by H. M. Long
Now, as I crouched on the dark mountainside over the Arpa camp, I finished, “Slayer of the Old Gods, Conqueror of the New… The Setting Sun. The Rising Moon.”
All at once, I felt dizzy. My cuts and scrapes knit of their own accord and, down in the valley, a horse whinnied. I leant forward and focused harder, running one hand across a forehead slick with sweat.
I couldn’t see much from this distance, but it was hard to miss the break when it came. Eighty panicked horses scattered across the valley.
The chaos was glorious. Weak as I felt, I stifled a laugh. My exhilaration was only tempered by the knowledge that my sweet Melid was somewhere among them, frightened by the heat in her veins. I even considered going to find her, but the thought was passing.
It took the Arpa over an hour to recover all their horses. I used the time to finish rounding the valley, but my limbs were slower and weaker than they’d been in days.
A tendril of fear wrapped around my drumming heart. I had not expected this. Ardam had been pale, yes, but he had gone from the ritual into battle with little falter. Yet Ardam had also been a veteran Eangi war chief of forty years, one of the oldest and most experienced. I was not.
A wave of dizziness struck me. I sank down onto an outcropping of rock and bowed my head, willing my fluttering pulse to steady.
Then I felt the cold. It pushed in around me, turning and swirling like a cyclone of autumn leaves.
This was not Ogam’s cold. Ogam’s cold was sharp and crisp; it brightened the mind and made the teeth ache. This cold, this was heavy and thick, like clammy clay – like a corpse.
Eang’s voice reverberated in the recesses of my mind.
Do not invite the attention of Ashaklon’s ilk.
“There you are.” The voice crept through my mind, invading each corner and cracking it wide. “Ah… I smell the iron upon you, servant of Eang. And… something other. A winter wind? The blessing of thunder?”
Down in the valley, men shouted, and hooves clattered on rock. Each sound came to me muffled, as if the mysterious presence suppressed it.
“What did you do to them?” The voice rippled with amusement.
“I put Fire in their horses’ blood.”
“Ah.” The thing made a hissing, rasping sound – a laugh? Whatever it was, it ended in a contented sigh. “Now, tell me where your mistress is.”
“I don’t know,” I said, not bothering to hide how heavily that truth weighed on me. “Who… who are you?”
“I have been called Styga by some, though your people never had a name for me…” As they spoke, the presence tightened around me. Time stretched on, marked by the stifled shouts and whinnies from down in the valley. “Hmm… It is as Rioux said. You were there at the fall of Ashaklon.”
Lies wedged in my throat. I had no way of knowing how much this creature – possibly god – already knew, and I doubted untruths would go over well.
“Yes,” I responded as levelly as I could. “I helped Oulden and Eang destroy him.”
“Destroy? No. You bound him anew,” the presence reminded me. Their grip undulated and cinched around me, like a coiling snake. “Only one force can destroy a god. There is no High Hall in such a death, no chance of return. It is… as if they never were. That is true destruction.”
I knew they were baiting me. I ran my teeth over the inside of my lip. Whoever Styga was, whatever they were, they wanted me to talk.
My hunger for the truth won out. “What could do that? The light in the north? One of the Four?”
The cold solidified in front of me. One by one, it gathered the shadows and robed itself in them, drawing smooth tendrils and draping folds. Then it lifted one hand and leached starlight from the sky. The light dribbled over the featureless orb of their head like water and seeped into the lines of a hairless, genderless face.
A being of starlight and shadow, just like the one Ogam said had attacked Esach over Souldern.
“One of the Four? Hm. Yes,” Styga told me. “That power sleeps. Or so it did. So it has. The God-Killer, that is what they are.”
“God-Killer? Are they your enemy?”
The being drew down more light from the sky and dappled it across its cheeks, imitating my freckles.
“In a way,” Styga said. “While it sleeps, no. When it rises, yes.”
“Then let me go.” I surprised myself with the strength in my voice. “Your enemy is mine, too.”
“Oh no,” the being tsked. “A common enemy, yes, but you and I are very much at odds. I am a God of the Old World and your patron is of the New.”
A God of the Old World. I was facing down another ancient god, but this time I felt no surprise. Suspicions affirmed, I settled into my heels.
“She and her cohorts killed half of my siblings and bound me with the rest,” they said. “Would you forgive such a thing?”
No, I wouldn’t. And if they wanted Eang to stay dead, I couldn’t be left alive.
“Eang sent me to stop this… God-Killer from rising,” I told them. “To stop the man called Omaskat. Think about what you just said, divinity. This power can annihilate you, too. So let me go stop it.”
Styga considered me more directly for a long minute. Slowly, they brought their nose up to my cheek and inhaled. “Perhaps you can… A human vessel, a spark of the divine?”
They stepped back and glanced down at the valley. “Go then. Stop Omaskat. You have caused these men chaos, and in that I see a… kindred spirit. But,” their voice tipped up in warning, then dropped into a whisper, “I will be watching.”
THIRTY-FOUR
I did not see the Arpa or the being of starlight and shadow again, and after a few more days of eastern travel, I found myself on a broad, windy ridgeline. Mountains and high valleys opened all around me except to the south, where Iskir’s smooth expanse of rock and marshes hazed under the summer sun.
To the east, the mountains divided into a deep, tiered valley. And there, at its furthest reaches, sunlight glistened off a pristine, milky lake.
The sight of it made all my trepidation evaporate like candle smoke. It was four days away at most.
Excitement spurred me on. I skittered into the valley by a herder’s path and jogged until my legs were jittery with fatigue.
In the forest below, I slowed to catch my breath. Birdsong swelled around me and sun glinted through the treetops, where birds flitted branch to branch. And beyond them, above the canopy, the long stream of a narrow waterfall frayed in the wind.
I walked until I found the broad pool at the base of the waterfall. The water spattered into a ledge just above my head, and slid down into the pool in a smooth, seamless sheet; gentle and inviting.
I couldn’t pass the opportunity by, not as sweaty and stinking and hopeful as I was. I bundled my weapons and clothing on a rock and plunged into the water with a muffled shriek. I came up sputtering and laughing and dragged my hands over my hot cheeks, relishing the cold water.
I was happy. It was an insidious feeling, terrifying in its own right. Yes, my doubts about Eang wormed through my soul. Yes, I had no idea when Omaskat would arrive at that distant white lake. But I was so close now. This time, when I met the traveler, I would not allow myself to be disarmed by his kindness, as I had on our first meeting. Nor would I lack the strength as I had on our second. With two months of hardship fortifying my heart and the aid of my magic from the High Halls, I was sure that this time I’d defeat him.
I had no soap, but I floated until my fatigued body cooled and much of my sweat had washed away. Then I clambered back to shore, energized and ready to be on my way.
I heard a clatter. There on the rocks, the hindquarters of a raccoon protruded from my pack.
“Hey!” I snatched up a dripping stone and hurled it through the air. “Get away! Go!”
The raccoon’s legs scrabbled. Whatever it had a hold of – the last of my barley cakes, I suspected – it couldn’t pull it free of the bag. But it also wasn’t willing to let go.
> My second stone hit its flank. I came directly after it, naked, cold and angry.
The raccoon’s head popped free. It turned its face towards me, not unlike an Eangi with its black-rimmed eyes, and jerked a bundle after it. Before I could intercept, the creature took off at a shambling run, half holding, half biting the packet.
I snatched up a hatchet and hurled it. It thudded into a tree, but the raccoon skittered sideways and leapt for the safety of another high pine. I threw rock after rock, shouting and cursing.
By the time it reached the pine’s high spread of branches, I was laughing instead. The animal perched on the branch and began to eat, raining crumbs down towards me.
“I’ve a soft spot for them, myself,” a male voice commented.
My hand shot to the haft of my axe, resting on my pack.
The man stood calmly, a pace away. He wore fitted trousers and a broad leather belt, revealing a muscular chest that sagged with age.
I wanted to bolt for my clothes, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off him. I hefted the axe instead. “Who are you?”
The man scrutinized me, impassive to my state of undress. His nose had been broken several times and his hair escaped from a long, single braid around a weather-worn face. “Where are you headed?”
I decided to risk grabbing my tunic. I put half a dozen paces between us and jerked the garment over my head. Feeling less absurd, I snatched up my shield and faced him again at guard, watching him around its edge.
The man laughed at me. “Where are you headed, woman?”
I kept my axe out behind me, its blade – and potential angle of attack – hidden from sight. “You’re Algatt.”
A smile twitched across his face. Over his shoulder, more crumbs rained down. “Yes. Calm yourself. I’m not going to harm you.”
When he smiled, something about his face struck me as familiar. “You’re one of the men the Arpa had captive,” I accused.
The man pushed out his lower lip, considering. “Maybe. Maybe we’ve met elsewhere.”
I shifted my feet on the rocks, finding a better grip. My legs still dripped, and I could feel my hair soaking my tunic. “Tell me your name.”
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
“I might.”
He glanced up as the raccoon chattered. The cloth that had wrapped the cakes floated down onto the pine bed.
I decided to take a different tactic. “Are you human?”
The man burst out laughing and clapped his hands on his tanned belly. “Yes, yes! Good question. Gods below, miscreants above!”
“Yes, you are human?”
He waved a finger at me and sidled towards the pool. He dipped the toe of a gnarled, bare foot into the water. “Ooh, that’s cold.”
Suspicion crept up my spine. “Are you Gadr?”
“Yes! And you,” his voice darkened for the first time, “are an Eangi.”
I kept my shield steady. So this, this was Gadr? God of my enemies, god who had let his people loose on my land like rabid dogs?
“What do you want?” I demanded.
“You’ve been sleeping in my temples.” He waded into the water, soaking his trousers up to the knee. He wore no legwraps, and as he moved the fabric stuck to his legs. “Freeing my people. Talking down Gods of the Old World. Even releasing the souls of the dead, according to Frir. Tell me, daughter of Eang, why would you do that? How did you do that?”
My throat constricted. “They were trapped. I’m an Eangi.”
Gadr peered up at me. “My people should not have responded to Eang’s power.”
I pressed my lips closed, inwardly berating myself. Now that Gadr knew something was amiss, would his prying eyes notice something about me, some sign of what I’d found in the High Halls?
Gadr advanced two steps. My muscles tensed and I raised the shield another fraction, but the god of the Algatt only scrutinized me for a long minute, then guardedly inquired, “Why are you here?”
I chose my words. “I need to pass through the mountains.”
“To the white lakes,” he added, considering me from behind a clump of hair sagging out of his braid. “Yes, my people told me. Why would you go there?”
“Eang sent me to do something.”
“Elaborate.”
“Perhaps you should speak with her,” I deflected.
Gadr waved a suggestive hand at the sky. “Then summon her.”
I hovered, unsure how to proceed.
“I thought so.” He bent to peer through the surface of the water in the posture of an inquisitive toddler, bottom stuck out and palms braced on his knees. Meanwhile, the raccoon finished the last of his meal and scrambled higher up the tree.
“Did you see what they did?” Gadr asked, his eyes flickering after rivulets. “The Arpa?”
I hesitated. “In the villages?”
Gadr continued to stare down into the water, passive at first, then scowled and straightened back up. His gaze met mine, and his humor, his confidence, flaked away to reveal a jagged grief.
“The Gods of the Old World forced me to watch. I heard each of their cries. I felt each of them die.”
At the last, he gave bare-toothed grimace and flexed his jaw, locking away some of the grief again. I remained quiet, wondering if Eang had felt anything like this at the death of her people – and knowing she probably hadn’t.
“I’ve been freeing their souls myself, but the task is… heavy.” The Algatt god cleared his throat and settled his face into a fresh, narrow-eyed façade. “So, I thank you, Eangi. And in thanks for that, I will not tell your mistress that you drank the waters of the High Halls.”
My fingers clenched on my axe and shield. “I did not—”
“Oh, hush,” Gadr chided. “How else could you free souls devoted to another god? Our whole world is shattering; I hardly care if one of Eang’s chattels has a little too much ichor in her veins, especially if you’re using it to free my dead.”
“Ichor?” I repeated, as if I didn’t recall the amber glistening in my blood.
He surveyed me with marked disapproval. “Why did you think we forbid living humans from feasting in the Halls? It’s one of the few things we’ve always agreed on. Now the dead, a little divine mead and bread won’t do a thing to them. But you? Living and breathing?”
I bit the inside of one lip, trying to keep myself quiet. Gadr clearly had information and insight that I did not – and I needed it. If I could keep him talking, who knew what I might inadvertently learn. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, little Eangi,” Gadr replied, “that the Halls transform every living being into something more than it once was, as I’m sure you’re finding out. Though considering how you reek of Eangi Fire, I take it they haven’t mixed well?”
I didn’t reply.
“Well,” Gadr shrugged, “I’m not your god, why should I care? No more divine secrets for you. Except for… one thing. You should know, I did not order my people to annihilate the Eangi when they fled south. By the time I came to my senses, it was done. I want you to know that. I want your mistress to know that.”
I was taken aback. Such transparency, let alone such a confession, seemed out of place for the god who had been sending his people to raid and pillage mine for centuries. Was he toying with me, or had the slaughter of his people made him soft?
Explanation delivered, the God of the Mountain frowned. “Now… you need to go to the white lakes?”
I retreated half a step. “…Yes?”
Gadr straightened and strode towards me, hand outstretched. “Then I will take you.”
I kept my axe and shield raised. “Why?”
“You not only freed my people’s souls, but you rescued them from the Arpa,” he waggled his hand. “I still owe you. Come. I have a… faster road.”
The hair on the back of my neck prickled. The raccoon had gone quiet, and in the place of its scrabbling I heard the distant, urgent hoot of an owl.
“I thank you for your kindness,”
I said carefully, “but I’ll continue on foot.”
His eyebrows rose. “I will consider my debt to you paid by the offer.”
“Perhaps, instead,” I suggested, more tightly than I intended, “you might answer a question.”
“I might.”
“Why did you steal Vistic? The baby?”
Gadr considered me for another long moment, then let out a bark of laughter that held more disgust than humor. The water in his beard fell like rain as he scratched it vigorously with both hands.
“Steal him?” he said around his out-thrust jaw and raking fingers. “Omaskat gave him to me for safekeeping, woman. But Ogam can be rather aggressive. And I’m a poor nursemaid.”
With that he wiped off his hands on his bare chest – leaving his beard in disarray – and made for the trees. The raccoon skittered down and leapt onto his shoulders, prattling and clutching at his hair.
I started after him, pale with shock. Omaskat was the one who had stolen Vistic from Sixnit? Anger rushed through me, but confusion was right behind it. The traveler had shown interest in Sixnit in the Hall of Smoke, yes, and he had asked me about the baby. But what did it mean? And why, after stealing him, why would Omaskat give Vistic to Gadr?
“Gadr—” I started after the god.
“My debt is paid.” Without looking back, the god of the Algatt flapped a hand at me and strode off into the pines.
“But why did Omaskat—”
“You’re the one looking for him – ask him yourself,” Gadr retorted. With a final chatter from the raccoon, the two of them vanished.
I was left stunned and confused beside the pool.
THIRTY-FIVE
At long last, I came to the first white lake. It was small, cradled between sheer cliffs where a bird of prey spun. There was an abandoned village nearby and, since it was late in the day, I slept in the comfort of an Algatt bed. After Gadr’s visit, I’d decided to stop seeking shelter in temples, never mind Eang’s recommendation. She clearly had not expected Gadr to take notice of my presence, and she had been wrong.