Pursued by the Gods

by Rebekah Murdock

  “Hush, Kore,” the man next to her said sharply. I glanced at him, and the look in his face sent a shudder down to my core. He had long black hair and a handsome, angular face, but his eyes were like those of the demons—entirely black, without a hint of white. The demon holding my elbow inclined his head to him, and I swallowed hard. “Is…is that?”

  “Iad, lord of the underworld, and his wife, Kore. It’s a shame for you that you aren’t going there, Kore is his conscience, and has a soft spot for those brought down by love.”

  Like Hades and Persephone, just by another name. I wondered for a moment how much the legends and fairy tales of mortals mirrored the true nature of the gods, and I craned my head over my shoulder as my jailor pushed me forward, trying to catch another glimpse of the sorrowful woman.

  “Yes,” he said curtly, and jerked me to a stop as we reached the edge of the dais. At the far side of the room, I saw another door open, and a man pushed through it, wearing a black linen shift like mine. I knew immediately it was Kavi, and my heart sank. I will not cry, I told myself again, squaring my shoulders as they approached. He stopped next to me, and for a brief second our eyes met.

  “I love you,” he whispered softly, almost low enough for no one to hear. His guard shoved him hard, and his chains glowed. “Shut up,” the demon guarding him snapped. “Don’t speak unless the All-Father speaks to you.”

  The man in the chair, the one I assumed they were referring to, did speak then. “Is everyone assembled?” he said sharply, his voice booming through the room. “If so, we can begin.”

  “I’m sorry,” I heard a voice breathlessly say from behind me, and I froze, unable to move a muscle. “So sorry I’m late, Torde. I was delayed.”

  I knew that voice. I didn’t have to see him to know. But he passed by me, so close that I could smell the leather-and-lavender scent of him. As Toven took his place with the others, the aching sadness that had filled me since I’d woken the day before was replaced with a sudden, fierce rage.

  31

  Ravenna

  I looked away immediately, refusing to let him see the betrayal and anger that roiled in my chest, closing my throat and making it momentarily difficult to breathe. I looked straight ahead, up at the grey-haired man in the wooden chair, this man called Torde, the All-Father, who would shortly tell Kavi and I our fate.

  I almost wished I were getting to see all of this in different circumstances. At any other time, it would have been astonishing, seeing men and women straight out of the myths and legends I’d read in books. I’d grown up with my people’s pantheon of deities and spirits, and then after Kavi and I had left, I’d loved reading books on religion and mythology, both fiction and non-fiction, learning about what other people had believed.

  And now here I was, in this hall, surrounded by them, and my only thought was managing the all-consuming riot of guilt, fear, anger and betrayal that was knotting itself into a hard ball in my gut.

  “Takwa’ay-chi, Whcha’ri, you are here because you have broken the laws of the gods, regarding our associations with those in the mortal realm. Do you deny this?”

  Neither of us spoke. There was a long and heavy silence, until I saw Torde lean forward in his chair, his heavy brows drawing together. “I said, do you deny it?” His voice boomed louder, and both of our manacles glowed.

  “No,” Kavi said quickly, and I felt my stomach clench at the sound of his voice.

  This is likely the last time I will hear it, I thought suddenly. Here, today, in this place, saying these words. This is the last time.

  I had to push the thought away, or else I would start thinking about the last night we had spent together, how it had been curled up in the cab of our old truck, about how we’d held hands across the console as we fell asleep in lieu of being able to lie against each other in bed, about how the night in the bath would be the last time we would ever make love. I would start thinking about all of that, and I would break down, I would cry, I would beg. And I could not do that.

  I saw Torde turn towards me, and I dropped my eyes quickly. “No,” I echoed softly. “I do not deny it.”

  He settled back in his chair, shaking his head as if we were insolent children. “And you knew the law?” he asked. “You did, of course,” he said, gesturing at Kavi. “But you, young lady. Were you aware?”

  Young lady. I wanted to retort that I had lived for a century and a half now, but I supposed to a god, that seemed like nothing, the age of a child. I felt Kavi tense next to me, and I knew what he would say, if we were alone.

  Lie to them, Ravenna. Say you didn’t know. Say I forced you to accept it.

  But I would not lie. Likely they had ways of getting the truth out of me anyway, if they suspected a falsehood. Still regardless, I would not lie. I would not diminish the decades of love we had shared, the vows we had taken, or say something that made Kavi seem cruel or vicious, a man who would force something on a woman that she didn’t want. I had made the choice freely, and I would accept the consequences, too.

  “Yes,” I said, raising my chin and looking squarely at Torde. “Yes, I knew the law.”

  His brow furrowed again. “And you knew the consequences?”

  “Ravenna!” I heard Kavi hiss next to me, and then his muted grunt of pain as the chains heated. I refused to look at him, not breaking eye contact with Torde. “Yes, I knew those too.”

  “Then why?”

  For a moment, hope sprang up in my chest. Perhaps this was a trial, after all. Perhaps he had learned mercy after the events that Toven had told me about. Perhaps he would be swayed by the truth of why we had done it.

  I remembered the sorrow in Kore’s face, the tears in her eyes as she had touched my hand, and I knew it was all but certain that that was not the case. But I had to try.

  “Sir,” I began, unsure of what honorific one used, exactly, with not only a god but the god of all gods. “I don’t know how much you know, or have been told. Before Kavi bestowed his gift of immortality on me, we were lovers. We came together of our own free will, a mortal and an immortal, choosing to love one another despite our differences. He is not the man I thought that I would spend my days with, and yet my heart would not be told otherwise. Being young, and knowing little of what lay beyond my own realm, I believed in my naïve faith that when I died, I would be reunited with Kavi—Whcha’ri—once again, in the realm of the gods.”

  I thought I saw a flicker of compassion on Torde’s face, but it was so quickly wiped away that I couldn’t be sure. “And you came to find that this was not so.”

  “Yes. I came to learn that mortals go to a different realm, that they cannot see the gods, nor they them, in the afterlife, excepting the one who is the lord of the underworld.” I glanced towards the black-haired man then, the one the demon had called Iad, and I saw that tears were streaking silently down Kore’s face, her hand tightly gripping her husband’s.

  I looked quickly back at Torde, refusing to let my gaze settle on Toven for even an instant. I didn’t want to see his face, to know what he was thinking, or feeling. I don’t care, I told myself harshly. I was fighting for my life now, mine and Kavi’s, and he had betrayed us.

  You don’t know that.

  I do. Otherwise why is he here? How could he have known?

  “I feared it,” I continued, only to be cut off by Torde’s deep chuckle.

  “You feared death?” he echoed, his tone vaguely mocking. “So do all mortals, Takwa’ay-chi. Should we grant them all immortality, then?” He looked around the room, and a ripple of laughter passed through the assembled gods and goddesses, but I thought it sounded weak. I remembered again what Toven had said, that most of them had not agreed with what Torde had done, in the story he had told me. That it had caused a schism from which they had still not healed.

  “I did not fear death itself,” I said, speaking loudly enough to be heard over his mocking chuckle. He stopped, glaring down at me, and my chains glowed, but I continued anyway. “I feared eternal
separation from Whcha’ri. Even were I to be granted an afterlife in paradise, it would be the worst torture, to go on forever and yet never again see the man I loved, to know he too lived, and yet be unable to touch him, or speak to him, for an eternity.”

  “The worst torture?” Torde raised an eyebrow. “I have a man who might make you eat your words, Takwa’ay-chi. Would you like to put that theory to the test?”

  He was trying to frighten me, I knew, but I refused to give in to it. I met his gaze coolly. “If you wish to torture me, you may, Torde. I cannot stop you. But I do not see what purpose it would serve. If you wish me to say that I regret the choice I made, I will not. If you wish me to say that Kavi forced me, that I did it without full understanding, I will not. And all I have said to you is the truth.” I took a step forward, ignoring the warning heat against my wrists. “I love this man. I have loved him for more years than I ever thought I would have with him, and it has not faltered, it has not wavered, nor has his love for me. I would count all torture well endured, and my life well lost, if it is because I was granted that time. If I went back, knowing I would end here, whatever punishment you may give me, I would do it all again. There is no undoing the choice I made.” I stepped back, and glanced at Kavi once, unable to stop the sheen of glassy tears that filled my eyes. “Our life was well lived. If this is the ending, so be it.”

  “And him?” Torde nodded towards Kavi. “Is what we will do to him worth it, to you? And what about the other man, the other one he broke the law for?” He turned to look at Thorn and Maril, who stood on the third step, arms crossed behind their backs.

  “My lord, we are still looking for the wolf,” Maril said. “Thorn felt…”

  “I felt it best to bring these two to you immediately, my lord, rather than risk their escape while we hunted the wolf. Rest assured, he will be found soon.”

  Torde grunted. “I ordered you to bring all three. We will speak about this later. For now, we will deal with the two that you did bring me.” He looked down at me again. “Well, young lady? What do you have to say to that? Is what we will do to your lovers worth it to you?”

  “They made the choice, too,” I said softly. “It was worth it to them, or we would not be standing here.”

  Torde leaned forward. “That is not what I asked you. Is their suffering worth it to you?”

  I looked down then, unable to meet his gaze any longer. “I don’t know how to answer that,” I said softly. “I would do anything in my power to spare them pain, no matter the cost. But it was a gift freely given.” I raised my head then, and looked at Kavi. “There would have been suffering no matter what,” I said softly. “To live without the one you love is a pain like no other. And I know that I have given them a joy they would not have known otherwise, as they have for me, that together the three of us have had a love rarely found, among gods or men.” I looked back at Torde, and I felt a sudden sense of calm, the fear and anger subsiding in a wash of cool peace. “Yes,” I said clearly. “The answer is yes.”

  I saw the blonde woman next to him look away, her fingers brushing quickly at a tear on her cheek. It made me angry. I had no reason to know it, but I knew anyway that she would not speak for us. She would be silent while her husband passed our sentence, and she would perhaps cry at our deaths, as would everyone else here who sympathized with us, but they would do nothing.

  Torde shook his head as he sat back in his chair. “You speak well, Takwa’ay-chi. I’m sure there are many here who were moved by your words, who would even wish me to pardon you. After all, it was done for love!” His voice grew louder, more stern. “And yet, not two centuries past, we saw another woman and her lover stand in this same hall, who had broken similar laws, and speak words that were passionate and moving. And many of you wished me to pardon them!” He looked down at Kavi and I, his face dispassionate. “I am not unsympathetic to your story, nor do I pretend not to understand how one might be…brought to such a decision.” He glanced at the blonde woman, who was refusing to look up from where she had knotted her hands in her lap.

  “But,” he continued, “the laws are written, and they are inviolable. If I did not bend them two centuries ago, when one of our own here broke them, then I cannot be so to you. I am nothing if not fair, is that not so?”

  There was a faint ripple of agreement, but I heard muttering in the crowd. Of course, no one would speak so loudly as to be singled out. I did look at Toven then. Speak for us, I thought, my heart tightening in my chest. Speak up. You said you loved me, that you would protect us. Say something.

  He said nothing, only looked away, his face blank and still. I clenched my teeth, resisting the urge to leap forward and grab him, shake him, slap him, anything. I had rarely in my life felt the urge to be violent towards anyone, but in that moment if I had been free, I didn’t know what I might have done to Toven.

  “Takwa’ay-chi and Whcha’ri,” Torde intoned, and my gaze snapped back to him, cold chills running over my skin as I realized that the moment had come. In another second we would know our fates, and there would be no going back. I wanted desperately to feel Kavi’s hand in mine, but I didn’t dare reach for it.

  “You have broken an inviolable law of the gods, which states that no immortal, from the highest deity to the lowest sprite, may grant the gift of immortality to a mortal being, by any means or for any reason, unless expressly granted by the All-Father himself. The court recognizes that this law was broken for love, which is in and of itself a great gift given by the gods to mortals, beautiful in spite of, or perhaps made more so, being finite. Yet the punishment must remain the same, as it has been meted out in the past, and the punishment for violating this law is death.” He looked at Kavi. “You are a water spirit, yes?”

  Kavi seemed unable to speak. He nodded, and the demon standing beside him cuffed him on the side of the head, hard enough to make blood trickle from his scalp. “Speak up!”

  “Yes,” Kavi managed.

  “Your punishment then is death by drowning, tomorrow morning, in full sight of all gathered here.” He turned towards me, and I found myself suddenly filled with an incomprehensible hatred. I lunged towards him, ignoring the searing pain in my wrists, running up my arms. I had sworn I wouldn’t beg, but this wasn’t begging. “No!” I shouted. “No, I asked him to give it to me! I asked him for immortality! This is my fault, not his. You can’t do this!” I screamed it at him, my voice ragged with it, and in the corner of my eye I thought I saw Toven flinch, and the hatred ran even hotter in my blood.

  “Taki, Taki…” I heard Kavi’s voice in my ear, felt his arms around me. His chains were glowing red too, but he pulled me back as if he didn’t even notice them, pulling me against him, whispering to me. “Taki, it’s okay. It’ll be alright.”

  “And you, Takwa’ay-chi,” Torde intoned, as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “You will watch your lover’s punishment carried out, and when it is done, you will be given over to Vashta, to be done with as he pleases, until he sees fit that your life should end. And when that time does come, you will become one of his fiends, to serve him in whatever form he wishes for eternity.”

  “My lord,” Kavi said, still holding me against him. Our chains had cooled, as if they had given up trying to separate us, but the pain in my wrists was agonizing. “My lord, I am the immortal. I am the one who is to blame. She is but a human, how could she resist the offer of such a gift? Punish me if you must, torture me, do what you will, but spare her. Or if you must end her life, end it here, my lord. Do not give her to Vashta. The verdict was death, not eternal torture.”

  “The verdict is what I have commanded,” Torde said sternly. “The time for reasoning and argument is past, Whcha’ri. You knew the punishment for what you have done, for both you and the woman you have brought down with you. And when your other lover is found, the wolf, he too will be given to Vashta, to be one of his hellhounds.”

  I shuddered, unable to speak. There was nothing to do, nothing more to say. We could not
change it. I clung to Kavi, the trembling spreading through my body, and it was all I could do to keep myself upright.

  The demon who guarded me grabbed my elbow, tearing me out of Kavi’s arms. “Time to go,” he growled. “You’ll see each other again tomorrow.”

  “No!” I screamed, my fingers tightening around Kavi’s. “No, don’t!”

  “Ravenna, it’s okay,” he whispered, squeezing my hand once more. The demon pulled me away bodily then, grabbing me around the waist as he prepared to haul me down the length of the room.

  His fingers slipped away from mine, and I was left grasping empty air. “I love you!” I shouted as they led him away, towards the other side of the room. “I love you, Whcha’ri.” The name echoed in the hall, the name I had been forbidden to say for so long. The name I had whispered that first afternoon by the stream, when he had made me his own for the first time.

  “And I love you, Takwa’ay-chi,” he called, his voice clear and sure. “Forever.”

  “Forever,” I whispered, as the demon guard pulled me away, shoving me in the direction he meant me to go. I caught sight of Toven as I was ushered forward. I saw the utter misery on his face, and for a brief moment, I was glad.

  32

  Toven

  I had never known pain like I knew that day. I had fought in battles, been hurt and wounded, seen a dear friend of mine have her lover and child ripped away from her. But in all the time I had never known anything that could compare to watching the woman I loved receive her death sentence. And I had seen in her face that it had been worse for her to hear Kavi’s than her own.

  Before Ravenna—I couldn’t think of her by any other name, no matter how many times I heard it said out loud—I wouldn’t have understood that. How could anything be worse than your own death? Life is full of endless possibilities. Possibilities for new happiness, new love, just so long as you were alive. I had always believed that. How anyone could love someone else so much that their own punishment or death was worse than their own?