Godmaker (Jeweled Goddess Book 1)

by Ingrid Seymour

  By some miracle, Godmaster Salino’s words make past the fog inside my head.

  The first ring represents deception. The second, wisdom. And the final one, courage.

  Deception!

  I curse. It was never about the snake. It was about the venom, about not having a clear mind for this challenge. Everything I see is a lie, at least until the venom wears off.

  That same reverberating sound echos in my head, begging to be acknowledged. I look up at the sky where several Godfire orbs come together and form the number X.

  Lash it all to Chaos! It’s the tenth drumbeat. I need to hurry.

  Almost as addled as when I first stumbled in here, I tread forward, searching, searching, heart about to burst. I screw my eyes and open them again, trying to see everything anew.

  Drumbeats resound inside my head. Sometimes they seem faster, others slower.

  One.

  Two more.

  Three more.

  A desperate scream builds in my chest.

  What am I supposed to do?!

  I want to yell at the stewards, want to wrap my hands around their necks and squeeze until their eyes pop out. My blood boils with frustration, but somehow I manage to keep from exploding.

  There are only three beats left when I notice an irregularity on the smooth, black wall. I stagger closer and peer at what looks like indentations carved on the surface. I trace them with my fingertips. They’re small and practically invisible on the dark wall. Really?! How is anyone supposed to find this after taking a bath in venom?

  The indentations are arranged in a horizontal line, one following the other. They are all different shapes and sizes. I count them and, of course, there are thirteen of them.

  I look down at the jewels at my feet and know exactly what I need to do.

  Discarding my shield and sword, I rake a handful of jewels from the ground and examine their shapes. Yes! Some of them match the shapes on the wall.

  I grab a round sapphire and insert it into an indentation of the same size and shape. It fits perfectly. I laugh with delighted hysteria, and find a ruby shaped like a cube. Quickly, I pressed it to a matching shape on the wall, but the jewel is too big.

  Lashing Chaos!

  I throw the ruby away and search through the remaining jewels in my hand. None of them are the right shape. They have rough edges and uneven sides—unlike the perfect geometrical one carved into the wall.

  Slinging those jewels as far away as possible, I use my shield to scoop a large number of gems. They tinkle against the metal, setting my nerves further on edge. Hands moving at a prodigious speed, I sort through the jewels, throwing away the ones with irregular shapes.

  When I’m left with only perfectly shaped jewels, I begin testing them against the notches in the wall.

  Another drumbeat rumbles through the arena. My hands shake as I sift desperately through all the lashing gems.

  I don’t even dare consider there might be a specific pattern in which I need to insert them. Alphabetical order? Godline jewels only? There are millions of possibilities. I ignore the likelihood and keep going.

  The first sifting yields seven additional jewels. Only five more to go. With a deep breath that doesn’t manage to calm me down one bit, I scoop another load and repeat the process. I dig through my bounty like a mole digs through dirt.

  I grab all the jewels that seem to match in shape and size, and press them one after another against the wall. None of them fit this time.

  Diosa, help me!

  How can I find the rest of the jewels in this glittering sea at my feet? It seems I’ve found the most commons ones, and the rest are rarer. There are only two more drumbeats left. Hope slips away like a snake in retreat. I stare at the wall, suddenly paralyzed. This is it. This is where my path ends, and it doesn’t matter that I’ve found my Godskill. It can’t help me now.

  Cheers erupt from the crowd. It seems someone has made it past the second ring. I wonder who. Odella? I pray to the Goddess it’s Romer and not that evil beast.

  The thought of my friend snaps me back into action. I rake in another shield-full of jewels. My fingers move fast, sorting them more precisely in my hyper focused state, the way Elina might do. After a short moment, I come up with a handful of potential fits.

  Steadying my nerves, I pick the best candidate between thumb and forefinger and push it into an octagonal indentation. It fits perfectly. I discard many more before I find three more.

  Only one left!

  Another drumbeat. My jaw twitches. I wipe sweat off my forehead. My heart pounds, sounding like the wing beats of the cuspid eagles. My throat tightens as I stare at the lone indentation that’s left.

  It’s the small shape of a four-sided pyramid.

  I press my hands to my temples and squeeze, trying to deny the obvious. Shaking all over, my gaze drifts to the ground, searching for another jewel that may fit in the remaining notch. But, deep in my heart, I know my chances of finding another pyramid are less than none.

  A growl builds in my throat and escapes through my clenched teeth.

  Could this be on purpose? Could the stewards be aware of my illicit skill? It seems too much to be a coincidence.

  I can feel the last drumbeat coming. My spine hums with anticipation.

  There is no other choice, I tell myself.

  But what if you lose the jewel? Another voice in my head asks.

  I’ll lose more than just the jewel, if I don’t do something.

  Besides, if I’m meant to challenge the Godleaders and their trials, meant to challenge Mother, I won’t accomplish it by standing here and simply giving up.

  Defiance isn’t silent.

  I take off my left wristband and feel for the Godjewel under my skin.

  Something makes a grinding sound to my right. My head snaps in that direction. The grinding turns into a rumble, and the wall begins to move, getting closer.

  Lashing stewards!

  They mean to squash me like a bug.

  It’s all I need to finish making up my mind.

  Without hesitation, I bite into my wrist and rip out a mouthful of flesh. I spit it out onto my hand and examine it. The coppery taste and scent of blood fill my senses.

  The walls rumbles louder as its speed increases.

  “Damn you to Chaos!” I snap.

  My fleshy piece of wrist falls to the ground. The space reduces in half as I shove a finger into my wound and gouge out the Godjewel. There is a gasp from the crowd as I pull the small pyramid-shaped gem out of my body.

  The moving wall touches my shoulder and begins to squeeze me. I turn, making myself flatter. I try to insert my Godjewel into the remaining notch, but I don’t have enough room to angle my hand properly.

  I place a hand flat against the wall, close the other one tightly to guard the jewel, and push. The resistance I encounter is great, even for my enhanced strength. I manage to stop the gap from narrowing further, but it’s all I can do to keep it from turning me into Godfruit juice.

  Heaving a deep breath, I dig in my heels and push with everything I’ve got. The passage grows wider by a fraction, and I quickly jab the pyramid into the last indentation.

  The rumbling stops and the pressure around me eases off.

  A door opens before me, right where the thirteen jewels are set in a line.

  Panic surges inside me as part of the wall dissolves to create a passage into the next ring, and all the jewels fall to the ground. I scramble to my knees, searching for the source of my strength, the only thing that might keep me alive.

  As if calling for me, the jewel sparkles green, making itself known. I snatch it the way a human beggar might snatch a piece of bread from an unattended counter.

  Before the door closes again, I grasp my shield and sword and jump forward into the final ring just as the last drumbeat sounds.

  Chapter 28

  Behind my shield, my left hand clasps my Godjewel. My lifeline.

  I remain close to the wall as t
he door silently disappears behind me. My eyes rove around the third ring, drinking in every detail.

  The first thing I notice is Aristo, lying face down, a pool of blood under him. He’s dead. I look away and shut my mind and heart to any emotions.

  Further up, Odella lunges at someone I can’t see. My body tenses all over, and I’m unable to move for fear she’s going for Romer. And as a matter of fact, she is, but my friend leaps into the air, easily avoiding the lashing beast.

  I charge forward, looking around to make sure Lara isn’t in the ring, too. A quick inspection reveals she didn’t make it. Was she confounded by the poison? Crushed by the walls? Did she die? Or will she get a chance to Descend?

  Regardless, now it’s only Romer, Odella and I.

  “Romer!” I call out.

  He looks in my direction. Surprise marks his features, then relief.

  “You made it,” he says with a smile.

  Odella takes a step sideways, angling her body to get me in her sights. Her upper lip curls, and I almost expect a snarl from her, but she makes no sound. I tighten my hold on the jewel. Given Odella’s skill, I’ll need more agility than brute strength, but it gives me comfort to know it’s safe in my grip.

  Romer alights on Odella’s other flank.

  “Surrender, and you’ll get a chance to Descend,” I offer.

  “Never!” Odella says. “I don’t intend to lose but, if I do, you’ll be doing me a favor by killing me. Same way I did for your idiot friend.” She smiles wickedly, fully aware of the pain this reminder of Delfos causes.

  “I was hoping you’d refuse,” Romer says. “I never agreed with Bia on this offer, much less after what you did. If anyone deserved to live, it was Delfos. And yet, you took pleasure in killing him.”

  The crowd chants Romer’s name as well as mine. Odella snarls at them, then gives them a rude gesture of dismissal. After that, she wastes no more time with words or caution and lunges toward Romer. She’s completely reckless, unlike the times we’ve fought her during training.

  Romer jumps back, brandishing his sword and shield against the barrage of strikes raining from his opponent. Now that she’s allowed to use her Godskill, and it’s the last battle, she’s willing to risk it all for one simple touch, a touch that could send each of us down the path Delfos took.

  I pounce in her direction with a war cry and strike at her leg. She dodges in time but, despite my hopes, her brash attitude remains and seems more determined than before. She has always been fearless and, apparently, not even death scares her.

  Odella flings her shield in an attempt to take my head off. I duck, and when I look back up, she’s pitched her sword at Romer as if it were a spear. He bats it away easily but, in that distracted instant, she dives forward and manages to brush Romer’s shoulder with the tips of her fingers.

  She lands in a crouch a few paces away from my friend, a perverse smile on her face.

  Romer’s eyes go wide.

  “No!” I scream and run toward him.

  An expression of panic twists his features. He presses his blade to his wrist. Just as he’s about to slice himself open, I wrench his arm back and swipe his feet from under him. He thuds to the ground and pulls me down with him. We fall in a tangle of limbs and swords.

  Unexpectedly, he flips me over, straddles me, and proceeds to strangle me.

  Just great! If he can’t kill himself, he’ll be content with me.

  Luckily, Odella has no idea that Romer’s strength is no match for mine. Not anymore.

  It’s awkward handling him with only one hand as I hold the Godjewel with the other, but it isn’t hard. I easily remove one hand from his choking hold, flip him on his back, and reverse our position.

  Wasting no time, I grab one of our fallen swords and swiftly plunge it down. Romer’s eyes fill with an intense sense of betrayal that lingers even after he realizes I’ve stabbed the sword into the ground and not him.

  The long weapon is halfway into the ground, and as if it were nothing but a blade of grass, I bend the other half over his neck, pinning him down. It may graze his neck and fingers if he tries to remove it, but it won’t kill him.

  As I’m turning to find Odella, she jumps on me, presses a dagger to my throat, and plants her hand on my bare shoulder.

  My body goes rigid. Odella’s voice sings in my head like a siren at sea.

  You cannot move. You’re a statue.

  I’m kneeling, straddling Romer. He squirms, trying to pry the twisted sword away. Blood stains his neck, dripping from his fingertips. His frantic face is all I can see. I can’t even move my eyeballs.

  “Thanks for subduing him for me,” Odella’s real voice rasps in my ear. “Interesting what you’ve done to him? How exactly did you manage to bend that sword?”

  With all my might, I try to move, but I’m as frozen as Kadmus’s family on that fateful, despicable day.

  All this strength, and I can’t move a finger.

  “Are you cheating, Bia?”

  The crowd boos.

  “Interesting, though not as interesting as slitting your deceitful little throat.”

  She presses the dagger harder.

  The crowd’s jeers die and are replaced with an eerie silence.

  The dagger cuts my skin. Warm blood slides down my neck, my chest. I brace myself for the inevitable moment. But it never comes. Instead, the weapon falls out of Odella’s hand. She lets out a choked gasp and releases me. My body tingles, but I’m still frozen. Romer’s eyes swivel wildly. His desperate attempt to remove the sword from around his neck almost comes to a halt.

  Was Lara hiding somewhere waiting for just this moment to attack? Did I not search the ring carefully enough?

  Behind me, Odella sputters wetly. She’s trying to say something, but sputtering is all she’s able to do. After a strained moment that seems to last forever, I hear a heavy thud and, immediately, regain control of my limbs.

  I dive away from Romer and roll on my shoulder, trying to snatch Odella’s dagger, but her attacker kicks it away. Finishing my roll, I jump to my feet, hands up, ready for a fight.

  Instead of Lara, as I was expecting, Aristo stands in front of me, his eyes all pupil, his features etched with something I can’t describe.

  Romer kicks at the ground. “Take this off, Bia!” he demands.

  I don’t move, however. I just stare at Aristo in shock.

  How can this be? He was on the ground in a puddle of blood when I passed him. Blood still stains the front of his leather armor.

  My mind considers the possibilities. If he was attacked by Odella, she would have made sure he was dead. Would Romer have done the same? Or had Romer perhaps pardoned him?

  One last possibility occurs to me.

  I narrow my eyes at Aristo. He looks stricken. His hand trembles, the tip of his sword unsteady. My gaze flicks back and forth between him and Romer. I open my mouth to speak, to say something that may allow the three of us to make a stand and refuse to kill each other. But before I find the words, Aristo’s expression changes. It begins with his mouth. His upper lip pulls back and his eyebrows pinch together, transforming his stricken expression into a mask of ferocious intent.

  Faster than I ever gave him credit for, Aristo steps toward me and slashes with his sword. I’m caught by surprise and don’t move fast enough. The sword stroked my wrist. Shocked, I watch my hand travel through the air, fist still clenched around the Godjewel. I follow its trajectory with a strange detachment—not quite understanding what has happened until a jolt of pain makes me cry out.

  “Bia!” Romer screams.

  More pain bursts in my gut, skewers me through my spine. I fall to my knees, Aristo’s sword sticking out of my middle, a banner to my stupidity. He’s been playing us since the very beginning, and I never suspected it. No one did. I fall to my knees, sway for a moment. Something bitter and foul fills my mouth. I fall to the side, my legs going numb.

  Romer kicks furiously as Aristo takes a step in his d
irection.

  “Lashing beast!” Romer screams, pushing up in an effort to dislodge the sword from around his neck. It cuts deeper as he struggles.

  “I’m only a beast because I beat you,” Aristo says in a cold and calculating tone which sounds foreign on his lips. “Otherwise, I would be a . . . what?” He pauses, watching Romer’s futile struggle with a smirk. “I guess you would call me nothing. You would have never spared a thought for me. Not Romer. Not the Ruby God.”

  Blood spurts from the stump of my left arm. My vision swims. I dig my other hand into the ground and try to pull my body toward Aristo. He peers at me sideways, his mouth twisting in disgust.

  Turning his full attention to Romer, he kneels next to him. “I could use this.” He picks up Odella’s dagger and brandishes it in front of Romer.

  My friend shakes his head. His kicking has ceased. He’s as still as a mouse in the grip of a hungry feline.

  “No,” I rasp. It’s my fault he can’t move, my fault he can’t defend himself.

  Aristo continues, “But I’ve been working on something for the last few days, and I’m very curious to know if it will work.”

  “Please,” Romer says, the word a plea for mercy.

  “The mighty Romer knows the word please? Who would have thought?”

  “Let him live,” I say, even as blood fills my mouth.

  Romer wants to live. His tone betrays his desire to go on, to experience more. I knew he would change his mind. He’s full of life, full of goodness. There’s more for him, even if it’s outside of Joya d’Diosa. He’s just realized what I’ve always known.

  “Please, he wants to live.” I cough. Tiny drops of blood fly from my mouth. “Pardon him.”

  Is my death not enough?

  “I never planned to let anyone live, Bia,” Aristo says. “Much less Romer.”

  As he says this, he lifts a fist above his head and slams it down on my friend’s chest. Romer lets out a choked cry, then goes still and silent.

  “Romer!” I reach out, my hand trembling toward his inert body.

  “Lashing Chaos!” Aristo exclaims. “It worked!” He stands, throwing his head back, laughing. “It worked!”