A Thirst for Vengeance (The Ashes Saga, Volume 1) (11 page)

“Is it true?” I asked, my eyes wide.

The man chuckled. “To an extent, I suppose. None know for sure—save the Rel’aille. They are the only ones to have seen the stacks.”

He lowered his voice. “I have heard it said that a man can spend his entire life reading and not make it through a hundredth of the books contained in there.”

“That’s impossible,” I huffed. The most books I had ever seen were in Magda’s hut, and I could count all of them with the fingers of one hand.

“Maybe so,” the man offered. “But if no one believes in the impossible, what would any of us dream of?”

That thought made me sit back, stumped.

We rode the rest of the way in silence. I wondered how someone became a Rel’aille. I wondered if that was what my mark would have granted me.

Most of all, I was fascinated by the idea of all those books. I had a naturally inquisitive mind. I knew of the way Magda treasured her books. A single book could contain knowledge gathered over a lifetime. If I could properly read, I could obtain that knowledge myself. I could learn what others know. I could learn from the mistakes they had made and experiences they had had.

Above all, I could earn myself an advantage very few took the time to exploit.

What did I want most in my life? The answer came easily: Revenge. I wanted revenge against Three-Grin for the way he killed Alicia. I wanted revenge against all those who had ever wronged me. Perhaps it was not the healthiest state of mind for a boy my age. But, that desire molded me into the man I am today.

Not that my life is something to aspire toward. Quite the opposite. But in certain times, it does make for an entertaining tale.

The coach jolted to a stop in front of a side street. “Lamore’s that way.” Our driver jerked a thumb across his shoulders. “But this is the farthest my horses will bring you.”

“Fine,” the man beside me said. He paid the driver and stepped off. I went with him.

“Do you have a name?” he asked me as we started down the street.

“Dagan,” I replied, looking around. “Where are we going?”

“Where all men go when they know the hour of their death is nigh.” The man grinned at me. “We are going to drink!”

Chapter Fourteen

Lamore’s Tavern was a shabby, dark place. When we entered, a wiry man behind the counter shot me an appraising look. He did not object, however, as I sat down.

The man whose name I still didn’t know pressed four silver dimes on the table. I stared at the coins. The bartender took them without a word, bent down, and produced two large pitchers of drink, foaming at the top.

“One’s for you,” the man said, pushing it toward me.

My hand gripped the handle. My mind grappled with the fact that I held, in one hand, a drink that was worth
two
silver dimes.

The man brought his up to his lips and took a swallow. He exhaled in pleasure.

“Go on,” he told me. “It’s quite good.”

I nodded and sat higher on the stool. I pulled the mug closer. The bubbling liquid seemed to hiss at me. I bent over it and sucked in a small sip.

I blanched and spat it back out. The taste was revolting.

The man, who was watching for my reaction with a close eye, clapped my back and laughed. “Too strong for you?”

I nodded while gagging.

He dragged my drink back to him. “At least now you know you’re not missing out.”

I watched, fascinated, as he brought the ale to his face and chugged it whole. When he was done, he set it back onto the counter with a
thud
. He wiped away the foam that covered his bare upper lip.

“Gods, that’s good,” he said.

“Gods?” I asked. “I thought there was only one. Xune?”

“Xune is the most widely known, and the most revered,” the man said, “but he is far from the only god.”

I blinked. “There are others?”

The man moved his hand in a vague, circular motion. “Have you ever glanced up at the stars at night, Dagan? Do you know what all those tiny lights are?”

I shook my head. “I never thought about it.”

“The legend goes,” the man said, “that once, the earth was the very home of the gods. They lived in peace and harmony, except for one:

“Xune.”

Xune was not the strongest, nor the fastest. He could not move mountains like his brother, Oridon, nor split the seas like his sister, Fellaira. He could not fly with the birds like Aerogan, nor speak to the trees like Possmar.

But he had one trait the others lacked: a sharp cunning. Xune was the trickster. He delighted in playing pranks on his brothers and sisters.

He would conjure illusions of mountains and laugh when Oridon tried to restore them to their rightful place. He would whisper in the ears of Possmar and pretend to be nature itself.

At first, the other gods tolerated Xune’s jokes. He was the youngest, they said, and he had inherited the least. Let him have his fun.

But over the centuries, Xune’s tricks became more malicious. He would make the seas boil and kill all the creatures who called them home. He would call upon thunderstorms to strike down anything with wings.

He was ruining the peace the other gods had created. He did not understand how his brothers and sisters enjoyed living such sterile lives. He craved disorder and chaos because that brought excitement.

One day, while strolling through the woods, he heard two of his brothers approaching. Quickly, he camouflaged himself in the trees. Their hushed voices told Xune they did not want to be heard, and thus, he was eager to eavesdrop.

They spoke of a secret meeting taking place that night. All the gods were invited—save for him.

Xune grew furious. Was he not, too, one of their kin? Did he not, also, deserve his rightful place among them?

He stalked his brothers to find out more. The meeting would take place at the peak of Allhur, the greatest mountain in the world. It was said that the peak reached so high that from the top, you could stretch out and touch the moon.

Xune had never been to Allhur. It was Oridon’s home. Even Xune respected such boundaries. But he would not sit back and watch while his brothers and sisters gathered without him.

He ran to the mountain before everybody else. He snuck past the watchful eye of Oridon and crouched low among the jagged rocks. He waited.

When night came, and the first gods began to arrive, Xune held his breath. He did not want to be discovered until everyone was there.

He waited until all the gods had gathered at the peak of the mountain. Just as he was about to rise from the shadows and make himself known, he heard his name spoken.

He froze, and listened.

Oridon was the orator. He spoke of how Xune’s tricks were becoming tiresome. He spoke of how Xune’s desires clashed with those of the other god’s. He spoke of how Xune did not belong.

Suddenly, Xune understood why he had not been invited. It was a trial against him. It was where judgment would be made.

Xune grew outraged. He leapt from his hiding spot and startled the gods.

“Oridon,” he screamed, “your treachery is unbound!” He spun on the others. “Possmar, I banish you. Leave this earth and never come back.

“Aerogan, I banish you. Leave this earth and never come back.

“Fellaira, I banish you. Leave this earth and never come back.”

And so he named all the gods in sequence, uttering the forbidden words that would strip them of their power. They were too shocked to act, or perhaps Xune was too quick.

He named all of them except Oridon, for he knew his power was weakest in his brother’s domain. If he tried the same trick on Oridon, the spell he cast on the others would break.

Oridon could restore them, too, so Xune knew he had to speak fast.

“Brother, you have forsaken me,” Xune said. “And inspired the hot pillar of my rage. But perhaps I was too rash. Claim me as your own again, and all of this can be undone.”

Oridon remained wary of Xune. He had fallen victim to too many of his brother’s tricks.

“I can undo what has been done,” he said. “So tell me, brother, what need have I of you?”

“You have the same need of me as you have of all your kin,” Xune answered. “I am not less.”

Oridon did not move. “Repent all you have done, and swear you will trouble us no more with your trickery. Only then will I welcome you back as my blood.”

Xune fell to his knees and swore. He confessed everything, from setting the plagues that ruined crops to causing tremors that tore the earth open. Oridon was so touched by the honesty that he clasped Xune by the shoulder and begged him to rise.

But Xune had one more trick up his sleeve. As soon as his brother touched him, a link was formed between the two gods. The link combined their individual power. Xune stretched out his hand and called for Oridon’s mighty hammer. It flew through the air, into his palm.

Oridon’s shock was immense. Never before have any of the gods wielded weapons of one of their kin. He tried to pull back to sever the connection, but found Xune’s fingers digging around his wrist.

“Oridon,” Xune spoke, “I banish you from this earth. Leave, and never come back.”

Oridon froze. Xune swung the hammer at his head, and shattered it into a thousand tiny fragments.

Then he rose, and laughed. The other gods remained frozen in their bodies, unable to move anything except their eyes. They stared at Xune and could not believe his madness.

But Xune did not care. He came up to the locked body of every god and swung Oridon’s hammer. One by one, he shattered all of them, until only his sister Fellaira was left.

She could not speak, but her eyes begged him to stop.

Xune raised the mighty hammer. He started the downward sweep that would destroy her.

But at the last moment, he caught a reflection of his rage glimmering in her pupils.

He shifted the blow. The hammer swept by her face and landed amongst the rocks. Xune embraced his sister and spoke. “Fellaira, I release you. Save me from what I have done. Fellaira, I free you. Come back to this earth. Fellaira, I submit to you. Punish me as you see fit.”

Fellaira was the wisest of the gods. When she was released from Xune’s spell, she did not address him. She gathered the fragments of her siblings and flung them into the sky.

Then she turned to Xune. “Your punishment is to remain alone on the earth you so craved. Your punishment is to walk the barren fields with no hope of seeing life again. Your punishment is to be left forever on this frozen rock, while we, your siblings, watch from the heavens and forever judge you for your sins.”

With that, she leapt into the sky, and disappeared beyond the dark face of the moon.

Xune stood and surveyed the land. The earth was his. He could finally do as he pleased.

He assumed the thought would bring him satisfaction, but it only carried sadness. With no witnesses to his pranks, why would he even bother?

Melancholy touched him as he walked down the mountain. But when he turned back to look upon Allhur one last time, he saw a sparkle of dust that Fellaira had forgotten.

He rushed to it, and saw that Fellaira had not forgotten it at all, but rather left it for him. He picked it up. It contained a tiny piece of every god who now watched him from above.

Xune was devious and cunning, so he formed a plot that would restore life to the earth. Out of the dust, he formed tiny standing figurines representing each of the twelve gods. He brought two—one male, and one female—to each corner of the earth, and whispered the words that would breathe new life into them.

Xune had created the world’s first humans.

His creations rose, but not very high. They were like the gods in appearance, but otherwise smaller, frailer, and weaker. They did not possess any of the powers Xune’s brothers and sisters once had.

He retreated to Allhur, where he remains to this day. And every night, it’s said that the sparkling stars in the sky are the remnants of his brothers and sisters, watching, judging, and looking down upon us.

Chapter Fifteen

“That’s what the stars are?” I asked. “Pieces of other gods?”

“So the legend goes,” the man replied. He had finished his drinks and just put more coins on the bar for the next round.

The bartender refilled both pitchers. The man picked them up, stood, and motioned to a far, empty corner. I followed him there. We settled down at a table not unlike this one.

He leaned back and kicked both feet up. He drank from one pitcher. I watched him. He drank from the other.

The anticipation was killing me. Finally, I burst out, “Aren’t you going to do something?”

The man quirked an eyebrow at me. “I am.” He motioned to the drinks. “I’ve told a story, and now I am getting uproariously drunk.”

“Not that!” I hissed. “I mean about the—” I lowered my voice, “—Black Brotherhood.”

The man raised his shoulders in an elaborate shrug. “They’ll find me in due time.”

“So you’re just going to
wait
for them?” The incredulity was clear in my voice.

He motioned around the tavern. “Better wait in a place of my choosing than one of theirs, don’t you think?” He took another swig.

“But they’re coming to
kill
you,” I protested. “Aren’t you worried? Aren’t you going to
prepare
?
”

“Prepare to die?” he humored me. “I don’t think any man alive wants to prepare for that.”

“Then what are you
doing
?”

He leaned forward. “You want the truth? I’m passing time. Not only do I have to watch for my own skin tonight, but I have to babysit you, too.”

I crossed my arms and stuck my chin out. “I’m not a baby.”

“You couldn’t swallow your drink.”

“I didn’t like it.”

He cocked his ear toward me. “What was that? All I could hear was
wah, wah
.”

I was growing
incredibly
frustrated. “Why are we here?” I asked.

“Come, Dagan. I’ve told you the answer to that three times.”