Not for the first time, Jarah thanked her own blood for the headwrap. It kept most of her hair from blowing into her face as Kinn took them across the city. Riding in the palm of a goddess' hand, while the veins of the city pulsed with people reacting--usually by running away from the goddess--to their passage proved a greater thrill than she had anticipated. While she was able to tamp down the positive emotions, thus keeping her control over Kinn, Jarah quietly exulted at the feeling. To be above everyone, to see Gallhin in such a different light, was an incredible feeling. As they passed the pagoda near the center of the city, she marveled at what she saw. Who else could claim the same?
For his part, Rihn held onto Kinn's thumb with both arms, his face a mask of fear. His beard flapped in the wind, sometimes flying into his eyes. He didn't seem to care. The trip was brief--the plumage of white feathers that made up Kinn's legs coasted over the buildings with an easy smoothness that belied the goddess' domain--and the compound came into view more rapidly than Jarah had expected. Seeing Tenhaim's home again made her stomach tighten with fear and anger. The latter she pumped into the goddess, while the former went into her memories, to be tapped at a later time. She would never have gone back, but Kimhan had wormed her way into Jarah's heart. The girl deserved to be freed from the slumlord…that and Jarah had no problem with killing off Tenhaim. Not that she would have made it a point to do so had he left them alone, but now that he seemed intent on pursuing her, well…Jarah would rather be dead than hunted; if it meant some peace, killing him was what she was going to do. She still felt reluctant to do so: After all, the guard she'd slashed upon bursting into the city had only taken a superficial cut across the chest. Assuming he got some help, he would be fine. Probably. Jarah set the sense of worry about what it meant that she had abandoned her desires to limit death, focusing on the moment. They would have to move quickly--easier for her now, as the ride not only gave her some time to catch her breath, but the elation also wiped away the vestigial exhaustion--because soaring into the compound on the hand of a goddess was not the most subtle of approaches. Jarah turned to Rihn, some words of command ready on her lips… …only to have them drop, unsaid, as her mind registered what she saw. "Hold on!" she screamed, dropping flat on Kinn's palm. "I am!" shouted back Rihn. Then the collision happened. Hot tendrils of writhing heat whipped through the air as Orgos, God of Rage crashed into the floating form of Kinn, Goddess of Anger. The large, mechanical structures that Kinn used to keep herself airborne melted beneath the onslaught of Orgos. Made from undulating ropes of heat around an ever-shifting core that looked like a human skull, then a mouth, then a skull again, the God of Rage was a force of emotional energy that few people could maintain. It was hot, fast, and ephemeral. Yet Tenhaim controlled the god with a single-minded intensity that took Jarah by surprise. Also a surprise: That Orgos managed to leap onto Kinn with enough height that his teeth could reach her forearm. A massive burst of black ichor erupted from the sudden wound as the hand on which she and Rihn rode was abruptly severed from the rest of the goddess' body. Kinn's keening was high-pitched and omnipresent, it seemed, though Jarah was more worried about what would happen when they hit the ground to really notice it. Ichor dropped in massive puddles, the ichor burning and hissing as it struck the ground. A couple of people screamed as they dissolved beneath the goddess' blood. The goddess' hand fell from too far above the earth for Jarah to be comfortable. At the last moment, in an accidental spasm, the large feathers of Kinn's legs flicked out. The hand landed in them, the momentum shifting from a downward plummet to a sideways skid. Instead of splattering on the ground, they slid down the white plumage, stained black by the bleeding stump, and bumped their way across the street closest to the compound. The walls loomed in front of her. Jarah, unsure of what else she could do, curled more tightly into a ball. They crashed into the wall, breaking down the mortar and stones with a bone-rattling smash. The force of the collision curled Kinn's fingers into a kind of shelter, protecting her and Rihn from most of the falling detritus. Their impromptu sled shuddered to a stop. Dust drifted down, as well as bloody ichor. One drop landed on Jarah's already-injured shoulder, making her his and, despite being more than a little out of sorts, push herself and Rihn out from the tangled mess of pulverized divinity and ruined rock. "Let's never," said Rihn, his hands on his knees and his expression one of utter nausea, "do that again." "Um, Rihn?" "What?" "They know we're here." Rihn looked up to see some of his former comrades rushing toward them, qiang glinting in the moonlight. Behind them, Orgos took another massive bite out of Kinn, who wailed in pain. Jarah dismissed the deity. Orgos roared in fury at being cheated of his prey. "This is why we should have planned," Jarah said, unsheathing her butterfly swords and lowering herself into a fighting position, her shoulder screaming its own pain. "Where's the fun in that?" "Where's the fun in dying?" "You can come back as someone else?" Jarah clucked her tongue. "Not when the world's broken." "You gotta tell me about that," said Rihn, rearing back and throwing a vial--which one, Jarah couldn't tell--at the feet of the approaching fighters. "You know. When you remember." Jarah grunted as the dark swirls of an Invoked deity began to congeal in between them and the Tenhaim guards. Mechanical pillars burst out of the ground, their sundry cogs and wheels spinning furiously as the god grew. And grew. And grew. Jarah, like the guards themselves, stared in open mouthed awe. "Who is that?" she asked as the enormous head--easily the size of a person--rose from the puddle of spilled ichor. The head was shaped like a bronze helmet, save it was empty inside. The broad shoulders, their crenelated shape only adding to the sense that an entire building was somehow erupting, like an exhalation, from the ground, shifted as the god straightened on his multitudinous feet on the bottom of his shaft-like trunk. The guards turned and ran. "That's Vellit," said Rihn, as if it should have been obvious. And, on one hand, Vellit was obvious. "The God of Trust?" asked Jarah, incredulous. "You've never Invoked him?" "No!" "Can't say I'm surprised." Rihn grinned at her, then put a hand to his mouth. Spinning away, he promptly vomited into the rubble they had just extricated themselves from. A moment later, he said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, "The guards are gone. What should we do now?" As if in response to the question, Orgos flung himself over the wall and crashed against Vellit. The God of Fury took the God of Trust by such surprise that they both tumbled to the ground, their enormous bodies crashing in the large space between the outer wall and the compound proper, though their landing was forceful enough to send shockwaves into Jarah's feet. Plumes of ichor, dirt, and dusty grass arched into the air before drifting back down like a lazy rainfall of filth. "Holy blood of my fathers!" swore Jarah. "Go find Kimhan!" shouted Rihn. "I'll handle this!" "Rihn…" He shot her a furious look. "We won't go anywhere if I can't beat Orgos, and if Tenhaim wants to win, he'll have to focus on me." He waved a hand. "Go! Find Kimhan!" "But--" "How do you think I Invoked Vellit, huh?" She stared at him uncomprehendingly. The two gods writhed on the ground, the metal of Vellit's body heating in white-hot streaks as Orgos struggled to get a grip on the God of Trust. The ground trembled again. Rihn waved his hands. "It's because I realized I had to trust you to fix this. To fix what you broke." He shook his head. "I don't always understand things, but I understand this much: If anyone can fix the world, it's you." He smiled as he began to run toward the combatting gods, reducing the distance between him and the deity so that he could better control Vellit. "I trust you, Jarah. Don't let me down." Then he was gone and Jarah found herself sprinting for all her battered body was worth, back into the compound. Back toward what very well might prove her death.
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To his credit, Rihn only asked "What? Why?" once before tossing her the weapons she'd left behind and leaping down from the wagon. Together, they began to knock over the tripods on which the torches quietly burned. The first guttered in a puddle of sand. The next extinguished before it hit the ground. The third and fourth found small patches of grass that the flames hungrily licked.
Shouts of dismay from the people in the queue spread as quickly as the fire, and the entire orderly line began to writhe and scatter. Some rushed toward the flames, others ran to the other side of the road. Jarah and Rihn pushed on, knocking over every torch they could. One man tried to stop her, snatching her left arm. He accidentally wrenched her wound. In a flash of pain-inspired anger, she punched the man in the stomach so hard that he vomited, dropping to the ground and holding his middle. "Sorry," she said, returning to her work. She didn't have time to worry about what she'd just done--besides, that had hurt. A minute later, the entire entry was a mass of confused people, panicking horses, and individual, discreet fires. The exhausted horse that had done them such service by hauling them to Gallhin from Nan tore away, the buckboard clattering behind it. Apparently, it wasn't used to being near wild fires. The two guards who were inspecting came running out, shouting out orders and angry demands about what was happening and who was responsible. Rihn didn't need Jarah's anxious gesture: He, too, took advantage of the crowd and bolted for the gate. One guard noticed them and shouted that they stop. They ignored him. Before the guard could do anything, the men who had been approaching from behind--Tenhaim's additional fighters, it seemed--came skidding to a stop in the chaos on the road. Jarah ran as hard as she could, gritting her teeth--which hurt in its own way--against the pain. The gate yawned in front of them, on the other side of the short bridge that connected Gallhin to the mainland, the city's streets visible through the opening. She just had to get in. It was only a few steps. She could make it. The stone bridge echoed beneath her feet. Exhaustion could wait until she was done. Jarah came closer. The portcullis grinned down at her, like a fang-filled smile. She could do it. She had to. Breath tight in her lungs, Jarah sprinted through the opening just as a handful of guards came rushing out to see what was going on. Without pausing, she unsheathed the butterfly swords, holding one in each hand. The first guard didn't know she was coming and fell down, a bright ribbon of blood stretching across his chest. He howled in pain. The second took the hilt to his face, dropping him before he had time to blink. Spinning, Jarah cracked both blades against the third guard's shield, the force of the strike bowling the man over. The fourth guard dropped her spear and let Jarah run past without challenging her. Jarah charged down the street as fast as possible, but she could feel her energy flagging. Rihn joined her, breath heavy. "See? Improvisation's the best way." Jarah didn't dignify that with an answer. They ran, taking different paths, sometimes with Jarah pointing the way, sometimes with Rihn making suggestions. No one stopped them, no one gave chase. It seemed, for the moment, they'd lost their pursuers. "Why…did…they…come?" asked Jarah through painful gasps. Her lungs felt like they were coated in broken glass. The taste of blood sat heavily in the back of her throat. No matter how hard she tried to breathe in, it never seemed to be enough. Her shoulder ached warmly--she was fairly certain the stab wound was bleeding again. Rihn shook his head. "I…think…they were on…their way…here…anyway." He gulped another couple of breaths. "They probably saw us…and decided to take us immediately…rather than wait…until we came to them." Jarah grimaced. That made sense, at least: Coincidences happened. Leaning against the wall of the alley they'd dodged into, she put her head against the stones, trying her best not to collapse. Exhaustion tugged at her in every conceivable way. Still, she knew that she wasn't done--not by a long shot. "If we hurry," she said after her breathing had somewhat returned to normal, "do you think we can get to the compound before Tenhaim?" Rihn shook his head. "I doubt it. That's on the southeastern edge of the island. We're here in the north--and we don't have horses." "They got delayed by the mess in front of the bridge." "I doubt that'll make a huge difference." "Then there's nothing we can do." He shook his head. "We can move quickly, since it's the two of us. Faster than when Kimhan is around, at least." "That doesn't make me feel any better." "It wasn't supposed to." Jarah wanted to weep for weariness. Swallowing back her frustration, she took a hesitant step. The break had been too brief; she didn't dare take a longer one. The world swam and swirled in her vision. "I don't think I can…I need more time." She gestured at her arm. "It's slowing me down." "What do you want to do, Jarah?" asked Rihn, his voice testy. "You're the brilliant teka here. We have to cover a couple of miles in less time than it takes horses to gallop there. Assuming the streets are clear--as they'll likely be, since there was just barely a sandstorm here--he'll be there in less than ten minutes." He flicked his fingers, though Jarah didn't know what that was supposed to mean. "At the most. He could get there even faster." Jarah slumped against the wall. "I can barely stand." "Well, I'm not going to carry you." "Why not?" she asked, but the question died almost as soon as she had formulated it. "Wait. Carry me." "No, I said I wouldn't--" "Not you." She fumbled onto the clasps on her belt. Precious few remained her--three, to be precise. But that would be enough, assuming that she had one with the right rune on the token. She pulled a vial free and began clicking through the options. "What are you doing?" asked Rihn, his confusion clear on his battered face. "Getting us a ride." "You're not going to Invoke a deity just to cover some distance!" Rihn hesitated. "Are you?" Jarah returned the first vial, then pulled out the second. "What you don't seem to understand, Rihn," she said, clicking through that selection as well. Inwardly, she cursed the fact that she couldn't ever manage to fit all thirty-two deities' runes on a single token. It would make her life much easier. "What you don't understand is that I'm not going to let Tenhaim have Kimhan. I'm just not." "Who uses a goddess to haul them across a city?" Rihn raised his hands in frustration. "It's just not done!" "But hauling them into the mortal realm so that they can fight for us is done, right? That's their only purpose?" "Sometimes a being only has one reason for existing." "You were carried by a goddess the other day!" Rihn pulled up, surprised. "What? I was?" Jarah nodded. "It's how I got you off the roof. When Kinn was busy frying Rall and his buddies." "You…you, what told her to put you down on the alley floor?" Jarah nodded again. "Huh." Rihn's grunt sounded impressed. "I wondered how you got me out of that." "Well?" She put back the second vial. That didn't have the right deity, either. "Are you going to help me?" "Help you do what?" asked Rihn, reaching to his own pouch of vials. He had three, as well. "Find Kinn." "The one before?" She didn't answer, flicking through the options on her last vial, tipping it so that she could catch some moonlight and read the rune. "Kinn…" Rihn snapped his fingers. "Wait, she's the Goddess of Anger." "I know." "You're angry?" Jarah snapped the token in place, then held it up, triumphant. With more effort than was strictly necessary, she shoved the plunger down, breaking the inner vial and throwing it to the ground. It crashed loudly. "I'm furious." Rihn stopped his story, taking a pull from a cup of water Jarah filled for him. "Talking is thirsty work," he said with a rueful smile.
"Your past is…colorful," said Rihn. "You bet." He shifted. "Now. What about you?" "What about me?" "That was the deal, wasn't it? That you would let me in on how you broke the world?" Jarah shifted, uncomfortable more with the idea of explaining herself than the feeling of her different injuries. In the distance, she could see the telltale signs of a pending sandstorm. It seemed to lower over Gillhan, visible only as a smudge on the horizon, like the wrath of an Invoked god. Though they might get high winds, she doubted that they would be too affected by the poor weather. "Well?" "It's not an easy story to tell." "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think that mine was?" "That's not what I'm saying." "I think you've kept it quiet long enough." Jarah shook her head. "I can't remember." "Lies." "No, truly. I know that I was involved, my daughter, Lillah, was there. But more than that…" She trailed off, her mind thinking back to the Blade that Tenhaim had used to chop down the spear. How had she used it, when she'd wielded it? She couldn't remember, though it was close. It teased at her mind the way a stray hair can trick a tongue: She knew it was there, but not how to get it free. "I'm sorry…I really can't. It has to do with the Blade, that things were already Unraveling…" Rihn frowned but didn't say anything. Jarah shook her head. "No, it's gone. I can't…I can't recall. Something happened--something bad. Obviously. But what, precisely, I can't say." "Why is that, do you think?" Jarah stared at the barren landscape and sighed. "I wish I knew. One hypothesis is that the event was so scarring that my mind won't let me return to it. That it slides off it, like water from the back of a duck. Another thought--and Honu proposed this one--was that my soul has effaced it, being unwilling to carry a burden of so much guilt. I guess that's similar to the first one. The last is that it's simply an unexpected consequence for the person who breaks the world. There isn't exactly a lot of history about this ever happening before." "Just once," said Rihn softly. "What?" Jarah leaned forward. "Do you know something about the Breaking of the World that I don't?" Rihn gave her a skeptical look. "I doubt it. I mean, I never did it myself. I have mistakes, you know, as I just told you. But Unraveling the boundaries between the AfterWorld and our mortal realm so that no one can be reincarnated?" He whistled between his teeth. "No, that one's out of my range. Just a normal, vengeful murderer." "But you said that the Breaking of the World has happened before!" He shrugged a shoulder. "Old Nolasgruud legend that my father taught me. It was an attempted deicide on a grand scale: The teka of the time--and keep in mind, this was ages ago--all Invoked every god and goddess in an immense battlefield. There, they set about slaughtering the deities." Jarah felt her stomach clench at the idea. "H-how? You don't mean dismissed the deities, do you?" "No, not according to Father. He was adamant about it, actually: It wasn't that the deities were being injured to the point that they couldn't remain in the mortal realm and had to retreat to Theopolis. No, instead the teka were killed while controlling the deities." Jarah thought about that. Theopolemics were dangerous; surely there were times when the controllers were injured or killed in the course of a battle. "That was his explanation as to why there were only thirty-two deities: The rest were the victims of this first deicide." He paused and cocked his head. "Haven't you wondered why there isn't a goddess or god that relates to emotions, like jealousy or malaise? We have more emotions than a list of some three dozen." "I hadn't noticed, to be honest." Rihn shrugged. "It's a story, though, designed to explain something in our world: A myth, nothing more." "I'm still unsure how a dying teka can kill the deity, though," said Jarah. Rihn blew out a breath. "I think it had something to do with the teka killed each other, not just accidentally. They attacked one another while Invoking. Something like that." Jarah hummed as she pondered his words. There was a deep connection between the teka and the deity. The goddesses and gods were the proxies of the teka, and they were used to wage war against each other. But what if it happened the other way around? Would that really be enough to kill an immortal being? Jarah shifted, trying her best to ignore the aches and pains in her face and shoulder. "I guess it's a possibility." Rihn grunted. "Or a story." "That's why it's possible, Rihn." "Yeah. I guess." They fell into a contemplative silence, one broken only by the clatter of the horses' hooves and the rumbling lurches of the buckboard. The rest of their journey to the city was uneventful, if rushed. It took less time than their departure, but night was again commencing by the time they arrived at the city walls. Jarah had taken turns with Rihn so that both got some rest, but it wasn't enough for either. Her head felt like it was filled with bags of rice and her eyes felt coated with a fine layer of sand. She was simultaneously spoiling for a fight and hopeful that she wouldn't have to worry about doing anything else. Were it not for the fact that Kimhan needed her, Jarah would have found her closest safe house and slept for two days. Part of her wanted to anyway: After all, wouldn't that be a somewhat unexpected thing to do? Tenhaim knew they were coming. If they delayed, maybe he'd let his guard down? But, no. As tired as she was, Jarah knew that as soon as she put her head on her mat, she'd think about Kimhan. She'd worry about the girl, fret over what was happening to her. Jarah wouldn't be able to sleep anyway; may as well push forward. They arrived at the short bridge that led to the city walls. Before the Breaking of the World, the city was sealed each night at curfew--usually an hour or two after sunset. Now, however, the gate was open whenever the slumlord controlling it decided it should be open. In this case, people were moving through freely. Jarah wondered if Tenhaim had done something to gain control of the place. They'd been gone only a couple of days, but with the amount of upheaval, she was, in some ways, surprised that Gallhin was even standing. As they forced their weary horses into the queue--only a couple of dozen people deep--Jarah handed over the reins and began to ease herself off the bench. "Where are you going?" asked Rihn, his expression worried and alarmed. To her surprise, Jarah thought the expression much more charming than any of his previous attempts at charisma. Maybe it was because he was being honest this time. "To listen. We're running in blind, and I'm not a fan of that." "We can always improvise," he said, looking at the line of carts and people shifting slowly forward. "If something happens, that is." "Improvising is the result of a lack of a plan, not a plan in and of itself." "Well…" "I'll only be a few minutes. Besides, we need to see who's in charge of the gate to see what kind of papers they want." "Do we even have papers?" She sighed and shook her head. "Not that I know of." "So…" Rihn looked confused. "That's why I'm looking ahead." She detached her butterfly swords and set them on the seat. "I'll be back soon." She wondered, as she walked down the line, why Rihn cared so much. Granted, he and she had been through a lot in the past few days. She owed him her life--and the other way around, too. Was that enough to make for a relationship built on something other than potential mutual gain? He wasn't starting to like her as a person, was he? Thinking of her as a friend? That was not something that she needed--now, nor ever, so far as she could see--nor did it make sense to her. She certainly didn't have the impulse of changing their arrangement to anything other than business. He had little to offer her except his muscles and the occasional well-timed Invocation of a deity. Pushing aside the confusion inside of her, she walked slowly down the line. For about a third of a league, torches were planted every two dozen feet apart. They cast warm islands of light in the sea of blackness, and though they acted as a way for the travelers to know where to go, they also provided the guards with enough illumination that they could see threats coming from farther away than just their own noses. Sometimes the torches were neglected, but all of the ones that Jarah passed looked well maintained. For some reason, that made her uneasy. As she walked through the puddles of light, she listened to the conversations of tired and cranky travelers. One man, hauling an entire handcart laden with cabbages, groused loudly, "If they take much longer, my food'll wilt!" "What's the delay?" asked Jarah, twisting her face into a mask of honest concern. The man gave a start as he looked at her. "My blood and bones, woman, what happened to your face?" Jarah bit back the retort that formed in her mind (The same could be asked of you, old man) and dropped the confusion expression in favor of one of frustrated fear. "My husband wasn't happy with my cooking last night." "You ought to find a new husband," said the man. He was as wrinkled as a piece of parchment, with thin wisps of gray hair poking out from beneath his lower lip and his moustache drooped down past his chin in thin strands. He sucked on a tooth--he only had some ten or twelve, so far as Jarah could see--and regarded her carefully. "You don't deserve that kind of attention." "Oh, but it was my fault," she said, weaving the imaginary story together almost as quickly as she formed the words she spoke. "I was trying to do too many things around our campfire--get the kindling set up, prepare the dishes, and make sure that we had enough water for the horses. I got distracted and the rice pottage burned." "Crying wounds, girl! Does your man do anything?" "He protects me, of course." "But not from his own fists." Jarah looked away, hoping that the expression of hopeless submission might further pull the man's sympathies her way. "Justice can be cruel." "Sounds like your husband can be. Old Jeftha here--" and he tapped himself on the chest "--has seen his fair share of the world, girl, and I doubt there's been a time when justice looks the way you're describing." Jarah glanced up at the stalling line. "If you want the honesty, Jeftha, I'm hoping to get away from the man once we're inside the city. We live far away--there's nowhere I can run to when he gets drunken and wants to talk with his fists. But if I can slip away in Gallhin, I might get a chance to be my own woman." Jeftha sucked a tooth again. "You might not be wrong about that." "So that's why I asked what the delay was. I'm afraid that if it takes too long, I'll lose my nerve and stay with him." Jeftha nodded sagely. "I see, yes. Yes, that makes sense." He sighed, waving a hand. "I've been here for a good half hour. I think that the men up there believe that they have to investigate every stitch of cloth that comes through. They're checking the bottoms of wagons, under the skirts of the women--begging your pardon for the image. I'm saying that they're being thorough." "The line doesn't seem that long, though." "No, but it isn't moving much, either." "Any idea what I can do to get through sooner?" Jeftha shrugged. "Start a fire?" Jarah gave him a dubious expression. "There are a couple of guards--that's why it's such slow going. If they were out of the way, you could hurry in. Do you have wares?" "Just an old buckboard. We're hoping to find some work." Jeftha shrugged again. "I can't say much more beyond that. Either wait or find another way in. That's all there is." Jarah thanked him and worked her way back to Rihn. She explained the situation. "See? Now we can plan." Rihn glanced over his shoulder, then widened his eyes. "I don't think we have time for that after all." She followed his gaze, barely able to make out what was coming out of the haze behind them. The torches ruined her night-vision--making her wonder at the wisdom of them for the guards--but, squinting, she started to see the approaching shapes. "Blood of all the gods," she swore. Turning to Rihn, her eyes wide, Jarah grabbed his arm. "We need to make a fire." |
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