Chapter 10 Daesra #3
When my fingers hit mud, the bank is already rising again, but I claw my way back against the current to a gentler slope.
My legs come under me, wobbling unsteadily for a moment—which I blame on the soft earth under my feet, though I worry it’s more than that—but I’m too flooded with relief to care for long.
At least I still have plenty of strength to haul Melé up the riverbank, her still kicking and screaming, while Pogli flaps out after us, shaking off water and barking in anxious confusion—that is, until one of her heels catches me directly between the legs and I drop her like a sack of flour in the mud.
While I’m briefly stunned, she takes the opportunity to lunge at me.
The nauseating pain radiating through me makes me angry enough to dodge aside and flip her onto her back in the same motion.
Despite her thrashing, I sit right on top of her and pin her arms beneath me.
Unlike Orseus, she’s not strong enough to pull free.
“Sorry, Mother,” I grate out. “That was rather rude, and this is rather disgusting.” I prick my fingertip with the blade that appears in my other hand, and then wedge the pad between her teeth.
She bites me hard enough to make me hiss, but not to break my skin, only getting a few drops before I heal.
Soon enough, her fight subsides, and she goes slack, staring at me in shock.
Good. My god’s blood restored her usual temperament, just as it had her memory.
I twist off her to crouch nearby, waiting for her to fully recover while I scan our surroundings for danger.
The ferry hasn’t returned yet, and luckily no shades are close enough to have sensed my blood or even the commotion.
I can’t see over the rise of the bank, but I know there are more over there awaiting judgment.
I concertedly don’t look her way. I tell myself it’s because I’m allowing her space—but the truth is, I don’t mind the space, either.
Pogli waddles up to me, huffing and wheezing, and I ruffle his wet fur while I replace my length of tunic with what had been his leash. His buggy eyes dart back and forth between me and Melé, and he whines. I finally look at her.
She’s sitting up, hugging her knees to her chest. Although she’s facing partially away from me, I can see her shoulders shaking. I almost reach out a hand, but I let it drop. Pogli scurries over to her instead, still dripping, to lick her elbow.
In whatever deep, dark place she has hidden those feelings for me, they’re still buried somewhere inside her, or else they wouldn’t have burst free.
“I suppose it’s good we got that out of the way, so there’s nothing between us anymore.” I try for a casual tone, though my voice sounds rough. I clear my throat. “We need to go.”
Melé turns on me with tearstained cheeks. “Deseus, I’m sorry. That wasn’t—”
“I know.” I sigh, wringing out the hem of my tunic. “That wasn’t you. And it’s Daesra now.”
I stand and offer her my hand. Her eyes widen in surprise, but she takes it—after giving Pogli a pat, which warms me somewhat. When I pull her to her feet, she keeps hold of me, looking like she wants to do more. But she only squeezes my hand before releasing it.
“Of course. Daesra.” She sniffles, wiping her arm across her nose. She looks decidedly less like a head priestess, soaking wet and splattered in mud, her regal, gray-streaked braid in complete disarray. “I look forward to getting to know you, as you are now.”
“You shouldn’t,” I can’t help saying. “Much like hell, I’m likely to become less pleasant as we go along.”
Her gaze slides away. “And yet you called me Mother again. I heard you.”
Her observation surprises me. Fumbling for a response, all I come up with is a lie. “I was befuddled by the river. Anyway, it’s probably best we keep this simple between us, Melé,” I say, emphasizing her given name. “Like you said, I’m not even really here for you, but for Sadaré.”
Hurt flashes across her face, briefly, but long enough to make me wince. “Why bother with me at all, then?”
Now that I said it, I don’t know how to take it back, so I just keep going. “Because of your favorite god, Sea. They go by Horizon now, and they want you back. Apparently you were their favorite, too.”
Never mind that favorite mortal status is not always an enviable position to be in.
“How?” Melé looks bewildered. “I also told you that Sea never bothered with me again.”
“She was probably trying to protect you, and for good reason,” I say, though I have no idea why I’m defending her, the least reason being that she, as Sea, doesn’t really exist anymore. “As soon as Sky found out about you, he incinerated you.”
Melé’s eyes grow distant, and she smiles faintly, rubbing her clammy, mud-streaked arms. “When he came and I felt a divine presence, I thought it was Sea, and I was filled with such joy. A voice told me to turn around. So I did. And then I was filled with nothing but light.” Her smile turns bitter under her scars.
I know the feeling of being unmade by a god’s aether. The only difference is I survived—because I was remade as a god. So I can’t exactly try to sympathize. Besides…
“Your death was my fault, by the way,” I say, apparently determined to drive every figurative blade deeper into both of us. “You were also right about that. I just had to go prove myself.”
“It wasn’t only that,” she says softly, biting her lip. “You needed more of a parent, divine or otherwise.”
I try to object, but she seizes my hand again, forestalling me. “You were right, De—Daesra. I wasn’t there for you much, with my mind so often on Sea. We were both wanting more, and didn’t realize what we had in each other.”
I don’t know what to make of those words, either, so I blurt, “If it makes you feel any better, Sea ate Sky in retribution for what he did to you.”
It’s as if I can’t stand the look in her eyes, so I have to cast it upon someone else. Back at her previous heart’s desire.
And yet Sea did do that for her. It certainly wasn’t out of concern for me, which seems to be the pattern of behavior with my mothers.
Horizon has shown marginally more interest in me since I became fully divine, but likely only because of my ability to enter the underworld, as the tool they forged in order to bring Melé back.
Regardless, enough bitterness has already been spilled between the two of us for a mortal lifetime, thanks to the river. I don’t need to add an immortal’s worth as well. So I only say, “Anyway, it’s Horizon who deserves all the credit, if we make it out of here.”
My sense of responsibility amounts to far more than that, but I’m too raw to want to dig any deeper. I pull my hand away to start up the bank.
Melé’s brow furrows as she steps in front of me, her warm eyes hardening. “And yet it’s you who is here with me now, not Horizon.”
I shrug a shoulder. “Like I said, don’t thank me yet. At least not until you hear what these judges have to say.”
My tone is sardonic, but my gaze strays warily to the black mountains rising in the distance over what appears to be the top of a temple.
The Temple of Judgment, no doubt. I’m more worried about what’s on the other side of it—only a narrow valley cutting through the jagged peaks, with the temple seemingly guarding the way.
So even after we meet this next onerous requirement, we’ll still be herded through that pass like the rest of the shades into gods only know what, unless we’d rather scale cliffs.
I thought being a god would allow me to skip this next stage, but since my divine status wasn’t even enough to warrant a ferry ride across the river, my expectations have been duly tempered.
That doesn’t mean I won’t cut straight through this temple like I did the river, if I have to. I’ll cut through mountains to find Sadaré.
Grimacing, I gesture our way forward. “Shall we go face our judgment?”