Chapter 6 Well of Souls #2
I send them all through, until finally, the Well clears, only about fifty birds remaining. They are calmer now, with more space to fly in, less frantic energy from so many beings trapped together at once.
Finally, I have time to think. I don’t like what I come up with, but it’s the only reasonable explanation.
Someone murdered a large number of mortals at once to overwhelm us. It was done on purpose.
“Nyja, I’ll finish here. Take your best and scout the skies. This was a diversion.”
She hisses, baring her teeth. “You’re right. Those bastards!”
She turns into a flock of wrens, briefly confusing the remaining souls. They calm down as soon as Nyja disappears, and come floating down to me in pairs and threes, until none are left.
I shake off the feathers, close my eyes, and step through shadows to stand back at Jaga’s side. She didn’t move an inch as I worked, watching the spectacle with parted lips.
Now, her bright eyes snap to me, one green, one purple. She’s speechless, searching my face with confusion, maybe frustration.
“What’s the problem, sweetheart?”
She huffs and looks away, her jaw jutting out, and for a moment, she is my Jaga, the passionate, innocent being not yet crushed by my betrayal and being buried alive.
“Is that what happens?” she asks, incredulous and angry. “After we die. Is that what happens?”
A lonely trill comes floating from above, echoing against the stone shaft of the Well. I smile.
“No. Usually, neither I nor Nyja have to come in person. The pillars do the job. Watch.”
The soul flies into the cavern through the wide opening in the ceiling. It’s a large, dappled bird, a bit smaller than a buzzard. It circles for a moment, then settles on Nyja’s pillar. I blink, and it’s gone, sent to its rightful place in the underworld.
“We come out only when there are too many souls at once. They get scared, lost and confused in the crowd. Normally, it’s a steady trickle throughout the day and night.
They fly in, called to us by the magic in the pillars.
What you saw doesn’t happen often. And almost never with so many nawkas at once. ”
She takes a step back, looking around with wide eyes.
The Well of Souls is an enormous cavern, tall and wide, and unadorned.
Its walls are made of hewn rock, the floor cold stone.
It’s empty save for the two pillars and clusters of floating orbs filled with white light.
This space is raw and ancient, reflecting the nature of death itself.
“You said someone did it on purpose. Killed… how many pregnant women?”
“Over five hundred,” I say, my heart heavy. “It wasn’t done by mortals. Last I checked, no one was corralling pregnant women for slaughter. No, it was done by someone who has the ability to move fast in the mortal world, covering many villages and towns at once. It was done by gods.”
She shakes her head, anger flashing in her eyes. My chest bubbles with elation, separate from the anxious worry about this new scheme. This is my Jaga, furious and outraged on behalf of the weak.
“But why?” she explodes. “Why pregnant women? If they had to kill someone, why not choose, I don’t know, some scumbags who don’t deserve to live?”
I bite back my smile. “Is that how you would have done it? If you wanted to overwhelm the god of the underworld with an influx of souls, would you have picked out hundreds of scumbags and slaughtered them?”
She falters, her brows pinching in thought. “I mean… I don’t know. Hundreds seems like a lot.”
“It is. Someone put a lot of effort into this plan, and I’m really eager to know why. Like I said, this was a diversion. They did something else while Nyja and I were busy. We need to find out what.”
“But pregnant women!”
She paces, angrier and more alive than I’ve seen her in weeks. If this is what finally brings her out of her apathy, I’ll have to send whoever did it my sincerest thanks.
“Do you want to see?” I ask, reckless and excited. “We can go right now to the mortal world and see how it was done. Maybe even who did it.”
Jaga stops in her tracks and slowly turns to me. Her face is tight, her body hard with coiled tension. She walks more confidently now, too, the blood she drank healing whatever blisters form on her feet as soon as they appear.
“Will it help them? Those women?” she asks at length. Before I have time to answer, she shakes her head with a dark, bitter laugh. “No, it won’t. You just want to… I don’t know, manipulate me again. You…”
She looks at me suddenly, eyes wide and wary. Her fists clench, and her eyes devour me, sliding up and down my body. She snarls, baring her teeth when I take a step closer.
“No!” she screams, her fingers curling into claws. “Don’t touch me again! Don’t ever touch me! And what you did… Whatever it was… I won’t let you again!”
I shake my head, bemused. “What do you mean? What did I do?”
But she doesn’t listen. Her face has that look again, that tightness of effort, eyes closed, forehead lined with concentration.
Jaga’s feet lift off the floor, and she levitates a few inches above it, her teeth bared in pain or exertion.
The air shimmers red, the bright color of poppies.
She throws her head back and screams, and a terrifying current of raw magic pours out of her, rising like a whirlpool with her in the center.
I watch, mesmerized, awed, and completely shocked. These are levels of magic worthy of a god, and she pours out more and more, all without a clear goal. This isn’t a spell. It’s like she’s vomiting magic, except, she should never be able to hold so much.
“What the fuck is happening?” I whisper, the sense of foreboding tightening my chest.
The volatile currents rise higher and higher. Jaga’s burning through magic, and it has no way out, no purpose to serve. For a moment, I wonder with awed trepidation if she’ll destroy the Well of Souls. It would be a magnificent feat, magnificent and terrible.
The pillars that transport souls into their proper levels of Nawie hum and vibrate, as if sensing a soul arriving. The whirlpool of magic bends toward them, splitting in two. For a moment, everything is bright with the red aura, moving with the shocking wind of magic, and then… it settles.
Jaga’s torrent of power is sucked into both pillars and sent away, and she collapses onto the floor, laughing soundlessly.
“I did it,” she repeats in delirium. “I did it, I did it!”
But I don’t understand what it is she did. In all the centuries of my ancient life, I never saw a thing like that. Not even when gods were free.
“What did you do?” I ask in a hoarse whisper, dread and fury settling in the pit of my stomach like stones.
If she damaged my pillars and broke the Well of Souls, I will never forgive her.
Jaga ignores me, laughing until she runs out of breath. She lies on her side, twitching, her tangled hair in her face. Her body’s relaxed, completely at peace.
Questioning chirps come from above, echoing down the shaft. I turn away from Jaga to watch, clenching my fists. If the pillars stop working, we will be fucked. It took me months to infuse them with my power before. I can’t do it again right in the heart of war.
Two yellow tits flutter down the shaft and sit on my pillar, chirping at each other. The magic pulses, and they are gone. I sense into the tunnels of Nawie, locating the new souls at once. They are right where they are supposed to be. They are well.
Relief shivers down my spine, but it lasts only a moment. Because if breaking my work wasn’t Jaga’s goal, what was?
When I ask her again, she takes a deep breath as if to tell me and bursts into an unhinged, horrible cackle.