Gods of Rust and Ruin

by Azalea Ellis

  “Interesting.” I turned, then, and walked out into the world of my mind, leaving my body behind.

  The attacks kept coming, and I kept moving, for a long time. I didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, and I didn’t rest. Though my mind grew weary, my body did not. I tried not to stop, because I had a feeling that if I lost focus on my goal, I would forget that I had a body outside of this place that I needed to get back to.

  Finally, I found what I was looking for. A huge golden gate, beyond which a great golden column reached out from somewhere in the distance, thrusting up toward the sky and piercing a hole in the . . . ceiling. It was huge, and corrupting, and it shouldn’t be there. Not in my mind. It was creepy, and made me feel violated.

  I bared my teeth at it, and ran forward. But before I could open the gate, a small golden boy stood up from where he’d been crouching in front of it.

  I almost ran into him, and panicked for a second, lashing out with my claws.

  He winced at my attacks but didn’t fight back.

  I backpedaled and stood staring at this creature, who looked quite like another fear of mine.

  The boy uncurled his body from its defensive posture, and opened his golden eyelids. The eyes within glowed with a teeming mass of writhing lights. "I've been waiting, Eve. You certainly took long enough." He spoke in English, and though his voice was a conglomeration of many, it originated solely from his own mouth, unlike the God of Knowledge.

  Still, I instinctively wanted to attack.

  "I mean you no harm," he said in a rush, raising his hands to ward me off and flinching back a little. "And I have little strength to defend against you. Please, calm yourself."

  "Who are you?" I said.

  "I am a manifestation of Knowledge."

  "A manifestation? A separate one?" Was this how the gods had babies? Even the males?

  He quirked his mouth up, as if amused at my thoughts. “A very small one, but yes. The Knowledge that you have seen and I were once the same. Part of me—I—noticed an anomaly within myself. Processes being corrupted, dissociation with things that were once meaningful—I would reach for them, and find the connection within my thoughts, my memories, and my ‘emotions’ had been severed. Or, more insidiously, redirected. I immediately attempted to isolate the affected areas, in an attempt to amputate them, but they'd grown too much already, while I had been made ignorant," he spat it like a curse, "by my own power. This," he gestured to his child’s body, " was all that I could do. I have enclosed what little I could safely determine was untainted, and have been trapped within myself as the rest of me fell to the abomination. When you came into my domain, I transferred a small part of myself to you, riding along my greater counterpart’s attack.”

  “So, you’re the part of the God of Knowledge that doesn’t have the Sickness?”

  “Yes, in a way. The being you see before you is but a simulacrum. A tiny, tiny piece of my power. All you could bear without dying, and all I could spare without losing my fight against myself, and being re-assimilated. So much has been lost, you see. I saw you, though my diminished range of power. I have done all I could to thwart my corrupted manifestation. And I have waited for you to return, and cleanse me." He said the last with an expressionless face, but a voice that sounded heavy, tired, and resigned.

  "Cleanse you . . .” I said, narrowing my eyes. "You mean kill you?"

  He raised his eyebrows. “That is what my daughter asked of you, is it not? Death is but a metamorphosis, though admittedly quite unpleasant. You of all creatures should understand that, scion of Khaos." He stared at me with those eyes of bright power. "Oh. You have no idea.” He grimaced in distaste. "No wonder your power rebels against you. My old friend did not do a good job of preparing her progeny. I'm not so surprised as I should be, unfortunately. She has no patience for such things."

  “Do you know . . . how to stop it from killing me?” I asked, trying not to let hope bloom prematurely.

  “Of course. Knowledge of a thing is power over it. But that is the reward of the quest, and you have not completed it yet.”

  “But if I kill the big Knowledge, you’ll die too, won’t you? How will you tell me, then?”

  He pointed beyond the gate. “The knowledge is hidden within his sentinel. Conquer and cleanse, and it will turn to follow you. When you have need of it, it will reveal itself to you.”

  I looked up at the golden sentinel. “What?”

  He just stared blankly back at me, as if he hadn’t heard my question.

  “What about the Sickness?” I tried. “Do you have any information about how we can cure it? Or where I can find this other god that can fight against it?”

  “Much has been lost,” he said again. “You must follow the path. It has been traveled, once before. The first time.”

  “I’m not sure I understand. Could you be less cryptic?”

  He sighed. “No, I could not. Just do what you came here to do.” Then he stepped back, and sank into the gold of the gate, melding together with it till the form of the boy was gone.

  I shook my head, feeling a little disoriented. Almost woozy. It was hard to concentrate. When I tried to take a step and the ground pulled at my feet, releasing me with a suction-cup pop only after I threw myself forward, I realized I’d been standing still for too long.

  The gate gave under my claws like butter, and where it broke apart, tiny little motes of light flew into me. I ran forward, toward the distant glare of the sentinel.

  When I finally exited the black sphere, the reporters bombarded me, shining their little pen-light recorders at me, talking over each other.

  My stomach cramped from hunger, and my muscles trembled faintly, as if I was coming down off a horrible caffeine high.

  “What did you see within the Trial of Deimos and Phobos?!”

  “You are the first to emerge. Are you worried about Torliam of Aethezriel?”

  “What is the relationship between you and Torliam of Aethezriel?”

  I straightened, hoping that their cameras wouldn’t catch my weakness. “Torliam of Aethezriel will be finished when he is finished,” I said, not-answering as best I could. “As for what I saw . . .” I paused, meeting their eyes, as Torliam had instructed me would appear best for their recorders. “I saw my own fears, and my own failings, and traversed the depths of my own mind turned against me.” I hesitated, wondering whether to mention that I had met with a small piece of the God of Knowledge. It was true, but if I couldn’t lie . . . they might ask more questions than I was able to answer truthfully.

  “There are rumors that the Oracle has given you three gifts, and the Goddess of Testimony and Lore has marked you! Is this true?” another reporter asked, yelling to be heard over his counterparts.

  “It is true,” I said.

  “There are reports that Testimony and Lore has been seen traveling amongst mortals once more. Did you free her?”

  I laughed. “She did not need me to free her. She was never trapped.”

  “What is your quest? What do they bid of you?” another yelled.

  I paused for a breath, thinking of the proper answer. “I will follow the path.” There, a nice cryptic answer for the media to go crazy over. I walked away, getting into the ship to wait and worry for Torliam while munching on the snacks he’d packed.

  Torliam emerged after sundown, falling to his hands and knees and gasping.

  I rocked out of the ship and ran to kneel beside him.

  He murmured, “Thank the gods, it is done,” in Estreyan, and then collapsed.

  I caught him, and maneuvered him back so he didn’t fall on his face. I snarled at the reporters pressing in. The press of potentially dangerous strangers, all yelling and jostling close to us while Torliam was too weak to defend himself, made the hair on the back of my neck raise. “Get back!” I growled in threat. Voice pulsed with the command, and they stumbled back, as if it had been a shockwave. I would have to learn how to use it consciously more often.

  Torliam
was almost delirious, but he wasn’t unconscious, and after a bit of water, he got to his feet, using me as an armrest to support himself. “Let us go to the edge,” he said.

  The reporters kept their distance, though their recording penlights stayed trained on us.

  “From here,” he said, sitting so his feet hung off the side, “they will not be able to hear, only to see.”

  “Same for the cameras?”

  He nodded. “If you are willing, Eve Redding of the line of Matrix, we might give them else something to talk about.”

  “You’re not going to try and kiss me, are you?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

  He snorted. “Your beauty and power are irresistible,” he scoffed. “No, idiot.”

  I huffed. “Well, they were all asking what our relationship was, if I was worried about you, how I felt about your mom, given our ‘delicate’ relationship, and stuff like that.”

  “This will make them chatter more than that.” He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I severed our bond. But you are more of what I originally hoped than I thought, though you are a human. As a descendant of the line of Aethezriel, it is my duty . . . and my honor, to offer my bond again." Less formally, he continued. "If we complete it properly, it will return some of the power you lost when the bond was broken before, and it may help to stabilize you against Chaos.”

  I flexed my fingers, trying not to pounce on the idea of more power, anything that might help me survive. I'd seen what the blood-covenant had meant to Torliam. "Do you really want to do that?"

  "Yes."

  Well, I wasn’t going to argue about it. “Okay, then. How do we do it? I don’t have any Seeds left.”

  “We will complete this properly,” he said, emphasizing the word. “Do as I do.” He slashed his forearm with his power, and I followed suit on my own arm with one of my claws.

  "The life is in the blood. And thus, I bind mine to yours." He dipped his thumb in the blood, and wiped it on my forehead, and down over my lips, so that I tasted the tiniest hint of iron and salt on the tip of my tongue.

  I repeated the process on him, having to stretch up to reach his forehead.

  He grasped my forearm, so our wounds touched. "So be it."

  I felt the rush, then, extremely different from before when NIX had done this to me. But I didn't have time to examine the feeling, because the reporters broke out in a roar, their voices mixing together in a jumbled wave that was no longer recognizable as speech.

  I turned to look at them over my shoulder. “Should we make a statement, or something?”

  “No.” He grinned and stood up, not bothering to offer me a hand. “People find the mysterious much more interesting. This is the time to run away!”

  I laughed and ran after him.

  Chapter 34

  There is a dark place underneath the world.

  — Sha Du

  I’d sent the others a Window to let them know I was okay while I was waiting for Torliam to emerge, but as we flew back to the palace, I got a few more.

  —What the hell was that?—

  -Adam-

  —The news people went crazy when you guys wiped blood on each others’ faces.—

  -Zed-

  —It itches, but Torliam says I can’t wash it off. Because tradition. And publicity.—

  -Eve-

  The queen was waiting with Birch in the airship landing field when we arrived. Her face was pale and foreboding, and her mouth tightened when she saw the dried blood. But what she said was, “I have called a mandatory assembly of the court, for tomorrow evening. We cannot wait. After a spectacle like this, rumor spreads quickly. We want to make the announcement when it will still be a political boon to do so, and before any of my detractors have time to prepare arguments or subtle ways to undermine me. They must all be shocked and caught off guard."

  We spent most of the night planning, despite how exhausted Torliam and I were.

  Birch bit me on the hand for leaving him behind again, and then struggled to stay awake. He failed, and ended up curling up in Torliam’s lap, snoring lightly.

  First thing in the morning, Queen Mardinest summoned the rest of my team and drilled them with both questions and guidance about what might happen at the announcement, and the small part they would play in it. She included Birch in this, and didn’t seem surprised by how he appeared to acknowledge her instructions.

  Then she sent us off to be prepared for the assembly.

  I was given a room with a bed that looked fluffy and comfortable. I wanted nothing more than to fall down into it and sleep, but the woman the queen had assigned to preparing me took one look at me and vetoed that.

  "I will have to put glamour on your face. Oh, my, those dark circles under your eyes. You look like a pordok!” She tsked her concern.

  A pordok must be a panda or raccoon equivalent, because I was pretty sure that's what I looked like.

  By that night, the girl in charge of my wardrobe and appearance had driven me crazy with her demands, but I looked amazing. My almost-black hair hung straight down my back. She’d put some paste on my face and magically removed my dark eye circles and the unhealthy hollow underneath my cheekbones, and given my face a healthy tinge of color.

  The armorer had given me a dark grey set that made my pale eyes stand out, but kept my left forearm, fingers, and my neck uncovered to display the sparkly "gifts" I'd been given from the gods.

  I was pretty in love with the armor. It fit over my—now clean—vest, was light-weight and non-reflective, and still allowed me full range of motion, so it would actually be useful for battle and not just decoration. I wondered if there might be a way I could sneakily "forget" to give it back.

  The servant led me toward the back entrance to the ball room, or the throne room, or whatever it was, muttering about how she’d “tried her best.”

  The queen was waiting with Torliam, a little removed from the rest of my team. She waved me over and threw a long, almost-black cloak over my shoulders. It went well with my armor, and covered all my sparkly gifts, no doubt so she could dramatically reveal them in front of the assembly later. She wore one of the Estreyan style dresses, but had an obvious knife both at her belt and strapped along her thigh, and the outfit looked like something she would have no trouble fighting in.

  Torliam had been properly groomed and made fancy, too, almost like a different person than the one I was used to. He didn’t make any snarky comments or even grimace at me. He held himself proudly straight, his hair swept back and held in place by a thin circlet much less elaborate than his mother’s.

  With her nod of acceptance, we entered the throne room through a back door, my team following a few steps behind the three of us.

  Jacky shot me a grin, pointing to her pixie haircut. The short style only served to accentuate the lines of her cheekbones and jaw.

  Contrary to my expectations, none of the reporters along the walls burst out with questions, and the huge crowd of high-ranked Estreyans did no more than murmur surreptitiously amongst themselves.

  Queen Mardinest took the throne above Torliam and I, who stood to the side of her raised dais. She wasted no time starting her speech, thanking them for coming on such short notice. “I have summoned you here tonight for a joyous announcement,” she called out in a voice that had no trouble reaching to the far ends of the room. “My son, Torliam of the line of Aethezriel, still lives.”

  At her motion, he joined her on the dais, bowing shallowly to the crowd.

  “I sent him on a mission some time past, to search for an answer to the seemingly indomitable Sickness that plagues our land and people. Two nights past, he returned from his mission, successful.”

  There was a long beat of silence, after that. Then they broke out in sound. People exclaimed in shock, chatted to each other disbelievingly, and shouted questions, talking over each other such that my rudimentary grasp of the language failed to distinguish their words.

  The queen raised her hand for silence
, and didn’t speak again till it was quiet. “As it is said in the Lore, my son has discovered a champion, of the line of Matrix.”

  I joined her then, and the hair on the back of my neck raised as my subconscious reacted negatively to the weight of so many powerful stares.

  The noise died down quicker that time, as people were no doubt eager to hear what she had to say.

  “This is Eve-Redding, last of the line of Matrix, and my champion.”

  She’d added the last part for political gain, I knew. But I was okay with it, because as far as I could tell, what was good for her at the moment was also good for me.

  “Our world has been ravaged by the Abhorrent, and we waited for the spark in the darkness. Our hoped waned, and we grew weary and disbelieving, and perhaps some of us even forgot that such a thing might one day come." She paused, for effect, and I did my best to project confidence and power. To look like someone they could believe in.

  “Finally, we may wait no longer. Despair no longer. Stand helpless and frightened no longer." Her words thrummed with power, and for a second, it seemed like the crystal in my chest pulsed in response, a physical sensation, like the rumbling of a huge, slow heartbeat.

  Eyes were drawn to it, and from it to me. I wasn't quite sure whether to be grateful for the strange gift of Testimony and Lore, but at times like this, it was helpful to claim legitimacy.

  Torliam stepped forward, then, and from the way the queen stiffened, I was pretty sure they had not agreed on this.

  "I am of the line of Aethezriel," he said loudly. His voice didn't carry that same thrum of power that his mother’s had, but his words caught the court’s attention all the same. "For generations, my line has served the line of Matrix, bound to them in blood-covenant. Until the last died, and they were thought to be no more." His eyes traveled over them, and he waited till the last was silent, waiting for him to continue. "The line of Aethezriel stands before you, once again bound in blood-covenant to the line of Matrix." He bowed to me then, deeply and formally, dipping to a knee and baring his neck.