Chapter 24 Rasha
Rasha
Langzu – Kluehnn’s den northeast of Bian
The mortals didn’t always cut down the Numinars.
There are records, stretching far, far back, that show entire cities being built in and around the roots and branches of these trees, their vast canopies sheltering the buildings below.
No one knows for sure who first discovered that magic could be extracted by burning the tree’s branches, but the mortals went from burning the dead branches, to creating machines that could better extract and capture the magic from those fires, to creating machines that would allow them to burn the living branches to extract magic. They began to cut down the trees.
And with each step along the way, the mortals lost more and more respect for the gods.
The empty spot at my belt was a constant thing, a lightness I couldn’t stop being aware of.
I’d only recently earned that blade, and now it was gone, in my sister’s possession.
Even as we trekked back toward the den, I could feel Hakara’s presence in the back of my mind, moving farther and farther away, a tenuous stretching. My bandaged thigh ached.
“Your sister bested you again,” Khatuya said, a slight limp in her step.
I squinted up at the sky, the setting sun searing the horizon a deep red. A bird flew in a widening circle above us. I had the sneaking suspicion it was the crow, but I was too tired and heartsick to do a thing about it. “She didn’t best me last time. I let her go.”
“She bested you.” Khatuya’s voice was firm. “If there was a winner in that contest, it was her. And now she’s taken all our blades.”
Naatar put a hand to my arm just as I’d opened my mouth to respond. He spoke softly, so I had to quiet myself to listen. “You know where she is now. And if she was telling the truth, that means you know where he is. Maybe that will be enough.”
We fell into silence as we walked, though I could still feel that tension between me and Khatuya.
Would knowing where Thassir was be enough to escape punishment?
Not likely. I’d lost the fight, I’d lost our blades, and now we were returning to the den with nothing to show for it, and a bond that meant Hakara would know I was coming.
I hadn’t seen a better option than returning to the den, but I wasn’t sure if Kluehnn would view the situation the same way.
The sun slipped below the horizon, the world growing suddenly colder. “Will you tell him?”
It took a terribly long time for Khatuya to answer. “About the bond? If he asks, I will. That is my duty.”
Naatar sighed. “He’ll find out, one way or another. Better he finds out from you.”
Somehow, it was harder to argue with Naatar, who spoke without anger and whose words had the uncomfortable ring of truth.
It took us seventeen days to get back to the den.
My bond with Hakara was an itch in the back of my mind.
What I didn’t tell Khatuya and Naatar was that in the early mornings, I felt that bond snap closed.
In those few moments between sleeping and waking, it was as though she was next to me.
I could feel the tickle of her breath against my hair as she wriggled from beneath the blankets to go dive in the ocean, the familiar fear squeezing my chest. If she died, I would be alone.
She’d never admitted that was a possibility, she’d never prepared me for it. So that fear lingered over my head and my heart, because I didn’t know how to survive without her. During those mornings, I found myself reaching for her hand beneath the blankets and finding only cold, dew-clad grass.
Millani found us soon after we made our way back to our chamber, just as we were wiping ourselves free of the dusty road.
She entered without knocking and looked us up and down.
Her gaze landed on the empty scabbards at our sides.
“Kluehnn will want to see you.” The three of us rose. “No,” she said. “Only you, Rasha.”
Dread flooded my veins as she led me through the rusty tunnels to the room where Kluehnn’s aspect met with his devotees.
He was already crawling up from the hole in the floor when I entered, was out when Millani shut the door behind her.
He dashed toward me, his hands and feet slapping against the stone floor.
“You lost your quarry,” he hissed. “And all three of your blades.”
I fell to the floor, prostrating myself, one of his clawed hands visible through the curtain of my hair. “Forgive me, Kluehnn.”
The hand disappeared, and then pain blossomed at my scalp as claws seized one of my horns, yanking me upright. “You failed.” He pulled me in close, and something pricked my leg. The barb on his tail. A small trickle of blood, then a burning sensation running down to my feet.
“Are you going to kill me?”
He leaned in close. “I don’t discard those who are still useful to me. Tell me you have something for me other than excuses and failure.”
I gasped as the burning grew stronger, as it traveled to my ribs. It felt like someone had cut a piece of my skin loose, had peeled it back, and set fire to the veins beneath. “You poisoned me.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, little one.”
For a moment, I resisted. Some deep instinct inside of me pressed to the surface, some remnant of the love and admiration I’d once held for my sister.
But those feelings were bones, hollowed out by the years, brittle and disintegrating to dust at the slightest touch.
My fingers were aflame, every careless brush against them making me suck sharp breaths.
Time shuddered in and out of existence, the pain the only thing that seemed real.
Why should I protect her? I’d given her one moment of mercy and that had been a mistake.
She’d taken my knife. It was her fault I was here, suffering Kluehnn’s punishment.
“The god was not alone. He was traveling with three mortals, all skilled fighters.”
One of his arms circled me, and I realized I’d begun to slip, my limbs melting toward the floor. Another arm lifted, a claw caressing my cheek. Past his face and his black eyes, his barbed tail hovered, blurring in my vision.
“Very good. What else?”
“One of them… was my sister. You were right. She is still with him.”
The hand didn’t pause in stroking my face. I felt the hard shell I’d built for myself cracking and breaking. Tears ran hot down my face. Beneath it was something soft and vulnerable. “Let me go. Please. Please stop.”
He pressed into that space, relentless. “You still love her, you still want to protect her. As strong as you’ve proved yourself in these trials, you are still a weak thing.
You cannot be ruthless, as hard as you try.
You are the flesh of rotting fruit.” His hand gripped my chin, every place his fingers and his claws touched screaming with pain.
He was right about me. I was not and could never be like Hakara.
I could not even pretend. When anyone got close enough, they could see that the shell I’d built was a false thing.
But as the poison raced through me and down to my legs, I realized this: a soft thing could not break.
He could press and I would yield, and when he was done, I would fill those spaces back in.
No matter what he did to me, I would remain myself. And that was still strength. I licked my lips, my mouth pulsing even with that small movement. “She bonded with me. They used magic. I can tell you where she is. I can tell you where he is.”
A held breath. His gaze flicked across my face, landing every so often like a fly in search of sustenance.
And then he was lifting my robe, his mouth lowering over the wound he’d given me. I felt the prick of a hundred tiny teeth, light against my skin. A probing tongue, soft and hot.
Relief traveled over me in waves, the pain and fire draining away. When he pulled his mouth back, the place he’d stung me was red and raw. I fell to the floor, all my strength gone.
That connection in my mind stretched even now, as Hakara traveled farther and farther south. I closed my eyes and pointed. “She is that way. And if I still have my bearings, that means she’s headed south. She’s far, and drawing farther away by the moment. They’re going toward Xiazen.”
All of the lips on Kluehnn’s mouths pressed together. “The Sanguine Sea. They may cross if their quarry does. And she’ll cross if she hasn’t found a corestone here.” Then he seized me by one of my horns again, dragging me across the floor toward him.
I was still weak from the poison, unable to resist, my hands scrabbling uselessly. “What are you doing?”
“You lost three godkilling blades. You must be punished.” The mouth at the base of his throat fastened around my right horn, teeth coming together, tightening until the pressure was painful, more than I could bear.
I heard the crack before I felt it. The sound echoed in the small space.
I couldn’t see, couldn’t think. A throbbing pain followed, traveling through my skull.
Wave after increasing wave. Another bite, a terrible sucking sensation.
Blood trickled down my scalp, mingling with the fiery pain of teeth scraping against bone.
He was eating my horn, sucking out the marrow, blood dripping from his mouth onto the cold stone floor. I wanted to scream. I couldn’t take a full breath. I was nothing except pain and horror and fear.
I wasn’t sure how long I lay there, clasped in Kluehnn’s arms as he devoured part of me. It was his right, my dizzied mind told me – after all, he’d altered me. He’d given me these horns. They were his to do with as he wished.
At last, he drew away, leaving me there on the floor. Without another word to me, he retreated into his hole, the rasping sound of his claws against stone echoing before finally disappearing into the depths.
Naatar and Khatuya found me halfway back to our room, hauling my weak and sweating body across damp stone. Two mortal devotees almost stopped to help me before they saw the wound on my head, blanched, and strode quickly away.
My cohort had no such hesitation. Wordlessly, they lifted me, carrying me back to our door.
Only one of the lamps inside was still lit.
It filled the small space with a wan, warm light.
They sat me on my bed and Khatuya lifted the hem of my robe.
I hissed as the cloth brushed over the wound on my leg.
An echo of pain traveled up to my shoulder before dissipating.
Water dripped as Naatar dropped a washcloth into the barrel in the corner, as he wrung it out and approached.
He knelt and pressed it against the wound.
The coldness of it gave me some relief, banishing the stinging fire.
I swayed to the side and found Khatuya’s shoulder against mine.
She was warm, smelling of oak and cinnamon.
“Your family has always been devout. Was it easier for you? Was any of this easier for you?”
“I don’t know.” Her fingers traced the lines of my shoulder blade in a soothing motion.
“My parents lived their lives in the service of Kluehnn, and I just followed their example. Becoming a godkiller after I was altered seemed the right thing to do. I had no reason to do anything else. But I don’t know what things are like for you or what it’s like to have someone you love on the other side. ”
I wanted to tell her that I didn’t love Hakara, that I didn’t know Hakara. I only knew the person she’d once been. Instead, I said, “This was my fault.”
“Yes,” Khatuya said. She brushed a piece of hair from my eyes, tucked it back behind one of my horns. She started to reach for the other, the bloody wound where my horn had once been, but then drew her hand away. “But we are still your cohort. And together we are strong.”
I couldn’t bear it. We were not strong. She couldn’t speak for me. I pushed Naatar away, rising to my still-unsteady feet. “I need the latrine ditch.”
Khatuya touched my back. “We have a pot in our rooms, you don’t need to—”
“I need some fresh air. Alone.” I batted away their useless, fluttering hands.
It felt like the longest walk I’d ever taken, each step a burning limp, stopping every so often to lean against the wall and catch my breath. Twice I felt the odd carvings beneath my palm, my fingers dipping into letters and symbols I didn’t understand.
When I put my head down to breathe, blood caught in my eyebrow. I limped past the infusers and their altered handlers, the glowing gems dropping into baskets. I limped past carts and mortal servants and into the warm night air. The moon was full, silver light tracing stunted trees and boulders.
I made my way down the path, past the latrine ditch where the convicts were finishing their work for the day. Not knowing exactly why, I climbed up the slope of the mountain. Everything hurt; more than once, I was reduced to crawling.
When the lanterns below were pinpricks in the darkness, the crow found me. I heard the flap of its wings as it descended, its talons scratching against a nearby stone. “Rasha.” It fluttered its wings once, twice. “You look terrible.”
A breeze cut through the air. It felt like a knife against the exposed nerves of my severed horn.
I hissed, gritting my teeth against the throbbing pain.
“Never mind that,” I said when I could speak again.
“You said the gods would go back to Unterra if they could. That they would let us shut them into the center of the world if someone showed them the way. That you are not all the same.”
Kluehnn had broken me open. But I’d survived. I’d yielded before him and it hadn’t changed me.
I thought of the books in the depths of the den, the things Kluehnn said that didn’t seem to meet his actions. I’d long wished to be more like Hakara, but Hakara would have spat her defiance at Kluehnn. She would have stood in my place and she never would have given way. She would have died.
But here I was, still alive, still thinking and breathing. And wanting answers.
“I want to know more. I have to know more. Tell me everything.”
The crow blinked. “Very well.”