Divined (5 page)

“That’s why I’m here. Irime, I’m leaving because the Emperor will kill me if he finds out what I am. He will kill you, too. You have to be careful about what you say to people. If anyone hears you talking about the Oracle then you’ll be killed like your mother was. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Clio asked.

Irime’s face remained flat, placid, as she stared off into the distance. “Father always hated the Emperor,” she finally said, spitting into the mud. When she looked back up, her eyes were surprisingly clear. “His time is running out.”

“Irime, please, your father won’t protect you. You need to be careful what you say around people. You can’t let any of this get back to the Emperor.”

A shrill laugh bubbled up and escaped Irime’s throat, catching Clio by surprise.

“I won’t say anything to the Emperor. I won’t say anything to anyone. Father would be angry. He wants me to stay here, away and safe. I would sooner die than lay eyes on the Emperor again. He killed mother.”

Clio nodded and stepped back, not wanting to spend another moment in this place with this woman.

“Father isn’t happy with him, you know,” Irime said before Clio could turn away.

“Do you mean my father? He’s never liked the Emperor.” Clio bit back the insults that would only send Irime into a rage.

Irime nodded, grinning, and Clio walked to the door.

“He’s not happy with you either, Clio,” Irime called after her.

Clio stopped at the door, unnerved by the strength in Irime’s voice.

“You made him very angry. He will come for you soon. He will want what’s his. He always does. You’ll see. You can’t run from him,” Irime said.

Clio walked from the room before Irime could say anything else. Irime was mad, Clio knew. But still, Clio couldn’t escape the feeling that perhaps Irime hadn’t been as alone as Clio thought. Perhaps one of the Deities, her father or Irime’s father had been visiting the old Vessel, whispering in her ear, hoping to frighten Clio. Well, she wouldn’t listen. She was leaving this place, and she wouldn’t rest until she was far away from every temple, every pyramid erected in worship to the Deities who had tortured her and her family for generations.

CHAPTER SEVEN

They travelled for days. And then they travelled for weeks. Their pace was slow, and they stopped for breaks more often than Clio liked, but there was nothing she could say to make Ixie and Ashira keep going once Clio’s breathing grew heavy and uneven. The truth was, even she could admit she needed the rest.

Nights were the worst. They couldn’t travel without the light, and the roads only got more uncertain as they moved farther from the Empire’s protection, which meant that if Clio wanted to leave the Empire quickly, she had to walk all day and sleep at night.

Vazuil paid his visits every chance he got. Every night was different. Riece, Ashira, Ixie, Derik, Tirza, Nox, Zarae, the Emperor—Clio watched them die over and over. Not even the draught could keep Vazuil away when her mind was exhausted at night.

Each time she woke sweating and clutching the space where she had once carried a dagger at her side. But there was no one to fight. Not anymore.

They’d finally crossed the official border of the Empire. But they’d stopped seeing Empire warriors days ago when they left behind the last major city of the Empire. Now, they spent more days in wilderness, only occasionally coming across a small village. Clio had never been so far from Sheehan in her life. Every sight brought with it change and the reminder she was far from home. The ground was no longer green. Trees were sparse, replaced by flat, prickly brush. The air was dry, and Clio found deep cracks running across her palms and her lips.

They had camped a little way from the road. It was more exposed than Clio liked, but the ground was nothing but flat all the way to the horizon, and since they didn’t have to worry about the Emperor’s warriors finding them, Clio had conceded the spot was as good as any and laid her bags down for much-needed rest. It wasn’t long before she surrendered to the heavy pull of sleep.

She stood on top of the pyramid of Morek. The sun was hidden behind a gray haze blanketing the sky as far as she could see. Hesitantly, she stepped toward the stone altar and looked down on the empty town square. There wasn’t a soul around. Only the wind screamed in her ears. Still, she waited, knowing it was only a matter of time before one of her loved ones showed up to be killed. She took a seat on top of the altar, in no hurry to witness yet another death.

Stone shuddered behind her, and Clio turned to face the small ceremony chamber in the center of the pyramid. The doors were opening, revealing the small room where priests would perform the last blessings before facing the day’s sacrifice.

A man strode out of the open doorway, and Clio jumped to her feet, keeping the altar between her and the stranger. He was large, and the sound of his heavy stride echoed out over the emptiness. When he looked at her, Clio backed away, nearly missing the ledge of the pyramid and slipping down a step. His eyes were so white they looked to be made out of nothing more than air. Clio could feel his gaze, and it burned her skin, causing her eyes to water. This was no man at all. He was a Deity. One Clio had never seen before. Suddenly, Clio had the frightening sense that Vazuil had carried little power compared to whoever this was before her.

“Clio.” The Deity spoke.

“I thought only Vazuil was permitted to visit me,” Clio said, trying not to look into his eyes.

His mouth twitched as if he were concealing something. Anger? Frustration? Clio stepped to the side, rounding the altar as the Deity walked toward her.

“You belonged to me long before you belonged to
him
. You would still, had you not made such a foolish deal with the Low One.”

“I didn’t belong to—” she began, then stopped and met the Deity’s eyes. “Father?” Her voice came out in a whisper.

He grinned, and something flashed in his eyes. Something that made Clio shiver.

“You never should have allowed the Low One’s miserable blood to pass your lips. He wasn’t worthy,” her father said, his mouth pulling into a grimace.

“But I did take his blood.” She didn’t like the way her father was looking down on her. “Won’t he be angry to learn you’ve gone around him to see me? He made it pretty clear I was only to serve him from now on.”

He laughed, and it sounded like thunder and crashing waves and shattering rock. “The Low One could never scare me. He has always made it his practice to deal more in schemes than in strength. Like the deal he made with you. He knew he never would have had a chance of truly winning you from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did your mother never explain to you how it works?” he asked, his brows raised.

“No. You let her die before she had a chance to tell me anything about you.” Clio spat the words at him, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as react in the slightest.

“As your father, it was my right and my duty to choose which from among my brethren would take on the Oracle—to give her Visions and children and watch over her line until her daughters were of age.”

Clio felt sickness curl through her gut. “I’m not chattel to be bred at your pleasure.”

He tilted his head to the side, considering. “I would have given you someone much superior. Someone worthy. Someone who would have kept you safe.”

“Like you kept my mother safe? I’m not interested.”

“So you want to be tied to the Low One in this way? For the rest of your mortal life? You would bear his daughters?”

“I’m not bearing anyone’s daughters, understand? Vazuil can’t force me to do anything and neither can you.” She turned to go—where, she did not know. She only knew she had to get away.

“I can help you. I can help you be free of him. For good.”

Clio stopped, turning back to face him without thinking.

“There’s a simple ritual—”he began.

She held up her hand, silencing him. “Does it involve blood sacrifice?”

He nodded once, slowly. “One sacrifice and I can untether you from the Low One and bring you back where you belong.”

Clio walked up to him, not caring about the ways he could hurt her and make her pay for what she was about to say. “Listen closely. I will not be traded among the Deities.”

Something dark crept into his hollow gaze. “You will die if you continue like this.”

“So be it,” she said with a shrug. “You will never have another vessel ever again. I will make sure of that even if it kills me. I vow it.”

He laughed, but the sound was small and fractured compared to the booming of before. “I don’t place much faith in your vows these days.” He stepped up to her, and Clio fought the urge to flinch away. “This was your chance to join me. Your only chance. I will not visit you again.” His hand flashed out so quickly she didn’t see it until his fingers were on her throat, squeezing. He leaned in close to her. “Tell me, can you not foresee your end now, Oracle?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Clio woke and tried to scream, but no breath passed her lips. She could still feel her father’s hand on her throat.

“Give me a hand with this one!” a man’s voice called from somewhere in the darkness.

Clio’s eyes flew open. Her hands clutched at her neck and found a thin rope tightening around her throat, cutting off all air. She dug her fingers under the rope, trying to pull the noose away to allow herself a quick breath, but a man stood over her, holding the end of the rope and tugging on it as he tried to drag her behind him.

She scratched at her own skin, trying to find purchase, but the noose wouldn’t loosen. She was dragged farther, causing her own weight to hang her. She didn’t have much time. Black spots bloomed in her vision, and she felt her neck bleeding under her fingernails as her heart burned in her chest.

An arrow flew over her, landing in her captor’s chest. He fell, and Clio felt the rope slacken, but her hand wouldn’t move, and she couldn’t unknot the noose.

Something sharp pressed into the side of her neck—a blade, Clio realized. She heard the rope snap, and then air poured into her lungs.

“It’s all right, Clio,” Ashira said, rubbing Clio’s back as she sucked in air through her ragged and stinging throat.

Four men were coming toward them when Ixie leapt from the shadows. She threw a dagger into a man’s chest as she landed on another. They fell to the ground, and a third man pulled Ixie up from behind, but she was quicker. With a graceful flip, she was suddenly positioned behind them both. Clio caught the edge of Ixie’s grin as she speared her staff through both men in a single instant.

“Ixie!” Clio called out hoarsely as she saw what Ixie didn’t. The fourth man threw a small bola at Ixie, and she fell, hard.

Ashira notched another arrow, but the man was on top of Ixie, too close for a clear shot. Clio dug the blade out from under the tattered remains of the noose and got to her feet. Sparks sang under her fingertips as her flesh connected with the cool obsidian. This felt good.

As Ixie was kicking her feet out of the bola’s trap, Clio made to run toward the man. Her head started to throb, but she could do this. Taking a steadying breath, she leapt onto the man’s back, knocking him off Ixie and into the dirt.

The man swore and slammed his elbow into Clio’s jaw. The pain rocked through her whole body, and before she could recover, the man had knocked the blade from her feeble grip. She watched it fall beyond her reach as the man pulled something sharp and glistening from his belt.

The dagger pierced her side with bright, fiery pain. Clio screamed as Ixie pulled the man up, slashing her blade across his throat.

“Deities,” Ixie cursed as she fell to her knees in front of Clio. “Ashira, over here!”

Something soft was pressed into Clio’s side. The pressure hurt, but Clio felt the blood slow. She looked down to find Ixie had torn her robes to pieces to pack the wound.

“Ashira!” Ixie repeated. “This is not good,” she added under her breath.

“Where did he get me?” Clio asked, tasting blood in the back of her throat.

“Below the ribs. It’s deep. Don’t move.”

Ashira finally appeared, her face draining of color as her eyes landed on Clio.

“What took you so long? We have to sew this closed. Even then, Deities, it won’t stop bleeding.” Ixie’s hands were shaking as she moved aside the piece of her robe pressed into Clio’s wound.

“They were slavers,” Ashira said, looking down on the dead man.

Clio pushed aside Ixie’s ministrations. “What?”

“There’s a slave train on the other side of the stream. They must have seen us and decided to add to their stock.”

“We have to free them. There could be more of them nearby.” Clio made to stand, but Ixie’s hands held her in place, and Clio was too weak to resist.

“You can’t help, Clio.” Ixie’s eyes were hard under the moonlight.

“I’m not just going to sit here.”

“Yes, you are. You made your choice, remember? This is one of those consequences. You can’t fight, you can’t defend yourself, you can’t do anything but run as long as you keep yourself weak.”

Ixie’s words sliced deep, and Clio used what little strength she had left to push Ixie away.

“Fine. Go. I won’t move, I promise. I can staunch my own bleeding while you untie them at least.”

Ixie leveled Clio a distrusting look, but Clio wouldn’t back down. She pressed the soaking remains of Ixie’s robe into her side, holding it tight.

“See? Go.”

Ixie turned to Ashira. “We do this quickly.”

Ashira nodded, and the two ran into the darkness, leaving Clio alone.

When she was certain the two girls couldn’t see her anymore, Clio stood. Blood seeped out of her side, but she didn’t feel the pain anymore. All she felt was cold. She took her time as she shuffled to the fire. She just needed warmth. Warmth and a place to lie down. Maybe then she could push Ixie’s words out of her head.

Ixie’s right, you know
, Vazuil said, his every syllable a jagged blade in her mind.
You’ll get them both killed if you continue like this. You’re pathetic. Don’t you feel ashamed? Relying on two mortals to keep you alive?