Chapter 11 Rasha
Rasha
Langzu – Kluehnn’s den in the hills north of Bian
Godkillers each have a den of origination, where they are “created”, for lack of a better word. However, they often move from den to den, between realms, sent to wherever Kluehnn needs more of them. Wherever there have been rumors and sightings of gods.
We returned to the den near Bian, handing the gems over to our handler, Millani, with little fanfare. The rust-colored rock here felt unfamiliar, the dryness of the air so different from the damp, mossy surroundings of restored Kashan. But we moved where Kluehnn bade us to.
Kluehnn himself did not appear to praise us, as he once might have. Instead, he stalked through the deeper tunnels, venting his frustrations. I could hear his voice echoing as I left Khatuya and Naatar in the mess hall to return to our shared room, lanterns making the rock glow red.
“The gods are beginning to organize. The realm was supposed to be restored, the people brought into line, and a new batch of altered ready to fight!”
A pause as someone responded in a low murmur.
“And now the gods are rallying and the mortals have more time to get into mischief. We put an end to this. All of it.”
The voices faded as I rounded the corner and opened the door to our rooms. I lit the lamp.
Three beds lined the walls, a desk and a table in one corner.
Sparse, but we weren’t often here. I went to my pack and lifted out the book on Aqqilan stories.
The heft of it in my hands felt oddly comfortable.
It had been a long time since I’d read a book.
I wasn’t sure exactly why I’d taken it. An action born of impulse, a flash decision.
This version was thicker than the one I’d seen in the deep parts of the den back in Kashan.
I’d thought, when I’d taken it, that the liaison had removed the book from its binding, had added more pages.
But when I flipped through to where he’d carved the hole into it, the stories blended seamlessly one into the next.
Did this one have more stories? There was one about a lost city where most people had died of plague, which was uncovered by an explorer.
There was one about a drunkard who became a Queen with the help of the god Irael and ruled over an era of prosperity for nearly sixty years.
There was one about Nioanen blessing a warrior’s sword to never break.
Ever since that day in the forest, when I’d spoken to the god, I’d tried to kill any doubts left in my mind.
He’d said he’d been in that village for three years, helping those people.
He hadn’t tried to take over; he lived on the outskirts.
And us, the acolytes? The godkillers? We’d slaughtered everyone in the village for the impurity of worshiping another god.
I didn’t know what was true anymore. Was the thinner volume I’d seen in the den the genuine one, or the book I was holding now?
I was a godkiller. I closed the book, placing it back inside my pack. There was no place in this den that was barred to me. Even the deeper places.
We were supposed to rest. To wait for Kluehnn’s orders. I took the lantern from the wall and slipped out the door.
There wasn’t any rest for me, not while these doubts still kept surfacing, kept gasping out whispers in my mind.
If I could put these thoughts down, if I could make them settle, I’d feel better.
And Kluehnn’s way was the true one, the right one, so anything I found would only help me quiet my doubts.
Lamps were fewer this deep, and the den in Bian seemed averse to using too many resources.
So I followed the sound of voices and the creak of cart wheels.
Every so often, I passed symbols carved into the walls, lines of texts I couldn’t read.
Tunnels ended in shallow recesses, in places a person could only crawl through.
I looped back, my heartbeat low and steady, feeling almost as though I could hear the heartbeat of the world echoed in mine.
I passed human and altered converts, their heads low, eyes averted as soon as they saw the violet glow of the gem in my dagger’s hilt.
I wasn’t sure how deep down I was, but I’d not seen the room they brought the books to yet, and I didn’t dare ask anyone.
I lifted the lantern and saw some carvings I recognized.
I’d doubled back somewhere, so now I was close to the god room – the one the godkillers brought dead gods to, for storage.
They didn’t decay, so they had to be put somewhere.
I found my feet leading me there instead, a feeling like dread curling at the back of my throat.
I tried to reason it out. I knew about this room, I’d seen it briefly.
The next god I killed, I’d be expected to bring it there too.
It was normal. It was a part of our lives in the den.
In spite of this reasoning, anxiety unfurled into my chest.
The door loomed before me, black iron set into rusted red walls. There was a keyhole, and I fumbled for the key at my belt. It turned easily in the lock and the door swung open.
Gods hung from meat hooks, the air slightly cooler and smelling strangely sweet. A breeze brushed at my cheeks – there was some other tunnel in this room through which air flowed. I closed the door behind me. I was allowed to be in here, yet my heart fluttered against my ribcage.
Wings, scales, fur, horns, roughened skin.
They reminded me of the altered, yet for the most part their features were more extreme.
Larger antlers, longer faces, noses that were padded like a cat’s, shoulders that were too broad or limbs that were too lithe.
Some looked more human, like they could hide if they really tried. They probably had.
Something about this room disturbed me. It wasn’t the gods hanging like meat – they were our enemies; we protected the mortals and brought them to justice.
There was something else, trying to free itself from the recesses of my mind.
I squinted at the hanging gods, trying to figure out what it was.
I’d been led here, and not by my conscious thoughts.
A scratching sound emanated from the corner of the cavern. My breathing quickened; my hand went automatically to the dagger at my belt. I stalked toward the sound, pushing the wing of one dead god aside so I could move past her, the feathers tickling my palm.
There was a hole in the ground, nearly hidden behind the bodies. The sound was coming from the hole. I started to lean toward it, sliding my feet across the cavern’s stone floor.
A hand crested the edge of the hole, and then another, and then yet another.
Kluehnn’s aspect hauled itself out. This one was different from the one I was used to in Kashan, the one that Hakara’s people had killed.
Its legs were longer, like a hairless wolf’s, two rows of four flitting across the floor in wave-like movements I couldn’t follow.
The back two legs on each side were capped with cloven hooves; the front two ended in hands.
The body was thinner, ribs pressing against the pale skin, tendrils running in a row down its back, moving like individual insect limbs or antennae.
Five eyes blinked out from a long, narrow face, somewhere between a human’s and an antelope’s.
There was only one spare mouth on this aspect, at the base of the creature’s throat, and it licked the air as if tasting it. A flash of sharp white teeth.
All five eyes focused on me. “Rasha,” the rasping voice said. “What are you doing in here, my child?”
The memory finally burst through my anxious thoughts.
A horned girl with golden skin, eyes fixed on me.
A hook through her shoulder. Moistened lips parting, blue eyes wet with tears.
Help me. A mouth wrapping around a hand, devouring it.
I blinked, the vision retreating. Sweat gathered between my shoulder blades; I felt as though all five of his eyes were seeing right through me to the thoughts beneath.
“I… couldn’t rest.” It was the truth. I couldn’t.
Kluehnn eyed me for a moment. “Perhaps it is better that you can’t rest, as I have a task for you and your cohort. You did well, catching the smuggler.” His voice was calm, not the raging I’d heard only moments before.
I bowed my head, trying not to let the relief show too openly on my face. This, I knew what to do with. This, I understood. “We aim to serve you.”
His barbed tail lashed, and in that moment he reminded me of a lion, caged and every muscle coiled. “And that is why I must send you farther afield. Your cohort is strong, loyal.”
What exactly did he mean by that? “What is the mission you’d like us to accomplish?” Others were in Bian, or traveling to country estates, raiding the houses of the clans, searching for gems they’d hidden away.
“Back in Kashan, in the den, during the attack.” He stopped. One back leg trembled and then lay still. “There was an altered on their side. Big man, black wings. He was not an altered. He was a god. He lived through the attack. He escaped. I need him dead.”
“The trail will have already gone cold.”
It took a while for Kluehnn to respond, and when he did, his voice was soft. “Are you blaming me for not sending you sooner?”
I fell to the floor, immediately abashed. “No! I would not suggest you made such a mistake. Everyone was scattered, regrouping. Our den was in turmoil.”
“He is traveling with the Unanointed. I’ve found them once since they escaped.”
It was news to me, but then I wasn’t privy to all the information Kluehnn had. No one was. The stone pressed, cold, against my cheek. “And?”
“The group of them slaughtered my godkillers and took down another of my aspects. We’ve lost them. I need a cohort to find this god again. A strong cohort.”
Hakara. My sister must have survived the raid.
I couldn’t believe otherwise. Who else could wreak that sort of havoc?
It still baffled me that she’d ended up with the Unanointed.
I’d seen the mines, and understood a little better the environment that had shaped her recent years.
But what in that environment had led her to working with one of the gods?
Neither Maman nor Mimi had been particularly devout, but they still looked at the gods with distrust. Everyone knew the history: how the gods had invaded the world above and attempted to wipe mortals from its face.
“You hesitate.”
I lifted my head. One of Kluehnn’s eyes met my gaze; the others surveyed the hanging gods. The hands that lay palm-flat in front of me were tipped in claws. “And what of everyone who is accompanying the god?”
“They are impure. Kill them as well.”
I licked my lips. I’d let Hakara go during that raid.
A mercy, I’d told myself. A mercy for the kindness she’d shown me once, long ago, when we’d both been children.
She’d taken care of me after Maman and Mimi had died.
For two years, she’d been the only parent I’d known.
I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I faced her again.
What if I could convince her to leave the foolish Unanointed behind? “What if there was another way?”
A staccato of feet thumped against stone.
Claws pricked at my cheeks as one of Kluehnn’s hands seized my face.
He lifted me until I stood, my eyes on a level with his.
The extra mouth on his throat worked soundlessly.
“There is no other way. You will go and find this god. You will kill him and all his companions.” His black eyes studied my face like he was deciding where to bite me.
“There is a woman who travels with him.”
My innards froze. I let him hold me, the feeling of dread pooling into every limb.
“Ah yes, you think I don’t know? You think you could hide this from me? Me, the many-eyed god? She is your sister. And she is fighting for the Unanointed.”
His hand dropped back to his side and still I couldn’t move.
“Take your cohort and go. Hunt him down. Bring his body back to this room.”
I swallowed, but could say nothing. My hand went to the godkiller blade at my side, the violet gem warm to the touch.
A tongue swiped out from the lower mouth, claws digging into the stone floor. “And Rasha? My sweet Rasha – know this: if you hide anything else from me, it will be the last thing you do.”