Chapter 37 #2
‘But that’s not entirely true, is it, Maura, my dear?
There is one god who could have brought them back.
Only one god who ever had the power to bestow new life…
but you couldn’t bear the thought of your children being reborn as jih.
’ He laughed. ‘You should have gone to Trilot, faithless one—it would have suited you better.’
‘Shut up. Shut up! It’s done now, and you can’t stop me. The Bloody Claw is dying in sacrifice to me. Nothing can stop it now!’
‘Whoever said I wanted to?’ replied Tisk. He turned to the monstrous lion, who was now lying on his side, enormous chest rising and falling with effort. Tisk poked him with his cane. ‘I hope this hurts, old friend. You do not take what is mine without consequence.’
‘I cannot… I cannot die…’
‘You can and you will,’ spat Maura. She waded through the pool of blood towards the fallen lion, her white dress soaking scarlet from hem to knee in an instant.
‘It was your idiotic war with Trilot that killed my family, and now you will know what it is to suffer.’ She rested her hands on his fleshy leg, digging her fingernails in like they were talons.
‘I am a god…’
‘Not for much longer. Soon, you will be little more than a pile of rotting flesh and your power will be mine.’ From his vantage point, Artair could only see a portion of her face; it was wet with tears. ‘And I will have them again. My darlings.’
The Bloody Claw began to convulse. Behind him, Artair felt Dalesh gasp and step away from him.
There was a clatter as her dagger fell to the ground.
Similarly, the remaining acolytes of Mother Maura were backing away towards the walls, dragging Sunay with them.
Artair stood up carefully, one hand pressed to the wound in his stomach.
The pain there was bad, but it was nothing compared to what he felt in his heart.
He took a slow, deep breath, remembering the teachings of the Perpetual Morning—not to master fear this time, but to banish pain.
Here, in this moment, I am safe.
‘It’s happening,’ murmured Dalesh. ‘It’s really happening.’
The body of the lion twitched and shivered, and then abruptly its side split open and a vast yellow serpent burst out of it, shining with its own golden light.
For a handful of heartbeats the cavern was lit up as though it were a midday afternoon, and all of them felt the lash of the Queen of Serpents’ fury.
WHO DARES TO HARM MY POISON CHILD?
The serpent had Elver in her jaws, Artair saw, and before he really knew what he was doing he was sprinting across the short space, the agony in his gut forgotten.
Once, in the monastery gardens, Brother Benzin had found an injured wild cat, its back leg hanging broken and useless, yet when they had tried to move it, to try and bind its injury, the creature had lashed out at them, hissing and spitting without thought.
Artair thought of this as the mortally wounded lion god rounded on the giant golden serpent, his jaws sinking into her scaly hide once, twice, three times.
The Queen of Serpents dropped Elver into the pool and lashed out at the lion, her hook-like teeth tearing more ragged holes in his raw flesh.
Yet despite his injuries, the Bloody Claw knocked her away with one blow from his enormous paw.
‘You have no power here, wyrm,’ he said. The lion sounded weak, and confused. ‘Begone.’
The serpent writhed in the pool for a few seconds, poisonous black blood oozing from between scales that glittered like gold coins, and then she vanished, leaving Elver behind. A second later Artair had the girl in his arms, lifting her out of the blood.
‘Elver?’
Her golden eyes were still and unseeing. She wasn’t breathing.
‘ No. ’
Behind them, the Bloody Claw collapsed.
‘It’s happening!’ Maura’s voice was shrill with joy.
The Bloody Claw did not yet appear to be dead, despite the gaping hole in his body, but a ruby-red fire was leaking out of him, oozing from his flesh like sweat, and it was surging towards Maura.
She held out her hands to it, and the fiery energy surged over her, running over her skin and filling her eyes.
As Artair watched, she began to rise off the ground, her feet hovering a good foot or so above the stones.
He turned away from the sight, clutching Elver closer to him, and kissed her on the forehead.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I’m so sorry I brought you here.’
‘All is not yet lost.’ A cold nose poked him in the ankle. It was Tisk, now in his fox form.
‘Maura is becoming a god,’ Artair pointed out. ‘And Elver is…’ He couldn’t finish the sentence. ‘What can we do?’
‘A great many things,’ said Tisk. ‘There are always a great many things we can do, boy. You two, for example, are capable of extraordinary feats, if only you would work together.’
Artair felt sick. ‘She’s dead , you fool.’
‘Not her, my handsome young idiot. Is it me, or is everyone much too comfortable with disrespecting the gods these days?’ Before Artair could reply, Tisk spoke over him.
‘I’m talking about the soul you carry with you.
For some reason, the pair of you are under the illusion you are entirely separate beings.
Now, illusions are rather my area, so let me give you a little glimpse of what I mean. ’
‘What are you talking about?’
Maura was a being of pulsing red light, rising up towards the ceiling of the chamber.
‘Here, I will show you.’
The fox bit his hand. Not hard, but firmly enough to send a little electric shock of pain through Artair that seemed to jolt something loose. He shook his head; he felt abruptly dizzy, and the room around him shimmered and wavered, wobbling into double vision and back again.
‘What was… What was that?’
His own voice sounded strange, and he realized a moment later that it wasn’t his voice. Or at least, not his voice alone.
‘What are you doing here?’ snapped Lucian. ‘What in the name of all the gods… She’s done it, she’s taken the Bloody Claw’s power!’ Artair winced as Lucian looked down at Elver’s body in their arms, feeling the other spirit’s own pain and horror. ‘You let her die, monk?’
‘There was nothing I could do!’ He took a breath. ‘And you told me you could stop Maura if I gave you control! What happened to that?’
‘I can see that you two are going to be incredibly popular with this party trick. You should take it on the road, sell tickets,’ said Tisk.
‘But can I suggest concentrating on the current mess you’re in?
Because when Mother Maura has finished siphoning off that beast’s power she will be eager to tidy away any loose ends.
And you and my mage are the loosest of ends, if you will beg my pardon.
’ The fox vanished, and instead the foxy-faced man was crouching over them.
He had a soul globe in his hand—Artair saw the knowledge in Lucian’s memories—and he passed it to him with a wink.
‘Here you go. I’ve been saving this for you.
’ He paused. ‘There’s still time, Lucian. ’
Lucian held up the glass ball and reached for the line of fire within him. It was barely there, banked down to nothing as the life force of the Bloody Claw drained away, but he grasped after it anyway, holding onto that connection like it was a lifeline.
‘My lord,’ he said aloud. ‘I give you this soul in exchange for a boon—I ask for the last of your power… enough for vengeance.’
He cast the globe onto the floor where it shattered. The faint lilac light within it swirled around the pieces of broken glass and flew through the air towards the Bloody Claw, slipping through the great beast’s open jaws.
‘It’s too late,’ said Artair. ‘He’s already dead.’
‘No,’ said Lucian. ‘This has to work.’
Maura was turning slowly, her arms outstretched. When she spoke, her voice rang like a bell.
‘I take my place amongst the Twelve. And you will all call me Mother!’
Lucian felt it first as a warmth in his chest, a faint touch of heat that caught and began to burn more brightly. The line of fire quickened and smouldered even as the connection it represented faltered and died.
Take it. The Bloody Claw’s voice in his head. Take it and keep it from her as long as you can. She will never be complete without it.
Lucian made to stand up, intending to carry Elver with him, but the pain in his stomach was too great.
‘Artair, you have to get us up. I can’t do it.’
The pain was bad, but Artair remembered the words of the monks— you exist here and now, and in this moment, you are alive— and he pushed the pain far away from himself and Lucian.
Instead, he concentrated on what needed to be done.
He stood, Elver still in his arms. Lucian’s gratitude felt like the faint touch of the sun on a winter’s day.
‘Thank you.’ Power surged within them, ruby red and volatile. A great deal of anger was driving it: his, Lucian’s and the Bloody Claw’s. He felt Lucian’s sharp mind rubbing up against his own, so precise and ambitious and strange.
‘I will summon a portal,’ said Lucian, and a second later it was there, a fiery doorway hanging in front of them.
Meanwhile, Sunay had slipped away from the other acolytes and she appeared at his elbow, her face the colour of ash.
She went to touch Elver’s hand where it lay lifelessly on her chest, then thought better of it.
‘Quickly,’ said Artair. Sunay went first, ducking her head as though to avoid the flames, and Artair and Lucian followed after, Elver still held in their arms. When they were through, standing on cool green grass, they turned back to get one last look at the chamber where Mother Maura had killed the Bloody Claw.
Because he was dead now: both of them could feel it, a broken connection deep inside.
Beyond the doorway, Maura hung suspended in her own shimmering luminescence.
The red glow had transformed into a powerful white light that dipped and waned like dappled sunshine on a wooded path, and her red hair too had turned entirely white.
Her face was beatific, peaceful, contented, the face of someone who had finally achieved everything they wanted. Except…
Her cheek twitched, and her eyes flickered open.
‘There is something missing,’ she said. ‘Some piece of his power that has slipped away. How is this possible? Why am I not complete? ’
For half a heartbeat, her eyes found Artair’s, and they widened with sudden furious knowledge before Lucian closed the portal.
‘ Lucian! ’