The Way of the Brother Gods (9 page)

That strange sensation returned to Malja — a feeling that there was more underneath Harskill than she could discern. Yet his words held some truth. It wasn't something she thought of often, and when she did, she shoved the thought away, but the thought never left her — I'm better. Just as she knew she was a better fighter than most any opponent she ever faced, she knew she was smarter than the countless self-titled Mayors, Governors, Chiefs, and Kings. They all fought and bullied to maintain power over one little town or one large city. They terrorized and cajoled, threatened and bribed, and did whatever low thing needed doing in order to keep control. She was better than that and Harskill confirmed it. The Gate ruled not over towns and cities but entire worlds — and they did it by helping the people save themselves from events like the Devastation. To Malja, that made sense. It felt right.

Harskill moved closer to Malja. He smelled as clean as he dressed. "Don't let Ms. Watts upset you. It's been my experience that people often lash out at the one who saved them. Mostly it's fear striking at whomever is closest."

She had intended to stay silent, but her mouth opened anyway. "I know. I've gone through it before. But living the life I have, I don't have many close friends. And while I don't think I can consider Cole Watts a friend, she wasn't an enemy."

"It feels a bit like betrayal, doesn't it?"

"Maybe. Mostly, it makes me feel alone."

Harskill put out his hand as if she had said something profound. "Then all doubt is gone. You are of the Gate. We're lonely. We live apart from each other, never permitting more than one of us in a world at any time. We leave messages for each other in religious texts or monuments or even deep in a cavern somewhere. It's like a game and it's the main contact we have with each other except for mating. Every other year we meet on Mullgolus for several months — it's the closest world to the one we lost, and we mark our time by its revolutions. There we court and pair off and mate."

"I thought there were no rules. Why can't more than one of us be on a world? Why —"

"It's a self-imposed punishment for the crimes of the Gate that existed long before I was born. And as far as I'm concerned, that rule doesn't apply either. I want to change things from this lonely existence. Why should we suffer for the sins of generations ago? We don't have to continue to do things their way. You're evidence of that. You are of the Gate yet you don't act like us, you don't think like us. Yet you'll always be one of us." Harskill opened his hand. "Join me. Forget all these petty rulers fighting and dying over little chunks of land. Let me show you world upon world."

"Will you show me how to create a portal?"

Harskill's lips curled into that odd grin. "I'll show you how to be a god. Take my hand. Be my Goddess Queen. Help me rule the worlds and bring peace to all."

From the Journal of Malja:

Loneliness is only part of what I keep buried within. Harskill understands that. He does it, too. But he also understands me in ways that I don't even understand. He knows who we are. He can teach me so much. He's smart, handsome, and seems to desire me. So why do I hesitate? Why did I leave him standing there with his hand reaching out for me? He asked me to be his bride and I stared at him for a long time until the pressure of my silence became too much to hold. I didn't run away like a little girl, thank Kryssta and Korstra and any other god that's out there. But I did turn away. I did walk off without a word. Why do I like the idea of Harskill but not Harskill himself?

Maybe I'm just scared. Well, no maybes, I am scared. How could I not be? I've spent my life learning how to survive in a world bent on destroying me. The things Harskill talks of are so different. I don't know if anything I've learned in my life would be useful. I'm not sure I'm ready to be a naive pup again.

If I could write laughing at myself, I would. Here I've spent so much time seeking out a way to find my home, and now that I have it right before me, I'm afraid to do it. I'm a bigger fool than Fawbry.

Maybe I shouldn't write in this thing. Maybe Uncle Gregor had the better idea. Pay my honor and be done with it. Writing my thoughts just gets my head spinning one thought, one emotion, after another and once it gets started, it seems so hard to stop. Even after my hand cramps and I don't want to write anymore, my head spends the rest of the night going over all these thoughts.

Me, a Goddess Queen? It sounds ridiculous when I hear it. Even worse when I see it written on these pages. But the Gate are my people, and if this is who we are, then perhaps I should embrace this. Travel worlds, bring peace, and be treated like Kryssta and Korstra. Maybe the brother gods aren't gods at all. Maybe they were two of the Gate who came to Corlin and fought over this world. The people here were just digging out of the rubble of the Devastation, so perhaps that's where the brother god religions began.

I'm stopping for tonight. My head hurts.

Chapter 11

Malja sat in the infirmary watching over Tommy. Several hours had passed since Harskill's offer — no, really a proposal. The idea that anybody would propose to Malja, no matter the circumstances or intentions, filled her with both confusion and dread.

Even if the idea of romance could somehow be part of Malja's existence, one look at Tommy reminded her that she could never be a successful wife or (and this part still sounded weird to her ear) a Queen. Her stomach rolled. Here Tommy floated, suffering, fighting for his life, and Malja's having little girl fantasies of being royalty.

Except she knew herself better now than ever in her life. She didn't care about a title like Queen any more than she cared about ruling over people. She liked the anarchy of Corlin where she could find it. Wild freedom. But these thoughts were all just a mask, a way to hide from the boy. That's the real pain, the real confusion, the real dread.

She had saved Tommy only to fail him. She had tried to protect him from magic only to watch him use it again and again to save her. And now, he suffered for it.

Rubbing her face, she discovered her eyes were damp. She got to her feet, swiped a bowl of soup that had been left for Tommy, and approached him. She spooned out a mouthful and raised it to his lips. "Okay. Time to eat. Please. You haven't had anything since we got here. You need to eat." She wasn't sure how long it had been. There were no windows in the Dish, but she had the sense that they had stayed at least a full day, maybe two. "Come on, Tommy. Wake up and eat." Tommy did not respond. Malja dropped the spoon in the soup making a small splash. She grabbed the bowl and raised it, ready to hurl it across the room. But she held back. A moment passed while she stood frozen, ready to throw the bowl but still holding back. At length, she placed the bowl on a table. When she looked back at Tommy, he opened his eyes.

"Tommy?" Malja moved in slowly.

He did not seem aware. His eyes locked forward without searching his surroundings. As Malja stepped closer, another eye opened at Tommy's neck. A fourth opened on his forehead. She even saw one on his tattooed bicep open up.

"Barris Mont," she said, her teeth clenched, her throat growling out the words. "You leave that boy alone."

The infirmary door opened and Fawbry entered. He glanced at Tommy and Malja before he said, "It keeps happening. Barris Mont is getting stronger inside Tommy."

"You should know," Malja said. "You're the one who brought us to Barris Mont in the first place. None of this would be happening if you hadn't —"

"Don't you dare blame me. I've proven myself to our little family more times than should ever be necessary. You're just angry and scared."

"I don't
—
"

"Of course, I forgot. The great Malja doesn't get scared. Then you're angry. Don't take it out on me. I'm the only one ever on your side."

Malja scowled. "Then why does it feel like you're against me?"

Fawbry sat in a chair and let the fight dissipate into the air. When things seemed calmer, he said, "We're a family, and families work in odd ways. Some are full of affection and pride. Others are all anger and bluster. We fall into patterns that allow us to work together no matter how different we all are. That's what makes us a family. That we're willing to find those patterns."

"What's our pattern? You annoy me and I get angry?"

Fawbry chuckled. "A little, maybe. I think we work best when we ignore each other, build up until we're ready to let it loose, we argue, but eventually we realize the other is right."

"How can we both end up being right?"

"Because whenever one of us is right, the other figures it out quick and we don't argue."

Malja thought on this for a moment. "So in this fight, you're saying that soon you'll realize I'm right — that you are responsible for bringing Tommy to Barris Mont and causing all this?"

"I can't deny that, though it hurts me to think it's true. But you'll also soon realize that I love Tommy. By Kryssta, I even love you. You'll remember all the times I've risked my life for you two, and you'll understand that when I say you're my family, I mean it. If I could take back all that happened when we first met, not just Barris Mont but all of my stupidity, I would. Seeing those eyes all over Tommy, those tendrils out of his arms, all those tattoos — I pray to Kryssta all the time to save him and hope that it's not all my fault."

Malja ruffled Fawbry's shaggy hair as if he were a child. "If that old man on the road is right, Kryssta is to blame for all this." Before Fawbry could respond, she raised her hands in mock defense. "I'm kidding."

"That man was the fool.
The Book of Kryssta
tells us to improve ourselves so that we can bring a better world around us. It teaches us not to follow leaders blindly, but to follow our own leadership within. Isn't that what you believe? We've gone all over Corlin and Penmarvia trying to get people to lead themselves."

"Doesn't seem like we've had a lot of success."

"
The Book of Kryssta
never suggests that self-improvement is easy."

"You really believe it all? I don't just mean the ideals, but do you really believe Korstra and Kryssta exist? That there are two brother gods fighting each other over the scraps of us left on this world?"

"I have to."

"But what of the portals and the other worlds and all of that?"

"I don't know. But just because I can't comprehend it, doesn't mean it isn't that way."

Malja's brow pinched. "I'm sorry I said those things. This isn't your fault. And back at the beginning, I would've ended up seeking Barris Mont even without you. He was the one who got us on the right track when I was hunting Jarik and Callib, and nothing was going to stop me from that. You have nothing to feel guilty about." Fawbry nodded, and Malja put on a false tone of levity. "So tell me what's going on with you and Cole? Are you two falling in love again?"

"No," Fawbry said with a surprising amount of shock. "Not at all. Not like that. I mean, after all, she did this to me." He held up his stump.

"Then why are you acting so affectionate to her?"

"You don't see what's going on at all?" Fawbry checked the door to make sure nobody approached the infirmary. When he returned to Malja, he said, "This entire building and the Dish require a lot of power. When she first mentioned a magical depository in the sewers, I had hoped it was simply a large collection of battery storage units. But it's not. It's a
schuco.
"

"Which is what?"

"You've never heard of one?"

"I've been busy killing off every threat Corlin has to offer."

"The schuco are boxes made by magicians for the purpose of storing and enhancing magical power. Before the Devastation, they were used to help power cities and such. Cole's been tapping into that schuco in the sewers because it's the only way she can get that kind of power nearby, and those things poison the air around them. Every time she goes near it, her skin, her lungs, her entire body is exposed to whatever magical residue surrounds that thing."

"Magical residue?"

"I don't know what to call it. I just know what it's doing. It's killing her. Cole is dying."

"And you're being by her side?"