The Mage's Grave

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  Chapter Eighteen

  “We killed a goddess. We killed a goddess. We killed an actual goddess.”

  “Shut up.”

  “We killed a goddess.”

  “What did I say about shutting up?”

  “We killed a goddess.”

  Halfway up the stairs leading to Bleak Rock's exit, Durima stopped and turned to face Gujak. Her partner, who still had some of the Spider Goddess's sticky webbing trailing along behind his feet, was staring at the gauntlet attached to his hand as if it was some kind of terrible infection that had no known cure. For once, Durima agreed with his feelings, as the gauntlet (God-killer, as the writing had said) was a dangerous weapon that no one should have.

  Even so, Durima grabbed Gujak's face and forced him to look at her. It was much harder to do than she thought. Gujak's eyes were practically glued to the gauntlet, like he thought it was going to stab him in the back if he took his eyes off it for even a second. Granted, that might not have been an entirely unreasonable fear, considering what that evil thing was capable of, but Durima still managed to get him to look her in the eyes.

  “Gujak, I know,” said Durima, speaking fast and low. “I know we killed a goddess. I know we did something no one besides the gods themselves is even supposed to be able to do. I know that we committed an unthinkable and unforgivable crime against the gods themselves. I know we have probably invited the wrath of every god from World's End to the Great Berg down upon us. But whining about it won't do us any good. We need action. If we move fast, we might be able to ward off the worst of what is to come.”

  “How?” said Gujak. His lips trembled like he was about to cry. “I don't even know what the punishment for killing a goddess is supposed to be. I don't think there even is an official punishment, considering no one has ever done this before. Do you think the Council or the gods will make up a gruesome execution method just for us?”

  “Not if we act fast,” said Durima. “Listen, Master wanted us to get this gauntlet for him. If we bring it to Master, who should be at North Academy at the moment, and explain the accident, maybe he will be able to defend us from the other gods.”

  “Durima, do you honestly believe that?” said Gujak with a sniffle. “You know how Master feels about us. I don't think he'll hesitate to throw us into the Void if it meant he would avoid getting into trouble.”

  “Do you have any better ideas?” said Durima. She pointed at the stairs under their feet. “We stay here, the gods find us and kill us. I know Master doesn't really care about or like us much, but he's our only chance at survival here. Unless you want to die, but I don't, obviously.”

  “I don't want to die, either,” said Gujak. “It's just … I can't even begin to describe how horrible this makes me feel. All my life, I've always striven to serve and follow the gods as best as I can, but now … oh, I am a murderer of the gods. Murderer of the gods, Durima. Do you understand how serious that is?”

  “I understand it perfectly,” said Durima. “Probably even better than you, actually.”

  “Then why aren't you freaking out like I am?” said Gujak. “You're so calm and collected and it just doesn't seem appropriate for an accomplice to a god-killer like me.”

  Durima shuddered when she thought about how the Spider Goddess had died. But she gave Gujak a hard look directly in the eyes, which was the only way she knew how to calm people who needed it.

  “It's a lesson I learned in the War,” said Durima. “Panicky soldiers got killed. Calm ones survived. Same principle here. We panic, we die. We keep calm and maybe we'll live.”

  “Maybe?” Gujak repeated in horror. “Durima, we have to turn ourselves in. At least, I should turn myself into the Katabans Council. I deserve whatever punishment they decide to give me.”

  Durima growled. “The Council? Those pompous idiots aren't worth even turning yourself into. We need to get to Master. He's our only hope at this point.”

  Gujak slapped Durima's hands off his face and took a step back. “Sorry, Durima, but I … I disagree.”

  “You disagree?” said Durima. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

  “I'm listening to my conscience,” said Gujak with a gulp. He looked so terrified, yet despite that he continue to talk to Durima like he was braver than he looked. “And my conscience says that I should turn myself in and accept the consequences for my actions, like a good servant of the gods would.”

  Durima sighed in exasperation. Gujak had always been more of a goody-two shoes, by the book kind of katabans than her, but until now she had forgotten just how blindly devoted to the gods that he was.

  “Gujak, the Katabans Council is full of pompous crooks who don't give a damn about the law of the gods,” said Durima. “You know that. You've met them before. They will execute you without a trial because they want to look like they're good for something, rather than being busybodies who don't have any right bossing the rest of us katabans around.”

  “I don't care,” said Gujak. “That's just your opinion. I'm going to the Council and there's nothing you can do to—”

  Durima punched Gujak in the face as hard as she could. The blow sent Gujak falling backwards, but before he could fall down the stairs, Durima caught him and pulled him up. He was completely unconscious, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. A dent shaped like her fist was on his wooden head, but other than that, he didn't have any other serious injuries.

  Good, Durima thought. I need him in one piece if we're going to go to Master and ask for his help.

  Slinging the unconscious Gujak over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Durima dashed up the stairs as fast as she could, taking them two at a time, heedless of the danger of slipping on a wet step. There was no time to waste worrying about that when there were far worse consequences awaiting both of them if she failed to find Master quickly.

  Thankfully, the Spider Goddess apparently lived alone, because Durima did not run into any servants or minions that might have served her while she lived. Of course, they probably would have run away the minute they felt the Spider Goddess's death, which made sense, as there was no way the death of a goddess could be ignored by any katabans for long.

  In fact, as Durima reached the top of the staircase and emerged into the narrow hallway from before, she found it odd that the gods had not yet struck her and Gujak down. They had killed a goddess, and yet they had lived for longer than five seconds.

  Either the gods don't know that she's dead or they're dealing with something else, Durima thought, running down the hallway back toward the slide. Then again, maybe they're too afraid of Bleak Rock to investigate what happened. Maybe they're waiting for us to leave the island before they'll try anything.

  That thought probably should have sapped her motivation to leave Bleak Rock, but if anything, it gave her greater motivation to leave as soon as possible and find Master. She just hoped that she was fast enough to use the ethereal to get from Bleak Rock to North Academy; not a terribly difficult distance to travel, given the way space/time worked in the ethereal, but hardly a simple five minute stroll through the woods, either.

  The last obstacle between her, Gujak, and freedom was the slide they had taken down into Bleak Rock in the first place. It was still very dark, almost pitch-black now that Gujak was not conscious enough to use his light, which forced Durima to use her own luminimancy to allow her to see the entrance at the very top of the slide.

  Yet even that wasn't as big of a problem as it could have been. Durima tensed her back legs, gathering all of the strength that she could, and launched herself and Gujak through the air toward the opening. She expected to hit her head against the ceiling, but it must have been much higher than she thought, because despite how high and far she jumped, her head never hit anything.

  She landed hard on the top of the slide, almost lost her balance due to Gujak's weight, but soon recovered and dashed outside to the exterior of Bleak Rock.

  As soon as she did, a wave of sleet fell into her face. T
he abruptness of the ice cold sleet was shocking, causing her to try to come to a halt. Unfortunately, the ground was slippery beneath her feet, sending her sliding across the layer of sleet on the ground all the way to the edge of the cliff.

  Durima tried to stop, but she was going too fast. In an instant, she went off the side of the cliff and fell toward the ocean waters below. Or she would have, if she hadn't reached out with her free claw and dug it as deeply as she could into the side of the cliff.

  Even then, she only succeeded in slowing their descent. Her claw tore through the rock as they descended, sending dust and dirt into her eyes, until it finally caught on something too thick for it to cut through, thus stopping them abruptly about halfway down.

  Panting, blinking her eyes to get the dust out of them, Durima looked down below at the crashing waves that beat against the island's base. She then looked at Gujak, who despite the fall wasn't even stirring, which was good because knowing Gujak, he would be freaking out if he was awake at the moment.

  Then Durima looked up at the sky. Although it was quite dark due to it being night time, Durima could tell that the sky was completely covered with dark storm clouds that poured sleet. Being so close up against the island, Durima and Gujak managed to avoid the worst of it; nonetheless, Durima could feel her fur getting cold and wet as the sleet fell from the sky by the bucketful.

  That's why I lost my footing and slid off the cliff, Durima realized. It must have been sleeting hard for several minutes before we even got out of Bleak Rock. But why …?

  The answer came to her immediately: The Spider Goddess had also been the Goddess of Sleet. Without her around to control the sleet, it was no wonder that the weather around Bleak Rock was going insane. This was probably a temporary affair, as Skimif would no doubt take control of the Spider Goddess's domains soon enough. Even so, if the other gods had not sensed their sister's death earlier, then surely they would notice the uncontrollable sleet that was pounding the seas and conclude that something was amiss.

  Which just gives me extra motivation to get the hell out of here, Durima thought.

  Entering the ethereal from their current position would be difficult, dangerous even, but not impossible. Once, during the Katabans War, Durima had jumped off a tall cliff to evade capture from enemy soldiers and had fallen into the ethereal right before hitting the ground at the base of the cliff. It was not something she had done in years, but she figured she could do it.

  I have to do it again, Durima thought, glancing at the roaring waves below. I don't have much of a choice.

  After making sure that Gujak was still hanging safely over her shoulder, Durima focused on a spot just below them. She didn't see why she couldn't open the ethereal here; however, it could be difficult sometimes to predict where a portal to the ethereal, opened in the air, would take you. Sometimes, if you did it wrong, you could end up on the other side of the world, although that kind of mistake was usually only made by young katabans who weren't familiar with ethereal travel.

  The hardest part was letting go of the cliff to fall into the portal that would open and catch her. Despite the pressure on her claw, the heavy sleet, and Gujak's own weight, Durima's instincts forced her to hold on as long as possible. That was probably because she couldn't see the portal yet, only the terrifying, violent waves that beat against the base of the island like an army battering down the door of an enemy fortress.

  Another reason to hate physical bodies, Durima thought with a scowl. Dumb instincts that aren't based in reason or evidence or facts. They only care about the appearances of things, not the actual nature of—

  Without warning, the rock that she had hooked her claw around broke. Panic rising in her chest, Durima could not help but scream as she and Gujak fell toward the loud ocean waves below, which continued to bash at the island's base even more violently than before.

  But they didn't fall into the ocean. Instead, a portal opened up between them and the sea and it was that portal they fell into. As they passed through, the world around them became dark and silent, the only sounds being Durima's screams as they became lost in the dark void between Martir and the ethereal.

  Then everything slowly came back into view and Durima landed hard on the shining white road that was the ethereal. The fall took her breath away, but she recovered quickly enough. She floated back to an upright position and, without taking even a moment to think about it, immediately flew down in the direction that she knew would take her to North Academy.

  She flew as fast as she could, past dozens of other katabans traveling along the ethereal. No one tried to stop her, but she got several odd looks from most of the katabans she passed. No doubt they noticed Gujak hanging unconscious over her shoulder, but hopefully they would assume that he was injured and she, as his kind and caring friend, was trying to get him to a doctor or healer as fast as she could.

  Of course, the main reason for her speed was because she didn't want the others to know about what she and Gujak had just gotten away with. She didn't sense any fear or unexplainable terror in the other katabans, which maybe meant they didn't even know the Spider Goddess was dead yet.

  They'll know soon enough, Durima thought. And when they do, they'll stop at nothing to tear us apart.

  One of the useful advantages of the ethereal was the way in which space/time worked. Whereas a journey from Bleak Rock to North Academy in Martir would take, depending on your speed and method of travel, anywhere from several weeks to several months, in the ethereal, the same journey would only take perhaps fifteen minutes. And that was if you were an inexperienced ethereal traveler who didn't even know about all of the shortcuts you could take.

  Durima was no inexperienced ethereal traveler. She veered to the left, imagining another portal, but rather than a portal that opened up to another part of Martir, it was a portal that would take her to another part of the ethereal, closer to where she could get off at North Academy. It was a tricky move, but not terribly difficult after some practice.

  Then that portal appeared before her and she jumped into it. Unlike traveling between Martir and the ethereal, this 'inter-ethereal travel,' as it known among katabans, had no real transitioning sequence.

  One moment, she was on the right side of the ethereal; the next, she found herself floating on the left side. It was difficult to tell, of course, due to lack of said transitioning sequence, but certain clues—such as the position of the stars in the sky above, which resembled North Academy—told her that she was indeed close to where she had to be.

  So Durima once again flew down the ethereal. There were few katabans here, mostly because it was generally impossible to enter North Academy via the ethereal due to the spell that 'locked' the school's portal.

  But Master had told her that he would negate that spell once he got to North Academy so that Durima and Gujak could directly enter the school's graveyard without needing to climb the Walls as they had done on their first trip there. She just hoped that Master had succeeded in doing that, because if he didn't, then she and Gujak were going to be in big trouble.

  In less than a minute, Durima found it. The portal to North Academy was open for the first time in … well, she didn't know how long, seeing as it had been locked for as long as she could remember. Through the portal, she saw mist and darkness, but she didn't stop to observe more closely because her fear of being caught by her fellow katabans drove her ever forward without hesitation.

  Durima launched herself and Gujak directly through the portal. As always, everything around her went dark and breathing became difficult, but only for a moment. In the next instance, she landed on the dirt of the graveyard feet first, almost tripping over her own feet before catching herself and regaining her balance. Gujak's arms and legs flopped uselessly against her body, but he still didn't stir even one inch.

  It took Durima's eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness and mist, as she had transitioned from the ethereal to Martir far more quickly than she normally did. Thankfully, it only
took her a few seconds to adjust … but when they did, she wished they hadn't.

  All around her, everywhere she looked, were gods. Not just a handful of gods, but ten, twenty, thirty, maybe even more than that. Some stood on the ground, like Nimiko, while others flew or floated in the sky above, such as the Avian Goddess. The Tusked God towered over everyone else and even Skimif himself, radiating as much power as all of the other gods combined, was present.

  Not only that, but she soon noticed Master, the Ghostly God, lying unconscious on the ground near an open grave. He looked like someone had punched him out. He wasn't even stirring. He could have been dead and Durima wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

  Durima hardly believed what she saw, largely due to the overwhelming, almost primal fear that was overriding her rational thinking skills. She had gotten here as fast as she could, hoping against hope that Master would protect her and Gujak from his siblings, but she had jumped straight into the middle of the largest gathering of gods she had ever seen in one place. And all of them were looking at her and Gujak, as though the two katabans' sudden appearance had taken them by surprise.

  That was when Durima heard someone cry out in pain and fall to the ground. She looked toward the grave again and saw the Magical Superior lying on the ground like he had taken a walloping as well. That puzzled her for a moment before she sensed a powerful presence appear right next to her.

  Looking to her right, Durima saw, with horror, a being with purplish-black skin, the same color and texture as Uron's. He had a terrifying human/snake face hybrid and he smelled like a rotting corpse, even though he appeared to be as alive as anyone else. Sheer power radiated from his form like light from the sun, a level of power equal to that of Skimif's.

  At that same moment, Gujak awoke with a start. He jerked so suddenly in her arms that Durima had to drop him. He landed on his bottom at the feet of the being that Durima had never seen before, blinking rapidly as he returned to consciousness.

  “What?” said Gujak, looking around at all of the gathered gods. “Where are we? Why are there so many gods here? And who are you?”

  Gujak addressed that last question to the snake-skinned being who stood above him. Why Gujak apparently wasn't afraid of him, Durima didn't know. Perhaps he was still waking up or maybe he was just that dumb and naïve, as Durima had always suspected he was.

  The being smiled a smile that reminded Durima of how Uron had looked whenever it was pleased. “You're just in time, Durima, Gujak. I thought for a moment that maybe you two had failed in your mission, considering your general incompetence, but when I felt the Spider Goddess's death, I knew then and there that I had won.”

  Gujak blinked. “What?”

  “What do you mean, the Spider Goddess's death?” said a slightly panicked voice nearby.

  Durima glanced in the direction that the voice had come from. One of the school mages was standing there, perhaps one of the students. He had short brown hair, a long face, and a small nose. His robes were ripped in some places and he looked like he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in years.

  What's a mortal man doing here, of all places? Durima thought. Now that I think about it, what is anyone doing here? Who is this guy who looks like Uron? Why is Master unconscious? Why are there so many gods from both Pantheons present? And why is Skimif himself among them?

  She never got a chance to verbalize her questions, however, because the being who looked like Uron bent down and grabbed Gujak's right arm, the one gloved with the God-killer. Durima recognized the way the being's long fingers wrapped around Gujak's upper arm from her days in the War, as he was using a technique she had once used on an enemy soldier. But it was too late for her to look away or stop him.

  The sound of wood being torn apart, mixed with Gujak's screams of terror and pain, split Durima's ears and even made some of the gods flinch. The only being who didn't seem affected was the one who had ripped off Gujak's arm.

  Holding Gujak's ripped-off arm over his head like it was a prize he had won in a game, the Uron lookalike grabbed the God-killer and pulled it off Gujak's hand. Much to Durima's surprise, the being succeeded in removing the gauntlet from Gujak's arm, which he then tossed aside like garbage. As for Gujak himself, he lay unconscious on the ground, perhaps having lost consciousness from the pain he had experienced when he lost his arm, although due to his wooden body, he was not bleeding.

  In one smooth motion, the Uron lookalike shoved the gauntlet onto his right hand. Flexing his metallic fingers, the Uron lookalike smiled triumphantly at the gods, many of whom were now looking at him like he was a dangerous wild animal. Durima took that moment to grab Gujak and drag him away from Uron, but the strange being didn't seem to notice, or if he did, didn't care enough to try to stop them.

  “Uron,” said Skimif. His voice was tight. “What is that thing you are wearing?”

  It took Durima a moment to realize that Skimif was addressing the Uron lookalike who had just torn Gujak's arm off.

  Why does this being have the same name as Master's pet snake? Durima thought. Wait a minute … they can't possibly be the same being, can they?

  The Uron lookalike whose name was apparently Uron held up the God-killer for everyone to see. “I am surprised you don't recognize it, Skimif. As the God of Martir, I assumed that you, at least, would know what this is, but I guess even you do not know all of Martir's mysteries. But I will tell you what it is: Your destruction.”

  “Hold it,” said a winged goddess, who Durima recognized as the Avian Goddess. “Earlier, you mentioned the death of the Spider Goddess. Did you mean that our sister is dead?”

  “Of course I did,” said Uron. “Didn't you feel her death a few minutes ago?”

  “They didn't,” said Skimif, drawing all attention to him. “I sensed it before anyone else due to my status as God of Martir, but I didn't want the other gods to panic or forget about you in their quest to destroy whoever killed their sister. I've been holding back the panic this entire time and hoped I wouldn't have to let it go until you were gone.”

  “So it's true,” said Nimiko, looking as broken as a mortal who had discovered the death of a favorite sibling, rather than a god. “But … how? The Treaty forbids gods killing other gods. And mortals most certainly can't do it. Even katabans are incapable of killing us. This must be a trick.”

  “It's no trick,” said Uron. “If you won't believe me, then believe Skimif. After all, Skimif is supposed to be honesty incarnate, isn't he? He has no reason to lie to his own servants and thus demoralize them right when victory was in your grasp.”

  “That still doesn't explain how that happened,” said Nimiko. “As I said, gods cannot be killed except by other gods, but even that is prevented by the Treaty.”

  “It was these two who had done it,” said Uron, gesturing at Durima and Gujak. “And it was with this that they achieved it.”

  He shook the God-killer on his hand. It looked deceptively plain, so much so that Durima might have dismissed it as nothing more than a normal metal gauntlet if she had not known its true nature as a terrifying weapon that, in the wrong hands, could be used to cause untold damage to the world.

  And I have a feeling that it just fell into those wrong hands everyone talks about, Durima thought as she watched Uron strike a triumphant pose.

  “Many obscure legends exist about this object,” said Uron. His voice was growing mad with glee, making him look even scarier than he normally did. “Magical historians call it the Hand of Apocalypse; heathen historians have referred to it as the Liberator. Neither name is quite as fitting, however, as the God-killer.”

  “God-killer?” This came from the human mage she had seen earlier, who had somehow gotten over his human fears of divinity enough to talk. “Does that mean it … it …”

  The mage seemed too horrified by the implications to finish his sentence.

  But Uron finished it for him, saying, “Yes, Darek Takren, the God-killer does exactly that: Kill gods.”
<
br />   At that moment, an intense fear swept over all of the gods present. Some retreated deeper into the mist, looking troubled, while others vanished completely, like they had run away. Only a handful held their ground, like Skimif and the Tusked God. Even the Ghostly God seemed to have felt it, because he moaned in his unconscious state and muttered, “Not that …”

  “Ridiculous,” said the Avian Goddess with a huff, although the way she had moved slightly farther away from Uron made it clear she didn't think it was quite that ridiculous. “There is nothing in Martir that can kill the gods. The Powers designed us to be at the very top of the hierarchy of the world, and even with Skimif now above us, we're still heads and shoulders above everyone else.”

  “Call it what you will, but that doesn't change the fact that the God-killer exists and is even older than you gods,” said Uron. “It was created by the Powers, just like you were, and was designed specifically so that mortals could use it in the event that you gods lost your way and had to be dealt with permanently.”

  “He's telling the truth,” said Skimif, his tone bitter. “When I ascended to godhood, the Powers gave me a lot of information about Martir that few know. The God-killer was among that information, but I didn't think to tell anyone or do anything about it because it was safely hidden within Bleak Rock where no one could reach it. I never thought it would be used against us.”

  “Correct,” said Uron. “The Powers gave the God-killer to the Mysterious One for safekeeping when they realized that it was too dangerous to leave anywhere else. They gave him strict orders not to tell any of the other gods about it, which is partly why he has kept such a mysterious persona for so many years.”

  “But if you have the God-killer, then does that mean … you can kill us?” said Nimiko.

  “Indeed,” said Uron. He flexed the fingers of the God-killer. “That was the whole point of my plan. Without the God-killer, my entire plan would be far more difficult to complete than it is. If I am to destroy Martir, I must first destroy its gods, northern and southern. And the God-killer will allow me to do just that.”

  Durima wanted to hide. Shame filled her when she realized that she and Gujak, far from being obedient servants of the Ghostly God, had instead helped this … this monster get one step closer to destroying Martir. There was still much about this situation that she didn't understand, but she understood that she and Gujak may have inadvertently helped destroy their world.

  No, Durima thought, shaking her head as she glanced at the unconscious Gujak. Not Gujak. He wanted to turn himself into the Council. I was the one who insisted that we take the God-killer to Master. This is all my fault no matter how you cut it.

  The Avian Goddess landed on the ground. She had the face of an eagle, but the body of a human woman, her arms replaced by her massive black and white wings that looked strong enough to break rock.

  “Am I the only one not trembling in my boots here right now?” said the Avian Goddess, looking around at her fellow gods with disgust. “He may have the God-killer, but that doesn't mean he's invincible. We're the gods of Martir. We've dealt with far worse than some upstart being from the Prior World. Or am I going to have to tear him limb from limb myself?”

  She said that while staring hard at Skimif. Although Skimif was clearly the only god on the same power level as Uron, he looked like he wanted to run away, which Durima thought was a rather pathetic way for the leader of the gods to look.

  “You gods have never dealt with me before,” said Uron. “But go ahead. Attack me. Show your brothers and sisters that there's nothing to be afraid of. I am getting tired of standing here talking anyway. I want action. I want my world back.”

  “Very well,” said the Avian Goddess. She glanced to the left and right. “Anyone care to join me or will I have to kill him on my own?”

  None of the other gods stepped forward to join. This was the strangest thing Durima had ever witnessed in her life. She had always thought of the gods as being superior to katabans in every way, including in sheer confidence, yet most of these gods, both northern and southern, were standing back like frightened little children.

  “All right,” said the Avian Goddess. She turned her attention to Uron. “How do you want to die? Maybe I could peck out your eyes and watch as you bleed to death. Or maybe I will chew you up and feed you to some poor starving chicks in dire need of a good meal. Then again, I imagine you'd make a poor meal for a growing baby bird. Nothing but skin and bone, that's what you are.”

  Uron kept flexing the fingers of the God-killer, which was starting to creep Durima out. “I find it surprising you intend to fight me at all. I am much closer to Skimif in power than you. Don't birds usually fly away when faced with a predator they can't defeat?”

  “Only cowardly little sparrows would think to do that,” said the Avian Goddess. “I am much closer to the eagle hawk, a powerful hunter and predator in its own right. They're known to kill baba raga in battle, which I think is an appropriate comparison to make in this situation.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” said Uron. “Peck my eyes out, feed me to your chicks … do whatever you wish. I can handle it.”

  “Very well,” said the Avian Goddess. She spread her wings wide, a ten foot wingspan at least. “For Martir!”

  The Avian Goddess flew at Uron far faster than any normal bird could. She aimed directly for his chest, but despite how terrifying she looked, Uron held his ground. He punched his other fist into the God-killer, but that was the only movement he made as she drew closer and closer.

  Uron suddenly thrust the God-killer at her. The Avian Goddess must have seen that coming because she banked upwards at the last possible second, going up and over Uron's head. She landed on the ground behind him and slapped him in the back with one of her wings.

  That blow likely would have killed an ordinary mortal and seriously wounded a god, but Uron didn't even flinch. He whirled around, reaching with the God-killer for her wing, but the Avian Goddess jumped back out of his range.

  “Flighty bird,” said Uron, spitting at the ground. “Did you suddenly become afraid of me? Or are you waiting for your siblings to come in and help?”

  Based on the apprehensive looks of the other gods, it didn't seem likely any of them would step in and help the Avian Goddess. Not that it seemed to matter to her. She crouched low to the ground, bringing her wings close to her chest, looking like a hawk about to pounce on a mouse.

  “I'm just looking for the perfect opening to attack,” said the Avian Goddess. “You act all tough, but everyone has a weak point. All I need to do is find it.”

  Uron laughed. “Find it? You can't beat me, though I admit it is brave of you to try. You are nothing more than a weak little chick trying to avoid getting killed by a large feline.”

  “Odd comparison to make, considering you used to be a snake for a while,” said the Avian Goddess. “And I don't know if it worked this way in your world, but here in Martir, quite a few species of bird are known to kill snakes and eat them.”

  Once again, the Avian Goddess flew at Uron. Uron raised the God-killer, probably to grab her, but the Avian Goddess once again flew over him. As she did so, she sank her sharp, deadly-looking claws into his shoulders and lifted him straight off the ground. Her movement was so sudden that Uron appeared too shocked to react.

  By the time the realization of what she was doing dawned on his face—which was when he was at least fifty feet in the air—it was too late for Uron to do anything about it. The Avian Goddess flipped in the air and hurled him toward the ground back at the spot where he had been standing previously.

  Uron crashed into the ground hard enough to form a small crater and send dust clouds flying into the air. The impact was enough to shake the ground under Durima's feet for a brief moment, a heavy enough impact that Durima was worried that the ground itself would crack open.

  Thankfully, her fears proved unfounded. As the dust settled, the Avian Goddess landed on the ground a few feet away from t
he crater that Uron lay in. As for Uron, he didn't get up or make even the slightest noise to indicate that he was still alive.

  There's no way that blow could have killed him, Durima thought. The Avian Goddess is powerful, but not that powerful. If Uron really is on the same power level as Skimif, then that should have maybe only stunned him at best.

  But the longer she watched, the more likely it seemed that Uron was down for good. She couldn't sense Uron's energy level, but considering that he was not a god, katabans, or mage, perhaps that had something to do with it.

  Just then, she heard someone running over to her. She looked to her right and saw that it was that human mage from earlier, the one she had heard Uron call Darek Takren. With the gods' attention on Uron's crater, she wondered why he was coming over to them.

  He's going to attack us, Durima realized. He probably knows that we broke into North Academy last week. He's taking advantage of the Avian Goddess's battle with Uron to take me and Gujak out.

  She readied herself for a fight, but as Darek drew closer, the look on his face was less angry and more concerned. He was looking at Gujak, who lay as unconscious as always at Durima's feet.

  Darek stopped only a couple of feet from them. His eyes were bloodshot and his robes were splattered with dirt, but he genuinely didn't seem threatening to Durima. If anything, he looked concerned, perhaps for Gujak's health, based on the way he was looking at her unconscious partner.

  “How is he?” said Darek. He spoke in a low voice, like he was afraid of disturbing the gods' attention. “Why isn't he bleeding?”

  Durima, taken aback by his questions, nonetheless answered, “He took on a wooden body when he became a physical being, so he doesn't have any blood to spill.”

  Darek looked at her with an incomprehensible look on his face, which made Durima think he was stupid until she remembered that none of the human mages, except for the Magical Superior, could understand Godly Divina, the language most katabans spoke.

  Some education they give their students here, Durima thought.

  Before she could figure out how to communicate in a way that Darek would understand, a low groaning sound came from the crater that Uron had made. It sounded like Uron was in terrible pain, causing Durima to flashback to the War, when she had heard some of her fellow soldiers groaning—usually screaming—in pain as they died. She cut the flashback short, however, because she didn't want to be distracted in such a tense situation.

  “Oh, you survived?” said the Avian Goddess in a mocking voice. “But I guess that makes sense. You are, after all, the great Uron. Of course a wee little birdie like me couldn't kill you. Still, I hope I crippled you for life, you bastard.”

  There was no response to that, as Uron had ceased groaning in pain. A hushed silence fell across the graveyard, making Durima feel like they were at a funeral instead of at the battle for Martir itself.

  What happened next was so abrupt and sudden that Durima wasn't even sure it had happened. Uron leaped out of the crater as fast as a lightning bolt. His purplish-black form, little more than a fast-moving blur, cut through the air like a tiger.

  The Avian Goddess only had enough time to caw in surprise before Uron landed in front of her and grabbed her neck with the God-killer. He whirled around to face the other gods, holding the flailing Avian Goddess before him like a captured bird.

  “Behold,” said Uron. His skin was cut in several places, allowing a strange blue liquid that might have been blood to bleed out. “This is the fate that befalls all of the gods of Martir, both strong and weak.”

  Durima knew what was going to happen next, but that didn't stop her from feeling horrified and disgusted as the Avian Goddess's body slowly turned to dust. The Avian Goddess beat her powerful wings against Uron's body as hard as she could, but he didn't even flinch under her ferocious attack. He just stood there, smiling, watching as the disintegrating effect slowly made its way up from the Avian Goddess's feet to her neck.

  This time, the disintegrating effect seemed to happen faster than when it had with the Spider Goddess. In a minute, perhaps less, the Avian Goddess's head disintegrated, leaving nothing more than a pile of brown dust in Uron's hand, which he dropped onto the dust at his feet.

  As soon as the remains of the Avian Goddess settled, the other gods fled. The Tusked God disappeared deep into the mist, Nimiko vanished in a flash of light, and every other god or goddess who had been present vanished in their particular way. Not a single one stopped to explain where they were going or if they were going to return. They just ran like a nest of frightened mice from a hungry cat.

  In even less time than it took for the Avian Goddess to die, almost all of the fifty or so deities who had been present to save Martir were gone. Only Skimif and the Ghostly God remained, and the Ghostly God was still unconscious and so in no condition to help.

  Uron licked some of the Avian Goddess's dust off his hand and grimaced. “Tastes like dirt. I thought it would taste like chicken.”

  “Where did the other gods go?” said Darek, looking around wildly. “Lord Skimif, is this part of your plan?”

  Skimif sighed. “No, it's not. They ran away because they were afraid of Uron, or perhaps more accurately, they were afraid of the God-killer.”

  Darek's shoulders slumped. “So they're not coming back?”

  “Unlikely,” said Skimif. He put a hand on his heart. “It took all of my willpower not to join them. The God-killer frightens me as much as it does them. I can only guess where they all might have run off to in order to escape it.”

  “It doesn't matter where they run or where they hide,” said Uron as he dusted off the God-killer. “I will find and kill every one of them personally. It is the only way to pave the way for the return of my home.”

  Durima considered their current situation. It was her, one human mage who was still in school, the Magical Superior (who, based on the way he was lying, was clearly too weak to even stand), Skimif, Gujak, and the Ghostly God.

  Six, Durima thought. Actually, the Superior, Gujak, and Master are down for the count. So that's three: The most powerful god in the world, a student mage, and me. Against the only being in the world who can kill a god and isn't afraid of us in the slightest. And technically, the only one of us who is even capable of harming Uron is Skimif, so that brings down our total number of fighters to one.

  “Granted,” Uron continued, “it will be tough to track down every last one, but in the end, it will be worth it. All I need to do first is kill you, Skimif, and then go and hunt down the rest of your fellow deities.”

  Skimif took a step forward. “Why do you think you'll be able to defeat me?”

  “Are you really that dense?” said Uron. He held up the God-killer. “This is why I know I will defeat you, Skimif, but not just defeat you. I will kill you, annihilate you from this world. Without your governing presence, the gods will become even more fractured than they are now, which will make it easier to pick them off one by one.”

  “You won't win,” said Skimif, who sounded far more confident than the situation warranted, in Durima's opinion. “I won't let you. I saved this world from one apocalypse. I will not let it be destroyed by another.”

  “Brave words, coming from someone who will crumple to dust as soon as I touch them,” said Uron. “But why do we wast time talking? Let us fight. And once the dust settles, only one of us shall be left standing.”

  ***