Hell and the Heart (No Other Gods)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Heat and salt swirled off a pale blue sea.

Glass-like shards of sand bit into my flesh, or whatever it was that I wore as skin when we walked the surface.

I pushed my toes to the sheer tip of the rocky edge.

Endless desert stretched to my right while a statuesque woman stood still to my left, as though she’d been molded from the cliff itself.

Her gauzy shift tufted around her, bringing with it the scents of cinnamon and wine, strong enough to drown the sulfur that lapped at the shores below.

I endured the discomfort of pomp and circumstance as my title demanded. I’d remain in the crawling mirk of the mortal crust until I’d fulfilled my duty. But if we could just get on with it…

I sucked in an encouraging breath, a gentle prod for her to start the meeting.

“Prince.” She broke the uncomfortable silence at last. She didn’t look over her shoulder as I moved into the place beside her.

“Queen,” I replied.

Of course, she was not my queen, nor was I a member of her royal court.

The formalities were merely that. Her pantheon was one of many queens, all of whom wore the title proudly.

When occasion demanded that Hell speak with the Sumerians, Gula was my favorite go-between.

As the goddess of justice and medicine, among other things, she was reasonable and to the point.

As Hell’s royal emissary, I was sent between kingdoms only when the need arose.

Meetings like this were blissfully shorter than they might be if I’d been sent to engage with a war deity.

Her gaze remained fixed at the base of the cliff amidst a crowd of humans.

The sounder of strangers–a generous term for mammalian collections of pigs, regardless of the mortal beast in question–was close enough that we could make out each of their faces.

As a reprieve, no matter how temporary, the stampede was not so near that we were subjected to the sweat, dirt, and death that clung to their breath.

“The humans…these humans…are they why we’re here?” I asked.

Gula hadn’t been in the first place I looked, or the sixth, or the tenth. I could have asked an underling, and word would have rippled through the realms in an instant, but I preferred discretion. It was a luxury not often afforded to us.

A full, dark lip pouted, the space between her brows puckering as she said, “Sometimes they make me feel…” Her words were directed as much to me as they were to no one.

Her voice had a thin, delicate quality that I’d never appreciated.

It gave an air of insincerity to everything she said.

“I think I am sad,” she decided at last.

“Empathy?” I prompted. I knew the word. I understood the concept. Still, it was surprising. She wasn’t the sort.

She looked at me for the first time since my arrival. Gula’s large, dark eyes had the clarity of tea. They flashed as she narrowed them at me. The space between her brows squeezed tighter as her lip fell, “No, nothing so primitive. Empathy clouds judgment. It is my duty to remain impartial.”

“Pity,” I said. “One of the humans belongs to you, then?”

“There, in the back,” she lifted her chin to gesture beyond the crowd, where a woman trailed behind the frothing gaggle of filthy bipeds. “She’s called Aea. Her cries held such fervor I needed to see for myself.”

We weren’t watching a crowd, I realized.

It was a mob. Their cries were belligerent and unintelligible.

A central male figure had thrown a young woman onto the water’s edge, and others crowded around to watch.

The accused and the accuser. The accused—a woman no older than nineteen—was raw and bloodied, presumably having been dragged from the nearby city to this place of judgment.

Her hair was matted with dirt. Vertical lines carved through her dust-caked cheeks as she sobbed.

Maybe I understood what Gula meant. Perhaps…perhaps this was sad.

“Have you had one?” she asked, though it felt more like a disinterested murmur than a true question.

“A human?” Now there was a thought. I knew better than to laugh at a goddess of her caliber.

“It’s rather something to be loved by a mortal. They have so little time on their rock, and when they choose to spend their blinks of time worshipping you…everything is fleeting. All of it. Remember that, Prince.”

The Sumerians had reigned Mesopotamia for two thousand years. With the help of their gods, their people invented the wheel, cuneiform, geometry, sandals, irrigation, chariots, harpoons, and even sea-to-sea trade routes that led to the cloud of cinnamon wafting off the goddess now.

The Akkadian usurpers were marked by their economy. Most notably known for agriculture, taxation, and conquest. They overthrew with fists, ruled with coin, and promptly fell in under two hundred years.

Her people remained; though, her patience thinned.

“Why have you requested my presence?”

She gestured with a single finger. “Watch.”

I inspected the cluster of incensed humans to see a wailing woman—Aea, the goddess’s practitioner—following from a distance. She had to be roughly the same age as the accused woman, though the others paid her no mind.

The wind moved the queen’s night-dark hair and covered the space between us with the sweetness of fermented honey wine once more. It was a welcome relief to the blood, sand, sweat, and sorrow that lined my nose.

Gula said, “Aea knows the accused is innocent. She’s the one they want. Her companion has taken the fall for her, though she has done nothing wrong.”

The ember of an emotion pulsed, if only slightly. Yes. That did sound sad.

“I believe Aea feels guilt. It should have been her dragged to the sea by her hair. So, she followed, deep in prayer, petitioning that justice win the day.”

Another pulse, however subtle. Another edge of an emotion. Sad.

“What is her crime?”

Gula tucked a knuckle beneath her chin, folding one arm over her chest and looking down on the throng in judgment. “Idolatry. Blasphemy. Witchcraft. Humans are so…”

She let her thought fade as we listened. I could just make out the crowd’s words. One loud, male voice claimed to speak for his deity—the same deity both the accused and accuser served. We were familiar with the name and were already exhausted by his people and their bloodlust.

Still, neither of us expected such zeal this far outside of Jerusalem.

They were mortals caught playing the game of gods, and they played it oh so poorly.

“Will you intervene?” I asked.

Gula tilted her head as if the question was as flimsy as the wind-whipped gauze of her dress. “No. I favor Aea. Justice would require that she pay for the crime in the accused’s place. For this reason alone, I believe she does not actually desire true justice.”

I wasn’t sure if I was satisfied with the answer. Uncertainty was uncomfortable, but then again, so were emotions. These were her humans, not mine. I wasn’t sure why I engaged, but I offered, “Perhaps in justice’s stead, you might offer healing to the accused. She could survive the sentencing.”

Boredom colored her response. “The accused does not belong to me. If her god wants to spare her, he’ll send his servants.”

And we both understood her meaning. The god of Jerusalem was busy. He had better things to do than to answer the cries of his faithful. No one would come for the girl.

“You could use her, you know,” Gula said.

My lip curled in distaste. “Is this why you’ve called a meeting?”

“In your war with Heaven, that is,” she clarified. “The accused is one of Heaven’s faithful, is she not? Perhaps, if you find a compassionate angel, they would not look upon today’s events favorably. They might even be disappointed that their king had not sent one of them to intercede.”

Distaste turned into something bitter on the back of my tongue.

“Empires rise and fall,” she said. “Mine did. All do. But when will his? Now, it is small. Once, the Akkadians were small, until they weren’t.

Then the Assyrians were small, until they weren’t.

What is to come of this god as his people grow?

What will our future hold? But, if Hell were to consider a few pawns… ”

Gula wasn’t wrong. That didn’t make it right.

There was no propaganda quite like the unfeeling manipulation of one’s tragedy for another’s personal gain. Moments like these could win defectors to our side.

Humans couldn’t fathom their roles in our wars—used, ignored, and punished all in a battle to which they had not consented. Perhaps the girl’s death would not be in vain, unfair though it was. Maybe Hell would gain a few of Heaven’s soldiers after today’s events.

The victim screamed something as the crowd forced her to her knees. It was a declaration of faith to the very end. Even in the face of her demise, she refused to denounce her deity.

The ember pulsed within me for a third time, so this time I spoke the feeling aloud. “It is sad.”

Unlike the goddess, I did not keep my eyes on the mob as they lifted their stones and carried out their punishment. Sympathy allowed my lids to flutter shut as the bones below began to break.

I was alone beneath the unyielding sun. Gula’s motives smoldered within me.

We’d exchanged the necessary words to confirm the alliance of our kingdoms as pantheons renegotiated their borders.

The warring humans changed territories often.

While gods preferred to remain in their realms, the mortal plane was sliced like cake; some received generous portions, and others were offered slivers.

She had no right to call upon one of Hell’s royal members to suggest manipulation. It was uncouth. It was unacceptable. It was downright unqueenly.

But the small, pulsing emotion didn’t shift to anger, no matter how strongly I felt that it should. Pity took root within me, the choking quality of its vine wrapping around my throat until it was hard to breathe.

I should have gone home.