The Godgame (The Godgame, Book 1) (14 page)

KYA

Promise me you’ll run. Don’t try and fight. Just run.

She ran. She ran as fast as she could, blindly, panting, her lungs burning, the trees whipping by. One of them had seen her and chased her. He’d fired his rifle at her, but he’d missed. She was too fast. No one could catch her.

The bag jostled and swung by her side as she leapt a fallen branch. Was the Talosian soldier still behind her? Did he stalk her through the trees?

When she was too tired to go on, the fire in her lungs an unquenchable furnace, the stitch in her side crippling, she slowed and staggered into some shrubs beneath a rotted tree trunk. She slumped into the wet leaves and tried to catch her breath. She gripped her sword and held it protectively across her body.

She couldn’t hear anyone coming after her. She heard no branches snapping or leaves being kicked. All she heard was the wind through the boughs of the trees and the birds calling to each other.

She could feel her heart pumping in her ears and all she could see when she closed her eyes was her dad’s face...

You’re fast. Just run.

~

She heard them before she saw them. Their buggies buzzed and rumbled, kicking up dust and smoke, and then there were soldiers on foot emerging from the haze and shots were being fired.

Kya was in her bedroom alone. Her sisters were in the living room playing with their dad. Her mom was in bed in the back bedroom.

She acted without thought, thinking of the stuff someone had stashed in the nova tree in the backyard, especially the knife—that, to her, was more like a sword. She pushed her window open and climbed through. She dropped nimbly to her feet and looked around. No one was in sight.

She dashed across the yard to the nova tree. She reached inside and pulled the leather bag out and slung the strap over her head. She removed the sword, encased snugly in its sheath. She was just trying to figure out how to strap it by her side when…

Craaaa-BOOOOM!

She whirled about in time to see fragments from the side of her house scattering into the grass. Smoke and sawdust from obliterated wood hung in the air like a final gasp of breath in the morning cold. Soldiers filled the street, going up to houses, shattering windows and kicking doors in.

The soldiers were already in her house.

For a moment, she heard her dad’s voice, carried through the house and out the open window to her. “We’ll cooperate,” she heard him say. “No one needs to—” She heard two shots.

Blamph. Blamph.

One of her sisters was crying.

“What?” she heard her dad say, disbelief in his voice. “What?”

Blamph.

Kya could no longer hear her sister crying.

She gritted her teeth and began to climb back through the window. She had to help her dad defend the family. Her sisters were too young and her mom was sick and helpless. When she saw one of the Talosian soldiers, she was going to stab him with her sword and watch him bleed and die.

Thunk.

Chips of wood from the side of the house sprayed in her face. She lost her grip on the windowsill and fell back, landing hard, her teeth clacking together. She could taste blood from where she’d bitten her tongue.

She stared dumbly up at the faintly smoking hole in the side of the house, inches from where she’d been a moment before. Soldiers were pouring around the houses. She got to her feet. She pulled her sword free of its covering and hurled its sheath to the ground. She held the blade by her side and looked around.

One of the soldiers had noticed her and was stomping in her direction, grinning from ear to ear. The soldier had what looked like the tails of various rodents tied into his scraggly hair, hanging about his shoulders. He carried a large, curved blade and had a rifle slung over his back. He licked his lips when he saw Kya had noticed him.

She pointed her sword at the soldier and prepared to fight.

Another soldier, this one larger than the first saw her as well and began to pull a pistol from the holster at his side. He pointed it at her, then turned suddenly and fired at someone else.

The soldier with the rodent tails in his hair continued to come toward her, but now more soldiers were coming around the houses and they were everywhere.

All about she heard people screaming and yelling and whooping.

Promise me you’ll run.

She took a step back and her foot caught on something and she fell. She heard the soldier with the rodent tails in his hair laughing. She scrambled to her feet. She swung her sword blindly through the air.

Don’t try and fight. Just run.

She turned and ran for the cover of the forest.

Behind her, she heard the soldier with the rodent tails in his hair continuing to laugh and laugh. Rifle fire cut a swathe across the trunk of a nearby tree.

She ran.

~

When she’d caught her breath, she picked herself up and kept going. She was no longer running, but still moving quickly. Using her sword, she hacked at the branches that got in her way.

After a while, she stopped. She looked around. She didn’t recognize this part of the forest. How far had she come? She looked up and grew dizzy at the sight of the sky through the trees that seemed to spiral around her. She shut her eyes tight and listened.

Nothing. She’d lost the soldiers that had been chasing her. She was alone.

She sat against a tree on the spongy ground made from several seasons of fallen leaves. She didn’t know where she was or what she was going to do. She brought her legs up and hung her head between her knees. She tugged the bag she’d taken from the cleft in the tree free, dropped it before her, and opened it. She scattered its contents over the forest floor.

The bag held another small knife that folded closed and fit in her pocket, a thin wool blanket with an ugly oxhoag pattern, a small jar filled with animal fur, and a compass. She also found a small wooden figurine carved to look like a female warrior, sword held high and triumphantly. At the bottom of the bag were several plain biscuits, one of which she devoured, despite its blandness, while she examined the figurine.

She was just finishing packing up her new things—her new belt secured about her waist, her sword tucked through it by her side—when she heard voices coming in her direction.

She glanced about, looking for some place to hide. She dived into some nearby bushes and crouched, waiting, peering out.

A man and a woman walked into the clearing where she’d been resting. They wore cloaks and layers of worn clothing. The man had a thick mop of hair as long as the woman’s. Both had roughened appearances, but Kya knew they were not Talosian. They both carried Novan iron rifles.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do, but you know I’m right,” the woman was saying.

The man grunted dismissively.

“We need somewhere safe, where we can regroup.”

“You mean Targic, don’t you?”

The woman shrugged.

Kya burst from the bushes. “What’s Targic?”

The man reached for his rifle. The woman drew a blade from her belt.

“I’m from Fallowvane,” Kya said quickly.

The woman took a step forward without lowering her blade. “What the hell are you doing?”

The man grunted again, then swung his rifle back into its place over his back, shaking his head.

“I’m Kya,” Kya said.

The woman looked her up and down, distrustfully.

“Just some brat from Fallowvane,” the man said.

“Fallowvane is twenty miles from here,” the woman said.

Kya felt lightheaded. Had she really come that far?

“Are you lost?” the woman asked her, slowly lowering her blade.

“I ran away. Just like my dad told me.” Kya looked at her feet. “I’m Kya.”

The man chuckled. “Alright, Kya. Go home.”

Kya shook her head. “I can’t. The Talosians…” She suddenly felt overwhelmed, a great weight descending over her, making it hard to breathe. She drew in a hitching breath. She didn’t want to cry. She hated crying. She held her breath and tried to control herself.

Then the woman was holding her. “Hey,” she said. “It’s alright. You can come back with us.”

Tears blurred Kya’s vision.

“The Talosians,” the man said. “They’re closer than we thought.”

~

The man and the woman brought Kya back to their camp, a cluster of worn tents and hungry-looking people huddled around open fires.

“I’ll go and speak with Fennric right away,” the man said and hurried off.

“Come with me,” the woman said, and led Kya through the camp. Faces stared at her as she passed. The woman pulled a flap aside on one of the tents and beckoned Kya inside.

The woman led her to a cot heaped with blankets. She climbed up and lay down.

“My name’s Helen,” the woman said. “You’re safe now.”

Kya felt her eyes growing heavy. She desperately wanted to slip into the nothingness of sleep, but she forced herself to stay awake, just for a moment. The faces of her mom, her sisters, even her brother swirled through her mind, but when she spoke, it was for her dad. “My dad,” she said. “You have to help him.”

“We will, little one,” Helen said.

“My Mom’s sick and he…” She felt the tears coming back, even though she was exhausted. “He’s my dad…”

“Shhh,” Helen said, stroking her hair. “You’ll be safe here. You’re with the People of the Conspiring Moons now.”

ASH

Ash awoke terrified.

Someone was shaking him. “I’m not dead! I’m not dead!”

Pera’s face loomed over him, pale and shiny. He struggled to push her away.

“You want me to blow myself up? Say so, and I’ll blow myself up!”

Ash twisted his body, shoving Pera away. He heard her tumble to the floor, her bony limbs thumping the wood.

He stood and ran from Brent and Pera’s hut where he’d been sleeping.

~

Ash stood at the edge of the army camp, his mouth open with disbelief.

It had been ransacked, the furnace pit leveled, the tents shredded and then burned, leaving only their blackened poles standing like skeletal remains. The cots had been piled and burned as well, along with whatever supplies may have been remaining in the camp. The deep, rancid smell of damp ash stung his nose.

He turned away, and began walking down the road.

Before long, Pera joined him, leaping from the trees.

“I’ve been following you,” Pera said.

Ash didn’t reply.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?”

Ash kept walking.

“You should come back with me. We shouldn’t go this way.”

Ash stared straight ahead.

Pera jumped in front of him. “Don’t you see me?”

Ash shook his head.

“Please,” Pera said. “See me.”

Ash mumbled something and continued to walk fast.

“Please,” Pera said.

Ash stopped. “What?” he said, turning on Pera, angry.

Pera recoiled. “I… I don’t know…”

Ash began walking again.

Falling back, reluctant, Pera followed.

~

Many hours later, the day fading from morning into late afternoon, the forest began to thin and the road turned a corner and he could see his village, Fallowvane, once again.

“Wait,” Pera said, who had been silent this entire time.

There was something fallen in a heap in the middle of the road.

Ash took the familiar side street and began to run. He smiled.

“Mom? Dad?”

He burst through the door of his house. No one was in the living room. He ran down the hall to check the bedrooms. No one was home. It was hot. Flies swooped and buzzed.

He returned to the living room. The table was set and there were bowls of stew before each chair.

“Ash…” Pera said from the open doorway.

Ash ran to the table. He snatched up a spoon. He tasted the stew. “See,” he said. “It’s still warm.”

His sisters’ dolls were scattered in the corner, lying about at odd and awkward angles, flies crawling over them.

He sat down and ate some more stew.

“Ash,” Pera said again.

With a jolt, Ash stood. “I know where they are!”

With a strained smile, Ash bolted from the house, pushing past Pera and out into the street, the cometlight dimming so that many of the houses appeared charred and covered with soot.

Ash ran down the street. He could hear Pera running after him. He ran the other way this time, toward the sand pits. He did not see what Pera saw piled up against the side of the town hall.

He ran, free of the town, tripped, and sprawled panting in the dark sand. He lay there, out of breath, until Pera caught up to him and helped him to his feet.

“What do we do now?” Pera asked with a voice shaken and appalled.

Pera had seen the bodies.

~

His father’s face looms in his mind. “After you learn to fish, I’ll teach you to shoot. Once a boy can catch a fish, gut it himself, cook it and eat it, then he’s man enough to learn to shoot.” His father smiles good-naturedly. “Then you can come hunting with me, Ash, just like I did with my father. Those are some of the happiest moments in my life, and we’ll have the same.”

His father shows him the fishing pole, where to hold it, how to hook the worm. He stares into the can of dark writhing soil and worms while his father untangles some of the equipment.

“There’s a big difference between ocean fishing and river fishing,” his dad says. “You have to have a sailboat to ocean fish, and nets and all sorts of things. Here in the forest, you don’t need all that. Just a pole, some bait, and a little time. After a while you get to know the best spots.”

He follows his dad along the edge of the river. He is wearing overalls his mom has sewn for him just like his dad’s. He likes the way his dad walks, slow and deliberate, each step full of purpose, his entire body bobbing as he moves. Ash tries to copy his dad’s walk. They come to an outcropping of rocks.

“See that dark pool there, where the water grows lazy and still?”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“That’s where we want to be.”

“Okay,” Ash says, immediately stepping forward, swinging his fishing pole recklessly through the air.

“Whoa, whoa,” his dad says, laughing. “Hold up a minute. See, look, you’re all tangled now. Let me show you how to cast.”

His dad shows him, using his own fishing pole, the lure made from a dried seed pod plopping and bobbing in the water at the center of the pool. “Just like that. That’s where we want it.”

Ash looks up at his dad. “What if I can’t do it?”

His dad looks at him, eyes filled with warmth and support, “Of course you can, Ash. All it takes is a little practice and you can do anything.”

~

People were carrying him, their faces flickering with firelight, Pera’s amongst them. He blinked and tried to move, but he was so tired he barely managed a flinch. He allowed himself to be borne into the dark.

He could hear voices, people talking.

“They’re not here.”

“Where are they?”

“They’re crazy.”

“Dead. They’re all dead.”

“His family’s dead. She’s dead. We’ll be dead next.”

Pera’s face loomed. “He’s crazy. Look at him.”

“We have to get out of here.”

“They’ll blow us up. I saw him burn.”

“He doesn’t see me. He’s crazy.”

~

Sometimes, all he had to do was pick a few wildflowers from the hills and bring them to his mom tied in a neat bunch with a piece of string, and she’d make him his favorite cakes.

They were sweet, and he’d carry his to the kitchen table triumphantly, the thyme-honey oozing across his fingers, cupping his hands to save every drip. He’d watch his sisters gobble their cakes down and then he’d laugh, being the only one with any left, and savor his, taking slow, exaggerated bites while his sisters looked on. They’d watch him closely as he ate, like homeless dogs hoping for a dropped scrap. But he wouldn’t let a single crumb go to waste, licking his fingers until they were clean and white.

Sometimes, he’d play with his sisters, roughhousing, letting them team up against him and pin him to the ground. He’d tickle their bellies and they’d squeal with pleasure and run around him, one tugging at his leg, while another leapt onto his back, her arms around his neck, but he’d hold them up, until Kya joined in and they all tumbled to the floor giggling. Sometimes he’d make toys for them, carving tiny stools from bits of wood for their dolls, or showing them how to dig clay from the earth and make awkwardly heavy little pots.

His mom would smile at him, encouraging him, never saying much, just smiling.

Once, his dad had told him his mom had come from Talos. She had been a part of an important family, but she’d run away. His dad said she’d seen the huge City. She’d seen the Garden of Mue, where the statues moved, sometimes frolicked, lifelike. His dad said never to tell anyone his mother came from Talos, that it was a family secret others would never understand, and he’d never spoken of it, not even to Brent.

“Your mother’s much smarter than I am,” his dad had said. “She’s wise. Been educated in the best schools. But she doesn’t like to talk about the past. She chose this life.” And then he’d laughed. “Who am I to complain, right?”

~

“Your father’s here,” someone said to him, shaking him.

Ash looked up and for a minute total horror erupted in his heart. Huge eyes like runny eggs peered at him from mere inches away, a globular mouth seethed, quivering lips like tomato worms wet with saliva.

“Please, child,” Mother Marlena said. “Come with me.”

Ash followed the old woman, his fear subsiding to a dull ache, a pain that numbed him.

The crowd parted, watching them mournfully, letting them pass.

They came to an even area of dirt cleared of rocks, where a person lay, with skin blackened and burned away by fire, with patches painfully red, features unrecognizable.

Mother Marlena stepped away and motioned Ash to the burnt person.

Ash stood, disgusted, not wanting to bring himself any closer.

“Ash is here,” Mother Marlena said.

“Ash?” the burned person said, a man’s voice, familiar.

“Dad?” He forced himself to step forward and kneel down so he could better hear that voice.

“I’m glad you’re here,” the burned man said with the voice of his dad. “I’m sorry.”

The smell of blistered flesh was horrible.

“Your mom…” His dad’s voice was taken over by a grotesque choking sound that Ash realized was crying.

“It’s okay, Dad,” he said. He couldn’t feel his legs beneath him; his entire face felt slicked in a dried scum, that if he made the smallest expression of fear or remorse would crack open and he’d never be able to put himself back together.

“The Talosians…”

“I know, dad.”

His entire body shook, lips splitting his blackened face in a horrible grimace of pink. “I never needed a god,” he said. “You’re my god, Ash…”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I begged them to kill me.” He writhed. “They laughed.”

“Dad?”

“Your mom can tell you…” He struggled.

Ash couldn’t breathe.

“Your blood…”

“Blood? Dad?”

~

Sometimes he used to find his mom staring sightlessly out one of the windows, distantly into the past.

“Mom?” he’d say.

But she wouldn’t hear him, so he’d reach out and take her hand in his. He’d stand next to her and look out at the nova tree that grew in their backyard, fuchsia flowers already beginning to bloom, the thick veins in all those delicate petals shining as the waning cometlight struck them.

He’d squeeze his mom’s hand and he’d wait.

Eventually, his mom would stir and squeeze back. “Ash?” she’d say. “How long have you been standing there?”

No matter how long it’d been he’d always say, “Not long, Mom.”

“Good,” she’d say. “This is a good place, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s good. This is a good place.”