Chapter 9 Solace
Solace
The first thing I noticed about the tent was the smell.
Oh, stars, the smell.
I held my breath in my lungs, hoping it would alleviate the stench that coated the inside of my nose. My eyes watered as I fought the urge to gag. Kaos lost that particular battle, if the sounds of dry heaving behind me were any indicator.
I closed my eyes, the darkness of the tent suddenly complete, while I desperately attempted to block the noises of my brother.
“Can you stop that?” I hissed at him through my teeth, still not daring to inhale through my nose.
“I . . . can’t . . . help . . . it!” Each word was punctuated by a retching noise, his words and breath labored as if he had just run for miles rather than walked the few hundred yards that made up the main road in the camp.
Slowly, my senses adjusted to the rankness that permeated the small space, and I wiggled the fingers on my hands as I continually fought the urge to be sick.
In and out. Shallow breaths. Focus on something other than that smell.
I opened my eyes after a few moments, forcing myself to find the source, or sources, of that gods-awful odor.
At first, nothing immediately jumped out, but slowly, aided by the minimal light that filtered through the cracks between the leather flap and the door frame, the picture of filth became clearer.
There was a chamber pot in the far corner of the hut, furthest from the door, shrouded in darkness. But the glint of sunlight showed that it was overfilling, flies and maggots drawn to whatever was left inside.
“Kaos, open the flap. Or detach it,” I called to my brother.
“Gladly,” he muttered and, moments later, light—and blessed hot, fresh air—flooded the small space. What I saw made my heart briefly clench in pity even while I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
Half-eaten meals were left to rot and mold on plates scattered haphazardly around the hut. All manner of bugs and creatures were drawn to the leftovers, some so covered in maggots that I couldn’t decipher the food beneath the wriggling white mass.
Kaos, clearly seeing the same things I was, heaved again. The sounds of his hacking nearly emptied my own stomach.
But neither of those horrifying discoveries was the sole perpetrator in the cause of the horrendous smell.
Directly across from the door was a bed. Even with the light streaming in from the now missing door flap, I could barely make out a body-sized lump in the middle of the bed. Despite the extreme heat, the form was covered in furs.
I took cautious steps toward the lump, trying to assess for signs of life, but I couldn’t ascertain even the rhythmic inhale that would denote breathing. I delicately placed my hand on what I assumed was the shoulder of the person in bed and faintly felt a shudder ripple through the pile of furs.
“Solace,” they rasped from somewhere deep within the covers. “You came.”
I will always come, daughter. My voice reverberated through my mind and into that of my last remaining descendant. Her broken whimper was the only confirmation I received that she even heard me.
“She’s dying,” Kaos intoned with little inflection as I rose from her bedside.
The smell was worse by the covers, and it was clear that care for my descendant had been severely lacking lately. The scents of sweat, urine, excrement, and sorrow were woven into the very fibers of the furs. It was a miracle she hadn’t died from her own stench.
“Yes,” I said simply, not removing my eyes from the form of the Last Keeper.
I strode wordlessly from the tent, not bothering to see if Kaos would follow, but knowing he would.
Like a lost puppy.
“You’re deviating from the plan, Solace.” His voice was a low rumble as he stalked next to me, an ever-present black shadow.
I waved one long hand in his general direction, effectively dismissing him.
He growled low in response, a predatory sound.
“I thought you didn’t even like the plan, brother.” My words were sharp and pointed, causing Kaos to rear his head back in shock.
He recovered quickly, however, and his brows descended over his eyes in a dramatic scowl that would frighten any mortal.
Luckily, I was a goddess.
“I don’t,” he spat, “but I also don’t appreciate being left in the dark, sister.”
“I thought you enjoyed the dark, dear brother.”
His shoulders tightened in response, and he took quick, measured steps, pulling himself from my side in an effort to cut me off. I stopped before his hulking form, white eyes meeting his pitch-black orbs. The air crackled around us as Kaos’ anger grew, his power threatening to unleash.
Humans ducked and hid in their tents, hiding from his wrath. Conversation ceased as they avoided our deadly standoff.
Maybe they aren’t as dumb as they first appeared.
I cocked my head at Kaos, unblinking. Sometimes the best course of action with my quick-to-anger brother was to simply wait him out. He could never stand the silence like I could.
After a few tense moments, I began to think that maybe I’d read him wrong on this occasion.
That would be the first time in . . . centuries.
It appeared that Meru changed Kaos, too.
“The plan,” he finally ground from between his teeth, his fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically at his sides in tune with the small bursts of power emanating from his form, “was to kill the last descendant. Absorb her power. Unleash the humans on Elyria while we find the artifacts.”
I said nothing. He was so obsessed with those artifacts—almost to an unhealthy degree.
He should be more worried about what his descendant is doing. Or not doing.
“Plans changed,” I finally said, an airy note of finality in my voice.
“No!” His hand slashed in front of him, and I reared back in slight shock. “That plan does not change, sister. Those artifacts . . . our tether to existence must be found.”
I studied him for a moment, prying past the outward display of anger and frustration to the core of his emotions. A slow smile spread across my face when I finally realized what drove him to this reaction, what drove him to follow me in the first place.
Fear.
“Oh Kaos,” I purred, “are you afraid?”
He blanched, his hand dropping back to his side, the power that was leaking into the air evaporated immediately, the heaviness that accompanied the magic instantly dissipating.
“No, no, I’m not afraid,” he scoffed.
I took a predatory step toward him until my chest was flush with his own. I slowly moved one of my hands up until I could feel his heart hammering beneath my palm. My grin only grew wider.
“Oh, on the contrary, brother. I think you’re terrified.” I squeezed my nails into the leather of his armor, and he flinched.
I pulled away with a laugh that was borderline maniacal, and I felt, more than saw, Kaos wince in response.
His hands ran through the short braids on his head as I continued my trek back down the main street of the camp, confident my brother would follow.
“The plan has changed, Kaos, but the objective remains the same,” I called, my robes trailing in the magical wind that seemed to constantly surround me.
I heard a few muttered curses from Kaos before the telltale sounds of the crunching of sand beneath his stomping boots as he, predictably, followed me back to what was the tent housing the Last Keeper’s commanders and plans.
“We’ve lost half, if not more, of her followers. She obviously can no longer serve as a figurehead. The Bondsmith is missing. We need to find those artifacts before someone else does,” Kaos pleaded.
I sneered in thought of our half-breed sister barely escaping us yet again.
Run now, little sister. Your time will come soon enough.
“And that is why we must pivot,” I said as I threw open the flap leading to the tent. Both commanders had left before our arrival, taking with them a vast majority of followers, maps and charts, recorded prophecies, and, most disappointingly, the Bondsmith.
I turned in a slow circle, carefully inspecting the walls of the hut as I put together the pieces of a plan. It was rough and risky. But it could work.
It had to work.
“Kaos,” I mused, not taking my eyes from the wall of the hut where a ripped corner of a map still hung. “I think it’s time you paid your last descendant a visit.”
Kaos was silent for a moment, and I held my breath, thinking he would defy me in this request.
“Of course, Solace,” he murmured before there was a feeling of immense pressure followed by a small pop. The quick dissipation of the pressure and the lack of presence that was so uniquely Kaos told me he had followed my request.
I blew out a breath of relief I didn’t realize I was holding.
Kaos’ last descendant was causing more trouble than he was worth in the north. My brother would never admit it, and would never take the steps necessary to eliminate the issue, but the last Truthsayer was becoming a bit of a problem. But it was a convenient excuse to get Kaos out of my way.
I needed time to plan. Time to turn the humans against the gods—at least the ones that weren’t me.
Eventually, I would have their complete loyalty. Eventually, I would control Elyria and absorb my brother’s powers.
And then, Fate would fall.