season avatars 01 - seasons beginnings (10 page)

Kron raised his eyebrows. This wasn’t how Pagli usually spoke.

What kind of artifact could excite—or upset—him so much? “Show me

this valuable artifact then.”

Pagli stepped forward with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He

smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in days. “Come, take it and find out.”

He pulled out a small, black sundial and thrust it at Kron. Hostile

magic roiled off the object strongly enough to make him step back.

“I’m not touching that.” How could Pagli handle that safely? Kron

would have to sacrifice a square of silk from Kin to neutralize the sun-

dial’s magic. Thankfully, Bella hadn’t returned yet, so he didn’t have

to worry about her getting hurt by the sundial. Yet, Pagli, who wasn’t

an artificer, seemed unaffected.

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“Why not?” Another step forward by Pagli. A few passersby stopped

to see what was going on. “Think your magic isn’t strong enough to

master this artifact?”

Anger surged within him, but caution restrained him from blurting

out a response. Pagli had never been to Vistichia before, wouldn’t know

how to find Kron so easily, and wouldn’t treat him like a foolish novice.

What if this wasn’t Pagli, but someone pretending to be him? How

could Kron tell for sure? His magic-finders would only get confused by

the sundial. What Kron needed was a way to see through the magic to

the truth beneath.

He glanced at the unsold artifacts, trying to determine what could be

used as it was or if he could modify something quickly. Too bad he

didn’t have the far-seer he’d made for Salth. Only a couple of magic-

finders today; most of his items were things ordinary people would find

practical: bowls and jars enchanted to keep food fresh and pest-free,

tools that wouldn’t break, and even a few toys that could move on their

own. None of those would help him. His most ingenious creation, a

carved bird that could fly, was back at the workshop. He could summon

it to bring him something small, but nothing useful came to mind.

Kron kept eye contact with Pagli—or whoever was pretending to be

Pagli—and said, putting as much scorn into his words as he could man-

age, “What, this thing? This is nothing next to all the traps I set on the

tomb of that queen three years ago. Do you remember?” At the same

time, Kron searched in his pouch for something, anything, he could en-

chant. His fingers touched the rough edge of a broken chain link,

discarded as useless. All it was now was a hole surrounded by metal.

But maybe a hole wasn’t useless….

“The queen’s tomb. Ah yes, I remember. There was a pit trap at the

entrance, right?”

“No, Pagli.” Kron willed true vision into the chain link. “There was

no pit trap, or queen, or tomb. But the real Pagli would know that. So,

by my true love’s eyes, who are you?”

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He drew the chain link out of the pouch and held it up to his right

eye. Kron closed his left eye and peered through the link. Pagli’s image

wavered for a couple of heartbeats, but it didn’t disappear. Instead, his

skin took on a waxy sheen, his eyes developed a glazed-over look, and

his body odor became more prominent—and more rotten.

Kron dropped the chain link in horror. This was the real Pagli, but

he was dead. How could he still be moving and talking? Had Pagli’s

ghost come back to wreak revenge on Kron for some forgotten crime,

or was somebody abusing his corpse?

“Get away from me, abomination!” Kron grabbed a bowl and altered

its enchantment to create a fuelless fire in the bowl. It wouldn’t last for

long, but it would destroy poor Pagli’s body and hopefully bring peace

to his spirit.

Pagli—or whatever force was animating his body—hissed, then

threw the cursed sundial at Kron. It happened so quickly he didn’t have

time to dodge, only attempt to catch it in the bowl. The flame leapt

higher to consume the sundial, but although the sundial was wood, it

resisted the fire and passed through to graze Kron’s hand. It felt like ice

in his veins. Kron dropped the bowl, letting the flame die, and cradled

his hand. Liver spots bloomed on his skin, and his hand grew thin and

skeletal.
They won’t be calling me “Evenhanded” anymore.
Was it go-

ing to spread?

Foreign magic passed through his defenses and surged within him

like a wave. The advancing signs of age disappeared.

“Hold. Who defiles the dead in Our domain?”

A man and woman materialized next to Kron. There was no sign of

a portal opening behind them; they seemed to form from the air itself.

Although the man was white-haired, he stood tall as someone in his

prime. The woman’s hair was yellow, and her skin was paler than

Pagli’s. However, she glowed with health and warmth, making the

corpse appear even deader.

The jewels on Kron’s magic-finders blazed, cracked with soft pop-

ping sounds, and died.

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The corpse flung its arms to the sides, and a translucent blue bubble

appeared around the four of them. Then it straightened up, and a new

light shone in its eyes.

“You two have many-strong power,” it said in a new voice.

Only Salth speaks like that
.

“You may claim this land as Yours, but I have claimed time itself as

My domain,” the new voice said. “Can You challenge Me for that? I

could scramble the seasons of this land until not a blade of grass lives.”

The man smiled thinly, his eyes hidden from Kron’s gaze. “No, you

can’t. We are the Seasons themselves.”

“Then You are below Me, under My control.”

“After seeing what no one else has ever seen, We are under no one’s

control.” The man advanced fearlessly toward Pagli’s corpse. “Can you

say the same, you who send a dead person to speak for you? Have you

Seen the Unseeable?”

A pause. Then the corpse said, “I’ve seen what I need to see.”

“Then you haven’t seen the Unseeable, then.”

“I don’t need to!”

The woman opened her mouth as if to say something, glanced at the

man who’d accompanied her, and shut it again.

“Never mind the power,” the man said. “Tell Us why you’ve sent

this shell of a man here.”

Please say it has nothing to do with me.

The corpse said, “I have a grievance against this man here.” Its eyes

narrowed. “Why are you still breathing, Kron? That sundial was sup-

posed to claim all of your remaining time!”

Kron rummaged in his pouch, looking for something to enchant.

String might hold one of them for a heartbeat, but he didn’t have enough

to restrain all of them.

The golden-haired woman played with a stack of bracelets on her

wrist as she regarded Kron. “He isn’t one of Us, but he’s no longer

completely mortal, either.”

“What? How can that be?” he asked.

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Ignoring him, the woman continued, “Even if you two weren’t on

the same level, We would disapprove of you coming here to harm one

of Our own.”

The corpse eyed Kron. “I know he wasn’t born in this region, so he’s

none of Yours. He doesn’t intend to stay here.”

“Maybe that will change, now he’s married.”

Pagli’s corpse grinned. “I’ll take his wife, then. She’s completely

mortal.”

Kron gasped. “No! Take me instead!”

As the woman’s bracelets clinked, she said, “Actually, Fall is inter-

ested in Bella as an Avatar, so she is under Our protection.”

Kron wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried if these strange

people could protect Bella—and what it meant for her to be an Avatar.

The corpse crossed its arms and glared at the woman. “You can’t

claim them both.”

“Of course We can. This is Our domain, and We Ascended to help

the inhabitants, not treat them like cattle.”

Treating people like cattle sounded like something Salth would do.

Kron focused on the corpse of his former colleague. Could Salth be be-

hind this? If so, how? She had broad knowledge of magic, but she’d

never practiced it on the dead before.

The corpse—or Salth—frowned, and the bubble trapping them con-

stricted. “What do You call Yourselves?”

“I’m Spring,” the woman replied, “and this is Winter.”

“You said there was a Fall. Don’t tell Me there’s a Summer too.”

The corpse sneered. “How clever.”

“Since you’re so
clever,
” the man said, “then you can figure out that

there’s four of Us, and only one of you.”

“You mean, it takes four of You to equal one of Me?”

Spring and Winter glared at the corpse with enough heat to cremate

poor Pagli. Then They spoke in eerie unison. “For the last time, you are

in Our domain. We decide what happens to the people in this land, not

you. Leave Our domain, and stay in your own.”

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“Oh, I shall,” Salth said. “But that doesn’t mean You’ve heard the

last from me. I don’t enjoy having neighbors. As for you, Kron,” Pagli

stared at him with an evil grin. “You can’t hide from me forever. I’m

the one who controls time now. You’ll never know when to expect me

to come after you—or anyone you care about.”

With a cackle, Pagli disappeared, but the blue bubble remained.

“Does Time actually think she can keep Us trapped in Our Do-

main?” Winter asked. He laid his hand on the side of the bubble and

pushed, then frowned when nothing changed.

“Technically, this time bubble is her domain. She may not have a

Goddess’s full power, but she wields what she has with skill. Even so,

there must be a way out.” Spring raised an eyebrow as She glanced at

Winter. “Perhaps with death?”

His death? Then why protect him from Salth, or Time, or whoever

it had been? Kron eyed both of the so-called gods warily. He was out-

numbered and low on artifacts, but there had to be some way to defend

himself....

The woman laughed, a gentle sound. “No, Kron Evenhanded, We

are not interested in sacrifice, human or otherwise. And We apologize

for not seeking you out sooner, but there are many others who need Us

more.”

Kron straightened. “And why is that? Who are you, exactly?”

“We already told you. We are two of the Four Gods and Goddesses

of this land. We claim as Our domain all the land between the Western

Mountains and the Salt Waters, from the Northern Sea to the Southern.”

“Actual gods? What makes you different from a very powerful ma-

gician?”

“What makes Us different?” Winter repeated. “We’re not bound by

mortal limits. We do not need to eat, or sleep, or even breathe. We do

not age or die. And while Our magic may be specialized—” he said this

with an ironic edge—“We can do things with it that ordinary magicians

can’t.”

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He turned away and placed both hands on the bubble. Its blue color

faded, and it became translucent as it thinned out.

“Don’t destroy it just yet, Winter,” Spring said. “This is an excellent

opportunity for Us to talk to Kron.”

“It is?” He didn’t think so. “But my wife must be worried about me.”

“We’re still outside of time,” Spring said, “so no time is passing for

her. It’s best for now if We don’t draw attention to you.”

“But do We really want to be talking about Time in one of her bub-

bles?” Winter asked. “She may be listening in.”

“Good point. Your cabin, or My meadow?”

He smiled at her, his face tilted so that Kron couldn’t get a good look

at his eyes. They seemed too dark for his complexion. “Your meadow

is a better choice for someone who still has more in common with hu-

mans than with Us.”

“Agreed. Break this bubble, and I’ll take Us there.”

C H A P T E R N I N E

The Four

The blue surrounding them faded away, to be replaced by a glorious

meadow bounded by forest. Flowers from all seasons bloomed in the

grasses, creating a perfume no master blender could achieve. A river

small enough to step across burbled as it ran through the meadow. In

the center of it all, four benches covered with cushions sat in a square.

The grass here was thick and short, like a carpet. Spring and Winter

sank onto two of the benches, but Spring gestured Kron to a smaller

seat, still comfortable but less lavishly decorated. He barely had time to

wonder where the seat had come from—he was certain it hadn’t been

there a heartbeat before—when two more individuals appeared. One of

them was a youth with green skin and hair; the other, a girl who scowled

at him and took the bench farthest away from him, covering herself with

a blanket.

“Fall! That’s no way for a Goddess to behave!” Spring said. Kron

repressed a grin at the scolding. “You have nothing to fear.”

Why would a goddess—if She really was one—fear him? No matter

what Spring and Winter had said, Kron was still human. Wasn’t he?

Fall peeked out from under Her blanket, but She seemed disinclined

to give it up. Spring cleared Her throat, as if to draw attention from the