by Scott Mebus
“And there I should have died, but for this damn rune on my forehead. Instead I had to watch my men die, one by one, and something in me broke. I washed the rune from my skin, ready to follow my men into death. But still I did not die! Months passed, and though I should have perished, I continued living. When that ice floe floated to the mainland, I began to walk. I trekked across the tundra, down through the forests of Canada, all the way to the mighty river.
“At long last, I reached the island. I marched into the very forest where I’d met the Lady, shouting for her to come to me. Instead, Alsoomse found me. She bore a message from the Lady. I was to follow the path down to her garden, where we would meet.
“I followed the path, which led to a raging underground river, which in turn carried me down to the underground lake. Then the creature attacked. I had never seen an alligator before, so I didn’t know that was what it was, but it terrified me. I started throwing things at it, trying to drive it away, and without thinking, I tossed a bundle of letters I carried from my wife into its hungry mouth. It swallowed the last link between me and my beloved family, and then it disappeared back into the lake.
“Overcome, I fell to the beach and sobbed. Eventually, I spied the cave in the wall, and I staggered down the tunnel to this very garden, where the Lady was waiting. She still wore my wife’s face, and I could not bear to look at her. I collapsed, refusing to meet her gaze. She did not care. She was relentless. I had broken my promise, she told me. The Europeans were coming, and they’d be here within the century. I begged her for death, to end my guilt, but she refused. Instead, she told me that I was cursed to remain alive through the long years, to witness what my faithlessness had wrought. I would suffer until the day I could redeem myself. Which I soon found myself unable to do.
“Eventually, the Dutch arrived to colonize, and soon after came Willem Kieft. One day he discovered me in the woods, and recognizing that I was special in some way, he captured me. He tortured me, using methods I cannot bear to relate, and found, to his delight, that I could not die. So he pushed me well past the point of death, over and over, using all the black arts he’d mastered over the years, until I broke again, this time so completely that I could not cross him if I tried. The memory of the agony he inflicted on me was too great. He owned me, completely.
“Through me he learned about Mannahatta. He forced me to show it all to him, and then he went one step further. He hunted down Alsoomse, and captured her. He forced her to tell him every secret she knew, until finally she died, passing beyond the spirit world to someplace I will never see. I wanted to stop him, but I couldn’t. He was too strong. And with Alsoomse’s magic, he was more powerful than ever.
“Now that he had the Munsees’ magical secrets, he wanted them gone so that only he would know them. He began to make up lies about the Munsees, preparing for a slaughter. I wanted to expose Kieft, but in the end I couldn’t do it. I was too frightened of the pain to speak. And the Munsees died for my weakness.
“Kieft was finally arrested, of course. But on the night before he was to be sent back to Amsterdam, he came to me. He wanted one last thing from me—my immortality. Using some black art I am glad not to know, he ripped out a tiny piece of my spirit, sending it deep inside himself. The pain was beyond belief. And from that moment on we were bonded. So long as I lived, he would live. And I could not die. So he could not die.
“The next day he sailed away to Amsterdam, and when I heard that the ship had sunk, I felt no peace. For I knew he wasn’t dead. And, sure enough fifty years later, he returned, disguised, and he sought me out. He had a new plan, you see. He noticed all the gods that were popping up. Verrazano, Minuit, Van der Donck. He wanted their power. I don’t know how he managed it, but somehow he made a spell, using Munsee magic he’d ripped from poor Alsoomse, to create a knife. This wasn’t the same kind of knife he later made, though it was an early prototype. This knife could do one thing—it could steal the power of a god.
“He then set out to trap a god—Peter Minuit must have been the first one he happened upon. The gods had a tenuous grip on the spirit world at this point, and Kieft knew no one would miss Minuit, who was no match for Kieft’s magic. He sliced that poor Minuit’s locket in two and placed it around his own neck. It didn’t make him a god, but it gave him the appearance of one. His own power easily helped maintain the illusion. He hid Minuit’s body away and switched the god’s portrait in the Portrait Room, covering all the bases.
“So now Kieft had joined the ranks of the gods, but it would mean nothing if the newcomers faded from Mannahatta. He knew from my tale that the Lady had not wanted the Europeans to come. He realized that the land needed to be appeased. The newcomer gods needed to prove they would respect the land. So he came up with the idea of a compact, an Agreement with the land. He forced me to lead him and Van der Donck down to this very garden. Secretly, I was sure we would all be destroyed by the Lady. But I was mistaken.”
“Though Kieft’s intentions might have been foul,” the woman said, interrupting Henry’s story, “I could tell that the others truly wished to honor me. They wanted to be a part of Mannahatta, just as the Munsees did centuries earlier. The Agreement itself was nobly offered, proving that the newcomers deserved to be remembered by me. Of course, if Kieft had sacrificed Adriaen as he’d planned, I would not have made any agreement. But I knew by then that the newcomers should be allowed the chance to make an honest pact, so I arranged for Adriaen to survive.”
“An honest pact?” Henry said, shaking his head. “There was nothing honest about Kieft. You thought you were neutralizing him by taking his magic away, as his sacrifice, but he’d already removed it himself. He’d stuck it in my head! He simply took it back from me—painfully I might add—when we returned to the surface. I not only made sure Kieft lived forever, but I helped him become a god and I made sure he held on to all his magic. Plus, now all the gods were tied to rules that he himself did not have to follow! He wasn’t a god, not really, so he could go anywhere, and more importantly, kill anyone he pleased.
“Of course, he still hadn’t worked out how to kill a god. The Munsees could do it, but he couldn’t. It took him a few centuries, but he finally figured it out. And the day of reckoning is at hand.
“So now you understand my shame. This is all my fault. If I had kept my word in the first place, I would have long passed on and none of this would be happening. Instead, war is breaking out and Kieft is threatening the very fabric of Mannahatta. All because I was too weak.”
“But the time has come for the redemption you were promised,” the woman told him. “Kieft is collecting godhoods, gathering all the power up for himself. If he has his way, he will be the only divine figure left in all of Mannahatta. I will not let that happen. Rory, I have something I must ask of you. Expose Kieft for what he is—a liar, a thief, and most certainly not a god. Minuit’s body will be proof. You must hurry, the fighting has already begun.”
“Why will they listen to me?” Rory asked, still reeling from the story he’d just heard. “I’m just a mortal.”
“You carry the power of the Sachem’s Belt inside you,” the woman told him. “That belt was created by Alsoomse herself. Use it to make them believe you.”
Rory took a deep breath. He could do this. Kieft was going down, and Rory would be the one to see that he did. No matter what.
26
HONOR AMONG THIEVES
Soka’s mind hovered over the battlefield as she did her best to save her people. The animals had come at her call, and they were doing significant damage. But too many good spirits and gods were being overwhelmed by their enemies—she’d seen more than a few fall. The battle right outside Turtle Pond was especially fierce, with Nicholas Stuyvesant and Buckongahelas fearlessly leading their men into close combat with Kieft’s soldiers. Toward the outskirts of the battlefield, Soka spied bodies upon bodies, strewn about like sticks, and to her horror, shadows crawled among them. Looking closer, she realized that the ga
ng boys were methodically moving from body to body, taking their lockets. Sometimes a god still breathed, at which point a knife would flash and the god’s life would be ended on the spot. To Soka’s horror, she saw these cowardly murderers killing gods on their own side, as well as hers. It didn’t matter to the gang boys—they just wanted the lockets.
She was about to intervene, when she heard screams. Returning her attention to the battle by the pond, she was just in time to see Nicholas thrashing about, a terrified expression on his face as he clawed at the air. Soka felt the power surrounding him and she quickly rushed in, pushing the malevolent force away. Nicholas regained his senses, just in time to evade a crooked cop’s billy club. Alexa ran up and knocked the cop unconscious, and both Rattle Watchers reentered the fray.
Determined to take the fight to the enemy, Soka followed the power to its source, far across the Great Lawn in the shadow of the far trees. Askook stood there, wolves surrounding him like guardians as he knelt over a pool of blood and worked his will on the tide of battle. Soka knew she needed to do something to contain this traitor’s power, but she felt stretched so thin. There was hardly anything left. She was too weak.
Then she felt it, surrounding her. A presence, a strength, flowing up from the earth and enveloping her, replenishing much of the power that she had expended. At first she thought it was the Lady, coming to her aid a second time, but something, a breath of wind, touched her cheek, and suddenly she could feel her mother’s love, giving her everything she would ever need, as she always had done. Soka pushed a portion of her renewed strength toward Askook, holding his will at bay. She felt his fury, beating at her, but she did not break. She knew she was not strong enough to keep him back forever, but for the time being, he was contained. Her mother’s presence faded, sinking back into the earth, but Soka had no time to mourn its passing. Too many lives begged for her protection. She concentrated on the fight with redoubled efforts.
On the ramparts of Belvedere Castle, Soka stood tall, eyes closed, as her mind worked its will on the battle. If any saw the tears falling unchecked down her cheeks, they did not say a word.
Rory didn’t know how they made their way back to the surface. One minute they were in the garden and the next they were standing at the edge of the Great Lawn in the middle of a war.
“What’s going on?” Bridget asked, gazing around in wonder. “Is that a giant turtle?”
Rory could barely see for all the fighting. Belvedere Castle rose in the distance, and he could discern the Munsee and their friends holding off the enemy.
“Where’s Hex?” he asked, looking around. The magician was nowhere in sight.
“He ran off the minute we arrived,” his father said. “Though he’ll be disappointed to find the Lady didn’t let him keep any of the treasure he stole.”
Rory didn’t mourn the loss of the fallen god—though he could have used his magic in this final battle. He looked around, finally spotting Kieft standing on a hill, smiling as he observed the fruits of his labor.
“Can you expose him from here?” Fritz asked Rory.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!” Rory admitted.
“We confront him,” Henry said, setting his shoulders. “We can’t do this in the shadows. We confront him on the hill, where everyone can see, and you expose him from there.”
“But he’ll kill us!” Fritz yelled.
“Leave that to me,” Henry said. But before Rory could take a step, arms encircled him from behind, holding him fast. Looking around in a panic, he saw Bridget, his father, and even Fritz in the clutches of the last creatures he ever wanted to see—the Brokers of Tobias. There, out of the trees, strolled Tobias himself, waddling his way to them. At his side walked Boss Tweed and Mrs. Astor.
“Look what we have here,” Tobias said, his calm truly disturbing in the face of all the fighting. “Now, this is a prize.”
He glanced down at Peter Minuit’s senseless body, lying on the grass where Henry had dropped it. “And what is this?”
Rory saw his chance. “Your master is not who he says he is! Kieft is a mortal who stole his power! He took his godhood from Peter Minuit! That’s Peter right there! Kieft has been lying to you and he plans on taking everyone’s power for his own!”
“What are you talking about?” Tweed asked, his face troubled.
“Kieft isn’t a god?” Mrs. Astor said, horrified. “How can that be?”
“Does it matter?” Tobias said, shrugging. “He is just as powerful.”
“Of course it matters!” Mrs. Astor spat. “There is too much . . . democracy going on around here! Lowly spirits becoming gods. Mortals becoming gods! That is not the Mannahatta I want to live in!”
“Then walk away,” said Caesar Prince, stepping out of the trees.
“I knew it!” Tweed said, pointing a finger. “You were never on our side.”
“Are you happy with how this is turning out?” Caesar asked, ignoring Tweed’s accusation. “When this is over, will you feel safe?” Rory thought he saw Tweed flinch. Caesar continued: “Are you sure you want to live in Kieft’s new world?”
“You’re just trying to trick us,” Mrs. Astor accused him.
“What if Kieft wins?” Tweed asked, more pragmatically. “Where will that leave us?”
“Dead, most likely,” Caesar replied. “No matter what you do, Kieft will kill you, or one of your own lackeys will do it in order to claim that juicy locket around your neck. You can’t win. So walk away and let the Light do what he must. Tobias!” Caesar stared at the God of Banking intently. “You know what you have to do, Tobias. Just walk away.”
Both Tweed and Mrs. Astor turned to Tobias, whose face had gone white. To Rory’s shock, the God of Banking, Kieft’s most loyal supporter, nodded at his Brokers, who dropped their arms, releasing their prisoners. The rotund god then turned and walked away, disappearing into the trees with his green monsters on his heels. Tweed and Mrs. Astor looked as shocked as Rory felt, but Tobias’s retreat pushed them into action; they quickly ran off in the direction of the park exit, leaving the battlefield for good.
Caesar turned to Rory and his companions with a twinkle in his eye. “Kieft inspires a lot of things—fear, for example—but loyalty is not one of them. Oh dear.” He grabbed at his neck, and when he pulled his hand away, he held two lockets dangling from his fingers.
“Oh no,” Henry said, his eyes sorrowful.
“It’s all right,” Caesar assured them, smiling his toothy smile. “I knew it would come to this.”
“What happened?” Rory asked, confused.
“I turned my back on my godly duties one time too many, and I lost my godhood. See?” He lifted his hand up, and the lockets dissolved into the air, blowing away on the breeze. “It’s a small price to pay to right my wrongs.”
“You’re not going to die, are you?” Bridget asked, her voice sorrowful.
“Oh no. I’m still a spirit,” Caesar said. “I’m just a fallen god. It’s okay. I follow a different master now. I pledged myself to her long ago, and now that I’ve cut my ties with my past, I can devote myself to her causes. You will be seeing me again, I’m sure. Now go make my sacrifice worthwhile, Rory. Go bring us all the truth.”
With that, the fallen god disappeared into the trees.
Sly Jimmy was running up the hill, his arms weighed down with hundreds of lockets. Blood covered his coat, and his cheeks were stained red. Not all of the blood had come from dying gods—a few of his boys had tried to take lockets for themselves, and Jimmy dealt with them quickly and harshly. The last thing he needed was for any of those evil bastards to become gods.
Kieft waited at the top of the newly created hill, surveying the battle with delight. Jimmy ran up to him, holding out the spoils.
“Here you go, boss,” he said, forcing a big smile. “Quite a haul, if I do say so myself!”
Kieft didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he scooped up the lockets and dropped them around his neck, one by one. With e
ach new necklace, he seemed to glow brighter, until Jimmy could barely look at him. The rest of Mannahatta seemed to recede behind Kieft’s magnificence. Sly Jimmy felt a very real terror bloom in his belly. Would he see?
Kieft stared down at him and frowned. “You are wearing something that does not belong to you.” Sly Jimmy almost wet himself as he began to stammer.
“It’s just a small one!” he protested, backing away. “God of Moderately Successful Sandwich Shops. It’s nothing! Just a little souvenir.”
Kieft stepped forward, and he seemed to cover the many feet between them in a single stride. A flash of steel glittered from his hand and Jimmy’s luck finally ran out. He fell back, the gash in his chest first trickling, then gushing, blood—a spreading river covering his stained shirt with one last coat of red. Kieft leaned over him and watched him die without emotion.
“If it makes you feel any better,” the black-eyed god said, as casually as if they were talking over a mug of beer, “I was going to kill you anyway once the battle was through. So you only lost a few hours at the most.”
Sly Jimmy didn’t have the strength to answer. He closed his eyes, fleeing the battle and all his sins forever.
27
THE TRUTH
Rory half ran, half stumbled toward the newly made hill in the center of the Great Lawn, where Kieft stood directing the battle. Bridget and his father followed close behind, Henry carrying the limp body of Minuit over one shoulder while Fritz rode Clarence close on Rory’s heels. Rory could feel it, the finality of this last confrontation, and the fear in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. But there was no room for second thoughts, not anymore. He reached the bottom of the hill, his family around him, and called up as loudly as he could muster.