Fallen Gods

by James A. Moore

  Peace. She simply could not leave them locked away, punished a second time for crimes they had not committed.

  The silence was bliss. It also let her hear the summons that had drawn her in this direction in the first place. Through the savage cold she continued, drawn as always like a moth to a flame.

  Brogan McTyre

  Nora pressed back against him, her body warm and familiar, and Brogan pulled her close, nuzzling his face into her glorious mane of dark curls. His body responded as it always did and he wondered if they could have a little time without waking the children. He opened his mouth to call her name into that glory of hair and–

  The elbow that hammered into his guts doubled him over on himself and woke him right up.

  While Brogan tried to collect enough air to gasp, he assessed the situation. It wasn’t Nora he was pressed against. It was Anna. His body was just as excited as it had been in his dream and he was pressed against her in much the same way.

  She hadn’t turned toward him, but he heard her words clearly. “We all have urges, Brogan, and you’re a fine-looking man, but I’m married. You push that thing against me any harder and I might forget that. I think we’d both regret that, wouldn’t we?”

  He said nothing, but carefully rolled away from her.

  There was no true threat of falling. They were higher up than he wanted to think about, but the body of the giant was vast and they had settled in a curve of a backbone that left them mostly safe from rolling and falling in their sleep.

  Still, Brogan preferred to not look down. The height was dizzying at best.

  Anna sat up and looked at her feet. Brogan stood and looked down on her, his skin flush with desire, his manhood at attention. He looked away and felt a wave of guilt. She was with Desmond, and Nora? Well, she was gone from him.

  That was what started all of this.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

  “I know.” She waved the words away. Her voice sounded as flustered as his and despite the circumstances part of him was complimented.

  The sun was up. Light was starting to glow through the Broken Blades and into the mountain’s heart. Looking around, he could see how high they were. The skull that was their destination claimed most of the heavens from his perspective. The whole of their world was petrified bone and calcified gristle. Vast, blood red crystal ran from the side of the mountain and pierced the heart of the giant body below them. Climbing over that had been terrifying, sheer angles and shards of bone larger than houses, and gaps where fragments had fallen over the years. He had made many unpleasant sounds while moving over that area and so had Anna. Faceless said nothing, but simply kept pace.

  The odd figure was where it had been the night before, sitting on the edge of the massive vertebra and watching silently.

  “Are you ever going to say anything? Anything at all?” he asked it every day, at least once. It was meant as a joke, but only because there was no mouth to see on Faceless. No mouth, no nose. If the thing breathed at all, he had no idea how.

  As always, he was greeted with silence.

  He looked to Anna. “I’ll be back.” She nodded. There was no reason to announce his intentions. They both left the area when they had to take care of bodily functions.

  Sure enough, Faceless followed.

  When he was done with his business he looked at the creature again. Little seemed to have changed.

  “What are you?” Brogan asked.

  Faceless replied, “What are you?”

  Brogan stared hard and slowly walked closer. There still didn’t seem to be a mouth but he’d heard the thing reply.

  “Just a man who needs to fight the gods.” Brogan shrugged. “Which likely means I’m a man who will die soon.”

  Faceless looked up at the vast skull of the dead giant or god they were scaling. Slowly, very slowly, one of the half-formed hands pointed in that direction. There were changes now. The hands had individual fingers, though they seemed at the moment to be fused together.

  “Why do you climb?”

  “So that, maybe, I will not die before I stop the gods from ending the world.”

  Faceless turned that mostly featureless face toward him and Brogan looked into the deep holes where eyes should have been. Once again, he felt a shiver. There was something inherently wrong about a faceless thing looking at him.

  “Why didn’t you ever answer my questions before?”

  Faceless looked at him and strained, and the mass of fingers that had been stuck together split apart with a sound much like an axe splitting a log into firewood. Faceless moved his newly freed fingers and stared at them for several seconds before answering. They moved flawlessly.

  Faceless said, “I did not know I could speak until today. I think I am changing.”

  “Well, yes, you certainly are.”

  A few minutes later they were back at what passed for their camp, and Brogan was packing his things away. Anna was not there, likely having gone to take care of her morning business. He tried not to think about being pressed against her, and failed. There was a momentary guilt again, at the thought that he was betraying Nora. The feeling was irrational; Nora was dead. Desmond was not. Desmond deserved better, surely, and Anna was not provoking his reactions. He was simply attracted to her.

  He slipped his satchel over his shoulder and rolled the joint to make sure the bag was secured properly. The travel was going to get even trickier, he suspected, as they would be climbing inside of the skull of the giant and there was no way to know what they would find, what sort of surfaces they could cling to as they attempted to scale to the very top of the thing.

  To keep his perspective about what was and was not possible, Brogan made himself walk to the ledge and look down. Reaching the very edge of the vertebra was challenging, but possible. The actual act of looking down was different. It was a staggering challenge. Around him the world was hidden away by a massive ribcage, the blood red shard that pushed through those impossible bones. Lower, there was a corpse that was too large to fully comprehend and far, far below was the ground.

  Anna’s voice startled him. “It’s a very long way down. I don’t recommend it.”

  His heart thudded hard in his chest and Brogan stepped back, nodding. “I believe it would be a bad way to go. It would also slow my plans.” He looked her way. “Faceless can talk, by the way. Just doesn’t seem to have much to say, really.”

  “What are your plans, exactly, Brogan? You find what you need from here. You go forth to slay the gods? Where will you find them?”

  He looked down again and contemplated the distant ground. The sun casting through the crystals painted everything below him a dull red. “I believe I know the place. There was a spot out in the ocean, not far from where…” he swallowed “…from where my family was taken and killed. A vast stone archway sat in the ocean and seemed to cause the storms. That is the place where I will go. That is the way to them. I believe that.” He shrugged. “Your Galean friend said as much.”

  “How will you kill them, Brogan?”

  “However I can. If they do not stop this. If they do not listen to me, I will find a way or I will die trying.”

  Anna nodded. “So let’s be about it then.” Without another word she started walking along the edge of the massive bone, looking up at the next bone.

  “I think it gets harder from here,” he said, as he followed behind her.

  “In my experience things seldom get easier the farther you go.” She looked over her shoulder at him as she spoke. He found himself wondering if she was talking about the climb or resisting their mutual attraction. Was it mutual? Yes, he believed it was. Likely it was a bit of both.

  They climbed for a few hours before settling in to rest. Their progress was better than he had expected. The inner lining of the neck bones had many places where they could walk relatively easily, and where they could climb without too much risk. Best not to look down too often, as the height was terrifying, but it could be do
ne. Faceless kept pace from a distance, as he always did.

  “So this god,” Brogan tapped the bone beneath him as they settled in for a bit more hard bread and cheese. “He was killed by another god and left here?”

  “That seems to be the basis of most of the stories. And then the mountains either formed over him or were built around him as a funeral cairn.”

  “Do you think the crystals were actually a sword?”

  Anna looked his way and shrugged. Her hair was a mess, and dust lined her face. There was little water to spare and what they had was saved for drinking.

  “That they are strong enough is a given. I hit one of the smaller ones with a rock when I entered the cave and the rock chipped.” She finished her small meal and then pointed to the gigantic blade of crystal that ran through the dead god’s chest. “Look at it. That would have killed him if he were a man, but it is hardly the shape of a blade as you or I know it. The gods? Who can say what they think or how they act? They are gods, Brogan McTyre.” She gestured to encompass everything. “We have climbed this body for days. We are still not at our final destination. The world outside is likely going mad, but we have spent our time climbing. The. Body. Of. A. God. That a thing like this can exist is madness. That it once moved and thought and walked across the face of the Five Kingdoms is enough to give nightmares. That it fought another and died here? That we would, for any reason, one day find a need to climb into the head of a dead god?”

  Anna sighed.

  “I suppose they must have been a weapon of some kind. There are pieces everywhere. Pieces growing through the mountain. When I think about where we are standing, how we got here and why, I want to scream, Brogan. This is not a place for mortals to be standing.”

  “This is all I can do, Anna.” Brogan spoke softly. “I would not take back my earlier actions. If there was any chance that I could have saved Nora and my children, I would have taken it.”

  “I never said you should.”

  “Nor did you need to. We have already spoken of this. I’d have come to Desmond’s aid just as quickly if it had been you chosen as a sacrifice.”

  “Desmond. Desmond has been…”

  Her face in that moment was a mask of sorrow, He didn’t know what had happened but something was bothering her.

  Before she could finish the statement and before he could have responded in any case, the ground beneath them shook violently enough that they’d have certainly fallen hard if they had been standing.

  Brogan started to speak, but the sound became a scream when the ground beneath them moved again.

  No. Not ground.

  The body they stood on, that they crawled over like fleas on a hound.

  It was the body that moved. It shuddered and shook a third time and Faceless was bowled over and sent sliding violently.

  “What is this?” Brogan reached for Anna as she tried to stand and fell down again. He did not touch her, as his body was thrown, and he rolled as helplessly as a newborn. There was nothing for it, they were simply insignificant in comparison to the shaking surface they stood on.

  And then it was over. No in-between. The form beneath them shook and then it did not. All around them the echoes of movement continued. The inside of the vast hollow space was like a drum beating, echoes crashing off each other and dust and debris falling from above. Several shards of broken crystal plummeted from the ceiling far above but none could reach them.

  Brogan clutched at his chest, his heart thudding like a bass drum. Anna crawled on her hands and knees not far away and Faceless came toward them, his head tilted as he looked at their surroundings.

  Far above them the position of the skull had shifted and the chin of the vast thing pointed down. The mouth, which had been closed before, now hung open. Most skulls had open mouths, as far as Brogan could recall. Or their jaws fell away. If this one decided to lose its lower half, they were surely dead.

  “If we wish to see what must be seen, I suggest we do it quickly.” Anna’s voice sounded as shaky as Brogan’s knees felt. “Should rather not be inside that thing if it falls from its perch.”

  Perhaps another day of hard climbing. He did not believe they could reach the top of the skull by the time the sun faded.

  “What caused that?” Brogan gathered his belongings again as Anna did the same.

  “The world is ending, Brogan. What makes you think a mountain range is safe from that?”

  A new sound came to his ears. Somewhere, far above, the wind had found a way into the vast cavern. The wind let out a soft, low, mournful howl that carried through the area.

  Brogan had no answer for Anna’s question and so he started climbing, more desperate than before to reach his destination.

  Chapter Ten

  Destinations

  Bron McNar

  King Bron looked at the iron and stone tower before them. It did not resemble anything from any other part of Mentath, but that it was considered something special was clear enough. Ten of the Marked Men guarded the entryway and none of them looked the least bit bored.

  The massive structure looked as if it had risen from the ground. It had no bricks, nor stones that Bron could see. Instead the walls looked as if they’d been brutally hacked from one vast rock, and later marked with a thousand runes made of cast iron with a hint of rust at each, with every rune running from the crest down to the ground. Some of the markings were half-buried in the ground. No grass grew where the structure touched the earth and no other plants were close by.

  The monolith steamed in the cold air, though there was no visible source for the heat.

  King Parrish looked at the stone monolith and nodded his head. “This is the Cauldron. This is where the Marked Men are shaped, and where I was shown how we can all survive the coming conflicts.”

  King Jahda nodded his head and squinted as he studied the lines of the structure. He did not seem as eager as Parrish. Pardume looked on as well, his face not easily read. He was new to them and good at keeping his feelings hidden.

  The night was cold, and as ever the snow was falling. Along the main pathways several braziers burned, keeping the air warmer and lighting the way. Mentath still had slaves, and several of the palace servants cleared the worst of the snow from the paths. While Bron didn’t much care for slavery, the end result was he could walk up to the gigantic black stone edifice that, according to Parrish, might well save them all.

  Also, it was Parrish’s kingdom and he was a guest. Parrish might well be the sort who would drive spikes through rude guests. Probably not, but why take the chance?

  Gaarsen was larger than he’d expected. His castle, his home, was impressive by any standards. Gaarsen was larger. There was a wall around the city but it was more decorative than anything else. Parrish did not seem concerned about invaders. Then again, that was probably because it was he and his people who had normally done the invading over the years.

  There were three separate castles in the city. One belonged to the baron of the region, a man named Quinn, who was supposedly on his way to meet them. One was apparently where the military of the area trained. The largest belonged to Parrish.

  “Why do you call it a cauldron?”

  Parrish looked his way with a half-smile. “I don’t. Theragyn does. He created the thing and so I suppose he gets to name it.”

  “What does it do?” Bron looked carefully at the vast iron edifice.

  “Theragyn uses the Cauldron to test the people he deems worthy. Those that fail the test are never seen again. Those that pass his trials come back marked, as I am.”

  Pardume asked, “How many fail?”

  Parrish looked at the other man and offered a thin smile. “Only three to date. I choose very carefully before I allow anyone into the building.”

  Bron stared at Parrish for a moment and nodded his head. The man was being honest. Or at least mostly honest.

  “How did this start?” That question came from Jahda. The man was still studying the towering structu
re. He was tall and lean and dark. He seemed much less of all three next to the Cauldron.

  “Theragyn answered my prayers.” Parrish shrugged. “I was sore after my loss.” He looked at Bron and offered that same half smile. “King Bron sent me home. He defeated me very solidly and he did it with fewer people and a much smaller army.”

  Parrish shrugged and looked at the Cauldron. “I was angry. I admit it. I begged the gods for a chance at revenge, but there was no answer.

  “And then one night there was. I was walking along the pathway right here when the Cauldron slid out of the ground in a fountain of fire that burned away the plants in the area. The whole thing was hot, and the markings you see,” he gestured to the iron runes, “glowed like they were fresh from a forge.”

  Parrish looked down at the ground and the toe of his boot scraped at the earth where nothing grew. “The man who came to the entranceway did not leave the Cauldron, but stood looking at me from the opening. He was the largest man I had ever seen and he bore iron armor and carried an iron sword. His face was…” Parrish frowned. “His face was not human. When he spoke I heard the sound inside of my chest, as deep and loud as thunder.”

  Parrish shook his head and walked to the entrance. Four of the Marked Men stepped aside as he came closer and the looks on their faces bordered on rapturous. His hand touched the iron edge lining the mouth of the Cauldron. His fingers caressed the metal as if it were a favored lover.

  “He offered me everything I wanted. All I had to do was offer him fealty and prove myself by entering the building.” That half smile again, and Parrish shook his head, the motion sending his many braids rolling across his shoulders and back.

  “There were trials inside the Cauldron. I could tell you of mine, but I have learned this: each person goes through a different process. Each test is designed for the individual. The reward is always the same. We are marked and we are changed.”

  “Changed how?” Jahda again, who studied Parrish with his dark eyes. Like Parrish, he had a half smile, but his seemed infinitely kinder.