Teeth of the Gods

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  One hundred steps upwards, and my breath was heavy. Two hundred, and my legs ached so much that I barely managed to continue on. At three hundred, I would have stopped, but my pride carried me on. I could be seen by those below, and I did not dare let them think I was weak. My only hope was that the High Tazmin had also had to climb these steps and that he may be as weary as I was. On the four hundredth step, I stepped through the arched door, my legs jelly and my lungs burning.

  The shrine was elaborately carved from the stone of the falls in a whorl and star pattern that I recognized from Catane’s tattoos. At one end of the tiny shrine was a strange metal door but everything else, even the small benches, were carved out from the stone.

  Standing in the center of the room was my groom, dressed in the flowing costume of Canderabai. It was worked with opulent white embroidery on black, but something about how he stood told me that it would be no impediment if he chose to act. In his hands he played, idly, with a wide-bladed sword. It shone so bright and clear that occasionally it reflected his face in its broad blade.

  I eyed him up and down critically, while he did the same with me. He was an attractive man in his late-forties, I judged - an older version of Catane. He was well-muscled just as his son was, tattooed with the usual black tattoos, rather than Catane’s golden ones. It was hard to decipher their pattern against his black skin. Above his ears, his hair was frosted with age, and tiny lines surrounded his eyes. If I had been choosing a man based solely on looks, I would not have turned my nose up at him. More than that, his stance and confidence spoke of the power and authority he held, and he handled the sword like he knew how to use it. His eyes sparkled like windows into a keen mind. No, he was not a shabby choice for a husband ... if things had been different. If I hadn’t already fallen completely in love with his lion of a son.

  His voice was baritone when he spoke. “A gem of the south, and well worth the wait, but I can see from the look in your eyes that you belong to another.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Did that mean that he would let me embrace a future with Catane instead of marrying him? He tapped his chin with his forefinger.

  “What shall I do with you, little princess? I would like to add you to my collection, but I demand full devotion. Do I need to kill this man you love to achieve it?”

  “No,” I gasped.

  The High Tazmin let out a long sharp whistle, as if he were calling someone or something, and then he took a step forward, circling me, his gaze trailing over my clinging sarette and ruined makeup. When he was finished he reached out and tilted my chin with that same forefinger.

  “I like what I see. I shall keep you. Your heartstone speaks of power. You are a powerful weaver, this is true?”

  I swallowed, fighting to keep my expression stony. “Yes.”

  He smiled with so much charm that I wondered if he could have been High Tazmin even if he had not inherited the role. He certainly had all the qualities men looked for in a leader.

  “I thought so,” he said. “But there is the matter of loyalty.”

  I heard a scuffling, and then the High Tazmin strode to one of the huge recto-arch windows that filled three of the four walls of the shrine. He moved his hands and I saw him weaving the Common with skill and ability like I had never seen before. His weaving was perfect, each strand controlled with precision. I could tell he was pulling something heavy up to the window with nothing but the strength of his weaving. Whatever it was caught on the edge of the window beyond but then he tugged quickly and the heavy object flew over the window ledge and tumbled across the mosaic floor. I leapt back, gasping.

  Moaning, but springing to his feet with volcanic energy, Catane was no longer huddling in a priest’s cage.

  “So, you have decided to kill me face to face. I respect that,” Catane said.

  The High Tazmin looked back and forth between us, lightning fast. “So, it is him that you have given your loyalty to, little princess. I can’t allow that.”

  “Please,” I said. I’d never seen anyone as powerful as him. “Don’t hurt him and I will marry you.”

  “That is already assured. But will you give me your full loyalty? That is what I want.”

  “Leave her out of this,” Catane snarled. “Set me loose and return my stone and we’ll fight man to man.”

  I realized, then, that his flashing heartstone was gone. I swallowed, instinctively clutching my own. Without it, I would be helpless as a babe – as he was right now – unable to touch the meditation world, or the Common.

  “He won’t be leaving this tower by the stairs, Amandera Mubaru of Aradivia,” the High Tazmin said, smirking. “And so, I put it to you. Shall I fling him from this shrine for his crimes – and yes, I know what they are – or let him leave through this door?”

  I sent a frantic look to Catane. Where did the door lead? He shook his head.

  “No one knows where it leads,” the High Tazmin said. “It might be the gate to hell. We are the only three people in this generation who have ever seen the inside of the High Tazmin’s Rainbow Shrine.”

  I swallowed. It was a door. That had to be better than falling through the air to his death.

  “And he will be free beyond that door?”

  “As free as any of us are,” the High Tazmin said, “and you will swear your loyalty to me.”

  I looked at Catane. What did he want?

  “Don’t look at him, look at me!” the High Tazmin snapped. I sucked in a breath, my gaze shooting back to him. “This isn’t his decision. It’s yours. Decide.”

  I swallowed. The answer was obvious, wasn’t it? But that was what made it so bad. What could be behind that door that made it worse than falling to your death? I had been avoiding Drusica, not wanting to hear what she would say about my problems, but now I threw my soul into the meditation world.

  “Drusica? Are you there? Help me!”

  There was no reply. It was just me, the High Tazmin, and Catane. I would seal myself in the hell of my own choosing today.

  “The door,” I whispered.

  “And?”

  “And my loyalty is yours.”

  He smiled, walked to the door and there were some clicking noises as he worked a device on the doorframe, and then it opened, inwards. On the other side a rocky, barren landscape spread out. There were no flames of hell, no ravenous beasts, or deadly drops, but the moon was up and it was huge, bright, and singular. I had never seen just one moon in a sky before.

  I sought Catane’s eyes and he sought mine, both of us trying to communicate in one look everything we were feeling. The High Tazmin pushed him forward with a weave of air. He stumbled through the door, glancing back at me with fear in his eyes. Already, the High Tazmin was weaving it closed. I caught my last glimpse of him standing tall and straight, his back to me, with the wind howling around him. I hoped that my tears blended in with the water on my face.

  “If you ever speak his name, I will find out, and I will raze Aravidia to the ground,” the High Tazmin said. “I will see you in two days’ time. My slaves have prepared a dress for our wedding like nothing ever made before by man. You will look glorious in it.”

  I nearly stumbled on the first step back down, but he caught my arm. “Don’t fall, beloved. I don’t want to see you dead.”

  It never occurred to me to try to challenge him. Not now that Catane was gone.

  I HADN’T HEARD SO MANY instruments in my life. The sound of festive tunes drifting up to my balcony made Azaradi seem even more foreign than the strange spice burning in the incense holders in the room beyond me. If I could have chosen, I would be out dancing in the streets with the long lines of cheering, drumming people, twisting like snakes across the streets of Azaradi. They would dance and feast for four more days.

  In a moment, I would shed the white sarette with the long train and dance the lasharanta – the one I had practiced in the desert – for a man who had easily banished his son just to force my loyalty. And I would do it skillfully wit
hout ever letting him see my mask crack. He must never know that my heart still beat with the silhouette under the single moon.

  “Brides shouldn’t pout,” Drusica said from beside me. “If I had known about the son, you know I would have put a stop to it.”

  “I should have tried weaving something, should have tried to stop him. There was no one else in that shrine.”

  She spat. “Ha. If you had tried to weave, I would have seen you and I would never have allowed your link to the Common. The disaster of prophesy will come soon, the one of legends, and you must be ready for it. Your place as a consort of the High Tazmin will give you the power and position you need to save this world. Never forget it.”

  “Is that the reason I’m here? It’s not just Aravidia you wanted me to save?”

  “Of course not. We’ve had plans for you since the moment I realized your full potential. Now, do your duty – this world is depending on you.”

  “Depending on me to make a villain happy on his wedding night?”

  “If that’s what it takes, Amandera, then you will do it, and consider it a joy.”

  I gritted my teeth, grateful when she left my consciousness. The High Tazmin wasn’t here yet, but the slaves said he would be before the red candle burned down. It was nearly down to the last inch. I wanted to spend the last moments of freedom looking out over the city that was currently celebrating my defeat.

  There was a ripping sound behind me in the room, and I spun, pushing through the diaphanous curtains. Was the High Tazmin back? But, no. There was a tiny ... rip? ... in the air and hanging out of it was a cord. Curious, I tugged the scarlet cord, and the rip in space widened to a door. On the other side was a foreign room I could never have placed, but there, right in the middle of the door was Catane.

  I gasped, and threw myself into his arms. He held me close, his grip desperate as he kissed my hair. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into his love. I didn’t dare think about how it could be, or what would happen next.

  “You’ve come for me,” I gasped.

  “Not yet,” he said. “I can’t take you with me yet, but I wanted to see you. I needed to tell you ...” his voice faltered, but then he cleared his throat and spoke more firmly. “I have a plan. Stay with my father. Learn everything you can from him, and before you know it I’ll be back again and together we’ll conquer this empire and take it as our own.”

  “But-”

  He cut off my words with a kiss, and I knew there would be no bending his will, because his kiss said goodbye in a way that was as final as it was sorrowful.

  “I can’t stay,” he whispered. “Promise you’ll wait for me.”

  “I’ll give you anything you ask for.” My voice was breathy.

  “Then promise.”

  “I promise,” I said, and I meant it.

  I meant it when he gently set me back from the door and then closed it between us. I meant it when I put away the long wedding dress. I meant it when I danced a dance that should have been for someone else. And I meant it in the long years that followed.

  Behind the Scenes:

  USA Today bestselling author, Sarah K. L. Wilson, hails from the rocky Canadian Shield in Northern Ontario where she lives with her husband and two small boys. Her interests include the outdoors, history, and philosophy. Her books are always about fantastical adventures in other worlds.

  Sarah would like to thank Harold Trammel, Eugenia Kollia, and Sarah Brown for their incredible work in beta reading and proofreading this book. Without their big hearts and passion for stories, this book would not be the same.

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  Visit Sarah’s website for a complete list of available titles.

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