by M. M. Perry
“No. You are different. When a god kills another, they gain that power. Like feeds into like. We are outside of that power. We only watch over it. We can only access it if it is given to us. You are different. You would gain their power.”
“I killed a god before. I didn’t get stronger, or powerful,” Cass protested.
“You killed a god?”
“Yes. Timta gave me a boon and…” Cass began.
“No. You captured him, and killed him yourself. No magical aid from another god?”
“No, I didn’t do it on my own. Why does it matter? Who makes up these rules?”
If the dragon could have shrugged, it would have. Instead, it yawned and stretched its wings further, tiring of the conversation.
“I am a dragon speaking to a demi-god. Your question is foolish.”
“Fine,” Cass said crossing her arms, annoyed that for the second time in short succession she was given a similar answer to her queries about life’s great mysteries. “How do I get them to give you their power?”
“The answer as to how to do that while leaving a place for your kind in this world is not one I have. Seers have a power we are not privy to, save one. She is of us, and also a seer. We may have been able to use her instead of this mortal but she is still without.”
“Dragons have seers, too?” Cass asked.
“All creatures are capable of becoming seers. A fish, a mouse, a horse, a griffin. Humans, gods, dragons, we are creatures as well. It is just a chance when we are created whether or not that extra spark of energy enters each of us. Have you never tried to hunt a creature that always seemed to know your next step?”
“You’re telling me that old Mister Whiskers is a seer, and that’s why none of the fisherman can catch him?”
The Ambassador said nothing in return. Cass just shook her head in disbelief.
“Ok, so what did you do to him then? Unlocked his potential?”
“Yes, his abilities have been heightened. When he recovers, he will see all that can be seen. HE might not understand it, but perhaps it will help you. You should be there when it happens. He will not last the night. We must go to better hunting grounds to replenish our strength. We will return to the plains in two days. You will be there to meet us.”
The ambassador lifted his wings, setting sand swirling around Cass. She closed her eyes tightly to avoid getting any in them. After he was gone she spit a few times to get the sand out of her mouth. She grabbed the horn at her hip and blew into it, a low, resonate sound that would be heard clearly at the ship. She stopped after one blow. It was the signal for the crew to come ashore. She carefully sat Jameson down on the sand and sat across from him. His head lolled from side to side and his eyelashes flicked up and down. He was well and truly out of it.
“Well, cousin, I don’t know what to say. Sorry just doesn’t seem to cut it.”
Chapter 13
Gear and equipment was being ferried back and forth from the ship to the beach. Cass set up her tent just inside the woods for privacy. Jameson was pale and his breathing shallow. He hadn’t yet fully regained consciousness, but he had for moments at a time, briefly woken to scream out. Cass calmed him as best she could. Her large tent, a royal one gifted to her by Callan with the words, “it’s ridiculous, the idea of you sleeping in that excuse of a tent. It’s savage,” was roomy enough. Roomy was the right phrasing, Cass thought, as the tent actually had a separate sleeping area from the lounging area. She invited Viola, Gunnarr and Nat in the tent as well. She didn’t want to upset Jameson when he woke by being the only one there. She hoped the others would dilute her presence a little.
Gunnarr and the others sat by trying not to look worried. If Jameson was their last hope of discovering how to destroy the gods without destroying their own world, a deed the dragons assured them needed to be done, things looked daunting. Jameson was barely holding onto life, that much was clear to them all.
As Cass wiped his brow with a cool cloth, Jameson stirred and finally opened his eyes. The dark circles beneath them made it look as if the man had aged ten years.
“I’m dying,” he said simply.
There was neither accusation, hurt, nor remorse in his statement. He looked at Cass and frowned.
“I know in reality you aren’t to blame. You were thrown into this whole thing just as much as I was. But somehow, that doesn’t stop me from hating you for it.”
Cass twisted her hands together.
“Then despise me, cousin. But you must recognize the importance to the whole of Tanavia of what is in your head right now.”
Jameson nodded without saying anything. He was looking down at his hands.
“And,” Cass hesitated, “you do care to save the world, yes?”
“I’m not saving the world, Cassandra. It will go on fine without you. It will look a lot different than it does now, but it will go on. New things will crop up, new creatures, new life. It might not look like the world you know, but it will go on. It’s your world you want to save, let’s be honest here.”
“Isn’t it your world, too?” Nat asked.
“Not really. Not for lack of trying, mind you, but I have searched to find meaning in this world for me, personally, and found it wanting. Never really found anyone to love. Never found true friendship. Never really found anything for me. Except this. My destiny. That’s my meaning. I’m to save everything for everyone else. And people will think it was you,” Jameson pointed shakily at Cass, “because you are at the center of it. But I’ve seen. And without me, you are nothing. None of you.”
An angry tear rolled out of Jameson’s tired eyes. He looked back down at his hands.
“Yes,” Cass said quietly. “It is Jameson the Just who saves the world. That is how it shall be told.”
Jameson’s forehead wrinkled at the words. Without looking back up, Jameson began speaking again.
“I’ve seen three visions for you. All very different,” he said at last.
“Three?” Viola said shocked.
“I know. I’ve never heard of such a thing. My mind couldn’t accept it for a long time. I think when I finally did, that’s when I woke up. There can be three endings to your story. I can’t exactly tell you how to get there, it’s too fuzzy to pick out, but I can give you some very broad strokes.
“You choose not to get involved. You run with the humans, you hide. You let the dragons handle everything. I can’t say why you make this decision, but you do. Then I saw the gods fighting. The second and final battle. It’s going to be so much worse than the first. You’ll see the result of the first tomorrow I’m sure. You’ll go to the battlefield and see what happened in the smaller of the two battles. The practice battle, so to speak, where they felt out their powers. The next one they won’t care. It’s going to go until it doesn’t anymore. Once they start it, the djinn will get involved. They’ll have to. They’ll know it’s the end and they’ll go out fighting. And the dragons. They’ll finish everything off that lives through, to do as they said they would, end the gods and start again, as they have before. They’ll hope it will be different. It won’t. New things will become god like. Rather quickly in fact. We will still be around, though there won’t be much left for us. Few places will remain with life as we remember. When the power of the gods begins pooling again, creatures will spring forth from the ground. They will devastate what is left. Beasts big enough to hunt gordonna will kill every last thing. And they’ll rule over a blackened world. The dragons will kill them, too. I’ve seen that. But by then it will be too late for us. By the time life returns to Tanavia in a way we might survive, we’ll be long gone.”
Everyone was quiet for a while. Only Jameson’s raspy breathing made any noise.
“But, there is another way,” Gunnarr said, breaking the silence.
“One god is left. One who has killed all the others. They stand alone, more powerful than any being before it. More powerful than even the dragons. This god allows the dragons to consume all their power
at great cost to the god. The power is then released slowly over time by the dragons. Mortals become stronger, live longer. There are more of them, the power dispersed over millions and millions. So many you cannot count. Every mortal gets a small bit of the gods in them. And your world goes on, albeit much more crowded than it is now. The dragons go back to live in their sanctuary and hope for the best. They hope this time they’ve figured out the ingredients for harmony on Tanavia. In time, no one will even remember the gods existed. They’ll be mentioned in stories, but people will think of them as just that, stories.”
“And…the final one?” Cass asked looking at her hands.
Jameson sighed, his voice barely above a whisper.
“The one god does not relinquish its power. It destroys everything utterly in an attempt to gain more power, hoping to consume even the dragons. When it can’t get what it wants, it collapses on itself, the power too much for it to contain. The dragons will return, as they always do. But it will be many, many millennia from now.”
“Well, obviously, of the three options, we want the middle one,” Cass said. “How do we make that happen?”
“You are mortal, yet born of a god. You have the vessel of a god, but the humility of man. And I saw you there…” Jameson said, his eyes fluttering and his voice faltering.
“Where, Jameson, where did you see me?” Cass asked gripping Jameson’s arms.
“At the River. Their meeting place. You were there. You had Apsos’ staff…and a sword from long ago. Toren’s stolen sword, hidden before the gods could kill him for stealing it. In the Oasis you’ll…”
Jameson’s eyes locked onto Cass, “This… this is it. This is what I always saw, over and over and over again. Your face. As I die. I have come to the moment. The last time I’ll ever see it. And yet…”
A last shuddering breath escaped his mouth and then he went silent. Cass carefully crossed his arms over his chest and pulled a blanket over his face. She slumped to the ground, leaning against Jameson’s cot and rested her forehead on her knee. Her head never leaving her knee, she spoke in a flat tone.
“The Oasis in the Wet Desert. And the River? Is that all then? That should be a snap.”
Everyone save Cass and Viola were in their tents. Even Gunnarr, who had been reluctant to leave Cass’ side, had finally been convinced to head to bed. Cass wanted to speak with Viola to try to clear at least one nagging thought, however small and insignificant it felt in the face of everything else, from her mind. Viola poked the fire with a stick, not sure yet how to say what she needed to.
“You’ve learned something. Other than what you shared with us all in the tent about Chort’s story. I could tell,” Cass said.
“Cass,” Viola began, “You don’t need to worry. You trust me when I tell you that?”
Cass looked at Viola and frowned.
“Really, that’s how this is going to,” Cass began before Viola cut her off.
“Yes. Trust me when I say this, it’s a personal matter. It has nothing to do with what we are doing or where we are going. One day, when we all laugh about all this over ale and food, I’ll tell you. When we are old and grey.”
Cass looked into Viola’s eyes and could only see kindness.
“Ok. When we are old and grey.”
Cass’ horse moved slowly through the shallow wood bordering the Plains of the Dead Gods. Only Gunnarr accompanied her. She had crept from camp before first light, waking him before she did so. She had to see what the field of battle looked like. She had to see what had become of the Plains, the place she grew up in. The pressure of her part in both Selina’s and Jameson’s visions was overwhelming. She didn’t even know how to begin to convince the most powerful god ever to give up its power. She’d never met a reasonable god among the least powerful of them. Perhaps the reasonable ones just didn’t come around that much and the god she’d need to convince would see sense, she hoped. It was an optimistic thought, and it passed quickly.
“Heavy thinking is best done with friends,” Gunnarr said reaching out to her, “and even better with lovers.”
In an unusually affectionate move, the huge man plucked Cass off her horse and placed her onto his own in front of him, wrapping his huge arms around her to hold the reins. It was done so swiftly and effortlessly Cass was dumbstruck for a moment.
“How long have you been planning to do that?” she asked.
“Last fifteen minutes or so I’ve been working it out in my head. It’s all about the leverage, and you are smaller than you look,” Gunnarr’s warm breath on her neck as he spoke tickled. She felt her skin shiver and she pulled his arms tighter around herself.
“Okay, well, now what do you plan to do with me?”
“I’m doing it now,” he said as he let one hand drop the rein and wrapped it around Cass, pulling her close to his body heat. He rested his chin on her shoulder and simply held her close.
Cass found his nearness comforting. On occasion, she felt the two of them spent far too little time together, and far too much time in peril. She was glad for the short respite, even if it was only the illusion of relief.
“What should I do, Gunnarr?”
“You have doubts. You fought your mother’s visions because you doubted them. Those doubts still linger. You wonder about what he has seen. What she has seen. Even now, after everything, you wonder if there isn’t another way. And you worry you will make the wrong choice. That is ok for now. But in a few hours, we can’t have any doubts.”
“We? You have doubts as well?”
Gunnarr was silent for a while. The horses clopped on the ground, their hoof beats a countdown to the end of this moment for Cass.
“I’ve been thinking something that has bothered me since when we spoke to the dragon in Callan’s kingly garden. He said they would absorb all the god’s power. You are half god. I wonder, what will happen to you if that somehow needs to be absorbed as well? I wonder, will the gods try to kill you to absorb that power? I wonder many things, mostly they are about the end of it all.”
Gunnarr pressed Cass against himself as if he were afraid she would float away forever.
“My heart is yours. There is no other for me. Before you, I wandered the world rudderless. Much like Nat feels now, I thought that kind of life wasn’t in the cards. I was fine with that. Until I met you. If you are destroyed, so will I be. So yes, I have my doubts. I am a warrior, but I am also a man who loves. And love is selfish. I kept looking for you those years you were Oshia’s captive because I knew. I knew without a doubt when you were gone. I would never be the same without you. I can’t be a warrior, not anymore. I thought I could. Before. Before you were gone. Then you were gone. And I cracked in half with grief. I cannot do that again. I’m sorry if this disappoints you. It disappoints me. But I find myself not caring so much about all that anymore.”
Cass sat stunned in silence for a moment. Gunnarr had never spoken this way before. She knew he had been through a rough couple of years looking for her, but she hadn’t realized the extent of it. He was so quiet about everything, she never understood. Now she did. She couldn’t turn around to look at him, to see his face, but she could feel the dampness on her shoulder. He was terrified. And that in turn terrified her. Another responsibility, one she had overlooked because of the immensity of the problems whirling around them, but one she now realized should have been more important in her mind.
“Ok, Gunnarr. Ok. Ok. Come with me. Wherever it is, come with me. If it’s the end, come with me. I’ll take you where I go, I promise. I’ll take you, even to the end. I promise.”
Gunnarr dropped the rein completely and held Cass as close as he could without hurting her.
“All the way to the end, then,” he said gruffly.
They rode the rest of the way in silence.
When they finally exited the trees they were very near Swords Aplenty. The air around was so thick with mist and smoke, they could barely make out the jaunty sign. The hinge squeaked as the wood swung on i
t, making the scene all the more eerie. Even this early in the morning, the sounds of Mat and his wife and those who worked the pub getting ready for the next day should have been obvious. The smell of fresh breakfast should have been in the air, but all signs of life were absent.
Gunnarr reluctantly lifted Cass and set her onto the ground. She took her own horse’s rein and led him to the water trough. She looked up at the sign swinging in the air above her. She could still recall when the paint had been added to cover up the mace marks Helga had left when the great woman was terrifically drunk and decided the lusty barmaid on the sign was too pretty. Gunnarr took care of his horse then joined her in looking up at the sign.
“No,” Cass said quietly, “No, we are not doing this. No last longing stares at the things we remember.”
She turned to face him, her face stern and full of strength she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“We can do this. This isn’t the end.”
She looked up into his ice blue eyes willing the re-discovered vigor into him. He smiled and nodded.
“Consider it done,” he said.
Cass turned away from him quickly to wipe the corner of her eye. She felt courage well within her. The years had been hard. Oshia was an unpleasant memory, to say the least, but he was a memory. And soon he’d be dead, that she was sure of. She bolstered herself with that thought. She could feel the command that had been sapped from her returning with each step she took toward the pub’s door. She knew things might be distressing, but it didn’t matter. She was a warrior, and she had to do what was right, despite her fear of walking into the den of the gods shielded by only her wit and her sword. Fear reminded her what she was fighting for. She did not want to lose everything, especially not to the likes of Oshia. She was ready, no matter what was inside that door.
Gunnarr was right beside her when her hand touched the heavy wood door. His own hand was on his hilt. She pushed it open and her mouth dropped.
At least three dozen warriors were packed inside, quietly oiling their swords, preparing their armor, some lacing their boots. When they saw Cass and Gunnarr they looked as shocked as she did.