The Way of the Brother Gods (8 page)

That's when she saw the man on the monitor. He stood at the main gate. Though the image wasn't clear, it was enough for Malja to make out dark skin, dark suit, and a guitar strapped to the back. The Bluesmen were here.

Chapter 9

Malja sprinted through the halls, pulling Viper out as she moved. Workers jumped to the side to avoid being trampled. When she reached the main doorway, she kicked it open and saw three Bluesmen up ahead stringing up a hooded body.

One Bluesman sat on the shoulders of another, trying to secure the thin rope to hang the body. The third Bluesman stood underneath and held the body still and slack. They all froze at the sound of Malja's approach.

She didn't give them time to do anything more. She leaped through the air, swinging Viper across. Though Malja never felt the blade make contact, she heard a yelp cut short and the sharp twang of a taut line being severed. She hit the ground, rolled, and popped to her feet.

The Bluesman holding his friend looked up to see his friend's head missing. His eyes widened as the full weight of the body dropped back. He let the headless corpse fall, blood staining his fine suit. The third Bluesman dropped the hung body and pulled out a sword.

"Look at this, Bronzy," the man said. Bronzy still watched his dead friend. "Hey, snap to."

Bronzy looked up at Malja like a rabid animal. She stood in a low fighting stance with Viper cocked to the side and angled up, ready to hook one of them by the jaw and rip off his head. Malja studied her enemy. She knew the face on Bronzy — a man enraged to the point of making senseless, dangerous choices.

"You didn't even give him a chance," Bronzy said.

Bronzy's partner noticed the state of his friend, too, and used it against Malja. "That's right. She just cut him down. Just like she did all our brothers. This here is Malja."

"Really?" Bronzy said, leaning in. "This really her?"

"Tell him. You really are her, aren't you?"

Malja turned her back foot an inch to give more power when pushing off. "Come and find out."

The partner lunged forward with his sword, but Malja held still. He pulled back at the last moment and repositioned. He feigned another attack. Still, Malja remained motionless. She tracked him with her eyes. When he lunged again, she saw the shift in his shoulders — he meant it this time.

She pushed off with her foot and swung Viper upwards. The extra power clashed their blades sooner than he had expected, jolting straight into the arm, and causing him to lose his grip. The sword clattered to the ground. As Malja came down, she swung Viper back, its outer-crescent sharp enough to hack the Bluesman's arm clean off.

Screaming in pain, the Bluesman fell to his knees, blood spurting out of the hole in his shoulder. Malja turned her focus on Bronzy but not before seeing the Bluesmen pick up his arm and scurry into the night. Bronzy lifted his right hand. It shook as if he were a drunk, one week dry and desperate for the simplest drop of fermented anything. In that unsteady hand, Bronzy held a gun.

Malja set Viper in front and readied to strike. The Bluesmen had lots of guns, but from all that Malja had seen in the past, their guns were no better than any other scavenged from ruins. It might fire. It might fail. But even if Bronzy managed to get off a shot, even if his wavering hand managed to point in the right direction, the chances of a gun shooting straight were small.

"How many more of you are out there? Tell me that and I'll let you run off."

Bronzy shook his head fast enough to pull a muscle and his eyes darted around searching for an escape. "I-I'm the one with the gun. I-I'm telling you nothing."

Blood dripped from Viper, and Malja let Bronzy see it before she spoke. "Last chance. How many of you are left?"

Bronzy straightened his elbow, a novice's motion before firing. He never got to pull the trigger. Malja shot forward, cutting twice as she sped by him. The familiar sound of a body falling to the ground in several pieces followed.

Malja stood still for a moment, letting the adrenaline seep out of her with every breath. When she felt calm, she used Bronzy's shirt to wipe Viper clean. Then she approached the body they had been trying to hang. The hood slipped off. It was a young man with wiry brown hair and gentle lips. The face of a sweet disposition. His neck was cut from the hanging — not by the rope but by a guitar string tied to the thin rope like a garrote. They had intended to hang him at the door and run off without being seen. But the guitar string was the message.

No need now. Malja had already sent them a reply.

"Oh my Kryssta," Cole Watts cried out, bursting through the door and falling beside the dead man. "No, no, no."

Fawbry followed close behind but froze at the sight of carnage. When his eyes landed on Malja, he nodded as if her presence explained everything. He pointed to the young man. "I think he's the missing assistant."

Cole lifted her head, her mouth open in a cry so strong she could make no sound. Tears drenched her face. Back and forth her body bobbed until she inhaled a deep breath and let out a wretched scream.

"You!" Cole said, rising to her feet and pointing at Malja. "You're a poison to me. You're the one who led Jarik and Callib to the Bluesmen. If not for you, they'd still be on my side instead of trying to kill us. And now you've led them here. And I see it on your face. You don't care. You don't care about anybody but yourself. You force Fawbry and Tommy to go wherever you want. Who cares if it might kill them? If Malja wants to find a way off this world, then by Kryssta and Korstra, she's going to do it. Even if it kills everyone else along the way."

Fawbry placed a hand on Cole's shoulder but she stepped away from him. "Look at him," she said, pointing to the dead man. "He had nothing to do with you. All he wanted was to work for me, learn from me. He was smart, too. He would've been able to pick up wherever I left off when I grew too old to continue. The Bluesmen would never have touched him, would never have even known about him if you hadn't brought them here. You killed him."

As Malja listened to Cole, she never looked up from the dead man. There was no point in arguing or even fighting back. She had seen such outbursts of emotion before. Nothing would change her mind. And maybe nothing should. Maybe Malja
had
brought this onto them all.

Cole bent over, sobbing and taking in raspy breaths. Malja raised her head enough to see Fawbry approach Cole again. "Come," he said. "We'll get somebody to take proper care of him." This time, she let him put his arm around her. He murmured to her and she nodded. Taking short, stumbling steps, they walked back into the Dish building.

Malja's mouth tightened in anger even as her chest shuddered to hold back any sadness. She stood in the silence, surrounded by the dead, blood and gore pooling around her feet. Maybe they were all right about her — straight on back to Jarik and Callib. After all, death seemed the only consistent result around her.

Even Tommy.

He was alive for now, but being with her had not saved him. She rescued him from one hellish life and brought him into her own. What good did that do? As a slave, all he had to do was make magical power for a thief's ship. He got fed, somewhat, and if he behaved, no harm came to him. With her, he had been forced to share his body and mind with Barris Mont, had been mentally and physically strained, his magic usage had wasted away his sanity, and he'd been at risk of death on numerous occasions. How could she ever have thought that it was a good idea for him to stay with her?

An earthy aroma came from behind. She turned to find Harskill leaning against the doorway. His clean clothes, weathered face, and sophisticated aura stood at odds with the carnage painting the ground.

"They don't understand our kind," he said. "It's not their fault. It's not prejudice or even willful hate. It's that we seem just like them on the surface, so they assume we are the same. But that's not true. The power we hold comes from far more than technological or magical advancement. Our power is borne deep within. That's why you don't fit in here even though you've been raised in this world."

With more of a plea in her voice than she ever wanted to hear, Malja said, "I don't know who I am. I don't understand anything anymore."

Harskill reached out toward her. "Come here. Let me show you something that will tell you exactly who you are."

Chapter 10

Harskill walked a few steps ahead of Malja, his body upright with a confident gait. He turned down one corridor then another without pause. He knew this building well.

Malja followed, her heart beating hard and her mind jumbling too many thoughts. She could hear Cole's brutal accusations echoing in her ears. She also replayed her battle with the Bluesmen, trying to pick out her mistakes that she could improve upon. It was a reflex, her brain's way of calming herself after battle. But then she thought of Harskill, the Gate, Tommy, and Barris Mont. It was too much. A gray numbness settled in.

"In here," Harskill said, opening a door to a simple office — plain desk, two chairs, and a cabinet. Nothing on the walls; dust covered the desk. "Several floors above us is the Dish — this massive piece of technology that Ms. Watts hopes to fill with magic and create a stable portal. The amount of raw power she requires is staggering." Malja opened her mouth but Harskill raised a hand to quiet her. "To create a portal is easy. The people of this world have done it several times already. But none of those portals were stable. And with one exception, that being the portal Tommy created to send you through and then recreated to bring you back, none of them could be repeated, not exactly as before. But a stable portal, one that can be opened and closed at will, one that can be controlled and relocated, one that won't rip apart a world and mutate its creatures — that's far more difficult."

He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he placed his hands in the air as if on a glass window. Then he spread them apart and the emptiness between opened up into another world. Malja's astonishment could not be hidden. Harskill held a portal between his hands right before her eyes.

"This world is called Sheng-Lo," he said.

The portal opened onto a sunny day by the ledge of a valley. Lush, green hills rolled into the distance, a few dappled with hefty, grazing animals. Below, in the cool shadows of the valley, soft plumes of smoke rose from a bustling town. Birds rode on the heat. The air was quiet and peaceful.

"This world was learning portals when I arrived. I offered my 'assistance' and in doing so, I was able to lessen the damage of their experiments. They learned from their mistake, they understood the danger of what they had embarked upon, and they wisely gave it up. As a result, instead of a world destroyed, they live in a world of gentleness and sufficiency for all."

"It's beautiful," Malja said.

"I've often thought that if I ever live long enough to become too old for my work, this would be a wonderful world to end my days upon."

Harskill brought his hands together, closing the portal. He concentrated again, spread out his hands, and opened another portal. The world Malja saw consisted of endless towers reaching into the clouds above. People were everywhere. Noise was everywhere. But it wasn't ugly or undesirable. Like the town on Sheng-Lo, this city bustled with vibrant energy, a lifeforce all its own. It smelled fresh as if a warm rain had washed through, leaving the world cleaner than before.

"This is Wodros," Harskill said. "There's a lot of fun to be had here. All kinds of exciting, strange, and unique people. You can see just from this little bit that they have a lot of technology. Where Sheng-Lo focused almost exclusively on magic, the people of Wodros relegated magic to the realm of religion and healing. Everything else they do for themselves without magic. They chose to make this distinction because they had begun to play with the idea of portals. I arrived and since they fully accepted me as I am, I was able to show them directly what horrors they would unleash. They turned away from portal research and have prospered for a long time since."

He closed the portal. "One more," he said, and after a moment, opened another. This time, Malja saw a land as wild and free as Corlin. Except there were no cities, no towns, no villages. No ruins of anything either. Just a lush forest filled with the sounds of animals unseen.

"This," he said, his body dazzling with the light from the portal, "this is Ti. And as I'm sure you've noticed, there are no people here. I did that. I came to this world to find it like this. Virgin from humankind. I spent a few years here, basking in the freedom of its wilds. Its unadulterated world. No governments, no economies, no religions. Just the simpleness of the wild. And then I found a few isolated tribes of people, too primitive to be considered human by our standards. Every time I discover they have made an advancement, I retard it. I stop them from ever becoming more than animals. They are being given the greatest gift — the purity of the wild — and they will never know how lucky they are to have encountered me."

Malja must have grimaced because Harskill brought his hands together with a sharp clap, closing the portal, bringing them back to the dull office. He looked disappointed in her, at first, but then shook it off. "You have a lot to learn," he said. "The Gate are a special people. We have special skills, special knowledge, and special responsibilities. But the first thing you must grasp is that the rules don't apply to us. We're smarter. We're better. We can rule and create peace everywhere."