30: A WALK IN THE WOODS
Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since Kihrin saw the Jade Gate closed for the first time in his life
Kihrin pointed a finger at Janel. “Wait, what? Did Thaena Return you? What happened? How—”
“Shhh,” Janel said. “I’m about to tell you.”
Janel’s Turn. The Afterlife.
The problem with dying every time you close your eyes is never knowing if this time is the last time. If this time it’s for real.
Was I dead or just unconscious?
I couldn’t tell.
I stood on a hillside in the Afterlife, clad in black armor only subtly different from what I’d worn just a few moments before.
The Chasm stood before me.
Everyone called it the Chasm, even Xaltorath. A giant crack in the earth, a mighty canyon marking the boundary where the Afterlife gives way to the Land of Peace. Giant chunks of rock and earth sailed upward in a continuous stream, like a waterfall running in reverse.
The demons were attacking the Chasm, but demons were always attacking the Chasm. Few places in the entire Afterlife were more likely to be visited by the Eight Immortals. I’d always avoided this region. I’d be attacked by both sides if I showed myself. Even if Thaena had told her people to leave me alone, the other gods and their forces wouldn’t automatically feel the same. Attack first and ask questions later remained a rule here, and they didn’t know me.
So I retreated.
I wondered how people in the Living World would react if they knew the truth about the Afterlife. Most souls never reached the Land of Peace. No religion I knew spelled out that the reward for a life well lived would be another eternity on the front lines—in the Afterlife, fighting demons.
But who knew? Maybe the ghostly soldiers had volunteered. It’s not like I knew what it was like to truly die.
Although given how the duel with Relos Var had gone, maybe I shouldn’t assume.
As I fell back, I heard movement in the trees behind me, and I turned, ready to fight whatever came.
What came was a god.
Khored the Destroyer wore red armor and a matching helmet, with a raven-feather cloak. In his hands, he held a red glass sword I knew would annihilate anything it touched.
Then he sheathed his sword and removed his helmet.
“Walk with me,” Mithros said.
The battle continued to rage behind us, but no one seemed interested in capturing this area. We walked alone.
“I’d convinced myself you couldn’t be Khored,” I said. “Your priests … they don’t know?”
He ignored the question, and as we walked, I felt his ire. Any joy I might have felt at seeing him faded.
I had disobeyed him, had I not? If not his specific instructions, certainly his intent. I grimaced to myself.
This wasn’t going to go well.
“When you challenged Relos Var to a duel,” Mithros said, “I’m curious … what was your brain doing?”
“That’s not fair,” I protested.
“Isn’t it? Because I want to know what minuscule amount of logic could’ve played into the decision to challenge Relos Var to a duel.1 Please tell me you weren’t so stupid as to think he couldn’t swing a sword just because he’s a wizard?”
I raised my chin. “I played a Nemesan gambit: a battle he couldn’t win.”
“Must I point out the flaw in your plan? He won. Decisively.”
I fought the temptation to cross my arms over my chest. “If I won, well, then I would have proved my case against him. Given what Thaena and you both said about this man, I didn’t think that outcome likely. But I could turn losing to my advantage. To my people, there is prestige to be gained by losing well.”
Mithros stared at me for a second, trying to figure out the riddle. Then he threw his head back and scoffed. “Of course. You surrendered to him. Bowed your head and gave him a proper Joratese demonstration of thudajé.”
“The only way he could’ve ‘won’ would have been if he had accepted my surrender gracefully. He didn’t,” I said, “which makes him thorra. He’s tolerated in Jorat because he portrays himself as a wise mare who wants to serve, profoundly humble, worthy of trust even though he’s not Joratese. No one will believe him now. The whole dominion saw him strike down a young stallion who had acknowledged his idorrá. It won’t matter that he proved me a witch by winning—he didn’t have the right to put me to death, even after he proved his idorrá over me. By doing so, he told everyone watching he thought himself better than Markreev Stavira, better than Duke Xun. Relos Var overstepped his authority. He won. And by winning, he lost.”
The God of Destruction stared hard.
I swallowed and returned the stare. He was easier to look at than Thaena, but that didn’t make it easy. “You asked what I was thinking.”
Mithros tipped his head. “And I admit, your answer surprised me. I apologize. I assumed you’d given the matter no real thought at all.”
I raised my chin. “Believe me, I had.”
“And did you think about the price you’ll pay for this very minor victory?”
The price I’ll pay … “So I’m not dead, then?” I felt my heart—or the illusion of my heart—pounding inside me. I had assumed … when I’d seen Relos Var’s sword coming at me …
I’d survived?
“No. You’re not dead. Did you think—?” He put his hand under my chin. “Does the idea of your own death mean so little to you?”
Warm rage filled me as I jerked my chin from his grip. “The idea of death? Look around you. Where do you think I spend my evenings? Every evening? Why would I fear the playground I’ve known every single night since the Lonezh Hellmarch?”
“But what comes next—”
“I wake up or I don’t, but either way, I know what comes next. Back here again, another night, fighting the same battles I’ve always fought. Death isn’t an end; it’s a change of venue.”
He scowled, pacing like a frustrated tiger locked in a cage. “You think you have nothing to lose. You’re wrong.”
I looked away. “I know what I have to lose. What I will lose. I’ll be stripped of my title, forced to go into hiding. I’m prepared—”
“No.” His voice was soft. “Relos Var’s going to give you what you wanted.”
I didn’t understand. Not right away. I stared at him, uncomprehending. “What I wanted?”
And then I realized. He didn’t mean wanting Tolamer Canton back, or clearing my name, or even the part about stopping Relos Var.
He meant my quest to infiltrate Duke Kaen’s stronghold.
“Relos Var isn’t leaving you behind in Jorat,” Mithros said. “He’s going to take you with him back to Yor.”
I’d given up on this outcome. Dismissed it as untenable when Mithros had first pointed out that Relos Var would almost certainly gaesh me. And now … I felt dread shudder through me as I turned to face Mithros. “Why? Why would he not leave me? I’m the duke’s problem now. Why would Duke Xun let Relos Var take me?” I grappled with motives I scarcely understood. Had I been wrong about Relos Var? Would he want revenge? Want to make me suffer for defying him? Would he—
Saelen.
Relos Var could claim me as saelen, as a stray. He supposedly cured witches, didn’t he? If he convinced the Markreev of Stavira or Duke Xun I could be rehabilitated, if he appealed to the Joratese desire to keep the herd strong …
All my work to make Relos Var claim idorrá over me only helped his cause.
Mithros held out a hand as he saw my horrified expression. “It’s not what you think. Var is many things, but he wouldn’t kidnap and defile a young woman. Not even someone who interfered with his plans.”
I blinked. “You’re right. That’s not what I thought. Indeed … that option never occurred to me.”
He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed for a moment. “Just as well.” Mithros continued, “But now we need to worry about gaeshing.”
I felt sick. “Yes. We do.” I’d never seen anyone gaeshed, but Xaltorath had always loved to talk shop about technique. The right way to pull out just a sliver of someone’s soul. How to bind it with a talisman that could be used to give the victim commands. The victim either obeyed … or they died in agony.
I wasn’t immune. No one was.2
Mithros nodded. “If he cannot be sure he owns you, he’ll gaesh you. And a gaesh will destroy any chance you’ll have of stealing the spear Khoreval from Duke Kaen. The first command any gaesh victim receives is an order not to attempt escape. He must not gaesh you.”
“And how am I supposed to stop him?”
“You can’t. Myself, on the other hand … I’m going to take steps.”
Then I swallowed. “What steps?”
“It’s better you don’t know,” Mithros said. “He’ll try to mold you, turn you to his side. He’s good at that.3 He’ll ferret out secrets you didn’t know you possessed, reveal truths you never knew existed. He’s had millennia of experience, and you are—much as you may not wish to admit it—hardly more than a child.” Mithros raised an eyebrow. “If you want to triumph, you’ll first need to fail. Relos Var will try to break you. You must let him succeed.”