God of Broken Things

Chapter 24

I lay face down in cold red sand until the swirling flashing lights faded. When I was able to rise to my feet and brush the crud off my face I found myself in a ruddy, blasted hollow of sand, bare rock and desiccated scrub. The ground was pitted with holes and littered with shattered fragments of bone and gnawed shell.

Ahhh shite. I was back.

This was where I’d ended up when the previous ritual had gone wrong. I’d fled it screaming. This was not the home of the Queen of Winter, this was a death world populated by monstrous daemons living only to kill and eat, and not necessarily in that order. The last time I had thought it all my fault, that somehow I had messed up the ritual, but now it seemed my incompetent and vindictive grandmother had ballsed it up all over again. It wasn’t like I’d any say whatsoever in where I’d ended up.

This realm was old and sickly, the sun a dull, swollen red orb covering an entire third of the jaundiced sky. The air smelled like a bad case of arse gas after a heavy meal, one liberally seasoned with boiled cabbage. The air was probably deadly poison to a human. Had I been here in my actual body rather than in spirit, or mind… or whatever the fuck I was currently… I had no illusions that I would survive for long.

Despite the grotesque size of this sun, my breath misted in the chill air. I was all alone on this alien world. I shivered and wrapped arms around my naked body, dearly wishing I had Dissever once more. It was times like this where I missed having an incredibly lethal spirit-bound blade in my hand – being able to cut through anything with ease is very comforting. That dark spirit’s presence in the back of my mind had been silent for some months, only waking when blood flowed and it was time to feed, and to take more of my arm. I might not have been in my actual body, but my right hand had not changed – it was still black and hard as iron, the taint sticking to me like flies on shite, yet more evidence of it being a magical as well as physical affliction.

My ankle throbbed, misshapen red welts like finger marks encircling it. I remembered the feeling of something trying to grab me during my fall. At least here, away from my real flesh, my back did not pain me and my left hand worked properly. The fingers opened and closed on command, as obedient as they had been before I’d been forced to burn out a tiny part of my brain to permanently destroy knowledge so the traitor god couldn’t uncover my devious plan to end him. And now I had a new powerful being that I needed to contend with.

After my last fucked up foray into trying to make a pact with a great spirit of the Clanholds, I knew I did not have time to stand around scratching my head and gawping at everything like a lackwit. The daemons would sniff me out soon. I searched the ground and found a bleached bone the length of my arm and then chopped the end with my iron hand, snapping off a knobbly chunk to form a sharp point.

I once ran from here naked and screaming, hunted by hideous creatures that I had tried so hard to forget. Even now I wanted to piss myself, but I’d had more than enough of living in fear and being pushed around by others. This time I was stronger and far more vicious. I was no longer prey, and I had seen far worse than anything this realm could possibly offer.

I opened my Gift and let magic flood through my mind and pseudo-muscles, preparing to kill. Fear and uncertainty washed away, leaving a burning knowledge that I was the baddest, boldest bastard in this whole miserable place. I would survive and I would find this fucking Queen of Winter and bend her to my will.

When the first burrower burst from the sand, red carapace gleaming and mandibles clacking, I was ready for it. As its segmented centipede-body swung round to face me I thrust my makeshift spear right through one of its large compound eyes, wincing at the high-pitched squealing as it flailed and gushed thick orange blood all over my hands. My right hand burned and itched as the creature fell at my feet, legs twitching. It stank worse than rotting meat, and I was drenched in its thick and cloying coppery putrescence.

I sprinted to an outcrop of red rock and climbed atop it, wincing as it crumbled to sharp edges beneath my bare feet. In the distance mounds of sand shifted and sped towards my location, but the burrowers seemed more interested in squabbling over the remains of their own kind than in me. The sand churned as the daemons fought one another. I was safe for now, but they were just one of many monsters in this alien desert. Wind swept dust and sand up into the arid air, forcing me to squint as I surveyed the blasted lands around me. Clusters of fungal stalks reared like a forest from the cracked earth, shedding spores like autumn leaves. Smaller furry creatures moved through that forest’s nodules and frills, eating and being eaten in turn by things that looked like iridescent armoured snakes, those themselves being sucked up by armoured behemoths with horns and razor-tipped teeth on the end of a long fleshy protuberance.

This realm was kill or be killed for whatever scant resources it had to offer, a world consisting only of eat, fuck and fight.

“Show yourself, Queen of Winter,” I shouted. “We have a war on and I cannot afford your tardiness.”

I waited and listened, both with my ears and with my Gift. The great spirit was coming, her chill creeping across the rock I stood on. A struggle of wills was about to take place, and I refused to let her win. The Arcanum did not rule me, nor did the gods of Setharis, and I’d rather cut my cock off than bow and scrape to anything, especially not the inhuman spirit my vile grandmother worshipped.

Unfortunately, the Queen of Winter was not the only entity to hear my call.

In the fungal forest, immense stalks of growth cracked and fell squealing as something huge crashed through, charging right towards me.

Just what I needed. I awkwardly hefted my spear in my left hand and held up my right to serve as a crude shield – it was mostly iron at the moment after all.

The smaller creatures fled the forest in a tide. The tusked behemoths trumpeted and lumbered off. Burrowers hid their heads and dug deeper into the sands. I discovered why moments later as a massive, fearsome ravak daemon emerged from the gloom.

Normally it would be more than a match for me, but this one bore gaping wounds all down one side, and half the smaller claws were severed oozing stumps. I didn’t fancy meeting whatever monster had chosen such a powerful daemon as its prey. Perhaps it had been wounded in conflict with its own kind.

I tried to spit on the rock at my feet, but this spiritual body boasted no spare moisture. “Hurry the fuck up you accursed spirit,” I snarled as ice slowly encased the rock below me. My bone spear was a pathetic threat to such a powerful daemon, but then my mind was a far more potent weapon.

It spotted me and surged in my direction faster than a horse at full gallop. I drew in as much magic as I dared hold and prepared to assault its mind before it could attack, but that was not its intention. It slowed and studied my arm instead; the iron a match to its own blade and crown.

Three eyes remained fixed on me while the others slid across its head to look back at the forest it had come from. “Fight with me, small deformed ravak-spawn, or it will devour us both,” it hissed, and somehow I understood its daemonic language though it was nothing I had ever heard before – the one I had encountered previously had spoken the Old Escharric of ancient humans.

Part of the fungal forest exploded and I felt its fear. Something even larger was approaching.

I swallowed and licked dry lips, for all the good it did in this body. “What hunts you?” I demanded, my voice coming out in its own sibilant tongue.

“The Old One comes,” it replied, looking at my two legs far less suitable for sand than its serpentine form. “Fight the Severer with me or I will flee and leave you to delay it alone.”

I eased back on the mental blow I was preparing and extended my senses into the surrounding area.

From the ravak by my side, terror and pain and Scarrabus stain shot through its mind. This daemon was infested by the enemy. My knuckles whitened around the spear.

From the forest, bottomless hunger and unquenchable bloodlust. And, oddly, vast and almost-human amusement. This thing loved the hunt and kill.

From the frigid air around me, a hiss of stray magic as the Queen of Winter manifested in physical form. She had found me.

The ancient god-spirit constructed a human female form from sparkling ice. Unlike my slight and slender grandmother, she had opted for a functional beauty with thighs like tree trunks, arms like a blacksmith’s and a face plain as an anvil. I supposed that back in ancient days, when the first humans to wander the Clanholds had been armed only with their wits and weapons of wood and stone, that this might have been their idea of beauty. Her head cricked and cracked around to stare at me with eerie blank eyes.

“Edrin Walker,” she said. “I have come for you.”

The ravak attacked immediately, its black blade whipping out at the spirit’s head. An arm of ice rose to block it and the blade bit half-way through before sticking. Those weapons could cut through almost anything, but it seemed the Queen of Winter was made of sterner stuff.

The spirit drew breath and exhaled a storm. Spiritual body or not, I felt her chill nip at my naked flesh as it stabbed into the serpentine coils of the ravak. The daemon screeched as frigid winds ripped it from the ground and flung it through the air, ice crusting its black iron scales. Ravak were hard to kill, but the spirit merely flicked it away like an unpleasant bug.

I felt the Scarrabus’ terror as the spirit sent its daemonic host plunging right back into the fungal forest it had only just escaped from. Then red pain bloomed as the hidden presence engulfed it. An almighty crack echoed through the forest and its thoughts snuffed out.

The spirit’s blank eyes turned to me and she stretched out her arms to welcome me into her embrace. I felt a compulsion to obey wash over me. “Give yourself to me.”

The spirit’s blatant attempt to coerce me only served to piss me off. I was a tyrant for fuck’s sake, did she really think mental manipulation would work on me? Or pass unnoticed? Anger began building inside my breast and my right hand itched to punch her in the face. “Nah,” I answered. “But we can thrash out a deal of some sort.”

There was a moment of silence, perhaps confusion. It was hard to tell from her lack of expression. She had no human tells. “Give yourself to me,” she repeated.

“This is a pact, pal,” I explained, as if to a particularly stupid child. “I don’t give myself to anything. What do I get out of this? What do you get?”

“I get?” she repeated as if puzzled. “Angharad has already given of her blood and magic many years before now. You are mine to wear when I walk in the human realm.” Oh shite. That treacherous little bitch had lied to me. It was only a small surprise she was stabbing me in the back. This was no pact, this was a blood sacrifice.

She reached for me and I backpedalled, heading towards the forest. Better to risk whatever was in there than let the spirit touch me. “I am an independent sentient being, Queen of Winter. Angharad does not own me and has no authority to promise you anything.” She did not deign to reply as she floated towards me, fingers of ice reaching towards my heart. Reason had been worth a shot but I hadn’t expected it to work. Now it was time to kick her fucking head in… somehow.

My mental probing had nothing to latch onto, no brain and no real body to invade so I snarled and poured magic into my muscles, such as they were in this current body and in this place. It seemed to work as normal, unspeakable strength flushing through me, ready to fight. No crusty old spirit was going to wear me like a cheap tunic, and my grandmother would suffer for this if it was the last thing I did. I kept backing away. There was something horrible in that forest that even the mighty ravak had feared, a monster that had eaten it if I was to guess. Perhaps I could introduce it to this piece of crap spirit and watch them murder each other.

The icy form darted forward in a streak of mist. I batted her arm away with my hard right hand and thrust my bone spear into her face. The point splintered on impact. I ducked a swipe and rammed my iron fist right up into her jaw.

I convulsed and sparked from the impact, like I’d punched lightning.

The spirit reeled back, her icy jaw riven with cracks. My hard black fingers dripped with water, and drank it in like blood. Stolen strength flooded through me.

I shook off my surprise and took to my heels, speeding towards the looming trunks of mottled fungus. I was brimming with energy as I leapt over rock and dips, feet pounding the sand like a drum.

My hand burned and the blackness crept up past my shoulder to caress my neck. An unbearable itch under the skin like thousands of insects trying to bite their way free. Hungry, came that old familiar voice in the back of my head. Dissever! I had hurt the Queen of Winter and her watery magical blood had fed the taint. Fuckity fuck fuck.

Frigid wind swept past me and my foot stuck fast to frozen sand. I ripped it free, leaving skin behind, and continued running, each step burning agony.

Shelter was so close! I could smell the forest’s musty aroma, and feel a dark presence watching from somewhere among the trunks.

A drop of white bloomed in the treeline directly ahead between two trunks, and from it an icy form grew in the space of two heartbeats. The Queen of Winter opened her arms and I could not stop. I slammed into her and bounced off like I had charged headfirst into a stone wall. I sprawled on my back at her feet, shivering as ice enveloped my legs and arms. All my magical might could not free me.

“Give yourself to me,” she demanded, bending to place a transparent hand over my heart, right where my grandmother’s hand had been. By give, she meant to take.

I screamed at her touch. Ice bloomed inside my heart, reverberating with that back in my real body. I could feel both, and the pain was almost overwhelming as they began to merge into one. I screwed my eyes shut, desperately trying to think of a way out of this. I refused to let them have my body – I would die first.

Thunk.

A weight in my lap. The pain in my chest fled.

I opened my eyes to see the spirit’s severed head in my lap; impassive features already melting. The body fell back and shattered on the sand.

The swollen red sun was blotted out as an enormous shadow pulled itself free of the forest and reared above me.

Just my luck.