At last, the creature’s struggling ceased and it went still. I rolled it off me, jerking my blade from its torso, and rose, panting.
“Very nice,” Itazura said. He had dispatched the other shifter already. Now only Cleptos remained a threat.
Laetatia backed toward us, planting herself on my right side. Itazura stood on my left. We faced Cleptos with our weapons and satisfaction coursed through me as I realized we outnumbered him.
“I think you should return to your master and tell her you failed, Cleptos,” Itazura said, his green eyes narrowed. “Go.”
Cleptos drew something from his pocket. A small, obsidian gear that glinted in the light of the setting sun. A black flame was emblazoned on its surface “If I go,” he flicked the coin into the air. “I take you all with me.”
“He has Axira’s gear,” Laetatia warned.
“Shit.” Itazura took a step forward but not before the coin hit the ground with a high-pitched ping.
And my world was plunged into black.
When I opened my eyes, we stood in a globe of darkness. Not a dark room, but a globe. The darkness surrounded us on all sides, like a swirling black mist, rather than filling our space. I could still see perfectly fine. Itazura and Laetatia still stood on either side of me. Cleptos knelt in front of us, facing away, toward the tumultuous dark wall. I didn’t know why until the woman melted out of the black, as if stepping through a waterfall of darkness.
Her long, thick hair was the color of pitch and her dress the color of dried violets. She walked slowly and deliberately with an air of elegance few could duplicate. Her dark-violet eyes glowed with power.
Over her shoulder, she balanced the largest scythe I’d ever seen. Its silver blade was the size of my whole body and it looked sharp enough to cut through steel. The pictures didn’t do her justice but there was no mistaking it. The woman in front of me was Axira, Goddess of Death.
Great . . . Abyss.
Unlike the gods I usually associated with, Axira wasn’t someone I wanted to mess with. I could insult Itazura, punch Meroquio, and be a bit sarcastic with Laetatia. Even with Viden and Kaval I could speak my mind. But Axira? Forget it. If I said a wrong word, I would be dead.
If I didn’t say anything at all, I would probably be dead too.
Axira tilted her gaze toward Cleptos, “Thank you for bringing them here. Rise.”
“As you wish, my lady.” Cleptos stood and faced us again.
“It’s better that you’ve waited to kill the human,” Axira decided when her gaze locked on me. I shivered and struggled not to look away. “Perhaps now I can talk some sense into my brother and sister.”
“You’re the one who needs sense,” Laetatia said. “I know we’ve never been close, but you can’t be stupid enough to side with the Elder Gods. You’ll damn yourself along with us. Whatever they told you, they’re lying.”
Axira’s black eyes smoldered like coals after a roaring fire. “You think I am foolish enough to side with the Elder Gods?”
Laetatia flinched–actually flinched–at her tone.
“I’m not doing this to damn the realms, you idiot. I’m trying to save them.”
“What?” I stared. “How does killing me save anything? You’ll just throw the clock out of balance!”
“Ask Itazura,” Axira said coldly, turning her obsidian glare on the God to my left. He had remained oddly silent until now, but now he paled at mention of his name. “He knows exactly what I mean, don’t you? How typical of him to keep secrets.”
“What is she talking about, Itazura?” I asked.
“Yes, do share.” Laetatia seemed as confused as me. Her hazel eyes narrowed to slits. “Have you been keeping more information secret?”
Itazura didn’t look at either of us. He kept his attention fixed squarely on Axira. “You’ll still damn us all if you kill her and I fall from the clock face. We need all twelve gods.”
“In the long run, we have no choice. You know it.” Axira traced her pale fingers along the blade of her scythe. “Break your pact with her, Itazura. You’ve used her for your little game. You’ve spread the word of the apocalypse. End this foolishness and we’ll be done with it.”
Itazura turned to look at me for the first time. The look in his green eyes was completely foreign to me. Never had I seen such a dead-serious expression on his face. I took a step backward, eyes narrowed. “Itazura. . . .”
The corners of his mouth tilted upward. “Don’t worry, little thief.”
“Itazura, do it now,” Axira ordered.
“I don’t think I want to.” Itazura turned his gaze back on Axira. Now the slightest hint of challenge lit his irises. The mischief I knew well.
Axira pressed her lips together in a tight line. Silence filled the dark cell. “If you insist,” she finally replied. “Cleptos.”
A split second later, a tremendous force knocked into me and sent me flying several yards to the right. I heard Itazura call out my name and a sound like crackling electricity. The gods’ voices became oddly muted, as if I were listening to them through a window.
I gasped for breath on my hands and knees before I managed to raise my head and look around. A nearly invisible force field stemmed from the dark mist bordering us on all side, surrounding me like a dome. The translucent black curtain spanned from one edge of the space to the other and when Itazura touched it, his hand glanced off of it. He, Laetatia, and Axira stood on the outside.
Cleptos stood inside the dome with me.
Damn it all.
“Axira, release her now,” Itazura slammed his fist against the curtain. It shimmered but did not budge.
“I gave you a chance, Itazura. You should have taken it,” Axira said. “Cleptos, kill her.”
“Yes, my lady.” Cleptos lunged at me and I barely had enough time to break the fall of his razor sharp claws with my steel arm. The sharp ends cut through my sleeve like wet paper, but the arm held. I stumbled back a few steps as he slashed out again, closer towards the dark mist.
“Janet, stay away from the wall,” Laetatia warned. “Humans can’t survive in the Abyss. There’s no air for you.”
“Good tip,” I said, twisting around Cleptos so that my back faced the transparent curtain instead.
Cleptos only chuckled at this. “How long do you think you can hold out against me, girl?”
Now, I pressed the button on my wrist. As the blade shot out, I threw my arm out to the side and brought the blade across his chest. The point cut deep into his skin, causing silver blood to spurt onto my clothes.
Cleptos stumbled back a few feet, cupping a hand over the wound. His expression remained blank, un-contorted by pain. It was more of a “Hmm . . . where did this strange substance come from” kind of look.
I used his hesitation and confusion as an opportunity to draw back my fist and punch him in the face. Apparently minor gods bleed more than the higher gods, because Cleptos nose made a satisfying crunching sound the moment my elbow made contact. More silver blood spurted.
“You have your tricks and I have mine,” I said, holding up my blade arm. “And in answer to your question, I think I can last pretty damn long.” I swiped my blade to the side, flicking of stray blood.
“Let’s dance.” Then I flew at him, as if the odds were in my favor. Which they weren’t, by the way.
Cleptos had greater speed and strength and only my steel arm kept me alive. He was satisfyingly dazed by every punch I managed to land and that gave me the window to stab out at him with my blade, though he always managed to dodge the strikes intended for his heart.
I sliced him a few times across the shoulder and the side. The wounds slowed him down a bit but not much. Amid my heated fight, I couldn’t pay attention to what was happening on the other side of the barrier. A series of clangs and scrapes of steel on steel, joined by the occasional curse word echoed dully from the other side of the wall. A few times, I heard the whoosh of air as Axira slashed her huge scythe through the blackness, c
utting through the shadow like a beam of light.
Slowly but surely I began to tire, and the initial fervor of my attack began to fade. Cleptos began beating me down, nearly slashing me several times with his long claws. At last, Cleptos talons caught me across the face, leaving shallow but painful cuts through my skin. I gave a yell and threw out my left arm, backhanding him with a force that sent him reeling to the side.
There were times I loved metal limbs.
I let out something between a cry and a growl and rushed at him again, before he had enough time to recover. I sank my arm blade into his chest. The tip broke through the flesh of his back and he toppled backward. Cleptos shrieked as I jerked the blade out of his torso and plunged it in the second time, just to be safe.
Then a third.
And a fourth.
I just kept on stabbing, over and over again. I knew I couldn’t kill him but I wanted to so badly. I wanted just one of my enemies to fall or be hurt by my strikes. Why did all of my opponents have to be so damn resilient?
After maybe the eighth time I stabbed him, I jerked my blade from his flesh and stumbled back, panting heavily. Silver blood slid slowly down my blade, dripping from the tip and onto the dark ground. Against the blackness, the substance seemed to glow.
“Are you done yet?” Cleptos asked, slowly straightening as his wounds began to heal.
I nearly screamed.
The God of Beasts grinned, his head lolling slightly to the side. “I told you it was pointless. You put up quite a good fight for a human. I suspect it has something to do with that metal limb of yours.” He shrugged. “But it’s over. You can’t beat me. I’m immortal. And you are fragile.”
My knees began to shake and I nearly collapsed right there. I was so exhausted. Exhausted enough to just lie down and die.
Cleptos was approaching me now, his claws looking as sharp as ever, and in spite of myself I didn’t move. I didn’t try to run. I just stared at him.
“Janet!” Itazura called. “You have to move.”
I did. Backward. As he slashed out with his claws, I threw myself back–straight into the dark border.
And unlike the translucent curtain separating me from Itazura, this barrier didn’t stop me. I passed straight through the mist.
Into the perfect darkness of the Abyss.
eing a thief, I was familiar with the night, but I never knew true darkness until that moment. Never before had eyes seemed so pointless. I blinked and nothing changed. The eternal night pressed around me like the most suffocating of blankets.
Suffocating. That was a good word for it. Because when I opened my mouth to breathe, no air came to meet my lungs. A hollow choking feeling scratched at my throat and I sank to my knees. My hands stretched out in front of me, searching for the curtain of mist. Trying to find the protective dome again. But I felt nothing. Found nothing.
My lungs burned and I couldn’t rise again if I tried. The blackness pressed down on me, pinning me to the ground. If it was the ground. I couldn’t tell. At this point, I couldn’t be sure of anything. I was trapped in the Abyss, in a sea of dark, with no air to breathe.
Then came the wind.
Never had the sound of a crisp breeze been so welcome. It ran over my skin, my face, whispering to me in strange tongues. The same whispers I heard when I fought the wendigo.
I opened my mouth to breathe and the wind filled my lungs so sweetly I could have cried. I exhaled and inhaled again. The breeze came to meet me.
Janet.
I didn’t understand it. How could there be a breeze in this realm where no air existed? I didn’t understand the whispers. But I didn’t need to understand. I just kept breathing, in and out, in and out.
Rise.
The darkness did not press so terribly on my shoulders now and though my legs trembled, I rose to my feet. The breeze curled around my legs. My body. It pushed me forward through the endless night and I moved with it. One foot after another. Step by step. Inhale. Exhale.
I stepped through a cold mist and suddenly my eyes became useful again. I could see Cleptos at the edge of the black curtain, bowing to Axira. I could see Axira’s satisfied expression.
And I could see Itazura and Laetatia’s wide eyes as they spotted me, standing back in the globe. Breathing.
The breeze around me became a wind, swirling round and round my body like a twisting snake. It twisted up and up, gathering power. Gathering pressure. Axira and Cleptos noticed me now too, and Axira ordered something. I couldn’t hear her. The wind filled my ears.
Wind.
For a split second, silence filled the dome as if the wind had ceased. Then it exploded. I couldn’t see the air as it rushed at the translucent barrier but I felt the dome shaking in my bones as the curtain shattered into a million, smoky pieces. They drifted to the ground like dead leaves, dissolving into thin air.
For a long while, no one spoke. No one moved. Even Axira’s jaw had unhinged slightly. Cleptos looked to her for orders, but even with black pits for eyes, he couldn’t disguise his shock.
Itazura recovered first, leaping forward and grabbing my arm. I stumbled as he all but threw me to Laetatia. “Get her out of here now!”
“Itazura, what in Mother’s name just happened?” Laetatia demanded.
“I’ll explain later. Just go.” Itazura flipped his long knives in his hand and faced Axira.
“I’m holding you to that,” Laetatia said, reaching into my jacket pocket and pulling out her special gear.
“Hang on,” I whirled to face Itazura. “What about you?”
He forced a grin. “Go on, little human. I’ve got things handled here.”
Lie. Such an obvious lie.
“I can’t leave,” I said. “I won’t. What if–”
“I’m the God of Mischief, little human,” Itazura said. He barely ducked out of the way of one of Axira’s swings as Laetatia flipped the gear. “I’m sorry.”
The coin hit the ground and a blinding flash surrounded Laetatia and I.
When the darkness melted away, Itazura and Axira had disappeared. I stood once again in Laetatia’s tavern, in the very place Cleptos had almost killed me minutes ago.
Moments later, my legs gave and I sank to my knees. I barely had time to curse Itazura before everything went black.
I had to stop passing out. It couldn’t be healthy.
I didn’t know if gods could die. I mean surely some bad things could happen to them. They weren’t invincible. Maybe the weapons of the gods caused them more permanent damage or maybe all the power can be sucked from their body. Regardless, a week passed, and I could not find Itazura. He hadn’t ended the pact yet, so I had to lie low as much as possible, scanning every crowd for red-eyed shape shifters and creepy wendigoes.
I couldn’t go to Laetatia for help either. When I woke up, she had disappeared and though I stayed in her tavern all day, she never showed up again. That night, I managed to sneak into the center ring to the White Library to search for the Wisdom twins. But when I reached the center I only found Vaylerius, sitting amongst a pile of dusty scrolls.
“They’re gone,” he said simply. “Something big is happening with the gods. I think it has something to do with the war.” He leaned forward slightly. “Have you heard? About the war of the gods?”
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard,” I muttered.
I spent most of my time in the old clock tower where my team and I used to meet before our heists. I had to stay out of the house because my mother was especially busy with her work now. The world’s end brought good fortune to one business at least.
I tried to imagine things as they were before, that day just over a week ago as we prepared to rob Amontillado’s temple. Parker playing with his explosives, Sid loading up his pistols and Sylvia winding that same thread around her finger, over and over again. I tried to imagine our casual banter and the sound of their laughter echoing off the walls. That day, we really believed we were going on a routine heist. I believed it.
Slowly but surely, the rumors in the city took hold. Rumors of the stirring Elder Gods. Panic set in among the population. More nomads packed the streets more than usual. Kabila already faced the wrath of the Elder Gods and tensions were mounting in Tiyata. Religious figures swarmed the crossroads, preaching for the masses to repent and put their faith in the Clockmaker, for the twelve clockwork gods had led us astray. Each time they stopped me and thrust his sign at my face I sighed and held up my ticking pendant.
“I’m covered. Relax.”
Though, lately, the God of Fate and Time was pissing me off.
Beasts of the Abyss became more frequent visitors to Fortuna as well. Sightings of wendigoes and shape shifters shot up, and so did the death count. Not only did I have to deal with avoiding monsters targeting me, but I also had to avoid random encounters with creatures who just wanted to devour my soul for the fun of it.
The trouble came on the day I ran into an old friend.
“Hello, girl.”
I whirled around to see a familiar shape shifter standing at the head of the clock tower, red eyes glowing in the dim, evening light. Honestly, many shape shifters looked the same with their sharp teeth and crimson eyes but this one was hard to forget. He had, after all, nearly killed me.
“You again.” I sighed. “Damn it, there’s no point in killing me. The humans are already warned of the apocalypse. Leave me alone.”
“On the contrary,” the shape shifter said. “I think there is a point to killing you. I can still bring down a god with your death.”
Hour of Mischief Page 20