Heartbeat.This tangled rope thing is trailing from the sack as if it originated there. Its tail is nothing but black braided smoke.
Heartbeat.I anchor the trident, suck in a breath, and try to aim the tip toward the creature, but it weaves frenetically and I can’t adjust the angle quick enough. I can only hope that a god weapon will be enough to turn the balance in my untrained favor.
Heartbeat.The creature twists away from the trident at the last second as if it is playing with me. Its tapering ragged tail flicks out as it flies past, sweeping my legs and sending me off-balance. I wouldn’t have thought smoke could strike so hard or hurt so much. Pain sears through my vision, but I hold my trident tightly as I fall directly upon the dying god. I press up from his flesh, desperate to find my feet, horrified that I’ve touched him at all. I want to scream, but I don’t dare waste my breath.
He meets my eye for a moment as I awkwardly stand and he laughs a bloody, gurgling laugh.
“Treseano’s bag has two monsters,” he whispers as if this is a joke that only this pretty god-man finds funny.
“Yes, that seems obvious now,” I agree dryly, using the trident to drag me up.
I can’t believe I’m talking to a dying god about this instead of… well, of his death, his hopes, his fears. It feels like eating dinner on a table with dead El’Dorian there like a macabre centerpiece. Like her, tiny golden flowers are forming and budding in the blood that drips from his lips to the floor. His laughter sprays it farther, like dandelion seeds.
He has something else jammed in his chest—some kind of dagger with a strange guard. It’s in there so deeply that there’s barely a fingerbreadth of hilt showing. It must be a god weapon, or how would he be dying now?
Ordanus is still talking, his words thick and slow. I don’t dare linger when the creature is certainly coming back, but I can’t look away from his dying words.
“What do you think he bought with the price of agreeing to carry… two of them?”
Something otherworldly screams. I wrench my gaze from Ordanus’s, scanning the room for the enemy. Markanos has one creature by the throat and he’s shaking it brutally. There’s a bite on his arm that’s flicking blood out with every shake.
I’ve lost track of Treseano. The other creature has turned around and launches itself at me again. I bring up the trident and try to thrust it at the inky strands. I feel it catch, but the force is more than I expected and it bowls me over, tumbling me to the ground.
My elbow crashes against the floor and my hand issuddenly numb. The tail of the creature wraps around my torso, throttling me hard. I gasp jaggedly, my ribs creaking, my breath snatched away, panic clawing up my throat. And then I’m twisting the trident, sliding my hands down the haft so they’re closer to the spear points and I can angle it to thrust into the tangle of smoky strands. I manage one strike, two, and then the creature drops me suddenly and my head smacks hard on the ground.
I rise, blinking back stars, clawing across the ground to catch up the trident again.
I am just in time to see the black… thing… cover Ordanus’s face. I drag myself back to my feet, swaying hard, vision flickering with black stars, and then I draw the trident back and jam it into the shadow as hard as I can. It bunches and gleams like a leech as thick as my torso but I twist the skewer, twisting, twisting, until it shrieks, yanking itself quickly from the grip of my weapon and leaping away.
It’s gone so suddenly that my trident pushes through the air where it was and clangs against the marble floor.
Ordanus’s eyes are glazed with death. His mouth gapes even farther open. Repulsed, I stumble backward, my panicked breath loud in my ears.
There’s a sharp curse and then Markanos is beside me, examining the dead god.
“But why kill Ordanus?” he mutters as I spin, expecting another attack, but there’s no one there. Not in the room. Not on the ceiling. I’m shivering so hard that my teeth rattle, but I don’t feel cold. “And why El’Dorian? Neither onemakes sense. And why would Treseano let us see it was him if he didn’t mean to kill us, too?”
“Maybe he did,” I say grimly. “He certainly made an effort.”
“Then why not finish the job?” Markanos grumbles, shaking blood from his blade. “If he wanted us dead,you, at least, could be dead. Why stop now? Why gather up those two creatures instead of using them for their purpose?”
I swallow. “Ordanus didn’t think he wanted to be using them. He seemed to think that carrying them was a price he was paying to create a working.”
Markanos pauses, looking from the wound to me and then back again. “Well, then maybe that is why. He was killed to keep him silent on the matter. Not to hide his killer. Treseano has a secret, it would seem.”
“But we know what working he has paid for,” I say, suddenly uncertain. “He’s paying to keep Okeanos tied to the anchor.”
Markanos frowns, his eyes still glued to the dead god. “They might not know that we know that. Or—perhaps things are not what we think. Either way, another of us is dead. And in the middle of a rebellion, that’s a deeply concerning thing. Ordanus might have been an ally given enough time.”
“Maybe that’s why they killed him, then,” I suggest.
He grunts.
“Who will be God of Music now?” I ask, feeling a sudden sadness wash over me. Ordanus was never my god. Butsomewhere on the mainland people are worshipping in his name. And they’ll go on worshipping, long past the death of the god they claimed it is for.
Markanos gives me a long look. “You can claim his lands and people if you want them. And if you love music enough. Or art.”
I’m already shaking my head. My words are thick with emotions I don’t want to have.
