Chapter 15 Rasha
Rasha
Langzu – in the wilds
Most of the elder gods, except Ayaz, have dallied with mortals at one time or another.
Even more of the younger gods did so. Mortals once proudly traced their lineage back to the gods, their abilities to work with magic stronger than that of their brethren.
As time went on, and the world changed, mortals desired and searched for this connection less and less.
The sun shone through the clouds, hot against the top of my scalp, burning the bare skin at the base of my horns. Gravel crunched beneath my feet. Moisture filled the wind, but no rain dropped, just a crackling, electric energy prickling the hairs of my arms.
Khatuya and Naatar strode behind me, their voices carrying with the breeze.
“I’ll ask for a bath as my reward when we return,” Naatar said.
I heard him scratch at the dried scales of his arms. “The weather here is terrible for my skin. I’m not used to it.
Imagine – a tub with steaming water, the surface draped in flower petals, just a sprinkle of lavender oil on the surface.
And a soak so long that every finger and toe is as wrinkled as an old woman’s face. ”
Khatuya laughed. “What would the gods think if they knew you wish to bathe in flowers and not the blood of your enemies?”
“Please, we can’t all have skin as thick and tough as tree bark. What would you ask for?”
A long, heavy sigh. “Meat. Something from Kashan. The chicken here is so stringy and tough. Maybe I’ll ask that we be stationed back there.”
I closed my eyes tight, and there she was again in the black depths behind my eyelids.
The horned girl with the golden skin, her eyes pleading.
I shook my head. Everything seemed to remind me of her lately.
The infusers in the cavern just inside the den entrance, chained to the stone, reminded me of the gods hanging next to her.
The glowing gems the altered placed between their teeth reminded me of the glow of the young god’s aura.
But where had I seen her? Had it only been in dreams? Nightmares? It felt too real, too solid, yet at the same time I could not place it.
Five days on the road, and each time I lay down to sleep, I thought of her. I pressed a palm to my forehead. “What makes you so sure we’re coming back?”
The footsteps behind me halted.
“Rasha?” Naatar’s voice, soft and hesitant.
Crunching steps as Khatuya approached. “Of course we’re coming back. And we’ll drag that god’s body back with us.”
I pivoted to face her. Golden hills surrounded us, punctuated by the dark green of patchy trees. Above, a few birds wheeled in the sky. A caw echoed off the hills. “We’ve only killed one other god before.”
“So?” Khatuya had to crane her neck to look me in the eye. She was short but powerful, her body compact and muscular. “What’s one more?” Naatar hesitated behind her, watching us as he followed at a slower pace.
“This god was in the depths of the den. Did you not hear the whispers? He cut down godkillers like they were nothing. And what of the rumors of the other god? The one who fought on Kluehnn’s side?”
Khatuya scoffed, tossing her black hair over her shoulder. “Rumors. No one speaks that now.”
“Because they were silenced.”
“Rasha.” Naatar’s voice was a warning. He stood behind Khatuya, his hand touching her shoulder briefly before falling back to his side. “Think about what you’re trying to say.”
I didn’t know what I was trying to say, only that everything felt wrong.
I longed for the days when I could sink into my faith, when everything felt right.
I’d once believed in Hakara above all else.
Then I believed in Kluehnn. And now? I wasn’t sure.
The world had battered at my defenses, peeling back the shell I’d kept around my heart.
I’d left the book in my pack when we’d gathered our supplies and checked our blades.
It seemed to weigh twice as much as everything else, the square shape of it a pressure against my back.
“The gods are organizing. I’ve heard Kluehnn say it. ”
“Then it is true.” Naatar shifted from foot to foot, his tail undulating behind him.
“Shouldn’t we keep going? Kluehnn said his aspect fell somewhere near Ruzhi.
We don’t know where this god will be, but if he’s as powerful as you say, we should be able to track him from a distance.
We can stop in Bian, refill our water and buy more supplies. ”
Khatuya and I stared at one another, neither of us moving. “The gods are organizing…” she repeated slowly.
“What if there was another way to end this conflict?” I started to walk again, just to keep Naatar off my back.
Khatuya followed at my shoulder. “The gods came here to conquer the mortals. We kill them, we keep them from doing that. But it’s been so many years.
What if we could send them back to Unterra and seal the way?
Kluehnn gets the surface, he gets our faith, and the gods are forever imprisoned. ”
“If you keep speaking that way, you’ll be named impure.
” Khatuya’s voice was level. She said it like a joke, but I felt the whip of those words, the fear they were meant to inspire.
I opened my mouth to reply, but she kept talking.
“The gods cannot get back to Unterra. They do not want to. If we gave them even a moment’s clemency, they would take over the surface. Is that what you want?”
“No, of course not.” Frustration welled within me. She wasn’t listening. She wasn’t willing to consider what I was saying at all.
“Kluehnn protects us. He protects all of us. As he wills it.”
“And this is what he wills? Sending us chasing after a god when Langzu awaits its turn at restoration?”
Naatar shot me a sharp look that clearly said, Not here.
But Khatuya was always quick to defend Kluehnn. “He is the many-eyed god, the all-seeing.”
The question I’d asked still sat uneasy in my belly. Why, if he was all-seeing, did he need our help to find and kill the gods? I knew what Khatuya would say. That it was a test. That it was always a test.
And what of the people in Langzu who were suffering, waiting for their realm to be restored?
“We’re altered. It’s easier for us to get through the barriers,” I reasoned.
“Why wouldn’t he send us back and forth from Kashan?
Why wouldn’t he have us bring food here, to help the mortals survive? He says he cares about them.”
Khatuya scoffed. “Does a parent not care about their child? Yet they do not let them have sweets at every turn.”
“Basic aid is not sweets. It’s survival.”
Her bark-covered lips peeled back. “If you wanted a soft god, you’ve devoted your life to the wrong cause.”
“I’m not arguing with you.” I let my voice drop. “I’m only confused. Why would he say that he cares so much about the mortals and then leave them in such terrible conditions? You saw the mines.”
Naatar stepped between us. “Likely Kluehnn is putting all his considerable force and attention into restoration. The gods must be contained while he’s doing that.
We still have to do our duty. Can you imagine if they were left to wreak havoc while the mortals await restoration? Everything has its order.”
Khatuya settled back, the rough edges of her bark skin lying smooth and flat, like a bird whose feathers had come to rest.
But I wasn’t finished, all the tension in my body tangling into an ugly knot. I thought of the sharp white teeth of the aspect, the claws against my cheeks. Something else had been gnawing at me, something other than that golden-skinned god. “Did you tell Kluehnn?”
“Tell him what?” Her voice was too casual.
“You did. You told him about my sister!”
Another caw from above. A crow, circling lower.
Khatuya shrugged. “He is all-seeing. How could I not tell him? Be grateful I did not tell him that you spoke to a god. So you can thank me for that.”
She’d nearly gotten me killed. I was lucky I still had my godkilling blade. I was lucky I still had my life. “He is all-seeing because we make him so!” The words tumbled out of my mouth, stones spilled on the ground I could not take back.
Khatuya’s fist lashed out. I leapt back, but not quickly enough to avoid a glancing blow to my cheek. I ducked, feeling the spot where it would bruise. The next time she tried to strike, I caught her by the wrist. I squeezed, feeling my strength measured against hers and knowing it was greater.
“You are a blasphemer,” she hissed.
“I am part of your cohort!”
“What will you do when we find this god you think is so powerful? Will you speak to him too? Let him pour his lies into your ear?”
Naatar seized both of us, pulling us apart. I resisted only a little; I didn’t want to hurt him. And neither, it seemed, did Khatuya. But we exchanged fiery glances around him. I still wanted to fight, to release all the ugly words I had inside of me. But Naatar now stood between us.
“Rasha does not intend to blaspheme Kluehnn. And Khatuya’s first loyalty is to our god. As it is for all of us.”
I watched Khatuya take a shuddering breath, her hand moving away from the hilt of her dagger. I tried to follow her example, though the heat climbing up my neck did not cool. Naatar didn’t speak for me. I’d meant what I’d said.
One of the crows had landed on a nearby log, half obscured by grass. Khatuya scooped up a stone and threw it at the bird, letting out a shout of frustration. The crow launched back to the skies, the rock thudding harmlessly against the dried, decaying wood.
She leaned on her knees and then rose, extending a hand to me. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
I clasped her wrist reluctantly, drawing her close enough to pat her on the back. She smelled like sweat and leather. “I don’t wish to fight either.” It wasn’t quite the truth. I felt like Naatar always stopped our fights too soon, before we’d ever actually resolved anything.
We fell into unbroken silence as we trudged through the wilderness, each of us keeping to our thoughts.
I couldn’t help the way mine tumbled – from my sister, to the golden-skinned god, to the way Kluehnn had told me never to keep anything from him again.
I was walking a dangerous path. Every so often, a wagon passed us on the road, giving us a wide berth as soon as they spotted the armor with the embossed eye on the breastplate.
Above, the birds still circled, and I couldn’t be sure if it was the same birds that had watched our fight, or an entirely different flock.
Naatar and Khatuya had returned to good spirits by the time the sun set, gently ribbing one another about their fighting skills, the devotion of their families, the foods they preferred to eat.
I didn’t have the heart to join them, and I started the fire and laid out my bedroll with only my morose thoughts to keep me company.
We ate millet gruel and salted meat for dinner. “I’ll take first watch,” I offered, my voice raspy. Naatar gave me a nod of gratitude. Khatuya said nothing.
I sat cross-legged on my bedroll as they settled in for the night, focusing on the crackling fire.
A log popped, sending a shower of sparks into the air.
I was accustomed to walking long distances, and to fighting, but the tangle of uneasy feelings proved more exhausting than both these things.
I hadn’t been aware of exactly how tired I was.
I propped my chin on my hands, my elbows on my knees.
At some point I must have dozed off; I found myself listing to the side, a bit of drool escaping the corner of my mouth, my elbow slipping from my knee. I caught myself.
A crow sat on the ground next to me, startlingly close, its black eyes bright by the light of the fire.
“Hello,” it croaked.