Chapter 58 Rasha
Rasha
Langzu – on the road from Bian to Xiazen
The Queen of the Aqqilan Empire and the Prince of Isegin went on to have six children, five of whom grew up to be exceptionally accomplished.
The eldest took over rule of the empire, the second-born became the best swordswoman the world had seen, the third-born a renowned natural scholar, the fourth a legendary musician, and the fifth a shrewd businessman.
The sixth son looked at his older brothers and sisters and, according to the stories, threw up his hands and said, “What is there left for me to be exceptional at?” Instead, he spent his days smoking bung-rou imported from Langzu and playing games of Montiyanan obelisks, which he was only marginally good at.
I tried to think only of Naatar as I fought, held helpless in Kluehnn’s grasp, waiting for us to return with evidence that Hakara was dead.
Yet here was Hakara, in front of me, her sword flashing and wet with rain, and she’d told me she was sorry, spilled out her regrets.
All those silent mornings, when I’d reached for her, asked her to stay, and she’d left me alone to fear the consequences.
She’d always made a joke of it, always told me not to worry, as though words could chase away fears.
She hadn’t even taken my fear of her going to the mines seriously.
I’d never let myself be angry about it, just as I’d never let myself be angry about Kluehnn’s lies.
Now I felt that rage bursting within me.
No one had ever trusted me with the truth – that Hakara might not come back from a dive, that the other gods were not a monolith.
Did they not see me as worthy of the truth?
Was I always just to be a paper puppet, moved about by others for their own purposes and their own stories?
I’d thought I’d escaped that, only to end up in the hands of someone else.
Hakara had always seen everything she’d done as necessary. If she told me to stay in the tent, I was to stay in the tent. She was the end authority in our relationship.
Just the way Kluehnn was. But Hakara, reckless and foolish as she’d been, had never hurt me the way he did. Even now, as we fought, I could feel her holding herself back, blocking my blows but not following up. Her heart wasn’t in it.
Was mine?
I gritted my teeth, a shiver at the back of my neck.
It was too late for apologies, too late for mending things.
No matter what Kluehnn had done, no matter what lies he’d told me, Khatuya and Naatar were my friends.
Khatuya hadn’t wanted to listen to me, Naatar hadn’t either, but they were just as blind to Kluehnn’s flaws as I’d been. Neither of them deserved to die for it.
The other godkillers rushed to my side just as I felt fatigue begin to weaken my limbs.
The winged god stepped in front of Hakara, claws brandished, giving her a chance to breathe.
Eight of us, and now Lithuas too. I didn’t know what the others made of that.
Their one true god, working with an elder god?
It was blasphemy, yet she barreled toward the winged god with her sword drawn.
They clashed just as one of the godkiller cohorts circled, trying to find an opening to attack.
He thrust out his wings, battering them, forcing them back, though not without a knife catching on the end of one of the wings. I darted forward, trying to find Hakara behind him. A bolt whizzed past my ear. A cat was running across the ground toward us.
It registered for a moment – strange behavior for a cat – before that cat shifted. A panther the size of a small pony roared, claws kicking up mud as it leapt for one of the godkillers.
I lifted my blade, determined in spite of the presence of another god. Were we not godkillers, after all? I spotted Khatuya, engaging with the russet-haired woman.
And then Hakara burst from beneath one of the god’s wings, her sword held tight in one hand.
She was glowing, a golden aura surrounding her.
She cut down one of the godkillers in three blows.
I didn’t make it there in time, but caught her next thrust before she could attack another of that cohort. Our blades locked.
I could see a vein throbbing in her neck as she held her breath, the glow of her skin more visible up close. “What did you do to yourself?”
She only gave me a sad half-smile before retreating behind a black wing and gasping in a breath.
I was faced with the teeth and claws of the panther as Lithuas and the winged god fought.
The two remaining godkillers in that cohort joined me.
For a moment, it was like fighting with Naatar and Khatuya again, every glance an instruction, a communication.
It quickly became clear that though this shapeshifter god was large and its claws and teeth terrifying, it hadn’t done much fighting.
It leapt too far forward, snarling and snapping at one of the cohort.
I shifted from one foot to the other, springing forward to plunge my knife into the god’s shoulder.
The cat screamed, flowing out from beneath us as it retreated, and I pulled my knife free.
I noted its limp with satisfaction, keeping loose on my feet, aware that the russet-haired woman still held a crossbow.
I didn’t know how Khatuya fared. I pursued the cat, but was brought up short by Hakara again, breathing heavily but still in the fight.
“You think to face me like this?” I hissed out, striking away her sword. “Without your godly strength or speed?”
She said nothing, only stood steady between me and the panther. She was too slow this way, too weak.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said. She thrust and slashed, each blow only designed to test my defenses. “Don’t you remember those days we used to spend out on the plains? The invisible enemies that we fought together?”
It hit me harder than any blow, that she remembered, that she still thought of those times. “We were different people then.”
“You may bury those pieces, but they are still there.”
I blinked away the rain that threatened to drip into my eyes, batting her blade aside, finding an opening and thrusting.
She jumped away only just barely. So incredibly foolish.
She would let me kill her, all because she was afraid of doing me harm.
There was a part of her that still wanted to treat me like a child.
“Are they? You think there is any world in which we are sisters again?”
She shook damp hair from her face. “I hope there is.”
“Fight me!” I lifted my free hand and shoved her. She could have taken my hand off at the wrist if she’d tried, if she’d used those gems. She stumbled back, her feet catching in the mud. “You think I still need to be protected?”
Hakara gritted her teeth. “I don’t believe you’ll kill me. I can’t believe it.”
And there was the truth of it. I wasn’t sure I could either, and the thought filled me with despair.
In the heat of battle, the need for survival pressing down on me, I could do any number of terrible things.
But she didn’t want to hurt me, and without that, I wasn’t sure how to hurt her.
Naatar was back in the den, his life in Kluehnn’s hands. In my hands.
I whirled away from her, found the winged god two steps behind me, engaged with Lithuas. I thrust my dagger into his side.
He staggered away, a groan of pain shuddering from his throat. When I pulled the blade free, shimmering blood spurted from the wound. “Then I will kill everyone you care about.”
“No!” Hakara shouted.
In an instant, she was there, holding her breath, her skin once more aglow.
Her sword flashed through the air like lightning.
This time, when I blocked her blow, I felt the weight of her strength pressing against mine.
She shoved me back and was there again before I could blink, her lips pressed together, her brows low over her eyes. She lashed out.
She defended the winged god with the same ferocity she had once contained when defending me.
I felt each blow I stopped vibrating down into the marrow of my bones, my arms quickly tiring.
Each time I leapt away from her sword, I felt the slice of the blade’s breeze against my skin.
It caught once against my leather breastplate, cutting a scar across the eye.
I lifted my dagger to block a blow, my fingers numb. She struck it clean from my grip. It skimmed the grass, clipped a rock, and settled down the road, out of reach. Her breath was still held, the pulse at her neck steadier than I’d expected.
Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe she would kill me. There was a moment, when she lifted her sword, when I felt at peace with that idea. I wasn’t Kluehnn’s anymore, and I couldn’t be hers. Perhaps this was always meant to be my fate. Perhaps it was what I deserved.
And then someone barreled into her, knocking the breath from her. A quick, violent skirmish I couldn’t quite follow, two figures rolling in the mud and the rain. Hakara took in another breath, the aura emanating from her skin.
I saw then the brown of Khatuya’s rough skin, her white teeth bared as she raised her dagger – all before Hakara thrust her sword into the godkiller’s chest.
Everything in my world went silent but for a faint ringing in my ears.
I caught glimpses out of the corner of my eye – Lithuas subduing Thassir, the panther cornered by godkillers against a boulder, the russet-haired woman shooting one last bolt before tucking her crossbow away and pulling her daggers free.
My focus narrowed to Khatuya. Not Khatuya. I was running for her before I could stop myself. She was on the ground, the sword freed from her body, her chest heaving out last breaths.
Her gaze caught mine as I stood over her. “You should have trusted me,” she gasped. “I would have listened. I would have gone to the ends of the world for you. I would have questioned everything, if you’d… if you’d only let me in from the beginning.”
Her eyelids stopped fluttering, her mouth going still, rain dripping into like it was just one more hollow to fill.
Hakara hovered two steps away, breathing fast, her bloody sword held in a two-handed grip.
She’d killed her – my comrade, one of my cohort. Khatuya and I were closer than friends, and now she was dead. I lifted Khatuya’s dagger from her limp hand, ready to face off against my sister. I would make Hakara pay.