Adam had never thought that shame was possible for a deity. Infallible, omnipotent, and omniscient, this one was not. He swallowed again, and asked, quietly, “What do you mean?”
Years ago, my human descendant called for me in the great temple of Cuzco. He was not a god-born, but all the brothers of his line had died, leaving him the only heir. He was an intelligent man, and cared for his people, and he told me that because he had no brothers, and was now first among all nobles, he was the Sapa Inca, my representative. And because he had no brothers, there was also no Willaq Umu. High priest and field marshal, always a brother of the emperor. He asked me to allow him to be his own high priest, and I asked him, “But to whom will you turn for advice? You are mortal. You must expand your perspective with the wisdom of others.” The golden eyes opened. I suggested Quehuar. One of my god-born, of a line distant to Sayri’s. He refused. He told me that he had learned much of summoning and sorcery in Rome, and had many trusted advisors. His intentions seemed pure. He wanted to better his people. He wanted them to grow and thrive, and for the deserts to bloom. And tradition is only . . . a guide. Not a prison.
Adam glanced around at the prison in which they now found themselves, feeling the irony as well as his own unease. He wasn’t sure they had time for this. “But he trapped you here?” he asked, tentatively. “How could he possibly do that? How could he hide his heart from you?”
He masked himself. He wove a cloak of spirits around himself, for he feared assassination attempts, he told me, when I asked. It was true. There had been attempts. There was much unrest at his changes to the social order, but I saw no harm in the changes, and much possibility of good. The golden eyes closed again, leaving the room in near-darkness. He came to my main temple, cloaked by his spirits, and told me that he was rebuilding the oracle here on Coropuna. He asked me to bless it, make it better. And when we walked under this place of offerings, I was trapped. There is power in the earth here, and this is my symbol. It . . . contains much belief, among my people. It is a focus for how they see me. The god’s head lowered again. At first, I could not manifest. I was trapped, a presence without a body. Then they brought Quehuar to me. He could have challenged for rule of these lands, but had chosen not to do so. They bade me take his body, and I refused. There was pain now in the god’s voice. In some ways, an avatar gives more power than merely manifesting. They become an additional conduit to this realm, empowered by the human’s sacrifice of their body. But I was weakened by my captivity. I feared I would snuff out Quehuar’s spirit. And an avatar becomes a weakness, if we value the mortal. And I valued Quehuar.
In other words, if they care about the human they’re possessing, it becomes something that other people can threaten. Adam shook his head. “So what happened?” he asked, having a bad feeling that he already knew. After all, the god was physically present.
They shattered his head before me, as a blood-sacrifice, and threw his body into this binding place. Now, I ride his body as gently as I can. He is . . . aware . . . within, as I am aware, without. I healed him. They deprive his mortal body of food, so I must sustain him with my power. And in this body, trapped, and forced to sustain him . . . they draw on me with their machines, even more than before. Sustain a link between this and five other temples. They feed me with life energies and sacrifices, and drain it away just as quickly. My brother, Supay, conducts the sacrifices. Inti raised his head, and Adam could see tears of liquid fire run down his face. I hold him here. I can reach out of this binding place just far enough to keep Supay here. Limit his growing power. But I know that some of the sacrifices have not been human. They have been gods. My sisters. My brothers. My children. Rendered down into raw energy. And to sustain myself, in the hopes of defeating them all . . . I have partaken. Else I would be burned out. Drained wholly, utterly. Unmade.
Adam shook. The agony in the creature’s voice was appalling. Shame. Rage. Humiliation. The vast spirit was being forced to cannibalize its own kind, its own family, in furtherance of whatever scheme the Sapa Inca and, apparently, Supay, had devised. “They’re holding you here with ley-power,” Sigrun said, quietly. “Power in the earth.”
Yes. I can also feel essences not of this earth entwined with it. It is a complex working.
“The spirits trapped at Nazca,” Adam muttered. “Their power, siphoned off to bind . . .” there wasn’t much way around the word, so he just said it, “gods at each of the towers, and you, here. And your power is being used to contain the other gods, at the other temples?”
Yes. And some is being sunk into the earth itself. I am told that they wish to make the pampas bloom. Inti’s voice was weary. But that would take changing the entirety of the local climate, which would, in turn, change the climate elsewhere. Changing the essence of the soil. If our lands bloom, another land would turn to desert, unless the change is done carefully, and with skill and love.
“Why not have made the change before now?” Adam asked, before he could stop himself. “Why not give your people a paradise?”
Because it is better for humans to have challenges. You are at your best when faced with adversity. You invent more, think more, dream more, in harsh conditions, than when surrounded with plenty and ease. Inti studied them both for a moment. And because every father wishes to see his children grow to adulthood.
It wasn’t far from Adam’s own feelings on religion. A guide to behavior, and a deity who expected humans to grow. Know right from wrong, but make their own decisions, their own way in the world, without having to ask for help to tie their shoes. His respect grew, unwillingly.
Sigrun inclined her head for a moment. “You remain powerful enough to bind Supay here?”
They are as bound by this system they have created as I am. They could reduce the amount of power they feed me, but then they might not be able to draw enough from me to maintain their machines. So I bind Supay, and they bind me, and I also bind others. Interlocking wheels, crafted by minds made of metal. A picture, suddenly, in Adam’s mind, of gears and cogs. All grinding, possibly fruitlessly, towards some greater end. But I believe they feed Supay, as well. He grows stronger. Harder to bind. And when the Sapa Inca has come before me of late, he, too, has been fed.
Adam’s mind reeled for a moment. “That’s possible?” he demanded, not even realizing his tone. “He’s taken the power of spirits into him?”
A spirit must have been forced into being a conduit, even as I am the conduit, the lens, for their great machine. He was a summoner and a sorcerer, after all, a mortal of great will and learning. He has fragments of gods within him now. They are not whole. They are barely aware. And they fight him for control of his body. I can see changes in him, every time he comes to me now. Perhaps he thinks that if he takes enough pieces into himself, he will achieve . . . equilibrium.
Sigrun’s head had come up in horror. “Akhenaten,” she blurted. “Akhenaten slew the gods of Egypt, or tried to. He effaced their names. He shattered their statues, when they were bound to them. And he drew their energies into himself, and he had a god as his . . . sponsor. . . Aten empowered him, at least somewhat . . . .”
Just like Sayri Cusi has Supay as his benefactor. “And went mad, and then a godslayer showed up to erase him.” Adam rubbed at his face. “It’s possible that the . . . pieces . . . inside of him could just tear him apart, right?”
Such has been my hope, but it may take years. Decades. I do not think this land has that much time.
“Can we release you?” Adam asked, after a moment. “If we do . . . we might be able to help one another.”
“If Supay is the god with the red skin, black eyes, and fangs,” Sigrun added, quietly, “he’s the one proposing to sacrifice us. I would . . . very much appreciate assistance if he chooses to come for us.”
That is he. And this seems a fair bargain.
Oh, please don’t say that word. I’m treating with foreign gods. Then again, we’ve got people trapped here, a mad emperor, and we’re separated from our pro
tectee, and everything else.
Inti paused. I will warn you . . . I have been weakened. I have been bound here for eight years, as best I can tell. It is hard to hear the world outside of these lines. I cannot see the sky. Cannot count the days, or feel the world turning. But it has been . . . a long durance.
Adam gestured at the chains and the symbol. “All right. How do we release you?” He eyed the chains. “Those . . . hardly seem enough to hold a . . . an entity such as yourself . . . in place.”
Sigrun kicked his ankle for the word entity. Inti turned his golden eyes towards Adam. They are a humiliation. Supay placed them on me, himself. As a reminder of his ascendance. If the symbol at my feet is broken, and its connection to the machines and the spells are broken, then iron cannot bind me.
Adam looked down at the thick gold, which had been poured into graven lines in the floor, grimaced, and set the barrel of his musket against the line. It was a solid two inches wide, and he had no idea how thickly the gold had been laid into the etched line on the floor. Pulling the trigger would definitely be audible; there were no doors between here and the entrance of the tunnel. They didn’t think he’d ever escape. Why put up doors and guards for someone who’s so completely bound . . . and who, if he did escape, could simply slaughter the guards? Adam’s lips pulled downwards. “Are we ready to do this?” he muttered. “The instant this line goes down, they’re going to know he’s loose. Won’t the rest of the g . . . entities in the towers . . . be freed the instant you release your hold on them, too?” For an instant, Adam pictured all of the brethren of this creature, flying to this mountaintop, and laying it waste with fire and lightning, and twitched. He really didn’t want to be caught in that kind of crossfire. Ever.
I do not know. I know I bind each to each. I know that energy from the earth binds me. It may bind them, as well. The bindings will be weakened. Inti hesitated. Also . . . I do not know what will happen if I release my bindings, all at once. They have told me, that if I were ever to hesitate, ever to struggle, that the workings are so intricate, that losing one cog will damage the entire machine. It is possible that the land might . . . twist . . . when the energies release.
“Twist?” Sigrun said, sharply. “Like an earthquake?”
Like the one we just felt, yes. I wish to see my brethren freed. But not at the cost of the lives of our people.
Adam swallowed, and looked up at the ceiling. For an instant, he pictured the art history book Sigrun had purchased, years ago, with its images of the tomb of Nefertiti, and the death of Akhenaten pictured therein. The black beast that had come for the pharaoh’s life had been crushed under tons of stone when the palace collapsed on it, leaving nothing but the gleam of yellow eyes in the darkness. I might be a godslayer, but . . . “We might have an emperor here intent on re-enacting the life of Akhenaten, but I would really prefer not to see quite the same ending here today.”
I will attempt to loose the energies gradually. And I will not permit my rescuers to die in the attempt to save me.
Adam turned. Met Sigrun’s gray eyes. And even as his finger tightened, he thought he could hear footsteps behind them. He swore internally, and pulled the trigger, the noise resounding cacophonously from the stone walls around them, stone chips spraying up from the floor at his face. He pulled the musket away, and verified that the gold now had a ball embedded it in, and was twisted and distorted in a circle around it. “Enough?” he asked, urgently.
Inti grimaced, and wrapped his fingers around the chains that bound him. Pulled. Snarled. Adam could see the chains themselves glow red-hot under the entity’s attention . . . and then they stretched and snapped, sending glowing, broken fragments of links across the room. The god stepped forward, almost staggering, and Adam instinctively threw out a hand to steady him. Inti’s form was well over eight feet in height . . . but Adam could feel bone underneath the skin. No fat. Almost no muscle left, either. If he leaves the body of his descendant now, he thought, distantly, the man will die. There’s nothing left of him.
And the instant Inti stepped out of the circle, the ground began to shake once more, dust and small pebbles raining down on them from above. Groaning, creaking noises in the earth. Adam swore, “Harah!” There was no exit beyond the way they’d entered. Sigrun handed him her confiscated musket, and lifted, instead, the iron bar she’d liberated as a makeshift spear, even as Inti raised his shaking hands, with manacles still wrapped around the wrists, and put his palms to the ceiling overhead. The trembling continued, but the roof held, and Adam was not about to quibble over the origin of that particular miracle.
The footsteps in the corridor had paused, and now hastened, directly for them. Probably standard procedure to check on Inti here after an earthquake. Or, damn, after a prison break. We’re lucky they didn’t come in right on our heels.
Adam hastily cocked the accursed musket, wishing, again for his own weapons, and ducked behind one of the pillars, aiming for the tunnel’s open mouth.
___________________
Fewer than ten minutes before, the white sphere in which Kanmi, Trennus, Cocohuay, and Mamaquilla herself had leaped up into the sky, only to plummet back down towards the ground again at incredible velocity, had landed on the side of a mountain. Trennus shook for a good ten seconds after landing, trying to regain control of his limbs. “Where in Baal’s name are we?” Kanmi asked, his tone more subdued than usual as he glanced at the tall figure of Mamaquilla.
Trennus’ ears popped as the glowing walls of the sphere dissolved into mist around them. “Coropuna, I suppose. We’re . . .” he closed his eyes and looked at the ley-lines around them. Oh, gods, what a tangle. “About five hundred miles southeast of the Nazca Lines. I can see pulses still rippling from there, to here. We’re . . . shit.” He paused, and swallowed. “This mountain’s atop a bulge in the mantle, and it’s upwelling.”
“You got a line to tap into?” Kanmi’s words were terse, clearly trying to ascertain what their assets and liabilities were.
“Yes . . . and no.” Trennus’ mouth was dry. “There’s a nice strong one running northwest/southeast here, right at about the altitude where we’re at.” He stomped the ground underfoot in illustration.
“And?” Kanmi’s impatience was clear.
“And it’s in resonance with an intersecting line two miles under our feet, running directly through an upwelling surge from the mantle.” Trennus flicked both hands, miming an explosion. “Volcano. Energy. Do the math.”
“You’re going to be a little subpar, is what I’m hearing?”
“Can’t provide earthquakes on command, no.” Trennus’ voice was distracted, as he cast out his mind, reaching for Lassair. “I can do normal things, however.”
Kanmi finished checking over his pistol, and pointed to the one that Trennus, reluctantly, now carried at his waist himself. Adam had insisted on firearms training for all of them. Trennus personally preferred a bow with solidly enchanted arrows, but he’d checked out on the Velserk .45, mostly to humor Adam, and to keep the request from becoming an order. He had to admit that it was quite a bit more concealable than a bow. He just hated the damned thing. But now he drew it, checked it, and took the safety off with a grim expression.
I still do not hear Inti. Mamaquilla’s tone was oddly forlorn.
Trennus raised his head, and called out, Flameheart! Lassair!
Her immediate reply lightened his heart, but she was evidently in pain, and Trennus swore under his breath, and pointed to the northeast, up the hill. “That way. Asha’s there. Minori’s with her. She feels like she’s been beaten, and she’s worried about Minori—terribly worried.” Though his words were steady, his mind had gone distant again, even as Lassair reassured him that she was fine, the baby was fine . . . my captor is dead, but there are guards moving into the room, looking for him, asking why people have been blinded. The circle that binds me is . . . mostly intact. I think that they may decide to try to shoot me very shortly. There are spirits in the vicinity, incarna
te ones. Creatures of fire and earth. I cannot affect them, but they are not in the room with us now. They . . . patrol. Also, I am trying to keep Truthsayer conscious. Her tone became anguished, and she conveyed images, as well as words. They have caused her great pain.
Trennus rode along the wave of information, his stomach turning. “She says Min’s been tortured for information,” he passed along, tersely, as they jogged along a narrow, twisting path up the mountainside, their only light a tiny, glimmering white ball that Mamaquilla sent out ahead of them. The air tore at Trennus’ lungs. They were well over two miles above sea-level, and he wasn’t used to it.
Kanmi, following along behind him, tossed back, curtly, “Then I’m going to kill every motherfucking one of them that touched her.”
They had a minute, maybe two, in which to prepare. Trennus called to Saraid in his mind. The guards have guns. Can you protect me from the bullets?
Of course I can. But I will need to overlap you. Prepare.
Trennus exhaled, and Saraid’s evanescent self appeared, as a white stag, and passed through and into him, before his skin tingled. Tightened. He inhaled again, and looked down; a green shimmer, shifting from lighter to darker, like leaves on a wind-tossed tree, encompassed his skin, rendering the tattoos on his forearms dark shadows under a nimbus of paler light. He glanced up, and caught Kanmi staring at him.
“People are going to take one look at the antlers and the glow, and run screaming,” the Carthaginian informed him. “She’s never been that visible before when she’s shielded you.”
“Antlers?” Trennus reached up, and felt nothing. “I look like Cernunnos?” The horned god had many names, but generally related to virility, fecundity, and the wilderness.
“I’ll get you a mirror later. Just don’t be surprised if someone tries to take your head for a trophy.”
The Valkyrie (The Saga of Edda-Earth Book 1) Page 113