by J. L. Doty
The blind alley.
Never had a true name . . .
And he realized he’d always looked in the wrong place.
••••
Nicki struggled to get to her feet, almost couldn’t do it but somehow managed. She stood in the middle of the Decouix throne room, staggering like a drunkard. Nearby Olivia had only made it to her hands and knees, though AnnaRail stood over her, helping her up. Beayaegoath had summoned a massive outpouring of energies that swept all of their combined magics aside, a simple demonstration of how little their mortal powers mattered when pitted against that of a god.
One wall of the room had crumbled, crushing many beneath massive blocks of stone. Dust filled the air like a thick fog, and Morgin, Rhianne and the monster were nothing but hazy figures in the distance, though she easily heard the Dark God’s rumbling voice.
“Speak your glorious name, AethonSword. Speak it now, for it will be the last word you utter.”
Somehow she had to help. Nicki staggered forward, and as she closed the distance the fog-like dust parted. The Dark God stood at the base of the dais, holding Morgin up off the ground by his throat. Blood had streamed from Morgin’s eyes, ears, nose and mouth.
Rhianne lay in a crumpled heap of gown and petticoats at the monster’s feet. She struggled to rise, but one arm seemed to have a new joint in the middle of the forearm, and when she put weight on it she cried out and fell back down.
Nicki staggered forward as the Dark God shook Morgin again. Morgin tried to say something, but clearly in immense pain his words came out in a barely audible croak. “I . . . am . . . named . . .”
Morgin hung in the Dark God’s grip, his mouth open but saying nothing. Nicki watched fear and defeat appear in his face as the monster shouted out its triumph. But then Morgin’s brow furrowed in thought, and a sudden moment of clarity appeared in his eyes. He whispered, “I am Rat.”
“What?” the Dark God said, frowning. “What kind of a name is that?”
Morgin shimmered, the edges of his shape grew faint and indistinct, and he shrank, growing smaller as she looked on. His clothing shifted in a strange way, and she heard it tearing, ripping into misshaped pieces. Nicki couldn’t believe her eyes, for as each heartbeat passed, Morgin shifted and changed, until the Dark God held a filthy, malnourished child dressed in a cloak of dirty rags.
The Dark God grimaced with a look of distaste, then dropped the child. The little boy landed on his feet and looked up at the monster standing over him, his face smeared with dirt and offal.
Beayaegoath looked at the dirt and excrement on his hands and said, “You’re filthy.” It lifted a hand high, and swung it down toward the child with a blow aimed at taking off his head. But as the monster’s hand reached the spot where the child stood, the boy vanished.
The Dark God frowned, and in that instant the boy reappeared behind him, reached into his cloak of filthy rags, and withdrew the wicked little knife Nicki had given him in a dream. He stabbed out, burying the ugly blade in the god’s thigh.
The god screamed as a ray of intense, white light poured out of the wound, followed by an eruption of smoke and flame. The child jumped forward, wrapping his arms and legs about the monster’s waist. He plunged the blade into the god’s back and the monster screamed again. The child used the blade embedded in its back as a climbing spike, and pulled himself up. The monster roared with pain and staggered about, trying to swat the little being from its back. But its efforts proved futile and the boy climbed and stabbed, climbed and stabbed, each wound emitting a ray of intense light, and smoke and flame. Finally the boy reached the top of the monster’s back, grabbed the hair on the god’s head, pulled himself up so he was kneeling on the god’s shoulders, and plunged downward with the knife, burying it in the god’s eye. In that instant, both filthy boy and nether god winked out of existence.
Nicki stood there stunned, unable to move, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Rhianne’s whimper brought her back to the dust filled throne room. She staggered forward, bent down and helped Rhianne stand. Like Morgin, Rhianne had bled out through her eyes, ears, nose and mouth, and her face was a ghastly, red mask. But the tears that now flowed from her eyes were normal, clear, salty drops of water. She trembled with pain as she asked, “Where is Morgin?”
Roland walked out of the clouds of dust, with AnnaRail beside him supporting DaNoel. Nicki’s brother stood bent like an old man, his hands cupped over his ears, his arms and legs shaking with a fearsome palsy. He kept repeating, “In my head, in my head.”
Roland said, “Let’s get her out of here so your mother can help her.”
AnnaRail was by far the better healer, so Nicki nodded. They headed for the doors at the end of the room, she and Roland supporting Rhianne between them, AnnaRail supporting DaNoel. But something snagged at Nicki’s dress. She looked down and found Rat walking beside her, tugging at her skirt. She stopped, and AnnaRail and Roland stopped with her, giving her a quizzical look. Nicki nodded down at Rat and they both followed her gaze.
“Leave the city,” Rat said. “Do not dally. A god is dying this day, and the city will not survive.”
Nicki met her parent’s eyes, one then the other, saw her own fear mirrored in their faces.
AnnaRail shouted, “Olivia, BlakeDown, Theandrin, we must leave the city now, and quickly.”
Olivia had been helping Theandrin and she stopped, looked at them, and opened her mouth to say something. AnnaRail cut her off, “Don’t ask questions. If you value your lives evacuate the city.”
A wave of intense heat warmed Nicki’s back and shoulders. She looked down, and Rat no longer stood beside her. She looked back, and where the little boy and Beayaegoath had vanished earlier, a white-hot ball of flame had appeared, as if a small sun had blossomed in the throne room.
Roland picked Rhianne up as if she weighed nothing, turned and sprinted for the door. Nicki helped AnnaRail with DaNoel and they followed, the intense heat behind them growing with every step.
When they reached the drawbridges over the two motes they were slowed by hundreds of others swarming across them, with many in the water swimming desperately. Nicki looked back, saw that the central keep had collapsed in upon itself. It didn’t really burn, it just appeared to melt, turning the stone of the building into molten lava.
They ran on horses and on foot, shouting for all the residents to evacuate the city. By the time they staggered out through a gate in the city’s wall, Nicki could barely put one foot in front of the other. They didn’t stop until they had put several hundred paces between them and the city walls. Then they succumbed to exhaustion and sat down unceremoniously on the ground.
They watched thousands boil out through the many gates of the city. Among them loped a lot of odd-looking little dogs. Each had a sharp snout, large pointed ears that stood erect, and a long, bushy tail like that of a fox. Nicki realized she was looking at jackals, not jackal warriors, for without the Dark God’s power to sustain them, they had reverted to their natural shape.
Stragglers continued to trickle through the city’s gates, but tens of thousands did not make it. They spent the afternoon watching Durin consumed by the death of a god.
38
Forever and a Day
Seated on a large rock that JohnEngine had found for her, Rhianne warmed her hands by the fire and listened to the sounds of the Elhiyne army camped around them at the Lake of Sorrows. Across the fire AnnaRail sat with DaNoel’s head in her lap, stroking his brow. Roland sat beside her, his arms around her shoulders. NickoLot sat next to them, wringing her hands. All three of them had tears in their eyes.
DaNoel started and tried to sit up. “In my head, in my head, in my head . . .”
AnnaRail said, “There, there, son, it’s all right.” She soothed him and he slowly calmed, though he’d lost control of his bowels again and the smell drifted on the night air.
Without Morgin to send them back through his shadows, the armies of the Lesser Clans h
ad gone south down the Gods Road to return to their homes. They were equipped to travel, and had used very little of their supplies going north to Durin, so they didn’t go hungry. They’d even decided to leave behind a modest force of armsmen drawn from all four of the Lesser Clans. AnnaRail and Theandrin were adamant that someone had to organize and police the survivors of Durin, who were homeless and without food. Their bellies would complain, but Olivia claimed she could make Rastanna and Vodah contribute some supplies, so no one would starve, or fall prey to the inevitable banditry that would arise.
In the middle of the third day of travel Penda and Tosk had split off to cross the Worshipers at Methula, while the rest continued to the Lake of Sorrows. Tomorrow, those of Elhiyne would turn east to Kallun’s Gorge, while Inetka headed south and the Benesh’ere stayed at the lake. There was much debate among the whitefaces about what they’d do in the future.
Rhianne chewed on a piece of jerky and longed for a hot meal of roast pheasant, anything but journeycake, water, and dried or heavily salted meat.
Limping badly, JohnEngine walked into the light of the fire and sat down next to her. He stuck his hands out to warm them and said, “The jerky does get rather tiresome, doesn’t it? Now you know what it’s like to eat it day after day.”
She wasn’t going to complain. “It’ll do until we get home.”
“How’s your arm?”
AnnaRail had reset the bone in Rhianne’s arm, sealed the wound, splinted it and wrapped it, and created a charm to kill the pain. “It no longer throbs; the pain is manageable.”
Brandon stepped into the light, the stump of his left arm heavily bandaged. When the wall of the throne room had come down a heavy block of stone had crushed his hand, but it was his off-hand, so it could have been worse. He would make a good clan leader. “How is Morgin?” he asked.
For two days she’d had only a strong sense of Rat, but no Morgin, and that had frightened her, had frightened them all. Then in the early hours of yesterday her sense of Morgin had returned, and Rat had gone. “He’s okay,” she said. “I think he was hurt badly, but Rat healed him.” She didn’t say it, but she thought Rat might never return.
Only AnnaRail had come away from that throne room with nothing beyond minor cuts and bruises. She assured them all that JohnEngine’s limp would heal, but there was nothing more she could do about Brandon’s hand. Roland now had back pains that AnnaRail treated regularly, Nicki had a nasty gash on her shoulder, stitches holding it closed. Olivia had taken to walking with a cane, though she remained as imperious as ever. And then there was DaNoel.
Olivia marched into the light of the fire, leaning on her cane, but with her head held high. Rhianne suspected she leaned a bit more heavily on that cane when no one was present. “How is DaNoel?” she asked.
AnnaRail looked up and said, “We can no longer get any food into him, though if we could I’m not sure it would be right. I doubt he’ll last more than two or three more days.”
Olivia took a breath and looked down at DaNoel, who lay in AnnaRail’s lap, drooling like a child. “We’ll be back at Elhiyne in two days. We’ll bury him there.”
Rhianne saw an odd look pass between Olivia and NickoLot, almost as if they shared a sense of relief. They too probably believed it was better to let DaNoel go, rather than extend his suffering. That was kind of them.
France stepped into the light beside Olivia, and in the accent of a refined nobleman he said, “Your Ladyship. A private word?”
Olivia’s brows rose. “Certainly, swordsman.” She glanced at those seated around the fire. “But you can speak openly here. We’re all family.”
“About my wages, Your Ladyship. I hadn’t contracted for such hazardous duty, so I think a substantial increase is in order. And of course, it should be retroactive.”
Olivia’s eyes turned calculating. “But you’ll no longer need to give my grandson lessons in swordsmanship, so that’s a substantial decrease in your duties.”
“Oh no, Your Ladyship. He is still an exceedingly poor swordsman . . .”
As France and Olivia haggled over his pay, Rhianne thought, Two more days to Elhiyne. Will Morgin be there waiting for her? Will she ever see him again?
••••
Rhianne dreamed that Morgin’s lips touched her cheek with a feather-light kiss. Once they’d returned to Elhiyne she’d had similar dreams, and it always hurt to awake and find he wasn’t really there. She kept her eyes closed and lay there, thankful for the comfort of a real bed after so many nights sleeping in a blanket on the dirt near a campfire.
She must have drifted off, for again she dreamed that Morgin’s lips touched her cheek.
“It’s not a dream,” he whispered in her ear.
She started, rolled over, tangled her legs in her sheets, and there he was leaning over her. He’d lit a candle so she could see, and he bent down and touched his lips lightly to hers. He didn’t pull away from her, and with their lips barely touching she asked, “Why didn’t they tell me you’d returned?”
“Because they don’t know. I came in a shadow.”
“Where have you been?”
He frowned as if recalling something painful. “I was Rat for a while. It’s not easy killing a god, and I needed to heal for a bit.”
The frown disappeared and he smiled. “And then I had to find a place for us, a very special place.”
He lowered his head and kissed her on the neck, lowered it further and kissed her on the chest just above her breast, lowered it further and kissed her breast, sending a thrill through her. “Come with me now,” he said, and with her heart pounding she was ready to go anywhere he wanted. “I’ll take you to the place I’ve found. It’s a beautiful little cottage by a babbling brook. It needs a bit of work, but nothing a powerful wizard and witch can’t handle.”
She asked, “I hope it’s far from the old woman.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not far. We can ride there in less than a day, or step there in less than a shadow.”
She didn’t do a good job of hiding her disappointment as she said, “You know, she wants to have you crowned king of all the clans.”
He gave her a mischievous grin. “She has to find me first. And that she can’t do unless I want her to. My family and yours will only be a shadow away when we want to see them, but those same shadows can hide us from her just as well.”
He kissed her, not a soft kiss but a hot passionate one. “Come with me now,” he said. “That cottage is waiting for us.”
A thought hit her. “Does it have a nice, soft, comfortable feather bed like this?”
He frowned. “No, not yet. But if that’s what you want I’ll get one soon.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down and kissed him again with even more passion. She gasped as his hand touched her breast. “Soon is not soon enough,” she said. “We’re finally not in a dream, so perhaps tonight we can make good use of this feather bed.”
He ran a finger down her neck, then across her chest above the top of her nightgown. “You’re right,” he said, brushing his lips across hers. “The cottage can wait.”
The End
Here ends The Gods Within, in which Morgin and Rhianne have found each other, forever and a day.
Dramatis Personae
The Name of the Sword
Personae Decouix
Valso—only living son of Illalla and Merriketh, and King of the Greater Clans
Illalla—former King of the Greater Clans (deceased)
Merriketh Alaella—wife to Illalla and mother of his children
Mikal—Valso’s older brother, murdered by Valso
GregorDan—Valso’s older brother, murdered by Valso
Tarran—Valso’s younger brother, murdered by Valso
Haleen—only living daughter of Illalla and Merriketh, called The Mad Whore by some
Andra—minor Decouix nobleman
Thandin—an emissary to Elhiyne
Degla—minor Decoui
x nobleman
GeorgeAll—minor Decouix nobleman
Carsaris—an advisor to Valso and one of his most powerful sorcerors
Geanna—a handmaiden to Rhianne
Personae Rastanna
Oubba—Commander of Tharsk, the fortress at Methula
Carri—Oubba’s wife
Tarkiss—Oubba’s son
Andrew—an old country nobleman
Stetha—Andrew’s son
Personae Vodah
Xenya—a young noblewoman with a rebelious attitude regarding Valso
Alta—Xenya’s brother
Personae Kullish
Salula—Captain and commander of all Kulls
Verk—a Kull captain, subordinate to Salula
Mook—a simple Kullish guardsman
Brakke—Kull officer in command of the Kullish forces at Tharsk
Salya—a Kull lieutenant in Durin
Qartan—the Kull lieutenant that kidnaps Felina
Personae Elhiyne
Olivia—Head of Clan Elhiyne
Bertak—Olivia’s father (deceased)
Hillell—Olivia’s mother (deceased)
Karlane—Olivia’s husband (deceased)
Malka—Olivia’s oldest son and heir to the leadership of Elhiyne (deceased)
Marjinell—Malka’s wife
MichaelOff—oldest son of Malka and Marjinell (deceased)
Brandon—youngest son of Malka and Marjinell
Jinella—born Tosk, now Brandon’s wife
Roland—Olivia’s youngest son
AnnaRail—Roland’s wife
DaNoel—1st child of Roland and AnnaRail
Annaline—2nd child of Roland and AnnaRail
JohnEngine—3rd child of Roland and AnnaRail
NickoLot—4th child of Roland and AnnaRail
Morgin—adopted child of Roland and AnnaRail
Rhianne—the 4th of Edtoall and Matill’s four daughters, and now Morgin’s wife
Hellis—Olivia’s younger sister, took her own life in suicide (deceased)
Tulellcoe—Hellis’ only son, conceived by Illalla in an act of rape