Death

by Rosie Scott

  “Do you know why there was never a goddess of magic before Kai?” Azazel inquired, remembering the similar question I'd asked Ciro years ago.

  Hades chuckled roughly. “Jediael claimed the Ancients argued over the creation of such a god. Naysayers warned it could get out of control and that the creation could end up dominating the creator. Jediael told me that mages only have the innate ability to wield magic because of a compatibility with its language, whatever that meant. A god who knew all schools of magic would understand it so well, then, they could easily advance it. Given magic was the most powerful thing the Ancients ever created, they didn't want this getting out of hand. They wanted to maintain control. Creating a god of magic was playing with fire; if this god had a mind to, it could eventually trace its origins back to its creators and enslave them with its higher power.”

  “Now they are playing with fire,” Azazel mused, smiling over at me as he connected Hades's wording to my name. Kai ironically meant fire, and I'd been named simply for the bright red hair I'd had even as an infant.

  “The Ancients did not create you,” Hades told me. “They wouldn't have wanted to.”

  “Have you seen any signs of them over the millennia?” I questioned. “Surely, if you're correct about Arrayis being an experiment, they would want to check up on their results.”

  Hades pointed up at the starry night sky. “All the time when I was young. The first thousand years of our history, triangular vessels would appear in the skies, stay a while, and depart. Then, those stopped coming. The last of the ships with gods were delivered over time, but the others simply disappeared. I haven't seen one in over five thousand years.”

  “I wonder why,” Cerin pondered aloud.

  “Perhaps the Ancients went extinct,” Hades surmised. “Maybe Arrayis was not the only planet they played god over. Perhaps their creations finally caught up to them, and a perfect society was undone by an imperfect one. The Ancients were so obsessed with myths and foolish fantasies that even after they evolved past believing them, they embraced them. They deserved to go extinct.”

  “You mentioned the Ancients were human, but at least two of the oldest gods were elven, including yourself,” Azazel pointed out. “That would indicate the Ancients created the races before Vita did. Do you know how much of our world was created by them?”

  “Most of everything other than the land,” Hades replied. “Jediael said once that the Ancients prepared Arrayis for our arrival for sometime. His words are open to interpretation. The various races and their general dispositions were created by the Ancients before Vita used that blood to birth them. Creatures with ties to their myths were designed and bred. Many original gods were created as homages to the ancient myths of their world. Vita told me that I am one of them.”

  “You spoke a lot with Vita and Jediael,” I commented. “You must be fascinated by this much like I am.”

  Hades huffed dryly and looked out over the sea. “There were only a dozen of us on that piece of ice for years before mortals were brought into the world and civilization developed. At the time, I was your age and hadn't yet learned how to deal with boredom. I filled my time with conversation.”

  “Things have come full circle,” Azazel mused.

  Hades lifted an eyebrow and turned to look at his bench mate. “Temporarily, perhaps. Talking so much has pained my already damaged throat.” He frowned and glanced back toward the harbor which had gone silent during our long conversation as even the drunks and the mischievous went to bed. “I came out here to ask you about your allies. How did we get here?”

  It was my turn to chuckle at the other god's bafflement. “Perhaps half-breeds and mortals make fine conversationalists,” I suggested.

  “It was your idea to take a boat,” Cerin added.

  Hades glanced between the two of us in muted disbelief. “I'd forgotten what it was like to be teased,” he said dryly, before pointing toward the harbor. “Take us back, mortal.”

  Cerin reached behind him and grabbed the two oars. “Sure thing, full-blood.”

  Azazel stifled a chuckle at the necromancer's retort, and I turned my face to hide my grin in the shadows. Hades said nothing more, but his face remained free of irritation like he was impressed by the gall of mortals.

  Thirty-five

  From a window in the top floor of Narangar's castle at the highest reaches of the cavern, Calder gazed over the city's splendor. The sweet roasted scent of ferris overwhelmed me when I walked up to stand beside him. I breathed in deeply, comforted by the nostalgia that washed over me. As we both drank in the beauty of the architecturally complicated city from one hundred floors above its lowest level, I was bombarded with memories of fighting beside Calder in Quellden.

  Two fingers pinched the skin of my left hip through my leather armor before Calder tugged me close to his side. I chuckled softly at his sudden show of sentimentalism and returned the affection with an arm around his waist. He removed the cigarette from his mouth and said, “This reminds me of Quellden, love.”

  “I was just thinking the same.”

  “This is better, though,” Calder stated, letting his cigarette leak ashes onto the stone floor of the castle's great hall as his arm dangled by his side. “Sure, Narangar's full of stinky dwarves, but it doesn't have slavery, and conquering it didn't mean you were gonna leave me.”

  “You are so cute when you're clingy,” I mused.

  Calder chuckled roughly. “I'm not clingy, love. I just know a good thing when I get it. We kick ass together and I have so much fun with you and the other rejects that I want as much time with you as possible.”

  “By being clingy.”

  Calder snorted in amusement, and a puff of smoke burst from his nostrils. “Okay, fine. Call me whatever you want. It only calls your own tastes into question for being friends with me.”

  “My tastes are just fine,” I retorted lightly, squeezing him close. “Does this make you miss Quellden?”

  “Nope.” His immediate response made me huff with humor, and he went on, “I wish I could just transport the underground to the surface, love. I like ruling it, but I hate being there. After experiencing both the underground and the surface, my home just felt even more like a prison. It's odd, isn't it? All the things I hated about the underground like slavery, rape, murder, and injustice happen everywhere. But somehow, I'm so averse to experiencing it there. The underground is wonderfully unique, but the awfulness of the culture marrs its beauty. Did you find it beautiful?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “The underground's environment was so otherworldly. I found it awe-inducing.”

  Calder nodded. “I wish I could re-experience it with your eyes, Kai. But memories can affect our perspectives for as long as we have them, and if we are to live forever, those memories will last through the ages.”

  I found myself thinking of Sera. “Perhaps, over time, you can heal and make new, better memories to replace the others. It doesn't have to be painful forever.”

  “That's not really my choice,” Calder mumbled, dropping his cigarette on the stone and squashing it out with a boot. “I can't forget what happened to me there. I still have flashes of the abuse I went through. I still see the faces of some of the women, clear as day, like it just happened yesterday. Sometimes I use these memories to fuel me in battle, and when I do, the corpses I leave behind are barely strips of meat. It wouldn't be this way after seventy-six years of freedom if it didn't still affect me.

  “Certain things help people get over trauma, but can you ever truly heal the mind from tragedies? After obtaining freedom, I tried drugs, battle, new experiences, consensual sex and sailing to get my mind off of slavery. These things could make me temporarily forget or deny my memories, but nothing can take them away completely. The only thing that can help a mind overcome tragedy is time, Kai, and yet even one hundred years from now, I will still be a different man than who I was before all the rape and cruelty.”

  “You are a different man, perhaps,” I ag
reed, “but you are still a man who deserves the good things that you've earned. You are a man who's managed to make friends and build a kingdom and change the culture that formed you. Work on healing from trauma, Cal, not on healing who you are. You are perfectly fine being who you are. Flaws and all.”

  “As are you, love,” he murmured. “So many of us have had to heal from tragedies. It's interesting how we all do so differently. You have toughened. I tried to run and forget. Azazel avoids certain people and experiences that would remind him of his pain. Nyx is in denial. Years ago, Ricco lashed back at his slavers with equal vitriol, and Kyrin decided he'd rather die than deal with his memories. Whether or not these methods of healing work, we cling to them like lifelines and are forever changed by our experiences.”

  “What matters is how we proceed,” I told him. “If you can take those experiences and turn them into fuel for progress toward something you find meaningful, I would consider that a victory.”

  “Yes,” Calder began, his tone gaining an edge of jest, “because that is how you've always thought, love. In victories and losses.”

  “It's gotten me this far.”

  “I wasn't complaining.” Calder pulled his arm from my waist as the echo of an opening door traveled to our ears from the other end of the room. We turned to see the new arrivals.

  The great hall was a giant room which took up most of the top floor of Narangar's castle. Though it was split down its center with a hardy stone table that could seat one hundred men, the room was as wide as it was long. There was a cooking spit to adorn each of the hall's four corners. Between them on two sides were enough kegs of ale to align each wall from floor to ceiling. Three chandeliers spread their glow over the long table's green runner and plates abundant with food. Firelight flickered over décor on the walls comprising elaborate ceremonial weapons and large canvases of original artwork.

  The Seran Renegades and the Sentinels save for Marcus and Zephyr congregated in the room and quieted to greet the two men who walked in. Cyrus held the door open for Hasani, who exhaled heavily as his light eyes met mine.

  “Look who finally decided to show up,” I called across the room in jest.

  Hasani laughed in exasperation. “Good gods, sister! Could you have picked a worse place to meet?” He hesitated and pointed a finger east as if we could see through the castle's walls. “I don't know how, but I ended up near the mountain exit! The mountain! I had to ask some poor soul to point me in the right direction of the castle. You know what he said to me? He pointed at this damn place and said, 'sir, ya can see it from here.'” We all laughed as the king attempted to imitate dwarven dialect. Hasani couldn't help but grin as he finished, “I would've been pissed at the man's sass if it weren't for the fact he had a good point. Thankfully, Cyrus here found me wandering around on the gold platforms like a fool with drool hanging out of my mouth and had pity.” The king made a beeline for the roasting venison on the nearest cooking spit. “Getting lost made me hungry as a hyena. Make way.”

  “You live in the desert, brother,” I mused as Calder and I walked to the table to take our seats, “and yet you got lost somewhere that has signs on every street corner.”

  Hasani turned to look at me as he cut a chunk of venison off the slowly spinning deer. “At least Nahara has the sun that I can use as a guide! It's a wonder all the citizens here aren't pale and dying of sickness!”

  “Do elaborate,” Cerin commented, his own pale skin glistening in the firelight.

  Hasani chuckled and came to sit between Cyrus and Maggie. “You're supposed to be pale. I'd be on my deathbed if I didn't insist on leaving this claustrophobic cavern at least once a day to get sun.”

  “It will soon be Red Moon,” I told him, “and then your favorite season of the year, Dark Star.”

  Hasani huffed at my sarcasm and grabbed a knife to cut into his meat. “Snow is a curse from the heavens. You're lucky you're worth it, sister.”

  “You are lucky I put up with all of your nagging,” I teased. Hasani wrinkled up his nose in response and toasted to me with his ale. I scanned over the others at the table and asked, “Shall we start sharing progress with Dax and go around the table?”

  A few murmured affirmations echoed out on various voices, so Dax swallowed his mouthful of food and said, “All soldiers are healed. I passed everybody who needed medicinal support on to Holter. A few soldiers need prosthetic limbs. Maggie said she'd take care of that. Otherwise, we should have large shipments of ferris coming to the harbor within the year. I've been helping Calder introduce it to the local markets.”

  “And helping him smoke it,” I jested.

  Dax chuckled roughly. “Yeah, well, it's a nice change being able to without having to hide it. Cyrus made it legal for us but he doesn't smoke it himself. I don't get it.”

  “Kai's the same way,” Cyrus pointed out. “You don't have to experience something to consider its merits.”

  “But you can't know the pleasure of ferris until you experience it,” Dax replied smoothly.

  Calder chuckled across the table. “Join me on my mission, Dax. I've been trying to get Kai to smoke for years. If we work together, maybe all the rulers of the world will get high together.”

  Dax laughed and shrugged. “Ah, what the hell. Sure. Consider me your ally.”

  “Now I have two of you to look out for,” I lamented.

  “Just smoke it once and I'll stop bothering you, love,” Calder promised.

  “The more you try the more I resist, love,” I retorted.

  “Should I find that statement erotic?” Calder quipped, and we both laughed.

  “No,” Cerin said dryly, only amusing Calder more. “No, you shouldn't.”

  Uriel only chimed in once everyone quieted. “The trading route between here and Comercio should be established within the next few weeks, Kai. Sent a large shipment of food as you requested. Mostly fish, but fruits and venison and dried meat as well. I hope Chance receives it by the 30th of Red Moon.”

  “And you have received no communication from Zephyr?” I questioned.

  “None,” Uriel replied. “I can send a messenger to Comercio to request updates if you'd like.”

  “Hold on that,” I told him. “I'm certain Zephyr would send pivotal updates if she had them.” I glanced at Cyrus to confirm.

  “Zephyr has always been fantastic at defense,” Cyrus agreed. “Even in Eteri, she was second only to Naolin. If she had any suspicion of an attack, she would send a messenger well in advance of their arrival. Zephyr had those griffons scour the northern plains after Azazel killed that Twelve soldier every single night. The griffon riders became annoyed at her persistence. Trust me, Kai. She takes Comercio's defense seriously.”

  “Zephyr was honored you chose her,” Uriel added. “She'd give her life if it came to it.”

  “Let's hope it doesn't,” I replied.

  Uriel nodded. “Well, the only other thing I have to add is that all surgeries are completed. I offered my services for free to the populace a few weeks ago. Had quite a few citizens take me up on the offer. Mostly removing tumors, correcting misaligned bones, that sort of thing. Told them all that you were to thank, Kai.” The healer grinned and added, “They don't have to know you pay your surgeons with wine.”

  I laughed at the jest. “You're lucky I know you're kidding.”

  “Am I?” Uriel teased.

  Hakan went next. “Thanks for letting me sit in on this meeting of my betters, Kai,” he started in jest. “Not much to say here. I teach magic during the day and warm this guy's bed every night.” He jerked a thumb toward Uriel. “I'd ask to be considered for a promotion to Sentinel of Fremont eventually, but I wouldn't want the others to gossip about how I earned it.”

  Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn't worry about such gossip, Hakan.” The king took a sip of ale and added, “It's common knowledge that Uriel's treated really well.”

  The two lovers laughed at the jest. Hakan finally admitted, “Honestly, I like f
ighting beside Uriel. Don't put too much merit in that request. It was more wishful thinking than anything.”

  “Uriel and I fought together for many years while we were both Sentinels,” Cyrus replied. “Just because two men are leaders doesn't mean they must be separated. Besides, there is potential for other leadership positions to open over time. Don't think your deeds go unnoticed, Hakan. You've already been recommended to me, and by someone who's in this room, no less.” His light blue eyes traveled ever-so-slowly to mine.

  “I don't know why you'd recommend me,” Hakan said to me after noticing the subtle gaze from his king.

  “You risked your life to protect Uriel and made fantastic strategical decisions to do so,” I replied without hesitation. “I remember being impressed by your skill and sacrifice even when I was charmed against you.”

  “Well, thank you for saying it,” Hakan said politely, humbled by my admission.

  Cyrus's turn was next. “Finding places to hold the prisoners of war was far simpler than recruiting them, Kai. Few soldiers here want to join you. Those who do are only swayed by your offers of medical care.”

  “It works against us that most dwarves can't learn magic,” Calder added from across the table. “I can't convince them with offers of education.”

  “Many of the soldiers here either knew casualties of the harbor attack or joined the army specifically to fight against you, or both,” Cyrus went on. “Narangar has been a gold mine in terms of supplies and resources, but there's little hope of adding to your numbers here. Most new recruits are civilians.”

  “Ah,” I perked up at that mention. “So you are having luck in that regard? Why? Is it the lower district renovations?”

  “Somewhat,” Cyrus replied. “Some are looking for a new beginning in warfare. But the story I've heard from a few is that they're joining you because of your dedication to seeking vengeance for Bjorn's execution. Sirius's decision to execute Bjorn did not go over well with most of Chairel's populace. It's obvious just by speaking to them as often as I have been. Even those who loathe necromancy hated the decision. Bjorn was well-loved by more than just you, it seems, and the dwarves in particular have a fondness for him. It came as quite a shock to me because I didn't think Bjorn spent much time in Narangar.”