Chapter 21 Lithuas
Lithuas
Unterra – a home in the second territory
The fauna and flora of Unterra are far different than what we find on the surface of our world.
There aren’t many specific descriptions – while we suppose some mortals made it to Unterra, only one or two have come back.
But those who have returned described masses of glowing roots from the Numinars above, birds with iridescent feathers, equine creatures with cloven hooves and shimmering green coats.
And above it all, in the very center of our world, the inner star.
Nioanen’s home lay nestled in the giant, swirling roots of a Numinar.
Shoots of the enormous tree arose from the gently glowing roots, sprouting into a miniature forest. The home itself was small, modest. It didn’t have the sprawling grandeur of Barexi’s palace, or the spiraling towers of Irael’s castle.
Every time it was Nioanen’s turn to host a party, he let them all gather outside no matter the weather, and scowled at anyone who dared complain.
Lithuas glanced up as she approached. A layer of cloud cover obscured the inner star, the green curve of Unterra’s landscape disappearing behind the mist.
She’d gathered support from the younger gods first. It had been easy to rile them up, to get them thirsting for vengeance, for retribution on the mortals.
She’d waffled over approaching Nioanen for a long time, but if she could get him on board with Kluehnn’s plan, the rest would fall into line.
Even Ayaz respected Nioanen, though he might bitch and moan at the way others deferred to him.
“He’s such a steadfast bore,” he had drawled to her at the last gathering he’d hosted, running a finger over the edge of a dagger.
A smattering of glittering gold scales marked his cheekbones, swirling across his shoulders and down his back.
His tail lashed as he spoke, the end of it sharp as a blade. “I don’t know what Irael sees in him.”
“Even Nioanen doesn’t know what Irael sees in him.”
“More accurate to say he’s completely oblivious to it. Irael is too flighty for actual courage; that shapeshifter will forever pine in silence.”
Lithuas wasn’t so sure, but then, she could smell change in ways others could not. While others saw the same thing occurring day in and day out, she knew there was no consistency in the world except inconsistency.
She knocked on Nioanen’s door. According to the gossip she’d gathered from the younger gods, he was currently in residence. She never personally kept track of these things.
It took a moment for him to answer. Other than their yearly gatherings, the elder gods seldom spent time with one another. They were solitary by nature, keeping to their territories, the younger gods flitting from one to the next like flocks of birds migrating from lake to lake.
Somehow, she was always startled by how tall he was, his golden-brown wings filling the space left open by the double doors.
If she’d had to guess at what his home looked like from his appearance, she would have assumed soaring ceilings, wrought-iron railings, tablecloths threaded with gold and silver.
The aesthetic beyond him spoke instead of warm and dark places, the soft, musky interior of a nest. Worn but plush cushions, a stout table, rugs strewn in seemingly random patterns.
He had to duck to get through his own doorways.
He’d spent too much time among peasants.
Without a word, he stood to the side to let her pass.
She was in the form she used most often, the one that reflected her depictions in the mortal world above – a woman with silver eyes and bright silver hair.
She brushed past him and settled into a chair by the front window.
It sank beneath her weight, cradling her.
He offered her a glass of syrup, which she waved away. She was fortified enough.
He sat in the chair opposite her, the tips of his wings grazing the faded rug. She arranged her skirts, opened her mouth.
“I’m not interested,” Nioanen said.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Then why did you invite me in?”
“Someone has to put a stop to this foolishness before it runs out of hand. And you seem intent on letting it run out of hand. Change is not always good, Lithuas.”
Her name on his lips always sounded like a reprimand. It made her want to shift into a porcupine, to lift her spines and hiss. She was not younger. She did not need to be brought to heel. “You’ve not even heard me out.”
“I’ve heard enough from others. You think I sit here alone all day, that I never mingle with the younger gods?”
She cast him a sardonic look, wishing she’d asked for a glass of syrup now, just so she could lift it in his direction. Instead, she inclined her chin. “Defender of the Helpless.”
“They’re not helpless, and you cannot keep stirring them up this way. I hear you’ve fallen in with one of them.”
“Kluehnn. He’s the one proposing action, yes.”
“And you’re supporting it. Be careful who you throw your considerable weight behind. Did you know that some of the younger gods have disappeared lately? Have you taken the time to hear what’s happening within your territory’s borders?”
Ah, well this she hadn’t heard, and it irked her that Nioanen knew something she didn’t.
She’d not had the time to wander her territory; she was traveling to other places, here and across the sea, trying to gather support for a series of offensives.
“Younger gods disappear sometimes. They go above ground, they make fatal errors, they challenge one another to foolish actions.”
“Yes, but these disappearances haven’t been spread out in the way you might expect. Who is this Kluehnn? How much do you know about him?”
In truth, she didn’t know much, but she didn’t appreciate Nioanen’s prying. “He’s new. Sometimes that’s what it takes to initiate change. Someone who thinks in different ways, who doesn’t see the barriers we always put into place. The ways we tell ourselves we can’t act.”
“Assassinating the mortal leaders? You think that will bring about any actual change?”
“Yes. They cannot be allowed to think they can act with impunity. We sit down here and drink the syrup from the Numinar roots. And above, the mighty trees are being cut down, one by one. How long will these roots survive?” On an impulse, she reached out, touched his knee.
“I am not content to let our kind die out without fighting for a chance at life.”
He tossed her hand away as though it were a spider, ready to bite. “I cannot be compassionate toward a need for reckless violence.”
“Purposeful. Necessary.” She could feel everything unsaid between them. They’d failed in their duties too, though they had good reason to abandon them. The mortals had made their sacrifices pointless.
His lip twisted, as though he’d bitten into something acidic. He might have been handsome had he not so often looked sour. “You won’t stop, will you?”
“The proposal Kluehnn drew up with my help is solid. We put together five teams of four gods, each one with a shapeshifter, an augmenter, a changer, a maker. We assign them neighboring realms. They assess the situation, move in quickly, kill whoever is ruling.”
“And if the realm is ruled by a council? If it is ruled by a gathering of their elders?”
“We kill all of them. It sends a message – we will not tolerate the desecration of the Numinars.”
His wings ruffled; dust rose from the windowsill. Outside, a faint pattering of rain darkened the root passing just below the glass. “You cannot control the message. They won’t take it as a warning. They’ll take it as an act of war.”
“And you would rather do nothing.” She pushed up from the cushion, suddenly discontent to be cradled by it. “How well has that worked for you?”
“Lithuas, please.” He sounded so weary, she was nearly soothed into sitting back down. “We are friends, yes? I understand your urgency, your need for change. But you don’t know this Kluehnn. Let us all meet, the seven elder gods, and discuss solutions.”
It sounded so level-headed. But how many times had they tried this very same thing?
Seven elder gods in a room, arguing and debating and changing nothing.
It was always easier to settle back into old patterns.
They were a cart stuck in a rut in the road, rocking back and forth but never breaking free.
“You’re always the first to leave these discussions. ”
He looked to the window, shifting in his seat.
They both knew he preferred his solitude, that he couldn’t bear these conversations for too long.
Nioanen had only ever been stirred to passion when defending those weaker than himself; he didn’t know what to do when faced with the verbal daggers of his peers.
He couldn’t summon Zayyel to his hand nor did he have the same eloquence Irael or Barexi did.
She prepared to launch another verbal barb, hoping she’d find one that would dig deep, that would make him understand. But he straightened, his gaze suddenly fixed, like a cat spotting a bird just out of reach.
He shoved himself from his chair, wings drawn tight to his body, and swept past her. Lithuas blinked. “What—”
A loud knock cut her off.
Nioanen opened the door, and a god with cat-slit pupils, claws, and black-striped fur stumbled in. Moisture clung to the ends of his whiskers, his shirt stuck to his torso. Wet pawprints marked the rug at the entry. A young god, one Lithuas remembered from the past several gatherings.
“Yanera went missing.” He was gasping, leaning against the inside wall, legs trembling. “But I found her. I found…” A wrenching sob.
Nioanen tucked a wing around the god. Lithuas could feel the warmth from his feathers even two steps away. The impulsive part of her wanted to touch them, but she kept her hands still. Perhaps Nioanen was right, and she needed to tend to her own territory. Had others disappeared there?
“What did you find?” Nioanen’s voice was low and soothing.
Lithuas almost expected the god to shake himself, to send droplets of moisture smattering across the entry, but he only stood there, quivering and miserable. “I found half of her. Just her arms and her upper torso. It… There were teeth marks on her spine.”
Nioanen took his arm. “Did you leave her there? You shouldn’t have left her there. Were there signs of life in the body?”
There was always a chance to find the rest of Yanera, to piece her back together. A shudder of revulsion coursed through Lithuas. But if the god had been eaten? If she had been consumed?
There wouldn’t be anything left to find.