Godspeaker

by Tessa Crowley

  If there was something she wanted to say to me, it was caught in her throat. Several times, she started to say something, then seemed to think better of it and shut her mouth again.

  Eventually, she sighed, made a brief prayer gesture over Perenor’s bed, and swept from the room.

  The next few days may not have been the blackest of my life, but they certainly were the loneliest.

  I was not allowed out of Perenor’s room. Food was brought to me, but I did not eat it. I sat near motionless for over a full day, staring at my brother, wishing he would wake up, dying every moment he did not.

  I was starting to realize that there was no way out for me. The Lord-Regent demanded answers I did not have for a freedom he did not think I deserved. Everything around me turned to death and chaos. And despite how desperately I wanted to, I could do nothing to fix it.

  On one cold and lonely night, when the air was too close and the room too dark, I stepped out onto the balcony, facing west out of the room. I was met with howling wind and hissing rain; within moments, I was drenched with cold water.

  I came to the edge, planting my palms on the wide, rain-slicked fireglass balustrade, and looked down. It was a sheer, six-story drop onto one of the lower tiers of the garden.

  Rain had soaked my hair, saturated my robes. My vision blurred and my heart pounded.

  It would hurt. Of course it would. But not for long, surely. It wasn’t the fall that killed you, it was the sudden stop.

  Slowly, slowly, I lifted myself onto the railing. In the howling wind and sheeting rain, it took some time for me to find my balance, but I was able to eventually rise to my feet. My robe whipped around my ankles, my rain-soaked hair blowing in front of my face.

  If I was lucky, perhaps death – whatever it might bring – would be easier than what my life had become.

  “One,” I whispered. The wind answered with a howl that sent my legs wobbling.

  “Two,” I continued, and my hands started to shake.

  “Three.” And I dropped.

  And then, quite to my surprise, I was caught by my shoulders. My eyes flew open—

  My little bird…

  Shaking, I was lowered back down onto the railing, down onto my knees, and when I looked up through my rain-slicked hair—

  My little bird, my little bird, what has this world done to you?

  He hovered in the air like ink in water, formless, nebulous, ever changing. My throat constricted. I could have never predicted my own heart at that moment when I stared up at the Night Father’s face. I had expected the fear, but not the surge of affection when he gently leaned his forehead against mine.

  Have they turned all things against you? he asked me. Have they even made you a danger to yourself?

  And I knew this was bad, of course; I knew this was dangerous. But gods, when his hands lifted to my neck, his current softened all my edges as the ocean softens jagged glass.

  “Um-m-m-m—”

  I know this blackness you’re in, he told me. For all the ages of your world, I have lived in it. And I am telling you that despite the treachery of your own mind, you are strong enough to live through it, and you will come back from it all the stronger.

  I hated that my eyes were burning with tears. I hated that after everything Umbrion had done, he could still cup me in his hands and make me feel precious and safe and wanted and loved.

  Your story doesn’t end here, my dear little bird, he said to me. Soon, you will be leading my armies. Soon, you will be king of all Andels, and you will never taste this darkness again.

  My breath stuttered. “Arm-m-m-mies.”

  It won’t be long now, he told me. The fruits of my labors will come soon, like shadows in the dark, and all those who caused you this pain will eat their cruelties.

  Fear was bubbling up through my treacherous affection. “Sh-sh-shadows in the d-d-d-dark.”

  Warn them if you will, he said. The wise will follow you. You’re the only one who can protect them.

  I swallowed a growing knot of fear. “I am?”

  Little bird, he said, surely by now you’ve learned that I will never hurt you, and neither will anything under my command.

  Even through everything, I knew that what was said in these next few seconds was absolutely critical. With my heart thundering in the side of my neck, I asked, “Wh-wh-when?”

  First light, he said, and dread swallowed me. At first light, all your pain will be ended. At first light, you’ll know what it means to rise from the ashes of your own despair.

  I opened my mouth, but the question I nearly asked him was swallowed by a kiss. My mind blanked. The wind howled, the rain poured, but Umbrion’s kiss still dissolved me into stardust.

  “Silas! No! Silas!”

  His voice was indistinct at first, as though he was shouting from the other end of a very long tunnel. But as I kissed Umbrion and his hands threaded through my hair and his starlight thrummed under my skin, his words became clearer.

  “No! No!”

  Hands around my waist. I was suddenly pulled back with tremendous force, off my perch on the wide railing, tumbling backward and landing hard on my hip.

  “Silas!” It was Perenor, gasping, teary-eyed. “Silas, gods, why would you – how could you ever—!”

  My head was still spinning – I looked up toward where Umbrion had been hovering only moments before, but he was gone. There was a void in the air where he had been, as empty as though he’d never been there at all.

  “Silas, brother-mine, gods,” Perenor sobbed, holding me tightly, burying his face in my chest. “Silas, I’m so sorry – please, gods, please promise me, promise me you won’t ever—”

  There were a lot of questions going through my mind at that moment. Somehow, the first one to occur to me was, “Y-y-you’re aw-w-wake—”

  He was pale and worse for wear, but he was awake, holding me tightly by the midsection and shaking.

  “Please,” he said, “please, Silas, I would never forgive myself if I ever lost you—”

  I swallowed hard. Was that why he’d come rushing out? “D-d-d-did you n-n-not s-see him?”

  “Please, please, Silas, come inside, come inside…”

  He hadn’t seen Umbrion. Perhaps he could not. Perhaps only Godspeakers could see them.

  “P-P-P-Perenor—”

  “You must promise me,” he said, staring at me tearfully, “promise me you’ll never do this again. I could never—”

  “P-P-Perenor,” I said urgently, “I am v-v-visited b-by Umbrion!”

  Confusion tempered his sudden grief. “What—?”

  “He’s g-g-g-going to-to-to attack at dawn!”

  “How do we know this information is accurate?” the Lord-Regent demanded. Perenor had woken him up only moments ago, and his foul temperament matched. He stood in the darkened hallway, dressing gown clutched tightly around his chest.

  “Why would he lie?” Perenor snapped.

  “Get my daughter,” he barked to a nearby guard. “Now.” The guard nodded and sprinted off, armor clattering.

  “This is what you wanted from him, isn’t it?” Perenor said. “You demanded information, and now that he gives it to you—”

  “This could be a trap of the deadliest kind,” the Lord-Regent said. “Who knows what foul machinations the Traitor God has laid out?”

  “We do not have time for your skepticism, Lord-Regent!” Perenor bellowed. The mere act of shouting seemed to knock the wind from him, and he doubled over against the wall. Alarmed, I stepped to his side.

  “Y-y-you sh-should not be up,” I said.

  “I’m fine,” he answered through his teeth. He wasn’t fine, of course, he was just proud. “Lord-Regent, you have word of the Night Father’s attack, straight from the mouth of his Godspeaker. What further proof do you need?”

  “I cannot simply put the entire city on alert because this traitor—”

  “How much is your cursed prejudice worth?” Perenor thundered. “Is it wort
h the lives of everyone in your city? Yours? Your daughter’s?”

  “What’s going on?” came Soya’s voice, as if summoned by her mention. She was hurrying down the hallway in her night-clothes, long hair braided down her back.

  “Umbrion is going to attack Avenos at daybreak,” Perenor said.

  “What?”

  “So says his traitorous Godspeaker,” the Lord-Regent snarled.

  “It’s past midnight already!” Perenor said. “If we don’t move quickly to fortify the city, Avenos will share Ellorian’s fate!”

  “I will not be held responsible for the fruit of a tree of lies—!”

  “Guards!” Soya called. “Fortify Avenos! Wake up the Guard Captain!”

  The Lord-Regent spun. “Soya, you do not have authority—!”

  “Then I will take it if you do not!” she roared at him. “I will not let your petty distrust take down the Silver City, not while your scion draws breath!”

  Two of the guards hurried off in the opposite direction to follow Soya’s orders.

  “Soya,” Perenor said, “wake up all the members of your guard. I can teach them how to summon magical fire.”

  “Magical fire—?”

  “It’s strong against Umbrion’s magic,” he said. “Shadow flees from light.”

  “You can do that in – what – six hours?”

  “The basics, yes. Just enough to hopefully give us an edge. I trust you have a supply of runed weapons?”

  “This is preposterous—!” the Lord-Regent began, but Soya talked over him:

  “Yes, in storage. There should be enough for most of the guard.”

  “We may have to deputize citizens who can fight. Silas, do you know how many are coming?”

  “N-n-n-n—”

  Bu then I realized I did. At some point, Umbrion had laid out his entire plan in my head, and the numbers were staggering.

  “A l-l-l-lot,” I said, nervousness rising in my throat. “They’re going to c-c-c-come from the ocean.”

  “Shut down the ports,” Soya said to another guard. “No one goes in or out. Start building barricades at all the gates, strongest nearer the coast. Wake up everyone.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the guard said before hurrying away.

  “Get the families with young children under the castle!” Soya bellowed to whoever was in earshot; already, people were starting to wake up, poking heads out of doors and coming around the hallways. “Wake up the Lord-Regent’s council and get them to the chambers! We are a city under siege!”

  “Soya—” the Lord-Regent began.

  “Either cooperate or stay out of my way, Father,” she snapped at him, striding off.

  It took me no more than ten minutes to stammer my way through everything I knew about the attack. Every time I managed a sentence, one of the councilors or the Guard Captain would shout something out the door of the council chamber that would cause more people in the hallway to start running.

  I had nearly finished my explanation when Soya came barging in.

  “The families are starting to arrive,” she said to her father.

  “What are you wearing,” the Lord-Regent answered, and though it was phrased like a question, it sounded much more like an accusation.

  “Armor,” she returned flatly. I had to admit that she looked absolutely ferocious. She was wearing a set of gleaming black armor, outfitted with a long cloak in her house colors of violet and silver. She had a broadsword on her back and an expression on defiance on her face.

  “No,” the Lord-Regent said. “I forbid you to fight.”

  “Oh,” Soya returned glibly, “finally taking the threat seriously now?”

  “You are my only scion; I will not allow you to put yourself at risk!”

  “Then you’ll have to tie me up, Father, because this city is under siege and I will not sit idly by and let it fall without falling myself.”

  “Is P-P-P-Perenor with the g-g-guard?

  Soya looked back to me. “Yes,” she said. “Quite a teacher, your brother.”

  “He m-m-managed it with me,” I answered, holding up my gloved hand.

  “But even with Craft, we’ll be stretched thin. I’ve deputized the sorcerers from the monastery, and those willing and able to swing a sword, but even then…”

  “The walls of Avenos have survived harsher storms,” said someone on the council.

  “I’d not make the mistake of underestimating a god,” Soya said. “Can we send out crows to neighboring thanes, Father? Do we have time?”

  The Lord-Regent’s nostrils flared. “Maybe,” he said. “It won’t amount to much, but I suppose we’re not in a position to refuse anything.”

  “Thank you for finally getting on board,” Soya returned venomously. “I need to borrow Silas.”

  “What for?” the Lord-Regent asked at once.

  “A guard thinks he’s found one of Umbrion’s scouts.”

  I looked back at the council. No one had explicitly given me permission to leave, but with the rules about where I was allowed to go suspended in a time of crisis, I decided to listen to Soya, who was proving to be more of a leader than her Lord Father. I followed her out.

  “We’re repurposing some of the dynamite used in the mines to the north,” she said as she walked, “and the blacksmiths have agreed to use their kilns to heat oil for traps.”

  “H-h-heated oil?” I asked.

  “Fire is fire, even in liquid form,” she answered. “We can mount cauldrons of the stuff over the walls.”

  It was a good idea. Grisly, but good. I’d forgotten how clever Soya was. I was an academic, but Soya always had the ability to think laterally.

  We were going down, I noticed, into a corner of Silverwatch I had never been, one of little ornamentation and utilitarian furnishings. Guards were milling every which way, pulling on armor, gathering weapons, barking out and listening for orders. We turned into a small room and saw—

  “Wh-wh-wh-what the f-f-f-fuck—”

  “We have no idea,” Soya answered at once.

  I looked at it, and I kept looking at it, and for some time my mind couldn’t quite make sense of what I was seeing, despite how closely I was studying it. I had never seen anything quite like it in my life.

  It was black-skinned, hulking, about the size of a large goat, though the similarities ended abruptly. It walked on two short black legs with, so far as I could see, cloven hooves, and it had two large, sinewy arms and fingers tipped with massive claws. Its face was flat, its eyes were black and glassy, and it was snarling and thrashing in its bonds – iron chains that the guards, I could only imagine, had freshly fastened on it.

  “Are these the foot soldiers you told us about, Silas?” Soya asked me. “Is this the Night Father’s vanguard?”

  I had no idea. The information he had planted in my head had told me how many and when, but had not included what. My expression must have shown my answer.

  “Well, whatever it may be, it seems to speak, although not in any language we can recognize.”

  “Filthy warmbloods! Filthy, filthy!”

  I took a half step back in surprise. Its voice was high and throaty, its long black tongue clumsy between syllables.

  “W-w-warmblood?”

  Soya glanced at me. “What?”

  “Filthy warmbloods! Rip and tear and rip and tear!” It started shrieking, bouncing as high as it could in its heavy iron chains, flailing its claws manically.

  “It…” I began haltingly, “it’s s-s-saying…”

  “Rip the flesh and break the bone, send them into Shadow!” It would have sounded almost singsong but for the frantic warble in its voice. It was shaking violently, like a mad dog, gnashing its teeth between each word. “Kill the warmbloods! Kill!”

  “You can understand it?” Soya asked me.

  I looked back at her. “Y-y-y-you can’t?”

  “It’s not speaking Andelish, Silas,” she said guardedly.

  “Y-y-yes it is,” I replied. “It’
s s-s-s-saying… c-can’t you hear it?”

  “Kill, kill, rip, kill, tear, kill, rip!” It was getting less coherent by the moment, in any case, devolving from sentences to strings of words, and then into grunting and shrieking. It was a vile little thing, hateful and viscerally repulsive for reasons I couldn’t quite articulate.

  “Can it understand you?” Soya asked. Her voice had never sounded so suspicious.

  “I…”

  She was staring at me expectantly, if reservedly. I swallowed, wetted my lips, and took a few steps forward, crouching down in front of it.

  It was still thrashing and screaming violent nonsense when I interjected, “C-c-c-can you und-d-derstand m-me?”

  The shouting stopped abruptly. It turned its large, oblong head toward me, and stared at me with its fireglass eyes.

  “Speaker,” it said.

  I recoiled.

  It didn’t take me long to put it together, of course: it recognized me. Surely it had been created with that in mind.

  “Speaker!” it said a second time, louder, suddenly throwing itself toward me. I staggered away from it at once, and the beast reached out toward me. “Speaker is king of the krashth-gar! Speaker, Speaker!”

  “What is it saying?” Soya asked, still sounded guarded.

  I looked back at her, swallowed. I could only imagine what the answer would do to her already suffering opinion of me, but it would have been dangerously dishonest to keep it from her.

  “I…”

  Feeling suddenly cold, I pulled my robes more tightly around my midsection.

  “It c-c-c-calls itself k-k-krashth-gar, whatever that m-m-m-means,” I said. “And it c-c-calls me k-king.”

  “King,” Soya echoed, voice flat.

  I averted my eyes. Of course I was its king. Umbrion had promised me a kingship, hadn’t he? I was the voice of its maker.

  The room, I noticed somewhat belatedly, had gone very quiet. The guards around us seemed to finally recognize what they were seeing.

  “S-S-Soya,” I said. “I’m n-n-not…”

  I couldn’t find the words. It didn’t seem to matter, because Soya didn’t seem to want to respond. She stared at me with such intensity that I felt as if she was trying to see through my soul.