Chapter 7 Daesra #3
Orseus looks at me incredulously. “The Blessed Isles, of course. Lands watered by gods’ blood, which will keep a shade forever strong.
But even if you survive the journey there without losing yourself or falling prey to one of the many other dangers of the underworld, you have to have been judged worthy to enter. ”
I scoff. “Let me guess, judged worthy by this Isha?”
“Actually, no. But do you fear his judgment?” Orseus smirks and nudges me with his elbow, reminding me that I wanted to kill him not that long ago.
“No,” I snap, “I’m not afraid of his judgment—or him.”
I can’t be. Because it’s him I’m going to kill. Somehow.
Orseus eyes me skeptically. “Perhaps you should be. He is an old god, and you are very new.”
“Which means I’m not dusty and worn yet.” I start back toward the line, unsure how I’m going to proceed but feeling the urge to move all the same—preferably away from the blood farms.
I take petty pleasure in forcing Orseus to catch up, his voice rising in indignation behind me. “Is that what you think he is, dusty and worn? His bodily thanar doesn’t taint the divine strength of his aether.”
“And my earthliness doesn’t taint mine.”
“This is his realm.”
I stop abruptly and face him, nearly causing him to bump into me. He still lifts a hand as though he might touch my chest until I say, “And I’m here to break it.”
He freezes, and then drops his hand. “You’ve set yourself quite the task, then. This mill has been running for far longer than you’ve been around.” His blue eyes narrow. “Far longer than many of the gods.”
I shrug. “So?”
“So you’ll need all the aether you can get.
” He takes my arm with more force than strictly necessary, steering me back to the filthy encampment that I’d already searched for Sadaré.
“And this is the greatest concentration of shades you’ll find.
You’ll want to leave those outside the Temple of Judgment across the river alone.
The judges are protective of the shades who’ve crossed the river and are awaiting judgment, and they have nasty minions to exact their vengeance that even you might find troublesome. ”
“I still don’t see why we’re going this way,” I say, trying to drag my feet and finding his grip surprisingly resilient.
“Because these are also the worst sort of shades, if you have any moral quandaries,” he says, pulling us up to the edge of the slavering, heaving crowd around one of the cages.
“Theirs is a repellent business, but it’s the only method they have for consuming aether.
Aren’t you glad I showed you a cleaner way to nourish yourself, god?
One that you could use against these very monsters? ”
Of course I understand what he’s encouraging me to do.
And these so-called farmers are monsters, no matter how human they look.
Most of the shades standing free from the cages are rugged men with obvious advantages of height and strength, while, indeed, those held behind wooden bars are mostly women, children, and the elderly, their clothing soiled, their eyes wide and terrified.
I’m close enough now to hear the sobs. The men ignore us, for the most part, probably because we look like we shouldn’t be trifled with, while they go about haggling over who should be pulled from the cages next to be sacrificed.
“I think I preferred the ghouls.” I shake my head in disgust, still without acknowledging Orseus’s intent. I throw out my hand at the horrid scene before me. “And Isha lets this happen? Allows these bloodthirsty shades to feed on the innocent?”
Orseus’s own gaze is icy as he regards them.
“Their judgment will come if they ever cross. Meanwhile, you could deliver your own justice. Punish these wretches and relieve the pain of those who will only suffer at their hands. None of them will make it to the Blessed Isles anyway. Those who spill blood on these shores will never be found worthy, and those hapless shades who fall into their clutches will never escape. If you want something to break, might I suggest starting here?”
“How?” I growl, knowing very well how. I just don’t want to indulge the thought—or the hunger that I can already feel growing inside of me.
I would rather carve into the lot of them with my blade, wetting the soil with their blood.
Or even inspire them to tear each other to pieces.
Anything but the alternative. No matter how much I might crave it.
Despite the stomach-curdling sight and smell, my mouth nearly waters at what only I can sense.
“Do it how I taught you,” Orseus says impatiently. “Drain their aether, and then you’ll have the strength for however you wish to proceed. You’ll have the stamina to make it all the way through the underworld with this one draught.”
Draught makes it sound like cider or mead I’d be quaffing, not human souls. At least that is better than drinking blood, even though what I’d be doing in the end isn’t all that different. Only cleaner by appearances.
And yet, these people are hardly human. If I’m a monster, perhaps the least I can do is eat other monsters.
My eyes fix on the crowd before me. Already I can feel the collection of little lights shared between them, that humming golden energy that’s simply waiting for me to reach out and touch. To take. To consume. I can hardly focus on anything else.
Still, I manage to snap at Orseus, “I’m not going to drain those innocents.”
He shrugs as if he doesn’t see the problem.
“You can spare them if your senses are fine enough to parse them out, but they’ll likely only be snatched up by the others, as helpless as they are.
Truly, it would be a kindness to put them out of their misery for good.
” He arches his brow. “Or you could drain all the blood farms save for their victims, and perhaps gather enough aether to challenge Isha himself.”
The thought is tempting, but it’s also difficult to imagine swallowing all that at once—especially with the darkness no doubt coating their souls that I would have to taste before getting to their aether.
The desperation, the greed, the malice. Perhaps I can start with this first encampment and see how I manage.
I close my eyes, separating out the cages in my mind, feeling for the glowing pulse that surrounds them, ready to rip it away…
Pogli suddenly starts barking in an excited torrent.
My eyes snap open to spot him dashing into the crowd, threading between a tangle of human legs.
If he were charging with a growl, never mind growing to the size of a lion, I would have carried on with my intention—without hurting him, of course.
But his little pig’s tail is waggling madly, and so instead of devouring the souls of everyone around me, I plunge into the throng after him.
Orseus makes a noise of protest and catches at my arm, but I tear away, shoving bodies away from me, ignoring their angry, indignant cries.
When I find Pogli, he’s jumping around the ankles of a woman held in the grip of a vicious-looking man who has either pulled her from a cage or is about to put her in one.
The little chimera ignores him entirely, hopping on his stubby back legs at the dirty hem of the woman’s white tunic and flapping his wings like the absurd creature he is, licking at the air as if trying to reach her cheek.
It’s as if he knows her. My eyes shoot to the woman’s face, tracing her features in desperation. Bitter disappointment washes over me when I realize it’s not Sadaré. And then relief, because I almost swallowed this woman’s soul with the rest. Accidentally, but assuredly.
But then she looks up at me, after giving Pogli a flicker of a smile despite the frightened set of her mouth, and meets my eyes—and I go utterly cold.
I know those eyes, even if they’re brown and not green.
“Deseus?” she breathes, as if she hasn’t breathed for a long while.
Like a lightning bolt, pure realization strikes me down to my toes. The earth could have shattered beneath my feet and I would have been less shaken.
“Mother?” I blurt.
I don’t need her eyes filling with tears to banish any doubt about who she is.
Her light brown skin is webbed in pale scars, but otherwise she looks exactly as I remember her.
Just as beautiful. That I didn’t recognize her immediately I blame on the fact that I haven’t seen her in nearly a hundred years.
And yet, I should be blaming myself. Without quarter. I nearly destroyed her—again. My own mother. For that, I deserve to be destroyed. I feel nearly as hollowed out as if I had done it, guilt and shame pooling in the empty pit in my chest.
I certainly don’t deserve the look she’s giving me now, like I’m worth everything to her. It’s Pogli who deserves all the credit. That he recognized her well before me is baffling… until I remember he was created from a part of me. The best of me.
Which I definitely no longer seem to have.
Before I can even tell myself to move, I shove the man away from her, seizing her arm as if she were my own prize to claim.
He starts to protest, but a deadly look from me silences him, and he lets me haul her out of the crowd and away from the encampment without pursuing us or calling for reinforcements.
Pogli follows at our heels, panting and whining in excitement, until I pull us up short in front of Orseus.
His cold blue eyes shine with seeming innocence, even as my words are heated enough to boil them from his sockets. “This is my mortal mother. You almost had me kill her.”
“That’s impossible since she’s already dead. But”—Orseus raises a hand to forestall me ripping out his throat—“luckily you didn’t drain her aether. And now you can bring her out of the underworld, back the way we came to the mortal realm, if that is your wish. I’ll even guide you.”
I blink at him in surprise, more blistering words evaporating on my tongue. My part of the deal with Horizon was to bring my mortal mother out of here. And yet I’m nowhere near to finding Sadaré, which is my true goal.
“You can guide her to the gateway while I carry on,” I say, glancing apologetically at her. Should I call her Melé now? But her expression is clouded and confused, almost as if she no longer recognizes me. “Right?”
Orseus clicks his tongue. “Only you can bring her out.”
“Is that true?” I demand, taking a threatening step closer to him. “Or do you only want me to return to the mortal realm because of our deal?”
“Both are true.”
“I don’t have time for—” And then it hits me like a slap, what I should have realized before.
As much as Orseus might wish to fulfill our deal and win a few moments of pleasure with me by helping me leave with her, he also nearly led me to destroy her soul for good mere moments ago.
Which likely would have nullified my own deal with Horizon to make both her and Sadaré immortal if I managed to retrieve their souls from the underworld.
They are dead, after all, and even if I succeeded in bringing one or both of them out, they would still be shades, perhaps even unable to leave, without Horizon’s help.
And Horizon most likely wouldn’t fulfill any part of our bargain if I came back with only Sadaré—especially if Melé’s soul was irretrievably lost.
Somehow, Orseus knew who she was. Knew she was in that encampment. Which he was intent on me consuming.
Which means he knows about my deal with Horizon, and cares even more about it than our own deal, no matter how he’s trying to disguise it now.
My sword lashes out faster than a blink—faster than even Orseus can move.
He still manages to dodge most of the blow that would have severed his arm at the wrist, though the tip of my blade scores a line across the back of his hand, spraying the air with a few droplets of shining blood before the cut heals instantly and the blood vanishes before it hits the ground.
But I saw it. And the blood shone gold.
He’s a god. In the underworld. There aren’t many of us that can be here.
Only two, in fact.
“You,” I breathe, staring at Orseus in as much surprise as he’s staring at me. “You’re…” But I can’t finish the thought. I can barely think it in its entirety.
Abruptly, Orseus’s eyes narrow to icy slits—or, at least, the god’s who has disguised himself as Orseus. His voice abruptly changes. Darkening. Deepening. Sounding not at all like Orseus.
“So you’ve puzzled it out, have you? I can give you a prize for your cleverness. Rather, a glimpse of your prize.” He raises his now-uninjured hand, twisting it to consider where I’d cut him. “I owe you for this, after all.”
Before I can blink, that same hand shoves forward to slam into my forehead. Darkness envelops me, and I can no longer see.
Not out of my own eyes anyway… but someone else’s.