Chapter 7
“Deity?”
That’s the only word I can somehow form after the girl’s stunning announcement.
The entire cliff is silent now, everyone just staring at each other, bewildered, as am I. Myter just proclaimed herself a godsworn—whatever that is—of a god I’ve never heard of. And considering that Otera has only eight gods—four Gilded Ones and four Idugu—that’s impossible. There are no other gods in the One Kingdom, no other creatures that would even dare to consider themselves deities. I would think Myter mad except for the things I’ve just seen—the way she easily defeated Melanis and her hunters, the temple now surrounding us, even the fact that she knew Mother’s real name.
And then there was that strange tingling I felt, the one so very different from those I’ve felt before. Not to mention the fact that she healed me, that all my senses have returned, sharper than ever. In fact, except for the hollowness inside signaling my diminished life force and the pounding headache that must be a side effect of all the blood I’ve lost, I’m whole and hardy again, something I didn’t think possible.
As much as my entire being wants to discount what Myter said, I can’t. She’s unlike anyone I’ve encountered before. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that creatures like her don’t just appear out of the ether. There has to be at least a kernel of truth to what she’s saying. Either that or she’s a very convincing liar. After all, I have been fooled before. Many, many times before. Myter could very well have access to arcane objects powerful enough to heal my body and let her read my mind at the same time.
I glance suspiciously at her armor and hammer as I walk closer to her. “Did you say a deity? Of the pathways?” I ask. “And what exactly are pathways?”
“And Maiwuri?” Belcalis adds, her expression blank the way it always is when she’s faced with an unknown enemy. “You did say something about the gods of a Maiwuri.”
“Never heard of a Maiwuri,” Britta mutters.
Of our entire group, only Lamin looks unsurprised, but then his expression is always stoic, never even a hint of emotion breaking through.
Myter glances from me to my friends, blithely unconcerned. At least, that’s what I assume, since I can still only see her eyes. “Indeed,” she says finally. “The entire pantheon awaits.”
Just like that, Li has had enough. “All right, what is this?” he demands. “Is this some kind of trick? Are you a creature the Idugu sent?”
“If I was, do you think I would identify myself as such?”
Li blinks as he considers this. “Well, no, but it never hurts to ask,” he mutters.
Myter just stares at him. Then she sighs. “This is infuriating. And pointless. Come, Deka.” She turns to me. “Your mother waits.”
“I just have a few more questions,” I reply. “You said ‘gods,’ plural, of Maiwuri?”
“Indeed.”
“Exactly how many gods are we talking about?”
Myter seems to think for a moment, then she shrugs. “The Maiwurian pantheon is vast compared to Otera’s. Eighty gods, five new ones waiting to emerge.”
“Eighty?” Keita repeats, stunned.
“Five more waiting to emerge, so eighty-five demons…,” Belcalis whispers, as if trying to reconcile herself to the thought.
Myter’s head swivels in Belcalis’s direction. “I can hear you, you know,” she sniffs. Then she turns to me. “You may not believe me at this moment, but I vow to you, Deka, that Maiwuri and its gods are no threat to you and yours. In fact, we are your firmest allies against the Oteran scourge. Consider my defense of you against those…creatures,” she says, referring to Melanis and her hunters. “That and my healing your wounds were peace offerings. A demonstration of goodwill from Maiwuri to you.
“Now then,” she continues decisively, “will you come or not? I can’t remain here much longer. My presence has upset the balance of things.”
“But go with you where?” My eyebrows furrow. “And what balance?”
“Did you not hear me the first time?” Myter is distinctly annoyed now. “To Maiwuri. To where the gods and your mother await. And as for the balance of which I spoke, it is the one that exists between the pantheon there and the ones here. There are rules to be observed, consequences if any are broken.”
“But where is Maiwuri?” Keita insists, even as his hands tighten on his atikas. He’s still deeply suspicious, as are Britta and Li. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Me neither,” Belcalis seconds, her expression grim.
“Of course you wouldn’t have.” Myter huffs out a breath. “The Oteran gods, if you can still call them that, have intentionally rendered you all ignorant.” She shakes her head as she turns to me. “I believe you still call it the Unknown Lands.”
“The continents that lie south of the Southern provinces—those Unknown Lands?” Li’s skepticism has returned. “The place where there’s untold wealth and glory if only you can reach it? Those Unknown Lands?”
“Indeed.” Myter inclines her head.
“No one who’s gone there has ever returned,” I say dryly, thinking of the hosts of stories devoted to the famous explorers who tried and were never seen again.
“And yet here I am, a creature who’s certainly neither human nor alaki, responding to the key on the necklace your mother left you. Your mother, who is the very reason you’re here on this island in the first place. Again,” Myter prompts in a long-suffering tone, “shall we go, or do you want to die here on some unknown, abandoned cliff so that the so-called gods of Otera can feast like vultures on what remains of your kelai?”
As I remain quiet, still thinking, I hear a hesitant whisper: “What about us?”
To my surprise, Nevra, who’s been huddled in a corner of the temple this entire time, is now staring at Myter, as are all the other children. “What happens to us?” the girl asks in that small, uncertain voice.
Myter turns to her and sighs. “I’ll give you two choices: I can take just you and your friends back to Maiwuri with us, or I can take all of you and your parents as well.”
Beside Nevra, Palitz, eyes wide, asks, “So you mean we can’t—”
“After what you’ve seen, I can’t let you return to your villages,” Myter says, shaking her head, “and even if I could, I doubt you’d be safe.”
When I step forward, alarmed at this declaration, Myter lifts a hand before turning back to the children. “Don’t worry, you’ll be welcome in Maiwuri. More welcome than you are here.”
“And you won’t hurt them?” I slip into the combat state as I ask Myter this question, paying close attention to the sound of her heartbeat, since I somehow can’t see any bit of her body under the armor she’s wearing. Something about it interferes with the combat state, prevents me from seeing the full truth that is Myter. All I can do is listen.
“Of course not!” Myter’s heart—well, hearts—don’t skip a beat, much less hasten the way I’ve learned all liars’ hearts do, as she says this.
“Why?” I ignore the fact that she has two hearts as I walk closer to her, head cocked in curiosity. “Why would you do that for children you don’t know?”
Myter considers Nevra and the others before she turns back to me. “Because they are children,” she says simply. “Children don’t deserve to be caught in the wars of the gods. I certainly didn’t.”
There’s a mournfulness in her voice now, a depth of emotion that tells me that no matter her appearance, no matter what her voice sounds like, Myter is certainly not a child, and likely hasn’t been one for a very long time.
She turns back to Nevra: “Well, what is your choice?”
Nevra thinks. Finally, she says, “I don’t know about the others, but I’d like my parents to go with you, please.”
“Mine too.” To my surprise, this response comes from Palitz, her voice small.
Then another girl: “Is there space for my family also?”
“And mine?”
Before long, the entire group is gathered behind Myter, who nods and kneels in front of the children. “Of course there is. All are welcome in Maiwuri. Lord Bala creates pathways for all.” She turns and points.
My eyes widen.
A man has appeared in the very center of the temple, his body seeming to coalesce out of the shadows. It floats a little distance off the ground, his robes trailing beneath him. Almost immediately, I know he’s a god. I can feel the power emanating from deep inside him, even though at first he looks very modest, perhaps even plain. His skin is as midnight dark as Anok’s, but if you glance at him at just the right angle, rainbows seem to glisten just under it.
Pathways.The word emerges, unsolicited, deep inside my mind.
Those rainbows thread through his black hair, which is twisted into a thousand coils so long, they nearly brush the hems of his robes. They seem snakelike almost, those coils, especially the way they move and undulate, like separate appendages, fanning out behind Bala. I’m not frightened of them, just as I’m not frightened of Bala himself, whose brown eyes radiate a deep kindness from underneath his slight, almost mournful brows.
So this is the god of the pathways.
It’s strange how easily I accept it, but I do. It’s undeniable, the divinity that cloaks him. But the Gilded Ones and the Idugu were also cloaked in divinity. And they were all monsters.
Beside me, Britta gapes. “Deka, is that—”
“Yes,” I say with a nod. That is undoubtedly a god.
Even if it weren’t for the power coming off him, I can feel the infinity in the pathways that tangle through his hair, moving in tandem around him, speaking in a whispering language all their own.
We mean you no harm,the pathways seem to say. Come with us and all will be well. We promise you will be safe.
This message is, apparently, as much for Nevra and her friends as it is for me, because the children all begin slowly, reverently walking over to Bala, who opens his arms in welcome. As I watch, fascinated but uneasy, the god’s coils reach out to touch Nevra. Just like that, she’s sucked into thin air, her body disappearing as if she was never here.
I take a step forward, alarmed, but Myter swiftly shakes her head.
“My Lord Bala will personally take her to her destination,” the towering girl intones, her voice sounding more respectful than it has since we’ve met her. “He will take them all to their destinations.”
“And he would not harm them?” Suspicion tinges my voice.
“My Lord Bala would never harm a child! Never!” There’s such conviction in Myter’s voice, some of my tension disappears. “He will ensure they are all safe, this he vows to you.”
When I nod, appeased, Bala holds out his arms again, and the children resume walking over to him. Once the last of them is gone, Myter turns to me. “Now it’s your turn. Do you choose to go?”
An answer in the affirmative immediately surges inside me, but I hastily tamp it down. This all feels too easy. “Why?” I ask, my eyes squarely on Bala. “Why do you want me to go? What exactly do the gods of Maiwuri want with me?”
“They want to aid you, of course,” Myter answers, as if her words are common sense. “You are the Angoro, the Singular, who descended to kill the Oteran gods. The gods of Maiwuri wish to aid you in this regard.”
“Aid her?” This disdainful reply comes from Belcalis, echoing my thoughts. “They are gods, are they not? An entire pantheon of eighty or so, you just said. Why do they not just end the Gilded Ones and the Idugu themselves?”
“Because they do not know the true names of the Oterans.” Myter is the one who speaks, but there is a reverberance to her voice now, one I can almost feel coming from Bala. It seems that he uses her to speak, just as the Gilded Ones did Melanis.
Which makes sense, of a sort. In the earlier days of Otera, the voices of the gods would drive their worshippers mad.
Perhaps Bala has so much power, he must do the same.
I turn to Myter as she continues, her voice normal again: “The gods need the true names of the Oterans to sing the songs of their unmaking. But they’ve hidden away that knowledge, and finding it would require that the gods of Maiwuri come into contact with them, which they cannot do due to the corruption that has infected the Oteran pantheon.
“And even if that weren’t the case, the divine covenants forbid direct interference by one group of gods with another.”
“Didn’t ye just interfere with Melanis?” Britta seems puzzled now.
“I am not a god, and neither is she. The rules are different for us immortals. But you’ll learn more about that if you come with me.” She glances squarely in my direction, her voice taking on that reverberance again. “Now then, Angoro Deka,” she says, “what do you choose? Stay or go?”
The question rings in my ears as I turn to my friends, all of them tense as they wait for my answer—or for the command to attack. After all, Bala and Myter are still the unknown. Still potential threats. But as I look at Bala, my fear and distrust fades. This entire while, he hasn’t tried to persuade or subtly influence me. And I’ve been influenced by gods so many times, I have a sixth sense for it now. I would feel it if he did, feel the subtle pull of divine energy. But I’ve felt none of that.
Most important, I have the feeling that he’d accept any answer I choose without trying to change it into the one he seeks.
That, more than anything else, is what convinces me. I sheathe my atikas, then turn to the others. “I want to go,” I say. “But I don’t want to make any decisions without the group.”
After all, I’m not the one who’ll do the bulk of the fighting should things go sour. I may be healed now, but that emptiness is still inside me, which means I will eventually develop more sores, more wounds. The healing I received was only a temporary reprieve.
But it’s one I’ll savor while I have it.
For a moment, there’s only silence. Then Britta steps forward. Sighs. “If there’s one thing I know, Deka,” she says, “it’s that the world is shit wherever we go. If there’s a chance we can save ye, or even a chance we can see a paradise before it all ends, I’ll take it.”
Belcalis nods beside her. “This is what we came here for,” she says, before continuing under her breath, “New gods. Why does it always have to be more gods?”
“I can still hear you,” Myter reminds her.
As Belcalis rolls her eyes, Keita turns to me, his gaze intent. He’s been touching me this entire time—a hold on my back, little wondering grazes of his fingers. I don’t think he even notices how much he’s doing it.
He nods at me. “No matter what, I’m here. You know that, Deka, right?”
All I can do is embrace him, put my forehead against his. “I do,” I whisper.
Then I return my attention to Myter. “All right, then,” I agree. “Let’s go see my mother.”
“Finally,” Myter huffs. She turns to Bala and bows. “My Lord, the pathways.”
Bala surges up into the air, darkness melding with a thousand rainbows. His coils explode across the temple, shimmering and shining, until a bright, fragmented light flashes.
And then we’re in the pathways.