'm in. I couldn't live with myself if I just walked away."
Aral shook her head, and the words that followed were flat, emotionless. "The gods aren't going to take us seriously. Let go of that idea right now. I'm not going to convince the gods of anything. No one will. We're toys. We're playthings. The only way anything is going to change is if we change it."
"What?"
"Total honesty," Aral said, "and all cards on the table. Right now, the only mortals who know the real, ultimate plan are me, Davri, and Byrek."
"What do you mean? What's the real, ultimate plan?"
"We're going to kill the gods."
The words hung in the air. The impossibility of it. The audacity.
The appeal.
"How?"
"Well, it's going to take a lot of magic," Aral said. "We'll need the most powerful mages in the world. I've been getting to know them, corresponding with them, and gathering them for years. You're one of them, Thera. I've had you in mind from the start."
Flattering. Undeniably flattering.
But it didn't keep Thera from realizing that it wasn't actually an answer.
"Do you know how to kill a god?"
Aral grinned, looking sheepish, like she'd been caught doing something naughty. "Not yet."
"Until we do, we're still just puppets and playthings."
"That's nothing new."
Well, that was a sobering thought.
It wasn't new at all.
That's all they'd been since the gods created them.
The thought that they could be more was thrilling. Sure, the forbidden always was, but...
They might do more than just stand up for themselves and protest.
They might change the world. Forever.
What would the world be like without gods?
"Whatever you need," Thera said, "ask me. I'll do it. This is going to be the best, ever."
Weeks later, the site of Nalia's temple was still a smoking pit.
Agruet schooled his face, as always. Appearing triumphant at the destruction would raise a few eyebrows. And some unwanted questions.
He was the god of secrets. Answering petty, nagging questions over inconsistencies in behavior was completely beneath him. Total waste of time.
"It's plain to me what this is," Brinn said in his deep, rumbling voice. He sounded like the echo of cannons on the horizon.
"The humans have declared war," Thar agreed, almost laughing in glee. Her voice was a sharp staccato, like clashing blades.
Agruet almost rolled his eyes at the pair. God and goddess of war. The war had been declared long ago, and not by mere mortals.
"This was mine," Nalia said, pacing. "I'm not only talking about the building they destroyed. The city was mine. The university. The mortals responsible for it were mine as well."
The assembled gods were nodding, murmuring.
"So, we raise an army," Thar said sharply. "The two with the bomb were not the only ones responsible for this."
Fotar stood. "We should make all the mortals pay for their complicity! Make them suffer!"
"They'll only rebel harder against hardship," Hastriva murmured sadly, next to Agruet. She was a younger goddess, the lady of peace, and Agruet thought he would have liked her more under different circumstances. Her kindness was refreshingly different from all the rest.
And Baedrogan, the sucker, put a hand on her shoulder. "Yes, but they won't listen to that," he told her quietly.
This time Agruet rolled his eyes.
Kindness wouldn't serve necessity. Not at this stage.
Kindness was a tool to be exploited for greater ends.
He saw a shadow slipping through the assembled gods.
Yda. She knew.
Yda had orchestrated all of this.
She had to be dealt with. But not yet.
The outcry to assemble armies grew, bringing glee to faces that usually looked bored. It could all be resolved with magic, of course.
If they did that, no one would get their chance to show off and play around for a while.
After all, what was the purpose of mortals if not to play with, right?
"No!" Nalia interrupted. Her voice echoed through the ruins of the city. "I didn't bring you here to raise armies. I can handle this. They targeted me. They tricked one of my own high priests into betraying me. They made it personal. I want revenge."
This gave a few of the assembled pause.
This was Agruet's cue.
"Mother," Agruet said. He stood slowly and drew out the word. "Perhaps you didn't notice. This pile of rubble, right here? Off to the side, as always. This, here, where I stand, was my temple. There were temples to, well, most of us. They called it the temple district because there were so damn many crammed into the area. Yes, yours was special because it was so very pretty, but did you know that all of my high priests in this temple died that night?"
And, of course, Baedrogan nodded to confirm the deaths.
All two of them, because he'd warned the others away.
Details...
"We'll be gathering armies," Thar and Brinn said in unison. "We lost priests, too!"
Nalia opened her mouth and was shouted down by the rest of the gods.
They all had stakes.
They all wanted revenge.
Not petty, personal revenge against two mortals. They wanted to take down this entire ridiculous rebellion. A lesson had to be taught, or the mortals might do this again.
Agruet leaned in close to Baedrogan. "Entropy wins. As we knew it would."
"Yes," Baedrogan said, expression blank. "As we knew it would."
Nalia would still work against the rest to further her personal vendetta. It didn't matter.
War was inevitable.
They'd all be gathered at the right place, together.
And then they would die.
Chapter Fourteen –
Gathering of the Armies
The autumn turned to winter, which was always hellish off Hodarian's Bay. In the middle of a great ice storm, Krecek stepped off of an enchanted path, alone. He wore simple mage robes with a sack slung over his shoulder.
Davri met him there, offering his own heavy winter cloak, and ushered Krecek inside.
"What went wrong?"
"Too many things." Krecek slumped his shoulders and shook his head. He didn't want to recount it.
Not yet. There'd been too much.
"It's fine," Davri said. He showed Krecek around, introduced him to people. They ran into friends, but only Aral walked with them.
Krecek didn’t have much left by way of belongings. When he was given a room of his own, he nearly laughed. What was the point of it? "You saved this for me?"
Davri slipped away, giving Krecek a grin behind Aral's back.
Aral nodded. "I had faith that you’d find your way here eventually. And, see? Here you are." She giggled, and it sounded shrill and forced. She was fluttering her hands around, making half gestures toward one empty part of the room, then another, then toward the small bed.
Krecek looked around. There was a lot of empty space. "Just for me?"
"Well," she said with another fluttering gesture that might have meant to indicate the whole room, "I thought that since you were used to such large and ornate rooms at the temple, you’d want your space. It’s not much, and we don’t have any fancy furniture or anything, but I saved it for you."
"Thank you," Krecek said. "I appreciate the gesture."
He wanted to tell her it wasn't necessary.
He didn't want to be alone.
Awkward silence filled the space between them.
"I need to...I was in the middle of...I'll see you later." Aral wavered back and forth, then almost dashed from the room.
There went his chance.
He didn't have the energy to talk to her anyway. Not now. Not today.
Krecek emptied the pathetically small sack. Everything he'd had of any value had been either destroyed or given in compensation for safe haven and healing spells. All he had now was a change of clothing and a broken hairbrush.
He’d changed into his freshest and most intact robes before stepping from the enchanted path, but he couldn't afford the luxury of throwing either away.
The reminder of ornate rooms and the temple stung.
He could have stayed.
He could have relaxed and enjoyed himself more.
He could have turned a blind eye to suffering and injustice.
There were many times he could have put an end to it all by convincing Aral to visit him. He could have betrayed her and watched her die while Nalia consoled him. He could have—
Except he couldn't.
"I've done the right thing," he whispered, just as he had every day since Anogrin's fall.
He'd drive himself insane like this. Krecek had been left alone among the elves; not quite shunned, but close to it. Months alone with his thoughts. Alone with his temptations.
It was toxic, being alone with his thoughts so much.
He quietly slipped from his room and sought out Byrek. There were things he had to tell the old elf, messages to convey. It wasn't a conversation Krecek looked forward to.
Still, it would be conversation. Sweet, beautiful words that didn't come from within his own head.
He found Byrek in the storage room.
"We have a bath." Byrek didn't even turn from what he was doing.
Krecek rolled his eyes. "I've missed you as well."
"Being missed doesn't excuse body odor. I went through the trouble of insisting our bath was to elfin standards. The least you could do is use it."
"I need just a few minutes. I don't want to be alone."
Byrek stopped, set down his paper and pen, and grabbed the tip of Krecek’s ear. “You’re still just a child, by elf reckoning. I’d put you over my knee if you were my son. Bathe."
It was still a better welcome than he'd received from his aunt.
"Elfin standards, you said?"
Byrek nodded, already pulling Krecek along by the ear. "I insisted."
That meant communal bathing.
"You don't have to pull me around like a child," Krecek insisted, wincing. "I'll go. I just didn't realize."
Byrek let go, but he didn't stop walking.
Krecek realized that if he'd been listening, he'd have saved himself the embarrassment of being treated like a child. Humans had odd notions of privacy and modesty, but elfin baths were a place to talk and relax with others.
All he'd had to say was, "Join me? We need to talk."
"Sorry for being an idiot," Krecek said, head bowed. "I'm exhausted and not thinking straight."
Byrek nodded curtly, then opened the door to the baths.
It was spacious. Beautiful. Krecek washed himself at the basin, where he was delighted to find running water. "How?"
"I
cast the spells myself. With so much ocean water nearby, it's simple. A little filtering, and we have all the clean water we could need."
It was impressive for a team of mages to accomplish. Astounding that Byrek did it all himself.
Finally, once he was completely scrubbed off, Krecek relaxed in the hot bath next to Byrek.
It felt wonderful.
Byrek looked over at Krecek, raised an eyebrow. "You wasted no time in finding me. Davri had just told me of your arrival."
"I needed to talk to someone who would understand." Krecek relaxed into the water, staring vacantly across the room.
"You've been in the northern forests," Byrek sighed. "I can tell you've been among elves, even if they're not my kin."
Krecek nodded.
"Did you convince them?"
"I convinced my father."
Byrek sat up. "Just your father?"
"He managed to persuade a few others. We might get half of some of the younger warriors and mages. Ones who have never seen battle."
"No veterans?"
"Very few. A pervert asking them to join his mutt child? You know how some can be."
Byrek sighed. He sunk back into the water and nodded.
"Of those, many of them are taking the enchanted paths to try to convince the southern elves. You know better than I how well that will probably go."
Byrek nodded and slid down so that the water was to his neck. "Our people are difficult to goad to action. Even so few is more impressive a force than I expected."
"Keevan helped. I'm not sure how, since he's still a crotchety bastard, but he knew just what to say."
"You saw him? He's alive?" Byrek's eyes went wide, and a smile graced his lips at last.
"He's alive," Krecek said. "He walked in with his explosive as I was trying to destroy the temple by hand." He grinned ruefully and shook his head. "If I'd known, I'd have helped him ahead of time. But, I couldn't be trusted."
Byrek started to make some conciliatory motion. "That's not—"
"It's not self-pity. It's fact." Krecek met Byrek's eyes, holding his gaze until Byrek nodded. "I told Aral not to trust me. I'm glad she took me at my word. Keeping the few secrets I had was nearly impossible. It's why I'm so relieved that that's over."