Godslayers

Enochletes cautiously approached the door, glancing over his shoulder at me for reassurance. I motioned for him to get on with it. He seemed to shrink a little, turning unhappily back to the temple.

I watched carefully, actively scanning with my comm to pick up any etheric shenanigans—whether information about the temple’s defenses, or any hint of whatever pulp fiction, young adult novel destiny Kives had in store for him. So far, readings were nominal, but I remained on guard. Dal Salim stood next to me, perfectly relaxed.

“You ever been here before?” I asked him.

“Once,” he said in his raspy voice. “He has nothing to fear.”

“Except fear itself,” I said sagely.

Enochletes excitedly turned back to us. “That was one of the lessons that Grandmother taught me! A few thessim after we gained the ship, we had a run-in with a Parmadi warship—”

“Oy!” I snapped. “Less talking, more opening doors. We don’t got all night.”

Tail between his legs, Enochletes turned around again. He took a deep, steadying breath to prepare to open the door.

“Is the night something we can have?” Dal Salim asked. “Or do we pass through it, like minnows in the sea?”

“Don’t you start,” I grumbled.

Enochletes had looked back again, mouth opening to comment, but when he saw my warning glare, he wisely shut his trap. With a grunt, he placed both hands on the door and shoved.

“Try pulling,” I suggested helpfully.

Shame-faced, he did. This time, the doors swung open. We were met with the glitter of gold, and a spear heading straight for Enochletes.

I was already moving, snapping forward to drag the idiot out of harm’s way. It was crazy how slowly everyone else moved from my augmented perspective. The spearhead glanced off Enochletes’s breastplate as I tossed him aside. Then I grabbed the spear right behind the head.

There was an old man standing in the doorway, frizzled gray hair cascading from an iron tiara. He didn’t have a shield, keeping a two-handed grip on the weapon. His face spoke of grim determination, to give his life in defense of Horcutio’s temple.

“Mine,” I said, yanking the spear out of his hands.

With a wordless bellow, the old man charged. I choked up my grip on the spear to about the halfway point, then slapped it across the open doorway. He grabbed at the shaft with both hands, but with me putting my weight into it, he couldn’t shift it. He took a swing at my face next, which I dodged by leaning out of the way.

“Yo, man,” I said. “Chill.”

He kicked at me. His movements were clean, as if from years of drilling, but stiff enough that it was clear he hadn’t fought seriously in a long time. I swept the kick aside with my knee, overbalancing him.

“I’ve fallen, and I cannot get up,” I chuckled. “Alright, we gonna be calm now?”

“Defilers,” the old man spat at us from the ground. “Dal Salim, is that you?”

“Hearthkeeper,” Dal Salim replied, his rasp guttering through the night.

“Deeps take you,” the old man snarled. “Of all the faces to see among our enemies, I never expected yours.”

Dal Salim bowed his head. “I am sorry.”

“Who the hell is this guy?” I asked him.

“This is Hearthkeeper Uli,” Dal Salim said. “He has kept the hearth on Baros for all of living memory.”

“Damn,” I said. “Sorry, Uli, but this next part is gonna suck for you.”

I could hear the clattering of armor as a group of soldiers closed on our position. Probably to investigate and make sure I wasn’t up to anything; I couldn’t imagine Erid and Pellonine expected me to be in trouble after the combat ability I’d demonstrated the last few days. Uli painfully rose to his feet, and I cautiously removed the spear barring the door. I handed it to Dal Salim and sheathed my sword.

“Well done,” Pellonine said behind me.

“Who gave that blockhead a spear?” Erid said. “Drop it, you pirate dog.”

Dal Salim complied efficiently. Enochletes scowled at him as he went to pick it up.

“That was me,” I said, turning. “Didn’t you guys have anything better to do than ride my ass?”

“Only a moron would leave you alone when the screams started,” Erid said. “Who’s this character?”

“Hearthkeeper Uli,” I said, as if it were common knowledge. “Priest of this temple.”

“Take him away,” Pellonine ordered. Uli’s shouts didn’t help him as they dragged him back toward the rest of the prisoners.

“Weren’t we gonna listen to his story or something?” I asked as they passed us. “I bet there’s a whole, like, legend about this island and the horrible curses we’ve unleashed by defiling the temple. It’s a whole pirate thing.”

“Then ask your dog,” said Erid, striding into the temple.

“That’s rude,” I said happily, falling into step behind her. “You’re rude, Erid.”

“Dal Salim?” Pellonine asked from Erid’s other side. “Is there a curse?”

“We will find out together,” he said. He didn’t seem worried at all. That seemed to be good enough for her.

We passed the threshold and looked around.

My first impression was that there was a lot of gold.

Golden shields hanging from the walls, blacked with soot from the torches. Amphorae full of coins—some I recognized as drobol, others unknown to me. Scabbards encrusted with jewels, banners of silk, and other stuff that didn’t make as much sense to me. I had to remind myself that mirrors were super expensive, for example, and that the cloak that looked like a tacky sequined halloween costume was probably full of enough gems to buy a house.

“Hell yeah!” I cheered. “I’ve always wanted to plunder an ancient temple!”

Erid glared at me.

“This ain’t plunder, Idiot. It’s stolen goods, and we’re going to repatriate them.”

I scoffed gesturing vaguely at a golden throne in one corner. “What, by asking who lost a solid gold chair?”

“Obviously the citizens of good standing will have records of their losses,” Pellonine said. “The rest will be returned to the citizenry through investment in their cities.”

“Right. Totally not plunder.”

Dal Salim chuckled. “Plunder is when one ship does it, not five.”

“No one asked you, pirate,” Pellonine said, shooting me a warning glare as if Dal Salim was my responsibility. I replied with my most innocent expression, flaring my eyes a brighter red.

“This is too much to carry,” Erid said after concluding her inspection of the goods. “We’ll carry it back after we take the port.”

“Are we marching them over tonight?” I said. “They’re gonna collapse without the pirates doing a thing.”

“Of course not,” Erid said. “Were you paying attention when we talked through the logistics?”

“Honestly, captain,” I said, “I’m under orders to be unreliable so no one can claim this wasn’t your victory.”

Erid stared at me. “Bullshit.”

“Calamity,” I said, smirking. “Although now I get why you guys were so worried about being attacked at the temple if they’ve got all night to prepare.”

“Goddesses above,” Pellonine sighed. “How old are you?”

“Never ask a lady her age.” I winked, heading for the door. “Alright, I’m heading off to the port.”

“Why?”

“So they can’t prepare to attack you,” I said like Erid was an idiot. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill them all. Take care of Dal Salim for me, will you?”

“I’m not burying your body!” Erid called out after me.

“He better be in one piece when I get back!” I continued like I hadn’t heard her. “Otherwise, dire vengeance! Torrential downpours of blood! Itching powder in your undergarments!”

They all just let me go. I strolled calmly into the night. A whole port full of pirates? Yeah, I could take ‘em.

“Sometimes,” Dal Salim said behind me, “I am unsure whether she actually has a plan.”

That little traitor.

“Five drobol says she can hear you,” said Erid.

“She can definitely hear us,” Pellonine said.

Dal Salim chuckled. “Danou does not fear the truth, I think.”

“Fear?” Erid said. “Girl ain’t learned to fear anything she’s supposed to. But paint me over a reef if she doesn’t get offended anyways.”

Pellonine drew in a sharp breath. “She absolutely heard that.”

“Nothing cuts like the truth,” Erid said. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear the savage grin in her voice.

Fuck you, Erid, I thought, but not without fondness.

Then I reached the edge of the clearing, and the sounds of the jungle swallowed up the rest of their conversation.

*

Unlike a company of hoplites, I didn’t need to rest or stay organized. Well, technically I needed to stay organized. And the comm function that cleaned the tiredness gunk out of my brain didn’t exactly replace the need for rest. Look, the point was I was just better.

But more importantly, I had been paying attention during the logistics discussion, and I needed a couple pirate ships to escape during the harbor assault. It would make the Trade Fleet’s job a little harder if the pirates were all alerted to the coming crackdown, but my job was to make this an epic struggle between incompatible ways of life. Sucks to suck. Gotta crack a couple coconuts to make an ocean omelet or whatever.

Trap Guy was probably still out here, so I made sure to keep my comm sweeping for danger. It helped that there was more of an obvious trail on this side of the temple—this was probably the route the pirates took to bring up their offerings—but a predictable path meant predictable ambush locations.

I hit the first fork half an hour in. That was a little surprising, since I hadn’t figured this island was big enough to have more than one thing work walking too. Maybe the path less travelled was where that priest guy lived, but if he was the hearthkeeper or whatever over at the temple, wouldn’t he live closer? Or inside? There’d been some hallways in the back of the treasure room. I should have checked those; who knew what traps were hidden back there? Would they force Dal Salim to check for them in my absence?

I steadied myself with a deep breath. I had a mission here.

I took the path most travelled by, ‘cause that’s where all the pirates went.

Five minutes later, I came to another fork. For this one, both paths looked equally well-used, and they seemed like they were heading in totally different directions.

“Seriously?” I asked the empty air, as if Trap Guy could hear me. This was probably his fault somehow. “Fine. I guess we’re doing this.”

I had no idea if the left-hand rule worked on mazes that were just branching paths in the forest, but it wasn’t like I had a better idea. Well, outside of calling the Ragnar in for air support when I got desperate. I wasn’t that desperate yet.

Two forks later I was really starting to get annoyed. Who had this much time? Didn’t these guys have hobbies or something? What kind of lame pirate spent all their time marching through the forest to create fake trails?

It was almost a relief when I encountered the tripwire. I blasted it with my sword, partly to get it out of the way, partly because I was pissed off and wanted to blow something up.

It went up—along with a chunk of the path—in an explosion of dirt and plant matter. Something snapped and I turned to see a charcoal-hardened tree branch blurring for my neck.

Even with my reflexes, I barely parried in time. The trap knocked the sword out of my hand, flinging it into the underbrush, but I’d bled enough of its momentum that I had a chance to duck under it.

I heard movement and threw myself into the bushes. I heard the whistle of a steel blade through air behind me, then I landed uncomfortably among the tree roots. I found myself eye-to-eye with a very confused-looking snake, trying to hold itself still in hopes I wouldn’t see it. I hissed softly at it and moved my face closer, upon which it darted away.

I hate snakes. I used to think they were so cool until I learned they were derpy little cowards.

Now my comm was warning me about a demigod—gee, how timely—and I had no sword. I crawled toward the nearest cover, keeping myself as low as possible. Another knife cut through the bushes above my head. I reached a tree trunk and pulled myself up.

“How many of those have you got left?” I called out into the forest.

Trap Guy didn’t answer me. I poked my head around the corner found him staring right at me, knife raised for a throw.

He smiled in satisfaction.

“You’re unarmed this time,” he said, and threw.

My arm snapped out and grabbed the knife by the hilt.

“You idiot,” I laughed. “I am the weapon. Come at me, bro.”

Bro drew another knife. Then he came at me.