Your God, My Gods

by B.T. Lowry

Raiyans cooked on gouts of flame before their huts. Children held solvents to their noses while adults sat in stupors. The parents had left Raiya not one generation ago, yet they no longer passed on traditions to their children. Teenagers studied electronic tablets, learning meager trades.

  Pradah looked for Heyo in his hovel, asked about him from his few friends. As the feeble sun disappeared, Pradah grew frantic. Finally he waited by his team's fire in case Heyo should seek him there. The old team members were gathered there as usual, though almost all of them had rejected him as a chief.

  “Failed mission?” Bulky Gayant sat next to Pradah on the fender, sinking his end down. He was expert at wrestling, striking, spear-throwing—much good that it had done them in this sneaking war.

  “I don’t know,” muttered Pradah.

  “You don’t know? Perhaps you think it's best that it failed."

  Pradah looked at him. "Perhaps you do. Are you still in our army?"

  Gayant shook his head. "Not as it's been running. I worry for you."

  "Why?"

  "Honestly?"

  "Honestly."

  "You've become obsessed," said Gayant. "You overlook our real enemy and attack innocents. You make plans then don't follow through—thank the Creator—because they're heavy plans."

  "I don't kill innocents anymore."

  "Almost. It's better now, but... I can't be in an army like this." He gestured loosely to the other young men sitting around the fire. "None of us can."

  Battle had been simple in Raiya.

  Mahar stepped into the firelight, looking haggard. "I won't do that again.”

  Pradah looked into the twisting flames, unsurprised. "I'm alone then."

  "Not—" began Gayant.

  Heyo's lilting voice interrupted from behind. “Thanks for not blowing me up today, brother.”

  A rush of relief ran through Pradah's heart. At least Heyo had come. But his tone was sarcastic, even bitter. Heyo never spoke like this.

  Pradah turned. “You knew?”

  Heyo came in front of Pradah and the fire lit one side of his soft, round face. He crossed his hands over his thin chest. He wore a brown shirt tied with a sash of twine—improvised ayur clothing. “About the second strike? Yes. About Farmer, the revolution, all of it.”

  Pradah swallowed. Farmer wouldn't be happy that anyone knew of him. Heyo might become compromised and talk.

  "How long have you known?" asked Pradah.

  "Since today," said Heyo. "After the chapel went down, I came to know it was you behind it."

  “How?"

  “Pradah, these practices she's teaching me... They’re renewing my abilities. Really. I could see you for a moment in the chapel, and I... I could read your whole plan in my heart.”

  Heyo looked much older than he had in Raiya, more than the intervening years accounted for, but Pradah couldn’t deny that he seemed content. He didn't even seem very angry with Pradah.

  Forgiveness is a quality of ayurs.

  “Mata’s practices are helping you then," Pradah muttered.

  “She and her son, yes.”

  “He got stuck under the rocks today, the half-breed.”

  “The first child of two worlds,” Heyo countered.

  “Half an enemy.”

  Heyo let his arms fall to his sides, palms open, and leaned forward where he stood. “Pradah! You didn’t used to be so hard! What’s happened to you?”

  "I've been harder than this."

  "I mean before. In Raiya. Do you remember who you were then? Who you are?"

  Pradah started. He'd been telling Heyo the same thing. 'Remember you're a Raiyan, not a member of this city. Remember your own path.'

  Pradah shifted on the fender. “Is the boy alright?”

  “His leg is broken. It will heal.”

  “I never wanted to fight this war,” muttered Pradah, pushing down rage and frustration. Birds catching sun over a reeking, oily ocean; he couldn't understand the emotions inside him. “I didn’t want this for our people. Better that we'd been destroyed than drained like this. I want to be a warrior again or I want to die.” He yearned to fall to the ground, face in his hands. The elder men of his village would hold him while he screamed out his grief.

  “Our culture's changing is all," said Heyo. "It's changed before, you know. Before we came here."

  "Principles remain."

  Heyo stepped forward and implored Pradah with his eyes. "Principles like mercy. Mata found me in the gutter, Pradah. Help me climb out. At least don't push me back in."

  Downtown