Divined (33 page)

She would hold the dagger until the last—make him pry it from her blistered palms.

“I warned you of your end. You should have—”

A shield slammed into his face, knocking him off balance as a spear sunk into his back. Atzi ran up behind him, raining blows on any part of him she could reach.

He spun around and caught Atzi by the neck.

“The half-breed,” the Deity said, squeezing Atzi’s throat. “Where’s your master, slave? Too cowardly to show himself?”

Atzi pushed herself off the ground and wrapped her legs around the Bloodied One’s neck, forcing him to release his grip. They fell to the ground, but Atzi was up first, a grin on her bloody lips.

“He’s the only one left with power now that you’ve stolen everything from your brothers.” Atzi’s voice trembled, but she stood tall.

“You’re right. I have the powers of a hundred Deities. You think I’m afraid of one so crippled and forgotten?”

“I think you wouldn’t have destroyed all your kind if you weren’t afraid. He’ll come for you after this. He’ll come with an army of Oracles, and all the blood in the world won’t be able to keep you safe.”

The Bloodied One lunged. “Summon him,” he demanded, picking up a long dagger.

“No.” Atzi stood her ground. “I will die first.”

He grinned. “You’ll want to die long before then.”

Atzi backed down the first step of the pyramid, a slight tremor in her hand belying her courage.

“Or”—he continued—“if the rumors are true, if I make you suffer enough, perhaps he’ll descend to spare you.”

Atzi ran, drawing him further down the pyramid.

She wouldn’t last long, Clio knew. There wasn’t much time.

She gripped the spear in her side, swallowing down the scream tearing through her throat.

“Let me help,” a voice said somewhere above her.

Riece’s hands took the spear, and Clio squeezed the dagger as he ripped the spear free in a single smooth motion. Clio curled onto her side as the pain took over.

Somewhere below them, the Bloodied One roared, and the sound broke across stone, making Clio’s bones quake.

She stood, clutching her side. “Ixie and Vazuil, did they make it? Are they here?” They needed to reverse the ritual.

“Clio…” Riece’s eyes were on the blood spilling from her side. “You’re too injured.”

She shook her head, looking past him to where a small dark girl was dodging a priest’s swing.

“
Ashira
?” Clio sputtered. “What’s she doing here?” She walked forward, pushing away Riece’s outstretched hand.

“Clio, you can’t—”

But Ixie came out of the melee, throwing a priest to the ground and spinning to take on another.

Clio broke into a run, ignoring the stinging bite of each step.

Ashira and Ixie fought back to back, ducking, dodging, slashing—holding their position in front of the tunnel against a dozen priests. Vazuil cowered behind them. His eyes found Clio’s through the bloody mist.

Riece raced ahead of her, fending off attackers and clearing her path. He cut through enemies with fierce determination, his gaze flashing to her between each attack.

“Go, help Atzi,” Clio told him when they reached the tunnel.

“I’m not leaving you.” What remained of his men had grouped around them, forming a line against the Order members pressing in.

“I need you to keep my father away for as long as you can. We need time to do the ritual, and Atzi… We’ll all be dead if he comes back before it’s done.”

“I’ll send my men to help her. I’m not leaving.”

“Riece, you know I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t need you to do this. You’re the only one strong enough. Please.” She was shivering—all the blood seeping down her leg leaving her suddenly cold.

Riece swallowed and opened his mouth to say something, but a dagger flew past their heads, and Riece was back in the fight before Clio’d realized he was leaving.

She turned to Vazuil while her heart ran down the front of the pyramid.

“You have it?” Vazuil straightened up.

Clio held out the dagger, not wanting to give it up, but knowing it was their only chance.

Vazuil’s eyes lit up when he saw it. He lifted it from her hand, and cool rain pelted down on her peeling and blistered palm.

“How do we reverse the ritual?” she asked, not liking the ghost of a grin sliding across Vazuil’s face. “I stabbed him once with the blade, and it did nothing.”

“No,” Vazuil agreed, finally drawing his gaze from the dagger to Clio’s face. “No, it won’t work against him until it’s been cleansed.”

“Cleansed?” She felt it then. Felt the certainty that she’d been burying ever since she heard Atzi’s Vision. “How?” The word felt somehow big as it left her lips.

Vazuil tightened his grip and raised the blade. “You knew it would come to this, Clio. It was foretold.”

He brought the dagger down on her, and Clio didn’t move as fate pierced her chest.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Fire raged through her veins. She was on the ground, her chest screaming, her lungs too small to draw breath. But she felt it with each pulse of pain—her heartbeat. Vazuil had missed.

Blood poured from her shoulder. Her hand was numb, and her arm felt shattered. The blade had missed her heart, slamming into bone instead. She rolled to her side, and the whole world felt upside-down and weightless.

Vazuil was on the ground near her, moaning as he clutched his arm where a spear point had pierced all the way through his wrist. Ixie stood behind him, fighting off priests who had broken through the line. She had thrown the blade just in time, Clio realized, forcing Vazuil to lose his grip and plunge the blade wide.

The dagger
.

It wasn’t in his hand. Clio pulled herself to her knees. It had clattered across the stone and stopped just in front of the line of Riece’s army. It was all Clio could do to crawl toward it.

Ixie snapped the neck of an attacker and turned back to Vazuil, her eyes bright and merciless.

“No,” Vazuil begged.

“You would have killed her,” Ixie screamed, pulling a dagger out of a fallen priest’s chest.

“She has to die. If you want to stop the Bloodied One, then we need to cleanse the blade in the blood of an offering—a champion willing to give her life to his end.”

“Ixie!” Clio called. Her father strode over the pyramid’s ledge. He was dragging Atzi’s limp frame behind him as if she weighed nothing. Riece was nowhere in sight. The dagger was still out of reach, and Clio could only crawl slowly, painfully without the use of her injured arm.

Ixie stilled, her head whipping toward the Deity, then back to the dagger. She dove for it, but a priest stumbled under a warrior’s attack and kicked the dagger farther away. It skittered to the edge.

The Bloodied One was on Clio before she could move. Atzi fell in front of her, her breath shuddering with each halting breath.

“Enough of this, Clio,” the Deity bellowed and dug his fingers into her wounded shoulder.

She screamed as he raised her to her feet. She slammed her knee upward as best she could, but he didn’t budge.

“Where’s the blade?” He raked his nails down her shoulder.

She dared not look to the dagger balanced just on the pyramid’s lip, instead keeping her eyes fixed on her father. Ixie was fighting her way past the Order. If Clio could keep him distracted long enough, she could give Ixie the time she needed. “Where’s Riece?” Clio asked.

His eyes narrowed with disgust. “You never should have fouled yourself with that mortal.”

“I don’t see why it matters,” she managed between clenched teeth. “You killed the rest of the Deities. There’s no one left to force on me.”

Her father’s lips tightened into a thin line. “You were never meant for anyone else. You should have continued my line, given me an offspring of purest blood. A true heir.”

Clio felt sickness roiling in her gut. Struggling against him with renewed force, she bit down on his arm, forcing him to release her shoulder. “I never would have done that. You’re my father. What you wanted…it’s foul.” Revulsion coursed through her, lending power to her blows.

He caught her hand. “Your mother said the same thing to me once. She resisted too, at first. In the end…” He grinned. “We can still make it right, you and I.”

Clio spat in his face, knowing what her defiance would cost her and not caring.

He wiped his cheek, a scowl twisting his features. “I should have known.” His hands shot out, grabbing her shoulders and bringing her close to him. “You’re the same as your mother.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Preferring filth. Nothing but a low whore.”

Rage burned through all the pain. She slammed her elbow with all her strength into his chest, sending him stumbling back. Breaking free, she leapt over him to where Ixie was fighting her way to the dagger. Clio slid under the line of priests, no longer feeling the blood spilling from too many wounds, no longer feeling the weight of what she would have to do, resigned to her fate.

The dagger glowed in the gray haze, a beacon of red and gold, a promise of the end.

Ashira stepped forward out of the skirmish, out of nowhere, her gaze landing on the dagger. She reached for it, flinching when her flesh began to burn.

“To me!” Clio called out.

Ashira looked up, and Clio watched something pass over the girl’s face as she lifted the dagger.

“No.” But it came out a whisper. Ashira had made her choice, and Clio could only watch.

With a final look at Clio, Ashira smiled. She closed her eyes and nodded, then thrust the dagger with swift surety into her own heart.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

The sun returned when Ashira’s body hit the ground. Somewhere behind her, Clio heard the Bloodied One’s cry, but she wasn’t thinking of him, she wasn’t thinking of anyone as she slid to Ashira’s side.

The girl was shaking, her dark eyes going dull as her heart faltered in her chest.

“You shouldn’t have done it.” Tears fell from Clio’s eyes, landing on Ashira’s forehead. Clio pulled her Vessel’s head into her lap.

“My sacrifice…for you,” Ashira wheezed. “Don’t…waste it.” She smiled up at Clio as she died, the sun streaming down on her still face.

“Clio!” Ixie screamed, and Clio turned back to everything awaiting her. Ixie stood in front of the Bloodied One before he tossed her to the ground. His eyes were fixed on Vazuil, who cowered and backed away.

Don’t waste it
.

Clio didn’t shake when she pulled the blade from Ashira’s heart. It wasn’t burning anymore. The ritual had been broken. Gently, Clio laid Ashira’s head to rest on the stone, then stood. She wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t in pain as she ran across the pyramid.

Her father had his hands around Vazuil’s neck. “You’ve done this! You would try to steal
my
power! You won’t live to claim it.”

“You’ve already…lost,” Vazuil hissed, looking past the Deity to Clio.

The Bloodied One turned to follow Vazuil’s gaze, and Clio saw fear in his eyes when he spotted her.

With a snarl, the Bloodied One tossed Vazuil in Clio’s path, then ran.

Leaping over Vazuil, Clio charged down her father. She hit him solidly in the back, sending him crashing into the altar. He spun to face her and caught her kick, but she was already recovering, already slashing down with the dagger. It scraped down his cheek, and white blood sprayed out. When it didn’t immediately heal, Clio grinned.

“Clio, don’t do this,” he pleaded as she slammed him down on the altar.

Her laugh was bitter and sharp. “After what you’ve done to my family, my friends, to this city. You think I’d listen to anything you have to say? You think I care for your pain?”

He grabbed her elbow, but Clio tossed the blade to her free hand, and stabbed it into his shoulder, pinning him to the altar.

“You’re my blood, my daughter. Don’t do this.”

She pulled the dagger free and raised it over his chest as she held down his head.

“I’m nothing of yours,” she spat. “I’m the daughter of Ires, the Oracle of Sheehan.” She leaned in close to his ear. “Tell me, can you not foresee your end now, Bloodied One?” she whispered, then slammed the blade into his heart.

Light cracked the sky. It rushed out of him, a wind of empty screams and raging power. Clio didn’t know how long it lasted. She wouldn’t release the dagger, wouldn’t step away, not until she knew it was over.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

When the world was silent, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Clio?”

She turned to find Ixie behind her, holding up a beaten and barely conscious Atzi.

“It’s over. You did it,” Ixie said quietly, her eyes downcast and mournful.

“Ashira did it,” Clio mumbled and walked to the edge of the pyramid where Ashira’s body lay soft and broken.

Clio stood above her for a moment, imagining her Vessel would wake and smile shyly up at her once more.

But Ashira didn’t move. It wasn’t until Clio heard a distant roar of thunder that she looked up. But it wasn’t thunder at all. Below her, the people of Morek were cheering. She couldn’t make out their words, but she didn’t need to. They were cheering their freedom. Not a single amber cloak remained in the square.

Three figures were climbing the pyramid, one supported between the others. As they got closer, Clio made out Derik and Zarae holding up Riece as he limped up each step. The crowd was calling for him, cheering for their commander, their Emperor.

They reached the top, and Clio could see the cost of their victory. Zarae bore a thick gash down her eye, but she was smiling. Derik’s arm had already been put in a sling, and his neck was coated with blood. But it was Riece who had suffered the worst. His face had been beaten badly, his eyes were black, his lip split, his nose bleeding. He wasn’t putting his weight on his left leg, and Clio could tell from the way he grimaced with every movement that he was suppressing real pain. But when his eyes met hers, he grinned, and Clio felt the sun a little warmer on her face.

He took her hand, and Clio fell to her knees at Ashira’s side.

“She gave us this.” Tears were running down Clio’s cheeks even while Riece’s hand was warm in hers. “She died to give us this future.”