The Empire of the Dead (The Godsblood Trilogy Book 1) Read online

“Deathless, huh?” Acharsis scratched his chin. “Good name. Memorable. What the hell is it?”

  Ishi shrugged. “I’ve never looked beneath their masks. But they’re relatively new. They appeared a few years ago. Came from Uros. Irella’s creations, I’d guess. Nekuul’s energy is mixed in with their essence.”

  “Is that so. And they hunt divinity?”

  Ishi rose and returned to the fire, where she poured out her cup. “I don’t know the full scope of their orders, but ever since they first appeared, they’ve been sniffing out those with divine blood, even a drop. Hunting them down and dragging them to the temples to be sacrificed.”

  Annara moved closer. “At Akkodaisis’ upcoming celebration?”

  Ishi stilled, lowering her head. “Yes. And not just here. I’ve heard that they’re sacrificed in every city of the empire. Though our numbers have diminished almost to nothing. Few of us are left.”

  “Elu,” whispered Annara.

  “My son,” said Acharsis, rising to his feet. “It’s the spark of Ekillos that they want. His drop of divine blood. But why? For what reason?”

  Ishi sighed and refilled her cup. “I don’t know. But if your son is in the ziggurat, you will have a very hard time getting him out.”

  “But it is possible?”

  The hope in Annara’s voice caused something deep within Acharsis to ache.

  “Possible?” Ishi shrugged. “Anything is possible. Especially if you have Jarek by your side.” She stared quizzically at Acharsis. “Are you that Acharsis?”

  Acharsis spread his hands and gave her a mock bow. “I’ll admit I’ve lost some of my irrepressible charisma, but, yes.”

  Ishi blinked. “Two demigods, then. Why, your odds have just improved, my dear.”

  “Yes, but they’re shorn of their powers,” Annara said in a rush. “Their gods are dead, so they can’t just walk into that ziggurat. One deathless would have finished us.”

  Acharsis picked up a candle. “Can this help get us in?”

  “Not in the way you’re thinking,” Ishi said, sitting back down. “It can cloak your aura, but not make you invisible. So, not really.”

  “There has to be a way,” said Annara. “A means to save him. A trick, a stratagem. Acharsis? Can’t you think of anything?”

  “I’m flattered by your opinion of me,” he said, trying to keep his tone wry and not defeated. “But it’s the most defended building in all of Rekkidu. And now they have these deathless, along with who knows how many of those dead soldiers, plus Ekillos knows what more. Just the three of us? I’m going to be hard-pressed.”

  Ishi stirred her tea with her finger, not seeming to mind the heat. “Things grow ever more intolerable,” she said, almost to herself. “Sometimes I ask myself why I carry on, why I pour my candles and distribute them to the few remaining godsbloods. What I’m holding out for. Why I bother nurturing my last spark of hope.” She smiled brightly at them both, as if mocking herself, but her eyes were liquid with sorrow. “Foolish old woman that I am. But now, here you are. Jarek himself, the divine son of Alok. Acharsis, the debauched prince of Ekillos. Two demigods in one place. This must mean something, must it not? This can be no coincidence.”

  “Exactly!” said Annara, lowering herself to one knee in front of Ishi. “My thoughts, exactly. What are the odds? Twenty years have passed, and now both of them are reconciled and here together. Ready to defy Irella, even if only in some small way. The gods must be behind this. Their shades, stirring from the very depths of Nekuul’s realm.” She searched Ishi’s face. “Right?”

  Ishi patted Annara’s hand. “Yes, perhaps. But, as you said, Alok and Ekillos are dead. These two are without their powers. Even if there is intent behind their arrival, their success is by no means guaranteed.”

  “How were you able to befuddle the deathless?” asked Acharsis suddenly. “How do you make these candles? Ninsaba is as dead as the others. Her temple has been profaned and converted to Nekuul.”

  “Oh, Acharsis. Your god held dominion over knowledge, did he not? Yet you still seem to know nothing.”

  She used the same fond, mocking tone as his old tutors.

  Acharsis forced a smile and sat down. “I was more interested at the time in Ekillos’ other attributes.”

  “So I heard. Regardless, Ninsaba may have died to the world, but I never let the candle of my own faith flicker out. I cherish it. I worship her every month when the moon is full. I mouth my little devotions, and have perhaps inspired some others to do the same. Our faith is a pitiful thing, but it allows me to draw a minute amount of her mystical might in times of need.”

  Acharsis sat forward. “So, she’s not dead?”

  “Say, rather, that I hear her voice from the netherworld. She waits, dead but undying, for the day that enough prayers are said in her name; waits for the day that her temple has been reclaimed so that she may rise once more to her full and argent glory.”

  “Dead but undying.” Acharsis nodded slowly. “Hence the remnants of Jarek’s powers and my own continuing irresistible allure to women.”

  Both Annara and Ishi gave him a flat look.

  Acharsis raised his eyebrows in mock dismay. “What? I’ve been holding back. I’ve become a courteous and mild-mannered demigod in my old age.”

  Ishi snorted, and Annara shook her head.

  “But, listen,” said Acharsis. “What if we were to let word get out around that city that Jarek has returned? Might it not light up a new faith in Alok?”

  “Dangerous,” Ishi said, and then slurped her tea loudly. “Doing so would set every deathless on his trail.”

  “Which is why we put one of these candles behind each of his ears and up his - ah - nostrils.” Excitement caused his belly to quiver. “Then we get the crowd riled up, wait till Jarek has regained his powers, and then turn him loose on the ziggurat.”

  “Possible. But unlikely. That kind of faith requires more than desperate hope born from wild rumors,” said Ishi.

  “Small meetings,” said Acharsis, painting the scene with his hands. “Groups gathering by Ninsabian candlelight, Jarek affable and potent, me working the crowd, Annara serving bowel-loosening tea. If we convince a few select people to meet him, to see him with their own eyes…?”

  Ishi shrank into herself. “Are you mad? We’d be betrayed. Irella’s cult has sunk deep roots over the past two decades. Wives used to turn in husbands, children turn in their fathers. The terror has simmered down to a low fear, but it is ever-present. No, that would be too dangerous.”

  “Hmm,” Acharsis said, and began to pace up and down the small room.

  Annara sat back on her heels, balancing gracefully as she rested her hands on her thighs. “You spoke of others. Others whom you shield from the deathless.”

  “Precious few, as I said. Once there were dozens, all manner of cousins and nieces and nephews of the demigods, the godsblooded. But the cull has been severe. Now, there are but two.”

  Acharsis stopped pacing. “Two? That’s it?”

  “The deathless are nothing if not persistent. Yes, only two. A daughter of Scythia and a son of Nekuul.”

  “Scythia?” asked Annara. “Perfection!”

  “You say that now,” said Ishi. “But Kishtar is young. She wasn’t raised in the faith. She doesn’t even pay much heed to Scythia.” Ishi waggled her head from side to side. “But she’s strong; I’ll give her that much. And annoyingly blithe and optimistic. Of all the godsbloods, I never thought she’d last this long.”

  “What of the son of Nekuul?” asked Acharsis. “Why is he not working with Irella?”

  “Oh, I’m sure Irella is searching for Sisuthros.” Ishi snorted and slurped her tea, cradling her cup as if it were a wounded bird. “I’ll let him decide how much to tell you, but suffice it to say they had a falling out when he was younger. He’s been on the run ever since.”

  “Well,” said Acharsis, “with all the faith Nekuul’s enjoying, he must be formidable.”

  “I s
uppose,” said Ishi. “Though how he chooses to employ his gifts is… questionable.”

  Acharsis resumed his pacing. “All right. A Scythian and a Nekuulite. We’ve got Jarek and myself. You, Ishi, with your powers of obfuscation.”

  “What are you thinking, Acharsis?” asked Annara.

  “Nothing, yet. But if we can convince them to help us, if we can benefit from their gifts, if we can raise Jarek’s own power just enough, then perhaps, perhaps…”

  He trailed off. He’d not felt this alive in years. Decades.

  He laughed. “Can you believe we were fighting for our lives just an hour ago? Now, here we are, drinking poisoned tea and planning the impossible.”

  Ishi frowned. “I don’t want you telling people I serve poisoned tea.”

  “Will you take us to them, Ishi?” Now it was Acharsis’ turn to crouch in front of her, Annara backing away.

  “My role is to hide them, protect them, prevent them from being noticed,” said the old woman, not meeting his eyes.

  “Sweet Ishkirella, wise and true, guardian of the old ways and devotee of the Ninsaba, won’t you please help us?”

  She squinted at him. “You’re trying to use Ekillos’ powers on me, aren’t you?”

  “Am I succeeding?”

  “No.” She sat back. “My loins are withered and cold. There’s nothing there to set aflame.”

  “But I’m not appealing to your loins,” he said. “I’m appealing to your heart. That hard nugget of resistance, that gnarled refusal to give in, to cease your thankless vigil, to bow your head to Irella and go meekly to her chopping block. I’m appealing to the woman you used to be and wish to be once more, the one who openly worshiped her goddess in all her glory, and through her actions now might bring back those days. Might usher in a new epoch of righteousness for the nine dead gods.”

  “He’s not bad,” said Ishi, looking over Acharsis’ shoulder to Annara.

  “Think of this: why have you guarded the sacred flame and sheltered the godsbloods all these years, if not to play your part in some grand scheme to revive the gods? Why would Ninsaba have chosen you for this role if you were not meant to partake in greater events? You have invited demigods into your home, saved them from certain death, and now stand at the threshold of greatness. All that I ask you, in the name of Ekillos and Alok, in the name of Scythia and Ninsaba, is to put us in touch with these two godsbloods. Let me speak with them. Let me ask for their help. And, if they refuse?” Acharsis smiled again and leaned back, spreading his hands innocently. “Why, then, we’ll leave them alone and wish them luck avoiding the deathless for the rest of their miserable, selfish lives.”

  Ishi scowled at him. “All right. Enough with your prattling. I’ll introduce you. Just stand up, already.”

  Acharsis hopped to his feet and winced at the pain in his shoulder and hip. “Good. I knew Ekillos wouldn’t fail me.”

  “You failed him a long time ago,” Annara said harshly.

  He paused, taken aback. Had he said something to offend her? “Yes, well, even demigods get second chances. Or so I hope.”

  Annara’s expression grew flat, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Or not,” said Acharsis. “I’m going to stop talking while I’m ahead. Ishi, do you think we could visit the godsbloods at first light?”

  “I - yes. I suppose so. Perhaps you said it lightly, but I pray that your and Jarek’s arrival truly does portend the beginning of a shift. Ninsaba knows, I’ve waited long enough. I’ve not many years left to me.”

  “I pray so as well,” said Annara. “For my son’s and all our sakes. The tools we’ve been handed to effect this change are flawed and weak -”

  “Hey!” Acharsis sputtered.

  “But they will have to suffice.”

  “Very well,” said Ishi, rising to her feet. “In which case, it’s high time we went to sleep. Qun hid his face beneath Alok’s rim hours ago. Come. I will fetch you some blankets. You won’t sleep comfortably, but you will be safe.”

  Safe. Acharsis touched his chest. “Ishi, by chance, could you spare a warding amulet?”

  “Oh?” The old woman paused. “Lost your own?”

  “Something like that. I’ve been looking for something to replace it with.”

  The old woman opened a chest and pulled out a small pouch. “Something fit for a demigod, hmm? This might suffice. Here.”

  She pulled out a small amulet. It hung from a beautiful silver chain and was shaped like a teardrop.

  “Is this silver? All of it?” He stared down at the amulet in amazement. Its surface was smooth, and Ninsaba’s double horns had been incised with breathtaking artistry across its face.

  “Yes,” said Ishi, leaning over his hands to peer down at it. “Very precious, that is. It used to belong to Sharyukin herself. It took a lot of effort for me to get it back.”

  “I - I couldn’t take this.”

  “Take it,” said Ishi, closing his hands over the amulet. “She’d probably have wanted you to own it.”

  “Knowing Sharyukin, I doubt it.”

  “Regardless. Take it. With the dangers you’re up against, you’ll need all the help you can get.”

  “Thank you, Ishi,” said Acharsis. His voice sounded gravelly in his own ears, made rough by a sudden burst of genuine emotion. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “Oh, no,” said Ishi with a disconcertingly bold smile. “You have my thanks for bringing Jarek here. I don’t plan to sleep anywhere else tonight but my own bed, and it’s been many a year since I curled up beside such a large and handsome man.”

  “Ah -” Acharsis said, and looked to Annara for help.

  “Enjoy your night, Ishi,” said Annara smoothly. “You’ve earned a little residual warmth.”

  “But her loins?” Acharsis whispered when the old lady had stepped aside to gather blankets. “Withered? Cold? No?”

  “Apparently not.” Annara patted his cheek. “A miracle of Ekillos. Good night, Acharsis.”

  “Good night,” he said, then imagined Jarek’s expression when he awoke in the morning. The thought brought a smile to his lips.

  Musing, he looked down at Sharyukin’s old warding amulet. Would it prove powerful enough to stop his demon? He slipped it over his neck and underneath his shirt.

  Maybe it would. But, somehow, he doubted it.

  Chapter 8

  Jarek awoke by slow degrees, his body sluggish and warm. It felt like he was rousing himself from a deep period of hibernation, wresting his mind back from a dark, warm cocoon and into the realm of light.

  He opened his eyes and in the gloom saw Ishi in his arms, her mouth curved into an impish smile.

  “There, there,” she said, patting his forearm, which was folded over her chest. “Feeling better? I know I am.”

  She slipped out from under the blanket, and he was relieved to see that she was fully clothed.

  Acharsis was slumbering on the floor against the far wall, while Annara was already up, her long hair bound back, frowning down at a pot beside the fireplace.

  “I - good morning.” He sat up, the bed’s frame creaking ominously beneath him. “What happened?”

  It was dark in the room, and Annara was illuminated by the fire as she picked up a wooden spoon and examined it as if it were a strange torture implement. “You passed out shortly after we arrived. Do you remember arriving? The battle with the deathless?”

  “Yes,” he said, and lifted his blood-caked shirt to look at a thin, pale line that ran across his stomach. “Huh.” He probed it with a finger. It was completely healed.

  Ishi kicked Acharsis as she passed him. She pulled her wispy white hair behind her head, where she bound it with a leather thong. “Being back in Rekkidu is clearly good for you, it would seem, hmm?”

  “By the nine dead gods,” muttered Acharsis, rolling over to face the wall. “It can’t be morning already.”

  “Deathless?” Jarek fought to remain calm. Despite Alok’s death, he’d
always healed faster than most, but this was on a whole different level.

  “Yes, deathless,” said Acharsis, sitting up and rubbing at his face. “Along with a whole host of other novelties. The world has changed without our knowing, old friend. I’ll tell you all about it once someone has seen to their duties as hostess and given me a beer.”

  Ishi shouldered Annara aside and soon had something akin to breakfast cooking. They sat close to the fire and recounted the conversation Jarek had missed the night before.

  Jarek ate methodically, spooning large amounts of barley mashed with goat’s milk into his mouth, chewing and listening as they outlined their plans.

  Annara’s happiness rubbed him the wrong way. She was attentive, fetching cups and refilling drinks, smiling and nodding as points were made. It put his nerves on edge.

  “Look,” he said at last, setting down his bowl. “Fine. We can go speak with these two godsbloods. Maybe they’ll even agree to help us. But let’s not get carried away, all right?”

  The others stilled, Annara actually freezing in the process of handing Acharsis another beer.

  “We’re not starting a revolution. We’re not dethroning Irella. We’re not toppling the ziggurat or killing Akkodaisis. The nine dead gods aren’t returning. I’m not going to regain my powers.” Each assertion was as heavy as a stone hitting the ground. “I’m willing to tag along and see what plan Acharsis devises, but let’s not get our hopes up. The odds of our stealing a prized sacrifice from the ziggurat complex are close to nil. I know the place better than any of you. How tightly defended it will be. So, sure, let’s weave our little plans, but don’t fool yourselves. We’re probably going to die, and so is Elu.”

  He took up his bowl and resumed shoveling food into his mouth, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

  Annara finished handing Acharsis his beer and then walked stiffly outside. Ishi went after her.

  “Harsh, old friend,” said Acharsis.

  “Since when are we old friends?”

  “That sounded nicer than ‘harsh, prickly asshole,’” said Acharsis. “Annara’s hanging by a string. There’s no need to kick her in the teeth.”