Ruthless Gods (ARC)

by Emily A Duncan

  Parijahan had been acting strange and Nadya wasn’t sure if she should say anything about that, either. She was worried that she had been so wrapped up in her own problems that she hadn’t noticed something. Maybe Parijahan had been acting off for a while. Maybe Malachiasz had been growing steadily more anxious. And maybe Nadya hadn’t noticed any of it.

  Losing Kostya was hard, but it would be worse if the ache of his loss caused her to push away the friends she had left. She couldn’t bear to lose Parijahan or Rashid. And Malachiasz . . . well . . . it didn’t really matter what her heart thought.

  Parijahan and Malachiasz were whispering, the jagged tones of their voices finding her ears. Eventually Malachiasz broke away and stalked off. Nadya frowned. Parijahan had her arms crossed over her chest and was furiously ignoring the looks from Nadya and Rashid.

  Nadya moved into the trees to follow Malachiasz. He wasn’t trying to be subtle and it was easy to find his tall frame as it slipped through the trees. He was on edge when she found him, standing at the shore of a riverbed, gazing down at the water, somehow still flowing despite the freezing cold.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said as she approached.

  Nadya scowled. He glanced at her. His eyes softened.

  “It’s nothing . . .” He trailed off and waved a hand.

  “Evil?” she offered.

  He laughed. “Is that the word for it?”

  “For you? Most certainly, Malachiasz.”

  His breath still hitched when she used his name, and she tried to use it as much as she could. She wondered if the reminders helped, if there was any point in reminding him of the fragile anchor tying him to his humanity. She decided, ultimately, that it didn’t particularly matter if it didn’t help, it was still something she could do for the time that was left.

  And it was comforting to hear that he and Parijahan were fighting about something benign.

  “Well,” she finally said, “I’m here if you do want to talk about it.”

  “Does it ever bother you?” he asked. “Not knowing where you’re from and who your family is?”

  Nadya couldn’t tell if this was related to anything or not. She knew it bothered him that his childhood memories had been stripped away. As much as he liked the monster he was, there would always be a seed of resentment for how he had become that way.

  She shrugged. Frankly, she never thought about it. Her sense of belonging had always been firmly grounded within the monastery walls. It wasn’t until she had started clashing with so many of her faith that she found herself wavering. She no longer knew where she belonged. She would never be able to remain within a monastery’s walls again—she had seen and done too much—and the thought terrified her.

  She had been quiet for too long. She wasn’t usually the thoughtful one. Malachiasz shot her a curious look.

  “No,” she said quietly. “It bothers me more that I don’t think I fit anymore with those I thought of as family.”

  A pause of puzzlement, before an infuriatingly smug light flickered in his eyes. “Because I’ve finally convinced you that I’m right?” he asked, falsely innocent.

  “You’re not even a little bit right,” she snapped.

  It wasn’t that he was right and she was wrong. It was that he had pointed out discrepancies she couldn’t account for. Nadya couldn’t rationalize the things she had seen in Tranavia.

  She returned his smile with a glare and shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat.

  “I want to know what made me so worthless that I was easily thrown away,” he finally whispered.

  Nadya’s heart splintered. “I thought Tranavians believed being chosen for the Vultures was an honor.”

  “It is. But . . .” He shook his head.

  How long until the little things he didn’t say became another web of lies? How much could she overlook before she came to regret it? What had he done that he was not telling her? She wondered if Marzenya knew, if that was being kept from her as well. She didn’t understand why she had to be in the dark. She wanted to help.

  Nadya had received some further instruction from Marzenya. A dedicated spot to go to. Her instincts had pushed her to the right place, but Marzenya made it sound like she wanted Nadya for so much more.

  And maybe the girl trapped in Tranavia would have faltered a bit at that shifting of her destiny. Maybe the girl who had been trapped in the dark heart of the monster’s den might have some doubts of Marzenya’s intentions, but losing the voice of the gods—losing everything—had changed something within Nadya. She couldn’t lose everything. She couldn’t lose the voice of the gods. She wouldn’t be rendered useless. But, oh, she was angry at Marzenya and if this didn’t work she didn’t know where that would leave her.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I don’t like these woods.”

  “You? Not know something? Impossible.”

  “I’m going to push you into this river.”

  “I can’t swim!”

  “That’s a shame. I guess you’ll die.”

  He tensed suddenly, turning to gaze into the trees.

  “Nadya?” he murmured, eyes growing glassy.

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

  “When were we supposed to reach Tachilvnik?” Malachiasz asked.

  “A week or so. We’re still a ways south,” Nadya said.

  He made a thoughtful humming sound.

  “And from there it becomes the forest that only the divine can pass through. Tranavia has lakes, we have forests.”

  He didn’t react, still peering through the gaps in the trees. Though it was midday, they were so deep into the forest that little sun passed through the branches of the trees. With their whole world permanently frozen in the middle of winter, it made everything all the more bleak.

  Nadya wanted her prayer beads. She had relegated them to a pouch in her pack; only Marzenya’s bead remained in her pocket. She rolled it through her fingers, wishing she could speak with Vaclav.

  A biting chill cut through her, the air of a deep winter. She slowly pulled the bead out of her pocket. The pad of her finger ran across the carving of a skull, only one facet of her goddess’ domain. Death. Magic. Winter.

  Winter.

  Pelageya had told her divine retribution on Tranavia would not be so obvious, that the winter was part of it. But the winter was killing Kalyazin as well. What was Marzenya hiding?

  “There’s something watching us,” Malachiasz said, his voice tangled at the edges. He reached for his blade and spell book.

  “Blood mage, not Vulture,” she said absently.

  He rolled his eyes, but they remained clear.

  “The things that dwell in this forest are not going to appreciate our trespassing.” She could feel it, too, something old and angry watching from the shadows.

  She really wished she could talk to Vaclav. If it was a leshy they were all going to have problems. The guardians of the forests were not known to be particularly friendly.

  Malachiasz shivered. He slowly sheathed his dagger and clipped his spell book back to his belt.

  “Don’t cause undue attention. If it’s only watching us, let it,” she said. “We need to get through this without drawing them near. Besides, king of monsters, shouldn’t they listen to you?”

  She received a look.

  There had been that moment with the rusałki and Nadya had been so certain Malachiasz’s magic was why they had listened.

  What if that had been her?

  They waited for the others to catch up, but when they did, Malachiasz soon wandered off. Nadya didn’t bother following this time. She fell into step by Parijahan.

  “I’m not going to ask what you and Malachiasz have been snapping at each other about,” Nadya said when Parijahan stiffened. “But you can talk to me if you need to, you know that, right?”

  “It’s nothing. Malachiasz is just being the anxious mess he is.”

  Nadya lifted an eyebrow. Parijahan smil
ed at her.

  “Besides, I don’t want to burden you with my own difficulties while you’re dealing with all this,” she said.

  Nadya didn’t want to be spared because she was struggling. She didn’t want Parijahan to feel like she had to deal with whatever this was alone simply because Nadya’s life had crumbled to pieces around her.

  She had opened her mouth to say so when unfamiliar magic slammed into her. Her breath caught. The magic was almost divine. Something crashed nearby, a fight breaking out. Nadya and Parijahan exchanged a glance as Rashid took off in the direction of the commotion.

  Malachiasz had a tall, dark haired girl pinned to the ground. Nadya almost got a question out before someone moved at her elbow and she lashed out instinctively.

  Punching one king of Tranavia in the face. He took a staggered step back, swearing and lifting his hands.

  Shock melted into relief. “Serefin?”

  He blinked at her, patted her mildly on the head, and then was very suddenly focused on Malachiasz and the girl behind Nadya. She turned, drawing her voryen and holding it loosely.

  “Who are you, towy wilockna?” Malachiasz hissed. “And what do you think you are doing with those teeth?”

  The girl’s eyes flashed and she spat something at Malachiasz that Nadya couldn’t quite catch, though she recognized Kalyazi. Malachiasz laughed darkly.

  “Who has lied to you?” he asked, voice a low tangle. One hand against her sternum, the other braced an iron claw against her throat. His eyes were murky, seconds from filling with black. “Did they tell you that you would have some secret magic? Take you into a dark room and whisper in a language you did not know until you felt different? Did they tell you that you were special, hand you a magic blade? Tell you that you were oh so prepared to kill someone like me?”

  Nadya caught Serefin’s hand going to the blade at his belt. She edged closer to Malachiasz.

  The girl was breathing hard, but a cold smile tugged at her mouth.

  Malachiasz grinned back, teeth iron. “You think you’re a Vulture hunter, little wolf? Did you think those teeth harvested from my kind made you special?” He lifted the string of teeth around the girl’s neck with an iron claw. “Can I tell you a secret?” His sick smile tugged further at his mouth. “I know every tooth on this string and every Vulture you have stolen from still lives. All you are is a girl with no magic and a dull blade and a string of teeth.”

  That’s enough of that, Nadya thought, tipping her voryen under his chin. “You of all people should know not to underestimate a girl with a blade.” She tapped the flat against his cheek. “Let her up, you’ve made your point.”

  He let the girl scramble to her feet. He rested his elbows on his knees, hands tipped with iron claws remaining menacingly visible.

  She was tall, with refined features as though cut from glass. She wore a Kalyazi military jacket in deep navy and had a voryen gripped tight in one fist; her sharp green eyes were strangely dilated. What odd new companion had Serefin picked up? And what was he doing here?

  “Can—can I see that?” she asked, holding her hand out for the dagger. The girl clearly thought it could harm Malachiasz. Was it another relic?

  The girl’s gaze left Malachiasz’s briefly, her eyes narrowing on Nadya’s outstretched hand. She glanced at Serefin wryly.

  His eyebrows lifted; he leaned back against a tree. What was Serefin doing with a Vulture hunter who held herself with the clear airs of a noble?

  “I took every tooth myself,” she said to Malachiasz.

  “Do you think our teeth don’t grow back?” Malachiasz retorted, his voice treacherously pleasant. “Do you think pulling a tooth from our mouths will do some irreparable harm?”

  “They were dead when I took them,” the girl snapped.

  “Darling, we are very good at surviving.”

  She cocked her head. Her posture was incredibly relaxed for someone who had just been thrown to the ground by the Black Vulture.

  “You’re with him?” she asked Nadya.

  Nadya rested her hand in Malachiasz’s hair. That strange spark of magic lit under her fingers but she ignored it. “I’m the one who’s keeping him from ripping your throat out, yes.”

  “Easy,” Serefin said, his voice low.

  “Let me see the blade,” Nadya said, harder this time.

  The girl laughed. “You don’t order me.”

  “Nadya,” Serefin broke in wearily, “might I introduce one Tsarevna Yekaterina Vodyanova?”

  All the blood drained from Nadya’s face. What?

  “Katya,” Serefin continued, “that is Nadezhda Lapteva, your cleric. Please never make me introduce two Kalyazi to each other ever again. I’m going to go nurse my wounded pride.”

  The tsarevna looked smug. She flipped her voryen over and handed it hilt first to Nadya, who took it, dazed. The future ruler of Kalyazin was standing in front of her and she was traveling with the Black Vulture. There was no way to spin that as a good thing. But, as Nadya gave it more thought, she realized being around Serefin had desensitized her to the idea of royalty. She might as well act like she wasn’t rattled by this turn of events.

  “Did you think this would kill him?” Nadya tapped the flat of the blade against Malachiasz’s cheek. “Anything?”

  “I think—”

  “No?”

  “I think you have to use it the other way,” Malachiasz offered helpfully. He mimed being stabbed.

  Nadya snorted softly. They both knew that wasn’t true. Her bone relic hurt him by just being near him. This was nothing more than an average blade. She handed it to Malachiasz.

  He shifted off his heels, sitting down. His eyes cleared, claws receding except for one, which he used to slice open his forearm. Katya winced. He rifled through his spell book for a few seconds before tearing out a page and wrapping the dagger in it. The paper blew into ash in his hands. He flipped it in the air, catching it by the tip and offering it to the tsarevna.

  “If you’d like to test it, you can stab me. I’d survive but you would feel very good doing it, Wécz Joczocyść,” he said.

  She bared her teeth at him. He tossed the voryen at her. She caught it by the hilt.

  “Well,” Malachiasz continued, “this is all a nice little coincidence, isn’t it?”

  “Shut up, Malachiasz,” Nadya said.

  Malachiasz’s single lifted eyebrow was turned on her, and a shiver of fear warned her that she might be treading too far. But he remained seated, legs casually stretched out. He leaned back on his hands, content to watch this all play out.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asked Serefin, hyper aware of the tsarevna watching her. Eyeing the hand she had resting in Malachiasz’s hair, the bone she was rolling between fingertips.

  Serefin’s eyes looked otherworldly; he looked terrible.

  “He’s got an ancient god rattling in his head and we’re trying to break him free,” Katya answered for him.

  “I’m sorry, how are you involved?” Nadya was baffled at what the tsarevna’s role was in all of this. How did Serefin cross paths with her? Weren’t they at war?

  Though, she supposed the same could be said about her and Malachiasz; both symbols for oppositional ideologies yet here together all the same.

  Katya grinned. “I know a great deal about ancient gods.”

  Nadya’s heart leapt to her throat. Could Katya help her? Would she know what all the cryptic messages Nadya had been getting meant? Would she want to help Nadya, knowing she was with the Black Vulture? Nadya wouldn’t put it past her for wanting nothing to do with a tainted cleric.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Tzanelivki,” Serefin said. He rubbed at his eye absently.

  “That’s where we’re going,” Malachiasz said, sounding confused. At Nadya’s puzzlement he clarified, “Tachilvnik.” No longer content to watch, he finally got to his feet. The tsarevna tensed as he straightened to his full height.

  Nadya glanced b
ack for Parijahan. The Akolan girl had something in her hand and was whispering fiercely to Rashid, who was clearly upset.

  Now is not the time. She turned back.

  “We all need to go to the same damn place, apparently,” Malachiasz said, acidly. “How fortuitous.”

  Serefin’s eyes narrowed. “I haven’t forgotten what you did,” he said, voice low.

  “I would be incredibly disappointed if you had. I worked very hard to put all that into place and you had to go and ruin it by surviving.”

  “Blood and bone, I am so sorry to have foiled treason. Really, it’s quite a shame. What Tranavia really needs is to be ruled by the worst Black Vulture we’ve ever had.”

  A smile flickered at Malachiasz’s mouth. “Tranavia has survived this long because I am the worst. Don’t fool yourself.”

  There was a ringing in Nadya’s ears that she couldn’t shake. All the weird little quirks that Serefin had that had reminded her of Malachiasz when she was in Grazyk suddenly became frighteningly clear. Watching them face off, the resemblance in their profiles was too close to be a coincidence. Serefin’s eyes—before all of this—had been the same icy pale as Malachiasz’s. They had similar, fine boned features. Malachiasz was a wasted, slighter shadow to Serefin, but the resemblance was striking. One boy cast from darkness and the other cast from gold.

  Oh, gods.

  Thirty-Two

  Serefin Meleski

  He lies beneath the waves. Deep water. Dark water. Zvezdan’s twisted hands hold between them an army, should he ever think to look up and listen to the drowned priests calling for his grace.

  —The Books of Innokentiy

  “You come here, you have the Kalyazi tsarevna in tow, who just happens to hunt Vultures—” Malachiasz leveled an annoyed look at Serefin that said nice try. “—what are you up to, moje kóczk?”

  Serefin shuddered at Malachiasz’s biting tone.

  Katya had dragged Nadya off and was talking with her intently. Kacper looked like he wanted to kill Malachiasz himself. He was sitting on a fallen tree next to Ostyia, who clearly really wanted to know what Katya and Nadya were talking about, but after a few minutes got up to talk to the Akolan pair.