Chapter 7 Lithuas
Lithuas
Unterra – a party in the Sixth Territory
The land of Unterra spans the inner surface of the world, split into seven territories.
Each territory is ruled and cared for by one of the elder gods.
Each of the younger gods can trace their lineage back to one of these seven.
Ayaz, the Cutter; Barexi, the Scholar; Rumenesca, the Mother; Nioanen, Defender of the Helpless; Irael, the God of Many Chances; Lithuas, the Bringer of Change; Velenor, the Glittering One.
But where did the seven elder gods come from?
No one is sure, but one thing is true – they are the eldest gods in existence.
The air was filled with the scent of dianeral blossoms, sweet and tangy.
Lithuas made her way through the throng, the younger gods inclining their heads to her as she passed.
A flicker of recognition passed through her at each face she saw.
It had been a long time since any gods had died, and so it had been a long time since any gods had been born.
It was Barexi’s turn to host, which pleased her.
He might have been scholarly and dull, but he knew how to throw a party.
It was like he stuffed down the fun, the graceful touches, the style, and let them come out to play for this one day every fourteen years.
He himself didn’t really care for the festivities; he’d probably be in his library reading a book, a drink in hand the only sign for him that he was, in fact, at a party.
Voices were raised in raucous laughter in one corner, gods lounged in a pool in another.
Baskets of blossoms were placed on tables, surrounded by delicate bites to eat and glasses of sparkling tintean wine.
Some pieces of conversation that flitted past her ears were petty bits of gossip regarding the gods.
How many nights did Nioanen actually spend in his bed in Unterra, and was anyone else warming it?
Ayaz wasn’t here; was he quarreling with Barexi again?
Velenor had caught a meteor and was making a blade from the metal inside – it was sure to be grand.
Most conversations, however, dealt with the mortals.
And of course they did. Their lives were ever-moving, a river as compared to a stagnant pond.
Generations passing in what felt like moments.
And the gods couldn’t help themselves from dipping a toe into that river, feeling a little bit more alive for it.
Not that Lithuas could hold herself above that.
She stepped from the main ballroom into an empty hallway, trailing a hand along the carved walls.
She’d spent more than one lifetime among the mortals above.
She was a shapeshifting god, and could move among them easily.
So while others had dipped their toes in, she’d immersed herself, pretending for years on end to be a mortal.
She’d borne more than one mortal child, had pretended at love – had even truly fallen once or twice – had fought in wars.
She’d famously once run into Irael, also in mortal form, without recognizing him.
They’d had a good laugh over it once they’d both figured it out.
And then, in the end, she’d returned to her palace in the Fifth Territory, looking around at surroundings that had not changed at all in the time she’d been away.
The Bringer of Change, the mortals called her.
Maybe up there, on the above-world, that was who she was.
Down here, in Unterra, she was as everyone else – ceaseless and still.
A darkened alcove opened beneath her fingertips. A balcony, overlooking a quiet garden. Someone stood with his back to her, moonlight limning smooth antelope’s horns and pointed, tufted ears. One ear twitched back in her direction and the man turned.
Thick black brows lay low over eyes the rich color of sun-ripened oranges.
His skin was pale, his cheekbones so sharp it looked as though the spiny back of some creature was breaking the calm surface of a lake.
His full lips curved outward, hiding what Lithuas was sure were pointed teeth.
He wore a long-sleeved green tunic with a cape attached by silver brooches at the shoulders.
It made him appear wider than he was, more imposing.
She didn’t know him.
Had a new god been born when she’d not been paying attention?
Maybe during one of her last dalliances in the mortal world.
They were burning more and more of the Numinars up there, and though the machines they built fascinated her, she could see the effects consumption of the living wood was having on the world above.
There had been a tipping point that no one had recognized, where the wonders of the world they’d built had stopped outweighing the ugliness they were putting into it.
It wasn’t as pleasant to be there as it had once been, not unless she wormed her way into the richest palaces, where delicacies were served on crystal platters.
His gaze traveled over her, and he must have been new, because he didn’t incline his head the way he should have. “Lithuas.” His voice was deep and dark. He took in a breath of the night air, letting it linger in his mouth and lungs as though he were tasting it.
“I’m afraid I don’t know you.”
“We’ve not met. My name is Kluehnn.” He didn’t hold out a hand or offer his parentage. A glass lingered in his right hand, the violet liquid inside still nearly at the brim. “It’s my first party here in Unterra.”
“You must be very new.”
“Not as new as you might think.” He spoke to her plainly, without deference, and she found herself intrigued by it.
“I’ve just held myself back from these celebrations.
” A lift of the glass. “After all, what are we celebrating? When the mortals finally cut down the last Numinars, the offshoots of their roots, the vast forests we have down here – they will die. What will Unterra look like then?”
“That’s a long way away.”
He sipped, regarding her from above the rim of his glass. In the dim light of the alcove, his eyes were banked embers. “Is it? We are gods. We must know that time marches ever forward and what seems far away now moves inevitably closer.”
“There’s still a chance things might change.”
“Only if someone makes them change.” There was a challenge in his voice.
She should seize him by one of those horns, take him to task.
But even though she was not old, she was growing older, and the fires that had burned in her in her youth had become smoke and ash.
She couldn’t stir herself to the same righteous passions.
Kluehnn waved a hand at the garden, dotted throughout with luminescent plants.
“The gods use the mortal world as a playground, then retreat to relative safety, refusing to do their duty. We have fallen so far. And the seven elder gods sit in their palaces and do nothing.”
“You think I’m doing nothing?” She said it lightly, but laced the edges with poison. He might be interesting, but by her reckoning he was little more than a child. She could shift in mere moments into a beast that could swallow him whole. And he spoke to her like this?
His eyes widened a little. The pup realized he’d overstepped. Good. “Forgive me, I spoke out of turn.” He licked his lips. “Not nothing. Just not enough.”
Lithuas frowned. “You say it as though we’ve failed the mortals, when they were the first to act.”
His head dipped then, finally. “Yes.”
She found herself moving closer, drawn in by the potential here. There was anger in him, passion, a yearning. She could always feel it, the way birds knew a storm was on the horizon. And she’d not felt this sort of energy from a god in many long years.
His gaze met hers once more and he lifted the glass again. His claws curled around the stem as though he wished to crush it. The violet wine slipped past his lips. She focused on his throat as he swallowed, rapt.
He set the empty glass on the balcony railing.
“The mortals should be punished. Down here, the gods moan and complain about what they’ve done to the Numinars, yet no one has fought back.
” His hands clenched into fists and an answering rage lit inside her.
The mortals kept cutting and burning the Numinars for their wars, their petty desires.
And the gods needed the syrup to live. Had she wandered down this hall, to this alcove, by chance?
“I’m still young,” Kluehnn said slowly, regretfully. “I want to punish them, but… I’ll need help. I can’t do this alone.”
She’d been the catalyst before, so many times.
Helping mortals wreak righteous havoc on their enemies, facilitating scientific and magical breakthroughs, turning one regime over into the next.
This change felt bigger than all of them – more personal, and more right.
She pressed a finger to his cheek, tracing the line of the bone beneath.
It was nearly sharp enough to cut. The touch of his skin buzzed against hers, a vibration that traveled down her arm and settled beneath her tongue.
Together they could do things – marvelous and terrible.
She could focus that passion, hone it, point it in the direction it needed to go for the greatest effect.
She ran her fingers to his chin, tilting it up, noting the line of his jaw, the pulse throbbing quick at his throat.
Had he known how irresistible he would be to her? Had he come to this party to seek her out? It didn’t matter. She was caught, had perhaps been caught as soon as she’d stepped into the alcove.
“Yes. I will help you.”