The Forgotten Gods, page 11
part #25 of The Network Series Series
“Why is the mermaid just lying here?” I murmured.
One never knows. It will likely kill you if you save it.
I opened my mouth to respond, then shut it. Were mermaids really that vengeful? Recalling the way Prana nearly drowned me, I figured they might be. If I had to serve her, I’d be cantankerous too.
“Then why did you bring me here?”
To show you how powerfully god magic works with emotion. You tend to be drawn to things that need saving, so I thought this could conjure some of your usual sentiment to draw on.
“Maybe you need some saving, too,” I muttered, unnerved again by the insights into my soul he so casually shared.
Your witch humor eludes me.
“Just my witty banter.”
I dropped to my knee, drawn back to the surf. Ignis hadn’t been wrong. The mermaid’s plight did evoke a sense of concern. The tail twitched in a half-hearted movement. Webbing trailed along the side of a fin, up to the waist, where it encircled shining scales. The fingers, five of them with a thumb, splayed out, also webbed.
How had the mermaid marooned itself here?
We weren’t far from the beach house. Had they been trying to spy on us? As a servant of Prana?
Also very likely.
I inched closer.
“So what do you want me to do?”
Save it with god magic, and pay attention to the play of emotion on your power. I would like to see what occurs.
Sensing a trap, I hesitated. “This is as much an experiment for you as it is for me, I assume?”
Yes.
His lack of understanding about my status as a living amulet gave little reassurance. Nothing for it, however. The mermaid thrashed. With a hiss, their pointed teeth bared in warning. Too much closer and they might bite me. What happened when mermaids sank their teeth into something?
I didn’t want to find out.
With god magic, I lifted the mermaid off the beach. While airborne, they struggled, squealing deep in their throat, as they elevated off the sand. A rush of compassion and a desire for greater speed overtook me. At the same moment, the magic quickened like a too-fast heartbeat. The mermaid disappeared.
I held my breath, shocked.
“Where did they go?” I asked.
A head bobbed to the surface of the waves. At first, I saw only viridian hair, then queer eyes peered above the water, narrowed.
“Oh.”
The mermaid slipped below the surface, leaving an uninterrupted, azure skyline.
Your compassion, though misplaced, enhanced your ability to do god magic. That is the lesson here.
“Misplaced? The mermaid was dying.”
It’s a sea cretin.
“You’re a god cretin.”
The immature sling brought a blush to my cheeks. Not my best reply, but I couldn’t help myself. A choked silence followed. When Ignis didn’t break it—I hoped for at least some introspection on his part—I took matters into my own hands.
“As a god, your profound lack of respect for life is disconcerting,” I muttered to try to salvage myself. “A life is a life. Some of us only have one.”
A pause.
You challenge me?
“Someone needs to.”
You have taken it upon yourself to be that someone?
“Do you speak to anyone else but me?”
No.
Startled, I reared back. “Really?”
I’d rather not harp on it, thank you.
“Just a question, Ignis. If it’s true, then it sounds . . . lonely. Do you ever appear to the mortals?”
No.
“Why not?”
Do you reveal yourself to the worms in the soil?
“Not a fair comparison,” I muttered.
I have never revealed myself to a mortal unless necessity requires it. Rarely to a demigod. Only when I must in order to have children to carry my legacy.
“Do the gods have children in the . . . um . . . usual way?”
Another blush warmed my face, but I ignored it.
He laughed, a low sound.
Indeed. Few mortal females are granted the privilege, and they are usually highly respected. For my part, I prefer one partner at a time, though it’s not often feasible. So many mortals require more demigods to take care of them with magic.
“So you prefer to have one partner?”
Yes.
“Word on the street in Alkarra says you have hundreds of children,” I quipped lightly. “You must have kept her very busy.”
Currently, he murmured, aloof, I have no partners. In recent past, I had several. They have all gone to the lives after this one.
“Do you miss them?”
One of them, more than you could ever comprehend. The rest were an easy farewell.
A pause. I contemplated his revelation, struck by the idea of Ignis being . . . a romantic. Curiosity over this mortal woman followed. What kind of a mortal would captivate a god like Ignis?
You are amused by this?
“More curious.”
The rumor that I have hundreds of children?
“Yes?”
It’s false.
The idea shocked me. Despite never having met him, I’d built up a very specific picture of Ignis in my head. Reality went against every bit of it. Ignis didn’t measure up at all against the god I’d built up in my head. I wasn’t sure how to handle the disparity.
My throat dried out, requiring me to clear it before I could ask, “How false?”
Extremely.
“But Baxter . . .”
A fool.
Not sure how to reply, I fell silent.
You think that you shouldn’t trust me. Eventually, I hope that you will.
My nostrils flared. “Can you stay out of my head, please? I’d like the luxury of my own thoughts.”
Again, I am not in your head. The magic binds us and allows me to understand you more deeply than anyone could possibly fathom.
“I don’t like that.”
I’m quite aware.
I held up two hands. “This whole god-thing is new to me, you know.”
There are questions I seek to answer as well.
An ominous feeling crept over me.
“Oh?”
The night of the demigod uprising in Alkarra, you successfully used god magic, though it was beyond your capability without practice. I believe this is because your heightened emotions gave you a better chance to win, though I haven’t confirmed that yet.
“So god magic has a greater advantage when I’m afraid, is what you’re saying?”
I’m delighted you see the correlation.
“Bleak, isn’t it?”
Survival often is. I desire to test this as we gain greater understanding together. Remember this as you find your way back out.
“Back out of where?”
I advise you not to make yourself known. Where you are about to go, I cannot follow.
I whirled around. “Where am I going?”
Keep in mind that you can heal yourself at any moment.
“The good gods, what does—“
Good luck, Lady-witch.
Magic swept me away.
A broad tunnel surrounded me.
I crouched, invisible, and gained my bearings. The sense that Ignis had just dropped me into the middle of a fight didn’t fade, though no enemy presented itself. Perhaps, like a true lech, he’d simply felt embarrassed after revealing himself so thoroughly. I snorted at the thought of him with a female partner.
Who would tolerate such a scoundrel?
After several moments of quiet, my racing heart calmed.
Where was I, anyway?
My head tipped back. A ceiling soared hundreds of paces away. Time-darkened sandstone, nearly black, loomed in the darkness. I blinked.
Are you testing me? I asked.
Ignis remained silent. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d abandon me here—wherever this was—but a part of me was. Correlations to Papa leaving came with a little too much clarity. Had I done something to spur others to drop me so thoroughly, or did happenstance dictate such terms?
With a shake of my head, I brought myself fully into the moment.
No one else lingered here.
Shallow bowls, wide as I was tall, flanked either side of the tunnel. White-and-gray flames danced over what appeared to be a bed of sand—burning sand. No scent of char issued, but a sharp stench permeated the air, like cedar. Atop the flaming sand lay piles of driftwood tied by fabric. Lazy smoke drifted higher.
To my left, a dim light. The entrance, perhaps. To the right, a glimmering . . . something.
The strange fire illuminated the way to the right. Curiosity pushed me closer. I reached to my side, but Viveet wasn’t there. A quick glance confirmed that there was nothing else—not even a stick—that could be used as a weapon here.
Doors passed by on either side as I crept by, created with amalgamations of driftwood or hardened sand or leaves. A door of foggy glass passed by on my left. Another, half open, peeked into a room full of tiny shelves. Chunks of coral organized in a rainbow pattern crowded the cubbies, bleeding orange-yellow-aqua-coral-white. Glass jars, tinted rose, cluttered around a window that overlooked the sea.
Alaysian script, carved in the sand outside the door, hinted at what lay inside.
Room of Curiosities.
I pressed on.
The tunnel narrowed, ending in a shiny wall. At my back, the opening was a mere speck of light. After a moment of hesitation, I kept going. The quiet rang in my ears, a damning witness.
Closer inspection revealed a pair of double doors, shimmering with rose-gold tones. They occupied the entire wall, five times my height. Door handles made from hardened pieces of seaweed spiraled from the inner seam of the doors. I paused fifty paces away. The doors would require that much space to move, if opened. They were probably as heavy as mountains.
The entrance sparkled with gaudy opulence. Across the middle, painted in black strokes against the glimmering gold, lay five giant symbols, each as tall as me.
The unknown figures melted, then reappeared as legible letters.
V E N T I S
My forehead furrowed. A flood of understanding came next. No doubt this place was the end of the giant tunnel I’d briefly glimpsed from a distance at the Rostina lu Lune.
Ventis? I asked Ignis.
Nothing.
Why would Ignis bring me here of all places?
Now would be a good time to leave and pretend I’d never been here, but curiosity locked me into place.
To Ventis’ . . . what?
Quarters?
Home?
And to what end?
A breeze stirred my hair, drawing me from my thoughts. I tilted my head to the side as a shiver skidded down my arms. Wind this far into the tunnel? That couldn’t be right.
The god magic in me brightened in warning. My body became visible as something peeled the power away. I fought to recover my anonymity, filled with an impending sense of doom. The invisibility returned, but only for a moment. Soon, the appearance of my toes, ankles, and knees mocked my attempts to maintain it.
A gust of wind shoved me away from the doors. I tumbled back, spinning head over heels until I lay on my knees, palms flattened against the floor. Wind pressed into my spine like a heavy boot. My head hit the ground with a thud that jarred my thoughts sideways. A roar rose, wild like a hurricane, moments before a cyclone dropped from the swathed shadows overhead.
Sand, wind, and pebbles soared around me in violent ribbons. They scratched the back of my hands, my neck, my face. Blood streamed out of my skin, into the ragged zephyr. Pain erupted after. I screamed, but who could hear? No matter how hard I struggled, the pressure that held me down didn’t relent.
No breath. No thoughts.
Nothing but hissing, malevolent annoyance. Sand clumped in my eyelashes, burning my eyes. The whirlwind threatened to tear me to pieces. Amidst the chaos, a deep voice emerged.
This, it whispered, is my throne.
The dying current echoed as it faded.
Respect me.
The wind ceased.
A final gust crashed into my side, my body rolling until I slammed into the wall with a final oomph. Everything quieted. My mouth felt like cotton, bleeding into a raw throat when I opened my eyes. I blinked through dust and collapsed onto my back with a gasp.
A dull bang rocked through my skull. I closed my eyes, grimacing.
Well, that was unexpected.
“What was the point?” I muttered. I startled when Ignis spoke.
To test your power against a god. A living amulet you may be, but stronger than Ventis you’re not. This is important information to have. Consider yourself warned, Lady-witch of Alkarra. Ventis doesn’t like trespassers.
“You could have warned me,” I snapped.
The silence of the tunnel lay in profound thickness as I stood. A new darkness settled. Wary, I glanced over my shoulder. The golden doors were gone, hidden behind a wall of sandstone. I swallowed through a gritty throat, then used god magic to leave the tunnel. Moments later, the beach house surrounded me again.
I leaned back against the wall and struggled to regain my bearings.
CHAPTER 11
Baxter lounged against the door the next morning, a contemplative expression on his face.
I set aside my empty breakfast plate—littered with crumbs of wafer-like cookies, dried fruit that dissolved into sweet liquid on my tongue, and a slice of a fruit called tuapa—and leaned my elbows on the table. My plate clinked with the edge of his, still half-full. Ava ate at my side, stuffing her mouth with another large chunk of bread. A piece dropped to her lap. She plucked it free, chewed, and swallowed.
A bright smile followed.
I chuckled.
“You have the morning off, presumably?” I asked Baxter.
He spun around with a smile. “Yes, for a few hours. A very welcome few hours, too. It’s been fun to see Alaysia and tour Father’s Rostina again but . . .” he sighed. “The mortal collections have kept me busy. Shara did almost nothing for them. I’m surprised so many mortals survived.”
“Will she be punished?”
He shrugged. “One hopes. She lost her amulet, which is punishment enough.”
No amulet rendered a demigod completely unable to exert magic. Tough punishment, but hardly equivalent to starving children and half-naked mortals, eeking out a life amongst the weeds and dirty sands.
Baxter stepped away from the wall, a hand held out to me. I offered mine freely and he grasped it, linking our fingers. Anticipation glittered in his light eyes.
“Come with me?” he murmured.
“To where?”
“Somewhere new. A surprise.”
“Yes.” I shot to my feet. “I’m ready. Doesn’t matter where, just show me Alaysia. Take me away, you son of a god.”
Laughing, he pulled me close. Ava eyed us, nose slightly scrunched, as if grossed out by the display of affection. Remnants of tension still lingered between the two of them—whether Ava had spoken with Baxter about her reticence, I wasn’t sure—but not so boldly as before.
“Do you want to come, Ava?” he asked.
She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I want to go to my manulele!” She brightened, eyes wide. “They are returning to me. Some of them saw me yesterday. The rest will follow.”
Baxter glanced at me in silent question. I shrugged.
“Fine by me. You’re her tagata.”
With a sigh, Bax relented.
“Fine, as long as you stay on your island. Stay away from Daemon. He’s only going to make things worse for you, all right?”
Ava hesitated, then agreed with a half-shrug. After a quick hug—one for each of us—Baxter sent her to her island with a fond smile. He turned to me with a wink and tucked me under his arm.
“Shall we?” he murmured.
I grinned. “We shall.”
An island of black rock glittered in the sunlight.
Pockets of emerald flora populated the crevasses where dirt and rainwater collected. White sand stretched into the shadowy, porous peaks, a lovely antithesis to the strange formation. After all the flat land and open space at Ventis’ island, the jagged teeth of black mountains were a welcome sight.
Baxter stuck his hands into his pockets, bemused.
“Most demigods avoid this island,” he said. “Which is just why I thought you’d like it.”
His white shirt, top buttons undone, revealed a hint of chest hair. Sunlight slanted through clouds, illuminating his tanned skin.
“If demigods avoid this island,” I said, “mortals must live here?”
“They do. The real name of the island is Nonnatusnevillatoputatazo. Also known as the Island of the Amulets.”
My curiosity piqued.
“Amulets?”
“All the amulets.”
“What?” I whispered, riddled with shock.
Enjoyment warmed his smile. “Indeed. One could say it’s a library of all the amulets.” He motioned ahead with a nod. “Let’s go. I want you to see inside.”
“This isn’t some attempt to distract me from the fact that your father still hasn’t made time to speak with me?” I asked as I scuttled along at his side.
“It’s definitely that.”
I laughed, unable to help myself. So far, Baxter had only been able to give me and Ava pockets of time. A letter here, a basket there, a gift in the morning. Snatches of visits came in brief spans—minutes, at most. Having Baxter to myself for hours infused me with a giddy delight.
Meanwhile, Ignis had been utterly silent all morning. Since he abandoned me at Ventis’s throne, he hadn’t voiced a word.
I hadn’t called for him, either.
Hints of life peeked out of the dark rocks. Unfolding flowers strung together like wisps. A willowy bush, draped over a ledge like a waterfall. Petals shivered when the wind drifted past. The splashes of color against darkness illuminated like fireflies at midnight. Brightly-colored birds twittered here and there, wings fluttering as they hustled by.
Octagonal holes had been chiseled out of the stone, then stuffed with sparkling, thin-paned glass. Cracks spiderwebbed through most of them. Lanky doorways with jagged edges led deeper into the rocks, only hinting into darkness.
