Immortal Progeny (Fragile Gods Book 1)

by Philippa Ballantine

  It was a simple scene, but ahead lay only whiteness and that consumed all Isobah's attention. It seemed like the right thing to do to drop to his knees. When he narrowed his eyes he could make out the long shrubs and rocks of the plain itself, but even that detail was shrouded in blinding light less than a mile out. The finger temples pushed out desperately towards it, but in the end were somehow insignificant against it.

  The light was not just blinding, it felt to Isobah as though he was being examined—as if it could see into him and right down to his bones—yet he wanted more.

  The guardsman began to work his way along the floor, drawn towards the Void and further along the finger of the temple. He needed to touch the light. If he were just closer, perhaps he would know the truth, and hear the words of his goddess. Isobah got down on his front, feeling the rough rock slice a thousand little cuts into his flesh, but he still inched his way along the finger. It got narrower, but he stretched out, straining every muscle to reach beyond the temple itself out into the God Void where answers awaited.

  It was Feculent’s voice that stopped him moving any further. Her mouth opened, foul and rotten as it was, the voice that came out of it was sweet. "No further, Isobah."

  He barely heard her. His desire to be closer to that light was overwhelming. He never wanted anything more in his entire life than to be joined with what was out there.

  Her hand closed over his ankle—the only piece of him she could reach considering he was laid out along the length of the finger. The cold of her flesh was a shock, as was the odor, but it gave him a moment to collect himself, to remember he was just mortal. A great shudder went through him as his body reacted to the loss of the light in him.

  "I'm alright," he gasped out, clenching his hands on the rough stone of the floor. "I'm alright."

  After a moment, the homunculus removed her hand, and Isobah recovered his senses. He rubbed his hands together, hunched over, and though he averted his eyes, even the reflected glare of the Void tugged at him. Still, he felt more in control and at the same time ashamed. As a guardsman he should have been better, stronger.

  It was apparent he was not the only one feeling that blissful madness. Isobah glanced to his left, just in time to see a women's dark shape fall from one of the other fingers, and there were others in the same position he was in. One tall, thin man only a few fingers over managed to get to his feet, and teetered on the fragile tip of his temple's reach.

  The look on his face was ecstatic, as he swayed there in a display of amazing balance, his arms outspread, with the reflected light of the God Void flickering over his features. For a moment Isobah was filled with incredible jealousy because the man looked so happy...beyond happy somehow. Then the man leaned forward, his fingers stretching beyond the level of the temple, out into the air of the Void itself.

  His hand touched something, punctured some invisible skin, and he cried out...first in delight and then in pain. The hand began to burst apart in a shower of tiny white sparks that blew away on the wind, but it did not end there. The cascade of them ran down his arm, undoing the frail humanity in a glorious and terrible way. All the time the man screamed, until eventually it reached his chest and head. Then he was gone, scattered into the God Void.

  Isobah crouched on the finger temple of his goddess and wondered at what he saw. The God Void was dangerous, he heard that, but the display drove home just how. It was a bucket of cold water over the guardsman, and he backed down the finger to stand on firmer ground.

  What had the Lightkeeper been thinking, choosing Isobah for this? If priests and priestesses could not be trusted to keep their heads in the presence of the God Void, then how could he? Kiya never talked of that experience, but he felt pride his wife had been there and lived. As Isobah levered himself up, he swallowed hard and looked out once again, with more respect and less awe.

  The white plain blurred into nothing. It was the place of the Schism, where the One God split, but it was also the place where new deities came from. Directly after the event, it was said hundreds of them came from the Void. Most found no followers and fell away into nothingness, but still new ones were born, though with less and less frequency. Isobah did not think a god came from there in many generations, but it was still the most sacred place in the world. He refused to think of those three poor girls his wife died for—they had certainly not been any kind of deity.

  It was said when the battle of the gods was done, all the temples would become the One God's again, and the Void would close. In that moment he couldn't believe such a thing would happen.

  Penance and the temples seemed eternal, terrifying and glorious.

  Glancing over the fingers once more, Isobah calmly noted how each of the temples vied to reach further out into the Void, teetering on the edge of entering the zone where madness and death happened. The display of its power had not only sobered him up it seemed, because there were others trying to reach out and touch it again.

  The edge he stood on right at that very moment.

  Isobah wondered about this place all these years, but the reality of it was so much more deadly than he imagined.

  "Now you see why two people are sent," the voice at the rear of the temple made Isobah spin around. The Arbiter stood in the shadows of the doorway, but did not enter the temple itself. Feculent stared at him, though he appeared not to even notice her. His eyes gleamed in the darkness, and Isobah felt he was being weighed and measured.

  Isobah straightened and stared at the twisted old man down. His interactions during his last visit with the Arbiter had been thankfully limited. Now the guardsman realized how much Kiya shouldered on his behalf. As the old man shuffled further into the temple, Isobah wondered just how old he was. He looked as ancient as the city itself, and that might even be true.

  Figuring that the Arbiter had already made up his mind about him, Isobah didn't think he had much to lose by telling the truth. "I can see that now." He cleared his throat and rubbed at his narrow beard. "I do not know why my Keeper sent me here. I am no diplomat, and I have no knowledge of this city, the God Void, or what the congress is supposed to do."

  "That much is obvious," the Arbiter said with a smile he might have meant to be kindly, but it only reminded Isobah of a snake baring its fangs. "You do not have the skills of your wife—that much is certain. Perhaps Mariki is testing you, or us...or maybe she has a plan." His hand tightened on the twisted staff he carried. "The congress is made up of some of the most skillful negotiators in all the temples. They will lie, they will cheat, and they will mock your lack of knowledge. Thankfully, Diligence as a flying city does not have much land to lose, but this can still be a dangerous place. Since the...incident…the Lightkeeper has not sent anyone—perhaps it was the best thing." As he turned to go he smiled, which was terrifying.

  Despite that, Isobah felt the need to try and get him to stay. He might be loathsome, but he also knew more about that place than anyone. Isobah was fully aware there would be no assistance from the other representatives, but he sensed for some reason the guardian of the temples had his interest peaked by Mariki's choice.

  "Tell me," Isobah said, his words tumbling out over themselves, "what happened to the one who reached for the Void?"

  The Arbiter glanced where he pointed, out into the air, towards the light. "He became one with the gods, which as you have seen can be rather detrimental to your physical health."

  "So no one has ever gone into the void whole and returned?" Isobah pressed. He thought of what the Lightkeeper said, that one day he would dare the God Void.

  "Gone in?" The Arbiter wiggled a finger at him as if he were a very naughty boy. "No. Only the gods come out." His eyes shifted to the gleaming white. "A glorious thing, lad, which is why I didn't think those girls would amount to anything."

  It was a feat of will that Isobah didn't rise to the bait. Squeezing his hands together, the guardsman pressed further. "So you have seen an actual god come from the Void?"

  The Arb
iter's expression softened and his clouded eyes fixed on some other place and time. "It was truly magnificent. Clouds of silver and white parted, and it was as though trumpets sounded as the Thunder Lord descended...but that was...long ago." He pulled his many-colored cloak around him.

  "Thunder Lord?" Isobah frowned. "I have not heard of that god in any pantheon..."

  "No, you would not. I fear they did not find their place in this world." The words seemed to actually hurt the guardian, for he closed his eyes for a moment, as if seeking courage. When he opened them again, he seemed to have lost interest in Isobah. He flapped his hand at him once more. "These congresses are by comparison pitiful." Then without a farewell, he sank back into the shadows and disappeared. Feculent shifted and let out a low groan that was impossible to interpret.

  Now the guardsman felt at an utter loss. He had never really considered what those three girls were, but in the back of his mind had been the hope that his wife had not sacrificed herself for anything but a god. The Arbiter—who should know such things—seemed certain they were not divine.

  At such a time, there was only one choice: prayer.

  Though Isobah did not know the form, he felt it only right to offer one up to his goddess in her temple. He turned back to the void, got to his knees, laced his hands over his eyes, whispered her name, and gave her thanks for having protected him thus far. The fair winds over which she presided would take his words to her. The emptiness of the place entered his heart, and he once again felt the whisperings of doubt.

  Pushing them away as best he could, Isobah stared at the God Void for a moment longer, trying to imagine what might lie within the bright expanse. No answers, divine or otherwise came to him, so he got to his feet. Other pilgrims would be waiting to pray in the temple once he vacated it, and he would not prevent them finding peace in that place. Mariki might not have many believers here, but he would be thoughtful just in case.

  As he strode back through the antechamber with Feculent trailing behind, Isobah felt the weight of exhaustion stealing over him, as if the God Void drained his strength for the day—either that or he was becoming far too old for so much excitement. Perhaps he was not as quick with the blade as he had been, but he still had plenty to offer the Lightkeeper—or at least he hoped he did.

  No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than the assassin stepped out of the shadows and came at him with a knife. The guardsman caught only a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye, but it was enough time for him to turn a step away from the blow. Instead of striking him in the back, the blade nicked Isobah in the shoulder and tore through his leather jacket. The sting of the cut was enough to remind the guardsman he lacked a blade of his own. Just as he turned to face the attacker properly, a second dropped from the rough stone ceiling.

  The second one had no knife, but did have a wire. Too late Isobah tried to get his hands up between his throat and it. Instead he began to choke as his assailant rode his back. The light from the God Void filtering down from the temples appeared to be the last thing he would ever see again.

  The Lightkeeper and the Arbiter were right; there were many dangers, not just mystical, in the city of Penance. It was a pity that he was never going to find out the rest.

  Chapter Twenty

  Finding a Path in the Dark

  Her mother was quite dead. Rowan tasted her blood in her mouth, felt all the fight and energy go out of Gentian as she slumped against her. That they would both be buried by Serey’s realm seemed only right.

  Then The Pierced Man’s arms went around them both, and for a moment she wondered if he too wanted to join them beneath the earth. His thorns appeared even as the dirt poured down on them and he snapped one of them from his arm, and slammed it into the flesh of his thigh.

  Rowan cried out, but her breath froze in her throat. The world screamed suddenly from thick dirt to sudden white, and her mouth and nose burned with the cold where they had been filling with soil.

  For a moment there was everything and yet nothing. It was like the place where she and Vervain connected, but far harsher and more terrifying. When she came back to herself, Rowan staggered, and would have fallen under the weight of Gentian’s body, but The Pierced Man held them both up.

  "If Mother could do this," she whispered, "there would be no stopping her."

  Taking Gentian’s body and letting it to fall to the earth, he smiled. “I believed you already stopped her.”

  Glancing back at him, she looked around. The close darkness of the trees and the broken stones were all gone. She was no longer in danger of being buried by Gentian’s final rage. Instead she was stood on a rock covered in moss, with a cold wind ruffling her hair. Rowan had never seen the mountains to the north, but she read enough about the grey, bleak surroundings to recognize them instantly.

  It was the place Gentian had hoped to take in the spring. She felt herself teetering on the edge of madness. In one instant she had killed the woman she called Mother and then been transported to the place Gentian had planned to conquer. It seemed the perfect irony.

  “What about Vervain?” she whispered, almost to herself. Perhaps her sister had been all a false dream.

  “I had to make a choice,” the Pierced Man replied. “I chose you.”

  She nodded at that and then glanced down at her mother’s body. She had always been a small woman, but now she looked positively tiny.

  "Don't be disheartened," The Pierced Man placed his hand gently on her shoulder, "She forced your hand."

  Rowan glanced up at her rescuer, and all the names for him came flooding back; Hollow Man, Storm Shadow, and worst of all chimera.

  In days long gone the chimeras threatened every temple and every deity, and for a while their fighting had been put aside to destroy those that claimed they were gods. They took the flesh meant for the holy work and bound it to their own skin, making themselves into monsters.

  Her mother read her horrible bedtime stories about chimeras and what they meant for the world. For many years she was terrified that one of them hid under her bed, ready to chew on her ankles and drink her blood.

  Ever since she descended into the dungeons, it had all been mad. She found herself floating in a fog of disbelief, and wondered if she would ever be able to get out of it. Everything she once believed in and held dear was gone. Her own mother drained her blood, and then came after her. Rage consumed Rowan, and she took a life. Just like that, she was a murderer.

  Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and with the taste of bile rising in her throat, Rowan dropped down to sit on the rock. Night was finally falling, and dropping a curtain on the mountain scape. It was the only kindness the day had offered so far.

  "And you think that makes it any easier for me?" she asked, her voice dry and cracked as if she had not used it for a long time. "What do you know? You are The Pierced Man, made for deception and lies."

  He let out a sigh, as if hurt by her carelessly flung words, and crouched down before her. He pointed at Gentian. "That is what your mother told you, isn't it?"

  She glared at him through swollen eyes, but nodded. If he struck now, she decided, she would die without a whimper.

  "The same mother who strung you up and would have taken every bit of your blood?" he asked, his words soft even as they stung like the lash. “The same mother you just took the life of?”

  She nodded again, that time more slowly.

  "Then you should perhaps learn the new truth," he said, pushing her hair from her eyes. "Yes...some call me The Pierced Man and other dreadful things, but I never had a choice. Like you, my mother used me for her own purposes."

  She licked her lips. "Wha…what were those?"

  She observed a twitch of his jaw, a twist of his lips that said he struggled with the words. Her own pain was still new and raw. It looked like his old pain felt the same.

  "She wanted me to be the answer, the one chimera to escape madness and actually become a god. These spines"—he held out his arm and
summoned them so they broke the skin, —"were implanted in me as I left her womb. I have never known a day without their pain."

  Suddenly he seemed more human as her issues grew less dire in the wake of his. Unfolding her hands, Rowan turned to him. "That is terrible, but you seem to do some good with them." She smiled uncertainly at him.

  His shrug was small, just like the slight smile on his lips. "I do as much as I can without drawing her notice. I am a disappointment to her."

  "At least you didn’t kill your mother," she whispered.

  He glanced at her and then away with a laugh. "No, though I might wish it,” he cheerfully admitted. "I have done a lot of evil, Rowan. I might not look young, but I am ancient. The chimera who were left after the purging by the temples went into hiding, most like me, in fact, went into a kind of hibernation."

  She could suddenly imagine him curled up in a hollowed out tree, sleeping like the beasts of the forest when winter came; halfway between life and death.

  He held out one hand and slowly extended the spines all along his arm from elbow to fingertip. Rowan watched carefully, observing how the spines pierced his skin, as if he'd been impaled on some truly horrific plant. At least a dozen of the dark barbs grew longer and longer as she watched. Yet, it was not without its cost.

  A slight flinching told her he felt pain as it happened, and there was also a trickle of blood that ran from each injury.

  Rowan bit her lip in sympathy and put out her own hand to touch one of the spines. However, he caught her hand before it could touch one.

  "No," he warned, "keep away, they carry a poison that even you could not survive."

  "But you pierced both Vervain and I..."

  "That was different, in fact the poison assisted bringing you together. Once in that union even the spine's poison couldn't touch you. Now?" He shrugged. "I would not care for you to try it."

  The Pierced Man was like nothing she was warned about, and Rowan began to fully grasp the scope of her mother's lies to her over the years. She glanced down at her body. Gentian must have suspected something was special about her adopted daughter, but she worked very hard to conceal that from Rowan herself. Instead, she'd been fed a diet of constant lies to keep her in line, and warned to ignore the whisperings all around her.