He wondered if the faces he saw were the faces of the gods and hoped not. Though they were surely only his fears painting his imagination, the visages he saw were fearsome and angry.
On the fourth day, Temmi slipped free from the wagon and walked with them as they strode on through the still, humid air. The storm was not touching them, but it was close enough to feel the world holding its breath and gathering for a proper blow.
Tully looked at the other woman and offered a weak smile. “How is your father?”
“Better, I think. He’s not burning up any more. His wounds aren’t so angry looking.”
“Good to hear.” Niall nodded his head.
“Where do we go?”
“Hollum first. We need to find news of what is happening and we need to get a good map.”
Temmi nodded. “Dad always said the best map is in his head.”
“A lovely notion, but I wouldn’t know where to look to find it.” Niall kept his tone light and Temmi managed a very small smile in response to his jest.
“Thank you. For burying…” Her voice hitched and she looked at her feet for a moment, then closed her eyes. “For burying Doug.”
“You and yours, Temmi, have been beyond kind to us. We only offer a small return of your kindness.”
“You offer more and you know it.”
“Temmi, what do you know of the gods? What can you tell us of the He-Kisshi?”
“Never actually met one of the Undying before the other night.” She shook her head. “We dealt with the Grakhul. The cloaked ones were normally out gathering the next sacrifices.”
Tully shrugged. “How about the gods? Do you know their names? The number of them?”
“My grandfather always said the best way to avoid the attention of gods is to not think of them. No one in the family ever wanted to get their attention. Least not that I knew of anyways. Mum might know.” She looked down at her feet again. “I’ll ask her.”
Niall shook his head. The notion of disturbing Doria bothered him. She was in mourning. “It’s just an idle thought. I’m trying to understand what might have happened.”
“I’ll check just the same. She could use the sunlight on her skin.”
The young woman walked to the wagon and came back a few moments later with her mother in tow. Doria had shrunken in on herself. Her grief was like a physical ailment eating her away.
Doria did not smile, but she nodded a greeting. “You’ve questions about the gods?”
“If you could. We’re just trying to understand what happened. What is happening.”
“I was told some of it, before Ohdra-Hun showed itself.”
“Ohdra-Hun?”
“The He-Kisshi. That is its name. Means something like the Divine Anger of the Gods.”
“Lovely.” Tully shook her head and spat.
“The gods demand their sacrifices. There were men who interfered with the last sacrifice. And then there were some who escaped from the group meant to be sacrificed next. Of the four who should have been sacrificed, none even made it to the Nameless Keep.”
“The place where you were going?”
“Yes.”
“I thought it had a name.”
“It does. No one can ever pronounce it. It’s just called Nameless.”
“So the gods are angry?”
Doria nodded. “They are angry and they are hungry. If they do not receive their sacrifices soon, they will destroy the world.”
“Seems a bit excessive to me,” Niall said. “I mean, I understand being angry, but how is destroying the world going to make it better?”
“There are legends and stories, of course. You’ve likely heard some of them. This is not the first time the gods have been disappointed. In the past they opened holes in the sky and let demons rain down as punishment, but there have been promises that the world would suffer greater losses with each punishment offered.”
“So our ancestors got off easily and we get the beating they had coming?” Tully scowled at the thought. “How about a little warning?”
“Do not expect me to have the answers, child. I only know what the gods have told me in the past. If I still followed the ways of the scryers, I would not be able to tell you any of this.”
Niall worried his lower lip with his teeth. If she followed the ways of the scryers she’d have likely turned him and Tully over to the He-Kisshi. “Is there anything to be done about it?”
“The gods have spoken. The men who stopped the sacrifices must be taken to another place where they will stand in for the failed sacrifices. If that happens, the world is spared. If it does not, the world will end before the next season comes to us.”
“The next season?”
Doria shook her head. “The seasons change. Winter is here now. When the spring comes, if the men are not sacrificed, the gods will eat the world. In the meantime they’ll damage it to make their point known.”
“Couldn’t they give a warning?” Tully shook her head again.
“Tully. This is their warning.” Doria looked hard at the short woman. “They are giving us time to save most of the world if the right people can find a way to fix this.”
“Who are the right people?”
“The pale ones. The Grakhul. The He-Kisshi.”
“The very thing that wants us dead is what is supposed to save the world?”
“The He-Kisshi have many names. They are supposed to be the most devout followers of the gods. They were created by the gods to obey and to serve. I do not know what has happened to Ohdra-Hun to send him after you, but I do not think he is obeying the gods any longer. He is so very angry.”
Niall thought back to the fight on the wagon. The Undying had died. He knew that in his heart. The damn thing was beaten and still and dead. Water filled its vile mouth in a puddle. But he saw the scars from where he’d injured it, from where the chains had slashed and cut. He knew it was the same beast and he shuddered at the thought.
Niall carefully moved the horses from the path they were on. The land was starting to slough away ahead of them and the higher grounds to the right would hopefully survive a while longer. “So where can we go to get away from this?”
“South and west.” Doria shook her head. “I do not know, if I’m truthful.” The woman looked toward him and frowned, her angular face seemed sharper than before.
“So, about these demons?”
“Most are long gone. They don’t like the light and so they hid themselves away.”
“Well, there’s that at least.”
Doria looked back the way they’d come. “I am not so sure. They don’t like the light, but those clouds are as dark as any night I have ever survived.”
“So, on to Hollum then?” Tully did not sound enthusiastic. Then again, she seldom did.
“We need a map. We need to get to higher ground. Hollum offers both.”
Tully nodded and said no more.
While Niall was considering why Hollum might bother his friend, Ohdra-Hun came out of the skies, dropping like a stone until the last second, and drove both of its feet into Doria’s spine. The older woman didn’t even have time to make a noise before she was slammed into the mud and waters, her back bent into a shape that made clear she was already dead.
Ohdra-Hun was injured. Scars showed where fire had tried to consume it and bald patches of blistered skin marked where it had suffered the most. The beast looked torn down and waterlogged. It also hissed and took a step off Doria’s shattered form as it regardedd Niall.
Niall looked at the poor, dead woman and the beast standing on her remains, his eyes wide. He was guiding the horses. The wagon was close enough to crush him if the animals panicked.
Ohdra-Hun was coming closer and the horses snorted and rolled their eyes.
Tully hurled a short spear at the thing. In the time it took Niall to understand what was happening, the younger girl had already moved to the wagon and grabbed one of the weapons she’d set up for when the thing came
back.
Temmi let out a sound like a cat being skinned alive, and hurled herself at the He-Kisshi.
The thing was pulling the short spear from its stomach when the girl rammed her body weight into the end of the weapon and drove it in deeper. Temmi was round and sweet and had a face that normally looked like it belonged on a toddler, but there was nothing kind or innocent about her expression as she impaled the monster. It fell back, shrieking, both clawed hands trying to pull the spear free even as Temmi held to the end of the spear and shoved it backward with all her weight and strength.
The sound that came from it made Niall’s skin crawl. It also made the horses try to bolt. The great beasts reared and whinnied and looked around wildly and Niall found himself in the uncomfortable position of trying to calm the brutes down before they could flee.
“Nicely does it. Nicely, gently.” The horses did not rise completely onto their rear hooves a second time, but their eyes rolled with fear.
Tully crawled out of the wagon with another spear in her hand. This one was longer and the tip was barbed.
Ohdra-Hun threw itself at Temmi, and in return she slammed her hands into the throat of the thing, under the vast, drooling mouth. The blunt end of the spear was pressed into her belly, and the pointed end was driven deeper into the bleeding guts of the thing she struggled with every time either of them moved. She was likely going to suffer a massive bruise, but the point of the spear was deep inside the He-Kisshi and it let out a strange warbling noise as it pushed even further toward her.
Her fingers hooked into that throat and drove in hard. Temmi was half-roaring as she continued to push.
Tully’s spear cut deep into one of the Undying’s wings, carving a red trench through fur and burned flesh alike.
Ohdra-Hun shoved back, bleeding freely from the stomach and from the opened wing. It did not attack again but instead rose on a sudden, savage gust of wind, spiraling high into the air before vanishing back into the black clouds.
Temmi screamed after it, her words made incoherent by anger and grief. She stared after the thing that fled, eyes wide and tearstained.
Tully watched on, her own eyes looking toward the skies and watching for another attack.
Niall moved over to Doria and confirmed what he already knew. She was dead. Her spine was broken and her face was buried in the mud.
There was no question of it, of course. He found the shovel and while Temmi lost a piece of her mind and Tully watched the heavens, he started digging Doria’s grave.
* * *
Ohdra-Hun settled on a large rock and pulled in on itself until it looked like a ragged cloak abandoned and draped over a large pumpkin. Unless one knew what to look for, one would never guess what the thing was that shivered and panted in the rains.
This was not the way the world was supposed to work. The He-Kisshi were formidable and terrifying. They were the enemy of all who opposed the gods and as such they were to be feared.
Yet here it was, bleeding, injured and running.
And so very angry.
“Why does this happen?” It spat the words, coughed as the wound on its side healed slowly. The itch was familiar and infuriating. Currently everything made Ohdra-Hun angry.
The shape rose from the waters nearby, a stream that was quickly adding to the flooding tide running toward the plains. It had mass, it seemed solid, but the body was formed out of the mud and waters, held together by the will of the gods.
Ohdra-Hun fell prostrate before the shape, ignoring the pain of wounds that still bled and the mud that spilled across them.
“You have not answered the calls, Ohdra-Hun.” The words rippled through Ohdra-Hun, felt more than merely heard.
Long claws dragged through the muck and then pulled into fists. “Their existence offends me!” The He-Kisshi did not look up from the waters, but instead stared at its own rippling reflection.
A voice like a week-old drowned copse replied, “They have defied the gods. That they offend you is only natural. You have served faithfully for centuries and your goal is a just one. The gods accept this. Still, time is limited. You may pursue your vendetta, but you must also serve the gods in other ways. Do not forget this.”
Ohdra-Hun lowered its face closer still to the running waters, opened its hands and once more dragged them through the cold muck and debris.
“The gods offer you one boon to aid you in your tasks. Find the children stolen from the Grakhul. Do not let them fall to the slavers. Kill the slavers if you choose, but do not fail in this or you will find the gods can easily forget to be merciful.”
“One boon?”
The shape moved forward, wavering with every step it took as the waters moved and changed.
“Rise, Ohdra-Hun.”
The Undying did not question but rose, still looking down.
A hand touched the hooded face. The hand was made of the elements that washed across the area, but it felt comforting just the same. The wounds the He-Kisshi felt on its body were healed. A chain was draped down over the hood, thin and shining and weighted down with a bauble – a teardrop-shaped red gem, half-hidden beneath a thin filigree of silver. The red color shifted and swirled.
“It will aid you only the once, and you will know when to use it. The children are nearing Hollum. Your prey goes to the same place. Do not disappoint.”
Ohdra-Hun dared look up even as the shape was collapsing. In that instant it saw a hint of the glory of the gods and felt infused once again with holy purpose.
It settled itself once more against the rock and drew in on itself. The rains offered cold comfort, but it needed rest and it needed to plan for what would happen next.
* * *
Harper lit a pipe and smoked something that was sweet and left Brogan’s eyes burning and his skin tingling pleasantly. Harper did not smoke often, but when he did he tended toward potent combinations.
They’d eaten, and soon they would be on their way, but first Anna wanted to give them a few warnings from her search.
What was slowing them down was the muffled but very heartfelt argument coming from the bedroom of Desmond and Anna. No one was eavesdropping, exactly, but everyone knew the gist of the problem. Desmond had to come with them to avoid having his house burned down when he barricaded himself inside. Anna had no intention of letting him leave indefinitely. To that end, she planned to come along. The very notion was driving Desmond into a lather. Anna? With other men? Nonsense!
It was almost enough to make Brogan smile. He’d never had to worry about that. Nora was his. Except possibly when he’d been away and in those cases if anything ever happened, she’d been discreet. But he doubted that. He doubted she had ever strayed. She had been a better person than he.
Now she was gone. The thought filled him with anger again and with hatred. The two should never be confused. Anger fades. Hatred is often eternal.
Something very heavy slammed into the wall of the bedroom then clattered to the floor. Brogan and Harper both winced at the thought that it might well be Desmond.
A minute or so later Desmond left his room and entered the common area where everyone was gathered. “Anna will be joining us,” he announced.
“Seems a fair idea,” Brogan commented. “If she has gifts that can aid us, we can surely make use of them.”
Harper looked at Desmond and nodded, saying nothing. That seemed enough for the man. He smiled, nodded his own head, then went back to find Anna and whatever supplies they planned to take along.
Once he was away, Harper and Brogan looked to each other and held back the laughter that wanted to sneak out. Desmond would take it poorly and the man was very good with his axes.
The weather outside was colder, if the breeze through the doorway was an indicator, and so Brogan unpacked his tartan and swept the layers into place. Winter was creeping in and baring teeth of ice. He half-expected snow.
The rest followed suit, except for Harper, who preferred a proper cloak.
Most of t
heir gear was still with the horses. Desmond and Anna had more supplies, though only enough to accommodate riding on horseback. Like Harper, Desmond wore a cloak. Anna wore two cloaks, several shawls and enough cloth to make a few tents besides. Brogan stared only because it seemed impossible for so slight a woman to haul so much with ease. Besides her numerous layers she also carried the largest bag he’d ever seen. She made it look easy. Even as he contemplated her, she headed back into her house one more time, moving against the flow of riders ready to leave.
When they had gathered all they needed, Anna delayed, looking around one last time.
The sun was bright and just peering past the clouds. For a moment they were nearly blinded. Still, there was something, a sound, perhaps, or a smell. Whatever it was, Brogan paid attention. “We’ve company.”
The others listened, moving quickly and staying lowered in crouches as they made for the horse pens. In moments they were on the horses and ready to go.
The soldiers of King Bron were sporting about it. – they didn’t shoot when they very well could have.
Brogan had never met Ulster Dunnaly, but he recognized him just the same. There were tales aplenty about the man. He had served with King Bron and was, according to all of those stories, a nightmare to his enemies.
He was not handsome. His face showed a dozen scars, including where a well-placed mace had flattened his nose and shattered one cheek. Still, he had recovered from those wounds and had killed the man who administered them. He was not overly large, a little smaller than Brogan himself, but he was hard. There was no part of him that looked capable of being soft.
He stared directly at Brogan as he spoke. “Regrettably, King Bron must retract his previous judgment. You are found guilty of murdering the king’s guardsmen and angering the gods. You must be made to pay for your sins.” He looked around. “You and the rest of your crew.”
The Last Sacrifice Page 16