by Neil Beynon
This will never be enough, whatever I do here today – they will always remember what I did when I was Laos.
The energy unfurled under Vedic just as he tried to block another attack from Cernubus. The god was too fast for him. The pain came like fresh morning dew, slipping the world back into the front focus of the woodsman’s mind, colours bright under the midday suns. Vedic could feel the sentinels in the alignment as the god in front of him twisted the spear embedded in Vedic’s chest. The wound didn’t hurt any more. There was strength left in the forestal yet.
I wish Danu were here.
Vedic remembered that he was still holding his sword. The movement he used to bring the sword up above his head was pure pain as the rock-hard metal in his chest shifted, tearing him more. Nevertheless, Vedic twisted away from the god, breaking the hunter’s hold on the spear and giving Vedic more momentum as he swung round, bringing the sword down on Cernubus’s skull. The blade bit deep. Cernubus stared at the woodsman in shock. Vedic pulled his weapon free, and the scarred god fell to the ground.
The legend-soaked sword, dripping in belief, did its work well. The god did not heal. Cernubus was lying in the fragments of himself, trying to speak and failing. The god looked smaller to Vedic now as he leant on his sword, looking over the creature. The Shaanti – whether they were ghosts or real – did not move. Vedic thought that was strange.
I do not believe in ghosts, because I know there is nothing once you die. I know there is the sweet, cold, dark and oblivion. There are no such things as gods, not really. This thing before me is a different creature. I do not understand what nature of beast he is, beyond knowing what he is not, and the sky above is broiling with cloud because a storm is coming. The ground is shaking because it is really made up of plates of rock, like all those philosophers I killed once claimed.
There was another creature there though. Vedic could feel the energy unfolding underneath the Barrens, and somehow the creature was in his head, and it was not Anya.
I can help you.
I can help you.
Vedic shook his head, trying to ignore the voice. The scarred god was starting to rise in front of him, and he knew that he still hadn’t done enough to end Cernubus. The hunter was trying to heal. Vedic gripped the sword tight in his hands.
Danu was there. He could feel her, beyond the flames. The thing in his head spoke again.
There is a choice to be made in the end, because there always is. There was a choice when you could see again: to open your eyes or to keep them closed. There was a choice when you lifted the knife in the temple: to kill or to spare. There was a choice when you stepped onto the battlefield: to show mercy or not.
Vedic could feel the voice lighting up parts of his mind that he kept locked up. The part of him that he thought of as Laos, the part of him that revelled in the righteous slaughter of the sacrifice, that enjoyed the sacking of the cities and bathed in the glory of it all. That part of him was the kindred of the thing that bubbled below the Barrens, the thing that lived beneath the forest and gave all the gods their power. The energy was the belief surging all around, seeing somewhere to go now that Cernubus was falling, and all the caged power that the god had locked into himself with dark magic was leaking back into the soil.
They were your choices; why regret them? You have another now. Again, you can spare or kill. You are the Priest. You are the Butcher. There is no mercy. There is justice, and it is yours to give.
Vedic lifted the sword. He drove the blade through Cernubus’s already-wounded chest and obliterated what was left of the god’s heart. Still, the strike was not enough. Vedic dropped to one knee. He was breathing slow and heavy ragged breaths as he pulled the spear from his own chest. His life was leaking away fast now, without the weapon to block the wound. Vedic could feel the world receding from him. But he was not done yet.
I can help you. The voice whispered in his inner ear.
Vedic drove the spear down into the god’s chest in desperation. That blow was not enough either.
I can help you. The creature was persistent and seductive. The energy offered more time, and more time was what Vedic needed.
Vedic remembered the god’s corpse in the cave. He remembered Pan’s words and the warriors looking on. The woodsman needed to kill the belief in Cernubus, to dominate the god utterly as the Priest, and there was one way to do that. Vedic picked up his sword again and forced himself into the ritual Shaanti execution stance – standing over the scarred god with his sword extended. He drew the blade back high over his head and swung, severing Cernubus’s head. The killing blow was a small thing. The sky did not split asunder with the death of the god; neither did the ground fall away. The only sign that Vedic had succeeded was the Morrigan stepping up to the god.
The voice started again.
There is still a choice. Let me help you.
You’re dying. The blood loss you have sustained is fatal, even without the spear wound, and that has punctured your right lung.
You’re not even attempting to staunch the flow of blood. Listen – you can hear your heart beating. It’s too loud and too slow. Even for a forestal. There is not long now.
Vedic could hear his own heart thumping in his ears. In the pause between each beat, the sensation felt like a knuckle was being driven into his chest. Breathing felt like someone was squeezing him to death.
I can help you.
You have a choice. I can help you. They all believe in you. She believes in you.
But I am dying, Vedic replied without words. He dropped his sword.
Yes, but that doesn’t have to be the end. You can harness my power. You can become a god. You can be better than the hunter, than the trickster or the crow or the mother. You can show them all the way.
Isn’t that what you wanted? A life of meaning? To fix the world? You understand now. I am the forest. I am where the power comes from. You comprehend what I am now. You can understand what is being offered, and it is glorious. You have another chance. You can still have a future.
You cannot make gods, Vedic replied. They are as old as we are.
You know I am telling the truth. I made them all as much as your kind made them. Plucked them from your kind’s confused minds as they crawled across the skin of the desert. They are as old as I made them; they are as old as you made them. You have done what so few before you have done. A whole generation will go forward from this point with your memory on their lips. You are to be reborn a god.
Vedic dropped back to one knee. His right hand tried to staunch the blood in his chest. The thing under the forest was offering him a second chance. The woodsman could recognise the opportunity because nothing he had done that day would ever be enough to restore the upset. He could see the accusation on the thain’s face as she moved towards him, her sword in her hand and with a desire to end him as he had ended the god. If he had an eternity ahead of him, that might be different, and unlike the other gods, he had learned the lessons of being the Priest. He would be all-powerful, merciful and just.
Exactly. You know the difference between right and wrong now. You know the risks, and you could serve as a crusader against the injustices of your cousins. In fact, in time, they might listen only to you.
Vedic forced himself to his feet. He staggered over to Anya’s prone form and dropped back to his knees, fumbling for a pulse on the girl’s neck. Before he could find one, she sighed. She was alive. He knew what Anya’s response would be to the voice and that she would never trust him to wield such power. He also knew he could not say no.
Anya opened her eyes.
Vedic was kneeling over her. His chest was a bloody ruin, and he was as pale as the moon. He was near death, and there was a strange light in his eyes that she thought she recognised from somewhere, though she could not place it. Cernubus is dead, she thought. She did not know how she knew, but the information was there in her mind as if she had been wired into the hunter all this time. There was a dark connection in her head. Another creature buzz
ed up from the Barrens and joined with the woodsman in front of her. At first she thought the power was Danu, but it was not. The creature was neither god nor Tream nor man.
‘I can make things right,’ said Vedic, his voice ragged like his breathing.
Anya stared at him. She shook her head. The man looking at her was half-Vedic and half-Laos, and so close to the nightmares of her childhood that she wanted to crawl into the ground. She understood now why Danu would not intervene. She understood where the gods had come from and why this always went wrong. They are us. People the forest had taken and twisted. The thing burning up into Vedic stretched back from the Barrens to the forest and the trees. Anya had to end this. She knew instinctively what was needed. She knew now that it had been herself she had seen wielding the weapon in the vision of Vedic at the Mnemosyne. She rolled away from him.
The woodsman’s sword, the Eagle’s Claw, lay on the ground near where the scarred god had fallen. Anya picked up the weapon. The sword was heavy beyond belief, taking all of her strength to lift it. The weapon felt familiar in her hands despite the fact she had only ever picked the blade up in Vedic’s nightmares. The sword had power. She could feel the energy whispering from the steel. The power felt similar to the creature she’d sensed underneath in the forest, underneath the Barrens where they stood at that moment, and at the same time whispering in Vedic’s ear. The sword was an abomination that she would run from if she could, but instead, Anya locked this fear, along with all the rest of it, inside the rage in her belly and chest. All was fuel to keep going.
The thing spoke to her, pleading with her.
Why won’t you let me help him? I know you want this. I can feel it in you. Let my power curl up inside him, forge him into a god that can heal these wounds. You could be glorious together.
‘Beware the righteous man,’ she said, softly. She could hear her grandfather’s ghost echoing the words in her ear.
Vedic was still on his knees. He looked at Anya holding his sword. He did not look afraid. He laughed. Anya sighed. He doesn’t believe I will strike, she thought. Or perhaps he wants me to. She felt herself curl around the fire in her gut, and she used the heat to drive the woodsman’s sword home into his heart. People shouted at her. Anya no longer cared.
Vedic looked at her. He seemed calm. Anya tried to hold back tears, failed, and hated herself for weeping for the Butcher of Vremin. The woodsman shook his head at her as if trying to speak to her, but his eyes were already closing. Vedic fell back, his strings finally cut.
Anya watched the forestal fall in a moment that felt like forever. All became light.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Anya stood on the ash ring that marked the hill of the Barrens.
A month had passed since the battle with the Kurah. There was little breeze that day; the sky was clear; the suns hung in the ruby dawn sky; and the smell of burning had almost disappeared from the air. Her left arm had been strapped up while her shoulder healed. The other gashes had been bound and bandaged by Pan, and after many days sleep, she was nearly feeling human again. She wore no weapon. The war was over. All of the bodies had been removed and buried now.
They had burned the god’s corpse in full view to prevent anyone creating rumours of his survival. Anya wasn’t sure if a god could resurrect through that kind of thing, but who knew what Cernubus had done to himself during his long exile? None of them wanted to tempt fate. She had them burn Vedic’s body for the same reason. There was also the faint hope that the cremation would provoke Danu into coming forth from the forest, but there was no word from any of the gods by then. Anya had not seen Pan since she had woken in the Shaanti camp. The god had been there when she had regained consciousness, cried with her over Akyar and left without saying goodbye. She missed Akyar. To think about what the trickster must be feeling at that loss hurt Anya.
‘Strange how little the land remembers after a battle,’ said the thain.
Anya turned to the ruler. She sported her own set of bandages from the battle. Her silver hair was worn short, and she wore a simple tunic that was so far from the ostentatious garb of the Kurah king that it made Anya smile. She liked the old ruler. She reminded her of Falkirk on his better days.
‘I’m not sure it would have ended that way, if it weren’t for Vedic,’ said Anya. ‘He knew the fight would kill him. In the end, I think he even knew I would wield the blade.’
The thain pursed her lips. ‘The enemy of my enemy.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Anya.
‘A common threat makes allies of even the most unlikely. Cernubus was as much a threat to him as to us.’
Anya smiled and shook her head. ‘No, that wasn’t why Vedic killed the hunter.’
‘One act of right cannot atone for what he did,’ said the thain, softly. ‘You weren’t there.’
‘Yes, I was,’ said Anya, sharper than she intended. She moderated her tone. ‘You misunderstand. Vedic was a more honest man even when he went by Laos. He had no illusions about the things he had done, the ripples they left in the world, and he didn’t want to die. Even at the end, he was tempted. No, he did this for Danu.’
‘He worshipped the same gods as us?’
Anya laughed. ‘He worshipped Danu, but that’s not what I meant. He loved her. He wanted her to see he could make the right choice, that he could forge meaning from the path he took, however pointless, however dark the path might have been. Sometimes, with bad choices, that’s all we can do.’
‘What about you? He fought alongside you. Might he have not done this to keep you safe?’
Anya frowned. The thought did not sit well with her. Part of Anya felt a little too much satisfaction at wielding the weapon that had killed Vedic.
‘I wish he had been the man I thought he was.’
‘Yet then we would most likely be dead,’ replied the thain. ‘Laos was who terrified them, not the woodsman.’
Anya did not reply.
‘You should come back to the city with me. Bene is going to replace Golan on the council.’
Anya kicked the ground with her foot. ‘You’re training him up to take your place.’
The thain laughed. ‘No. Maybe. The council will be drawn at random from the people to stop the problems that we experienced, but we still need a defender if the Kurah return, or other tribes from across the water. I was hoping you might take the ink, become his guard as your mother was once mine.’
Anya felt the breeze along her skin. Her scars felt tight and raw against her dressings. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why? You’ve shown yourself more than capable, and you would find the city a welcoming place – the people are already talking about you in the same breath as Gobaith.’
‘I am neither my grandmother nor my grandfather,’ said Anya, holding her gaze. ‘I can fight, but I choose not to. Life is too short.’
‘What will you do?’
‘I will come to the city,’ said Anya, thinking of Akyar. ‘But I won’t take the ink. I would learn more of my mother, and perhaps, I will find more information on these so-called gods in our archives.’
The thain placed a hand on Anya’s good shoulder. ‘That is a deal.’
Pan watched the thain leave the girl.
He was on the edge of the treeline, hidden from view. He had been there a while with Danu, standing a few feet away from Anya. Danu was as silent as he had ever known her to be. The smell of the battle was finally dissipating from the edge of the forest, leaving only the soft scent of the trees.
Things had not gone as he had thought they would. Akyar’s death still felt like a ragged wound in his mind and heart. It would be time soon for the trickster to head to the desert again. The journey had been delayed, not cancelled. They needed the answers that lay behind the sand. They needed to pull back the memories that were so ancient none of them, not even Danu, could recall them clearly.
‘She hates us.’
Danu looked at Pan. ‘Yes, perhaps. That may not be a bad thing for
now.’
Pan wanted to strike her. ‘This wasn’t the way this was supposed to happen. You should have told me about Vedic, about what would happen, and I could have—’
‘You could have done nothing. You might have changed your behaviour, but that could’ve stopped Vedic making the choices he did, and things would have been worse. We could not defeat Cernubus while completing our own plans.’
‘Maybe we are wrong.’
Danu grabbed Pan by the shoulders. ‘Life is not wrong. We know the end is coming, and so we must have a way out.’
Pan stepped out of her grip. ‘There is always a chance. We have another alignment in a few years.’
Danu turned back to Anya. ‘No, little goat, we do not. That was the last one.’
The trickster didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t have any way of either confirming or denying the goddess’s assertion, and he wasn’t aware of any archive, anywhere in the forest, where that knowledge could be held.
‘During the battle, I felt a presence,’ said Pan. ‘Under the Barrens, it was … I’ve never felt anything like it. What was that?’
Danu did not look at him. ‘You have felt that creature before. Long ago.’
‘The forest?’
Danu laughed. ‘No. The thing that gives the forest life.’
‘You?’
Danu stopped laughing. ‘I did not give the forest life.’
Pan felt his stomach churn. ‘There is another god?’
Danu shook her head as if he had disappointed her. ‘Have you learned nothing? There is no true god. The power that birthed the forest is magic, the oldest magic that lives deep below the mud and wakes only when it needs to. The creature is a dangerous thing.’
Pan looked back at the girl. ‘You think Anya will succeed where the woodsman did not?’
Danu shrugged. ‘I do not know. She is strong, but she knows her own mind in a way that Vedic did not. She may choose another path.’
‘You seem at ease with that.’