The Worldbreaker Saga Omnibus

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The Worldbreaker Saga Omnibus Page 143

by Kameron Hurley


  “What are you grabbing at?” Zezili asked, helping her down from the table and keeping hold of her hand as they got into place.

  “I had… a small jar of blood here, in my pocket.”

  “Oh,” Zezili said, “yes, I ate that. It was terrible, not as good as fresh, but I did feel better.”

  “You… what?”

  “When you came back to bed. I could smell it.”

  “Step forward!” Roh called.

  Lilia and Zezili stepped forward with the others. Lilia pressed her feet to the circle. “This isn’t good,” Lilia said.

  Maralah said, “Ready Songs of Unmaking. I want any jista in there immediately cut off.”

  “What’s a little old blood, between colleagues?” Zezili said to Lilia.

  “No, no, no,” Lilia said. She squeezed Zezili’s hand. “We can only do this once, now. We can’t–”

  A cry came from the other side of the room, a familiar one.

  “Stop! What are you–”

  They began to sink through the floor. Lilia’s ears popped as Kadaan dropped his shield. She was aware of someone running up behind her, from the direction of the Kai’s old study, but she dared not look back, dared not because she feared it might be Gian and this was all going to go wrong again.

  A hand gripped Lilia’s collar, yanking her head back.

  Lilia had just enough time to realize it was Yisaoh holding her tight, falling in after them, before the light winked out.

  Lilia struck the cold, wet floor just as hard the second time as the first. She clawed her way up, hands slick against the tongue-like surface. It was not dark this time, and not empty. Far from it.

  The air fairly sparked with power. Her head swam; her vision was dazzled by the blazing lights. All of the jista pedestals were filled, their jistas captured in the twists of power. Beside Lilia, Yisaoh lay on her side, coughing and wheezing.

  Kadaan, Maralah and Taigan were already up.

  “Songs of Unmaking!” Maralah called, but it was already done. Lilia knew because the two winks leading outside the room went out.

  “Luna!” Lilia called.

  Luna scrambled after her as she began limping to the great dais at the center of it all.

  The figure at the top of the dais flew off and fell into the water below. Lilia had a feeling it was Kirana. Who else would be arrogant enough to get up there? Just Kirana. And Lilia.

  “Zezili!” Lilia said. “Watch that woman in the water, but don’t kill her! Just make sure she doesn’t come after me.”

  And there was Gian, gaping, surrounded by powerless jistas, all cut off from their stars. Her people raised their weapons.

  “Don’t! Wait!” Kirana splashed over to them, arms raised, staring at something behind Lilia and Luna.

  Lilia turned and saw what Kirana did: Yisaoh, getting to her feet beside them. She looked dazed. This wasn’t Lilia’s Yisaoh. She could see that immediately. The hair was too short, and she was too thin. Kirana’s Yisaoh. Somehow Kirana had gotten her Yisaoh through.

  Ahkio, Lilia thought. That traitor.

  “Zezili!” Lilia called. “Grab that woman! Grab Yisaoh!”

  Zezili came back around and took Yisaoh’s arm. Yisaoh punched her; Zezili’s face came away grinning and bloody. She twisted Yisaoh’s arm behind her, forcing her over. Yisaoh cried out.

  “Let her alone!” Kirana said. “Please. You aren’t here for her. She’s nothing. You’re here for me, aren’t you?”

  The old anger rose in Lilia, the rage that had made her snap this woman’s back. Lilia grit her teeth. “Step away from the dais,” Lilia said. “Keep your hands above your head. I know you have a weapon there in your wrist. Don’t come near me or Zezili will murder Yisaoh, your Yisaoh. Because you already murdered ours, didn’t you?”

  “It’s the way it is,” Kirana said. “Every cycle, the worlds come together to murder each other. And the cycle will keep going on, Lilia, you and me and those who come after us, again and again, cycle after cycle. In some other world, you did the same as I did.”

  Lilia shivered, because Kirana was right, wasn’t she? I was the monster, Lilia thought, remembering the terrible influx of golden women with green eyes.

  “Get up there, Lilia!” Roh called. “Taigan?”

  “This is ridiculous,” Taigan said. “I’d prefer to burn them all where they stand.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Lilia shouted. She pointed to the great white cage where he needed to be. “You wanted to break the world, Taigan, or maybe save it? It’s time.”

  “Oh, there’s, ahh…” the little Tai Mora man near the webbing began. His companion hushed him. Lilia noted the splattering of flesh and viscera all around them. How many people had they tried to feed to it?

  Lilia needed to get to the top. “Roh!” she called. “Can you get me up?”

  A gentle wind enveloped her and took her to the top of the pedestal, far more softly this time. Perhaps Roh was not as frazzled. And he had Kadaan and Anavha and Maralah with him this time; the other pedestals were already powered by Gian and Kirana’s people.

  Lilia gazed down at Gian as Taigan climbed into his niche. Lilia’s shadow loomed over the cavern as the brilliant white light enveloped Taigan behind her. Lilia’s feet and fingers tingled. This time, she stared at the floor beneath her, and saw the symbol: the trefoil with the tail. The missing piece?

  “Luna!” Lilia said. “A missing piece. What do you know about a missing piece?”

  “What?” Luna cried, splashing in the water below.

  Lilia raised her arm and stared at her wrist where her mother had warded that symbol into her flesh. What if she chose to just flood this whole temple, and end them all? How could they live beside these people? How could they possibly make a future together? When her ancestors broke the world, they had left their descendants to put it back together. Lilia resented them all, resented their arrogance and hubris. Lilia hated those old dusty jistas who had made the temples, but she hated the future more. Why did the choice come down to her, the choice to continue some terrible cycle or break it? All on…

  “Can you do it?” Luna called.

  Lilia shook herself out of her dark thoughts. Not all on her. She had believed it was all her choices that led them here, but that, too, was arrogant. As arrogant as her ancestors had been. Luna chose to be here. Taigan, even. And Anavha! That poor boy should have stayed on the farm, what was he thinking? Roh, dear Roh, who had traveled so long and so far, fuelled on what? On hope. Hope that they could get here. That they could change something, instead of just continuing the same cycle over and over again.

  Many worlds, Lilia thought. A multitude of choices. She was thinking narrowly, without understanding the rules of the machine. They were all mucking about in this big thing, trying to make it work, trying to save themselves.

  “Luna!” she said. “Do we have to break the world?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lilia could feel the power beckoning to her to open herself to it, calling, calling… She closed her eyes. Clenched her fists. “It’s called the Worldbreaker, the book, and… the person up here. But do we have to break the world? Can’t we… couldn’t we… put it back together?”

  “I… don’t know!” Luna said. “There are… There are trillions of worlds here, Lilia, too many choices. I… yes, you can! I took those pages out of the book! The instructions! I’m sorry! I don’t remember them.”

  “You think you can live next to these people?” Zezili said, twisting at Yisaoh’s arm again. Yisaoh fell to her knees. “Send them all fucking back. Murder every last one of them. You can’t build a future next to fucking murderous–”

  “Like you?” Lilia said. “We can’t go back to what we were. We can’t keep doing this over and over again.”

  Zezili snarled at her. “I don’t have any interest in getting out of here alive either. You’re the one who called on me, remember? Because you needed a fucking brute. Don’t pretend your hands are ever goin
g to be clean. You’re as bad as I am, and you know it.”

  Lilia straightened.

  Roh yelled something. A wink was opening on the other side of the room: Kirana’s people, most likely, trying to re-establish a connection here. The room groaned and trembled beneath her.

  Lilia closed her eyes and opened herself to the power of the satellites.

  The warm burst of power channeled through her; the orrery popped into existence, a dizzying array of orbs. So many choices…

  “You’re right,” Lilia said to Zezili. She held out her arm to Zezili. “We are alike. We’ll do this together.”

  “What?”

  “Roh, send her up here!”

  Zezili yelled as a wave of air twisted her away from Yisaoh and propelled her to the top of the pedestal. She landed next to Lilia and grabbed at Lilia for balance, nearly going over again.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Zezili said.

  “I don’t need the instructions,” Lilia said. “My mother gave them to me, and Kalinda.”

  “What?”

  Lilia pressed at Zezili’s upper belly. Zezili hissed and clutched at where the symbol lay twisted within her flesh.

  “It’s broken,” Lilia said. “Like the worlds. Like us. We have to put it back together.”

  Zezili followed Lilia’s gaze to the symbol in the floor, the one that neatly mirrored the one in her flesh. “Oh, fuck,” Zezili said, “fuck.”

  “If I try and put people back where they don’t belong,” Lilia said, “the game ends. Just like the game of spheres. Who knows why? Maybe it’s not allowed. Maybe it destroys worlds. Annihilates universes. You put the Tai Mora back, and who are we? We are them. And it’s true, what Saradyn said. You are from this world. I’m not. I need you to help me do this.”

  Zezili grimaced.

  The spheres continued spinning, their lacey orbits whipping out behind them like tails of smoke. Could she stand here forever, just waiting? No, no. If she closed her eyes and listened, she could hear Roh and Kadaan yelling as their defenses began to give way, just like the last time.

  Below her, Yisaoh was free, running across the great room to Kirana’s arms. If Lilia killed Kirana she would summon a future far worse than this one.

  Zezili pulled off her tunic. The silvery symbol beneath her flesh glowed faintly blue. “This is going to hurt,” Zezili said.

  She pulled a knife from her side and jabbed it into her belly, working it around the piece stuck in her flesh.

  Lilia felt an echo of the pain, a deep ache that helped her focus. She reached for the little green orb nearest her. It was real in her hand. It barely had weight at all, much like having a bird land on one’s palm: all softness and air, brittle bones, no mass. Such a small thing to hold, this ball that represented not only her own life, but the lives of all the Tai Mora and their allies, all at her mercy now, after so long. She didn’t know why that occurred to her, why it was this world, this small green orb, that felt so much like her home.

  Her eyes filled with tears, as Zezili tore the piece of the temple from her flesh and held it in her hand.

  Lilia remembered her mother. Her mother cut down by Kirana’s weapon. And her mother, again, fused with the mirror that was to bridge their worlds before Oma’s rise. Her mother had safeguarded her and protected her, tossed her into some other world so that she had the chance to live. She had done what Kirana had done; they were motivated by the same things, weren’t they? They loved their families. They wanted to live. It was the determination of every creature: those two things. To survive, to reproduce. Who was to say she would have done any differently, in Kirana’s place? She had been selfish, arrogant, since the worlds began to come together, and she had nearly destroyed everything.

  And isn’t that where she sat now, the power of life or death in her own hands? The terrible choice, to let them live here alongside the Dhai they murdered and enslaved or to cast them out to their dead world where they would all be consumed by fire? Two choices. The Dhai choice was to let them stay, to survive, but what then? Hope that they could live beside their oppressors? Those who murdered their kin? That was worse than death. The Dhai, her Dhai, did not deserve that. But the other choice was to be a Tai Mora, to do the very worst thing. The genocide of an entire race.

  Two choices, two choices.

  Shouting, close. Roh’s voice. “Hold them! Hold them!” The clash of weapons. More voices. She could not go back and do this again, not now. There was no way out, no way to buy more time.

  She had to make her choice.

  “Lilia?” Zezili said. “You hear me? Take it! Take the fucking thing!” She held the bloody trefoil with the tail in her hand. Her blood dripped on the dais beneath them.

  Don’t become them, Emlee had said. Lilia closed her eyes and saw the little girl cut in two by the seam Lilia had ordered drawn in the world. The dead she left in Tira’s Temple. She had done terrible things. She deserved this death, to cast herself and the people she had come from back to their rotting husk of a world. She had done all of this, everything, seeking this end. There was never any way back. She had pushed on, committing greater horrors, becoming all that she was fighting, so she could end it here.

  She opened his eyes. Took a deep breath. Infinite worlds purled out ahead of her, casting up and up; when she looked down, they spread low and long beneath her, too.

  She hefted the green sphere that was her life, the Tai Mora lives, and in her other hand she made a motion, like grasping for a hanging branch, and the whole map pivoted, rushed forward. If the Aaldian game of spheres was any indication, she had only one chance at this. If she chose poorly, it wasn’t just she who would die, but also everyone here. Roh and Anavha, Maralah and Kadaan, and Gian, whom she loved despite knowing it was a stupid compulsion.

  There were infinite worlds, and infinite choices. She had only to let herself see them.

  One choice. Choose, Li.

  Li.

  Light.

  “Lilia!” Zezili yelled. “Ah, fuck!” She slipped on her blood, nearly toppling from the pedestal.

  Lilia was rooted in place, transfixed by the orrery. There, curled at the center of a whirl of spheres, was a softly winking white world. White, like the martyr Faith Ahya.

  Choose.

  “Where will we go?” she murmured. Would the Tai Mora murder people there as they had here? Would there be any people at all? Who was she, to further break them apart? Divide them? Division had created this terrible cycle in the first place.

  They had been arguing all this time about whose was the right face, about which body belonged where. But they were all the same people, weren’t they? Broken apart by their foolhardy ancestors, using power they didn’t understand. They were all the same bodies, the same people. Just different choices.

  The realization made her lose her breath. They had broken it all apart. Someone needed to put it back together.

  They were nothing without each other.

  “Fly, fly, little bird,” she murmured. She released the green sphere and let it float back into its orbit.

  She slid to knees, painfully, and took the trefoil with the tail from Zezili’s slick hands. Lilia pressed the missing piece into the base of the pedestal. The light all around them intensified. Zezili screamed. A great wave of power took Lilia into its embrace, lifting her from the pedestal as if she weighed nothing. For one glorious moment, she felt light as air itself, without pain, without doubt.

  Suffused in the power of the combined satellites, an infinite number of endings and beginnings before her, every choice imaginable, she brought up her left hand in a long sweeping motion. The billions of worlds drew closer to her, skipping from their paths to collect around her in a great whirling mass. The light intensified again, sparking and hissing. One more move on the board, the last move.

  Worldbreaker, or Worldshaper?

  Lilia swept her right arm out and brought it toward her. The infinite worlds, infinite stars, infinite possibilities, collided.<
br />
  And she reset the game.

  49

  Roh saw her move the orrery: a long sweep of stars. No one else was watching. Kirana’s reinforcements broke his defensive wall so forcefully he lost his grasp on Para. The room seethed and buckled, tilting wildly beneath their feet as the temple slid off the sand bar and deeper into the sea. Water rushed in from massive cracks in the walls. Roared from the ceiling. They were going to drown in here.

  “Lilia, don’t!” Roh lurched toward her. She was going to murder the Tai Mora, murder herself.

  Lilia held the green piece aloft, and glanced over her shoulder. For the rest of his life, he would think about the expression he saw in her face: fear, triumph, resolution, defeat… All of them, and none.

  “Li!” He reached for her, fingers grasping, trying to make it across the distance as fast as his legs would carry him, breaking apart the misty worlds, his skin bathed in pinpricks of light.

  Li.

  Light.

  Zezili hung from the platform, screaming. The light suffusing the pedestal became nearly blinding. Lilia was lifted high in the air, hair streaming behind her.

  She released the sphere back into its orbit, and swung her left arm around, drawing all the smaller orbs up into a whirling mass above her head. The ground trembled beneath them. She stumbled, but did not fall. Raised her right hand, and pulled the larger set of spheres from their orbits as well.

  The misty worlds all collided above her.

  Light.

  Roh covered his eyes. The light was so powerful it overwhelmed. It pierced his consciousness even through his closed lids. Pierced him to the bone, like a physical force. But there was no boom. No rush. Just blazing light.

  Then… darkness. Water rushing up below him, carrying him. Saradyn shouting, grabbing for him. Roh called to Kadaan, trying to draw on Para, finding… nothing.

  Roh opened his eyes, but the light had been so intense that he was still blind. He blinked, reaching, swimming back toward the dais where Lilia had stood. His fingers met the lip of the dais, and as his vision returned, his sight confirmed what his fingers discovered – Lilia was no longer there.

 

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