The God Eaters

  "Ashleigh!" Kieran whimpered his name, eyes too wide, panicked. Ash had never seen him panic before.

  "Fucking do it, Kai!" Ash shouted back.

  Kieran's eyes squeezed shut for a second; when he opened them, his face was stony. In a whirl of flying water, he spun and pounded off down the wash.

  Ash watched him go until a bend in the gully took him out of sight. Only then did he allow his eyes to spill over. They both knew it had been a lie between them. There was no way Kieran was going to be able to bust Ash out of Churchrock. But they had to pretend to believe it, or there was no hope in the world anywhere.

  He hoped Kieran was out of earshot when the sobs began, wrung out of him through a painfully tight throat, high and thin behind his teeth. He hoped Kieran couldn't hear him.

  I didn't get to tell him those things. About forever, and never hurting him. Damn it, why can't the world leave us alone? All sorts of wretched, horrible people get to live out their lives, but this shining thing we found -- the world can't stop trying to put the light out. At that moment, Ash wanted desperately to kill something. The fact that he would soon have that option didn't escape him.

  Gritting his teeth, he sat up. He avoided looking at the way his foot was kinked sideways.

  Patiently, he picked a gob of muddy grass out of his rifle's bolt, then slid it back just enough to see that there was a round chambered. He settled the stock against his shoulder, aiming upslope, and waited.

  The longer it took them to capture him, the farther away Kieran got. That was all that could possibly matter now.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The tables had turned. Now the raw and thorny part of his pattern was curled in upon itself, and he was whole outside it. And in whole possession of this body, for what that was worth.

  Ka'an had to admit that it was a good body. Far better than he was used to. Of course it resembled his first, as all his bodies had. But of those he'd actually experienced since his defeat at the Judge's hands -- the few in which he'd emerged briefly to self-awareness -- most were in some way weakened or damaged. The mortal state was a fragile one. And all his vessels back to the first had been thin, as weak and graceful as reeds, most further atrophied by dreaming, in various stages of succumbing to the poppy that was his gift to the world.

  This one, though... he reveled in its strength as he ran. The frame was his own, the long bones, the precarious height. Somehow, though, this version of him had clothed that delicate frame with muscle like braided wire, toughened and hardened itself -- and, he realized, picked up a great number of scars in the process. No matter; those could be repaired, once he took back his power.

  First, though, he had to win free of those minions of Theylan who chased him. He was lucky the smaller mind had folded when it had, or it would have gotten this fine body killed, and Ka'an wouldn't have had this chance. Even now, the diseased mind was paining him. Like a splinter under a fingernail. Keening and raging within itself, yearning to run back to that weak northern creature he'd left behind. Doubt and contradiction. The body's mind had decided two things at once: simultaneously to obey the northerner's order to run, and to refuse and stay. That break had allowed Ka'an an opening. Now he'd shake off the trouble the mortal mind had gotten him into, and then he'd go take back his power, and then he'd find Thelyan and teach that leprous-pale upstart the consequences of standing against his elders.

  All this water was inconvenient. He doubted he had the strength to change the weather just now, though. Some knowlege of this life was available to him, and it informed him that all rain falling in this area would eventually drain into the pattern that mortals called the Tama Burn. Thus all he had to do was follow it downstream. Pleased by the slow heat of well-conditioned muscles, he ran along the ankle-deep stream. There was a possibility, of course, that it would deepen suddenly and drown this body.

  The thought brought a twitch from the curled, abrasive lesser mind within him. That mind, which he would crush and absorb as soon as he had the time and power -- call it Kai, one of the body's names, appropriate in its sense of 'ghost' -- was not willing to risk drowning. Apparently the northerner they'd left behind was depending on a rescue.

  Ka'an laughed out loud. Such a small life Kai had. The world was full of boys much prettier than that one. Girls, too, once Ka'an altered the body so that it could respond to them. Any of them could be made to adore him. They would surrender themselves utterly, without all the playing at equality that the northerner had done.

  Anger from Kai. He has a name.

  Oh yes. Ashes; a burned thing, worthless. The only interesting thing about him was... there had been something interesting... why, he almost thought that Kai might be denying him access to some of his memories.

  Well, there was no time for that now. He'd handle it later. Now the gully he ran along was widening, and he could see that it opened ahead, onto flatter ground. Yes; a lip of stone, a short leap, and he ran on bare stone. Something off to the left made a sharp popping noise, and he wondered what it could be. A rockfall?

  Gunfire, idiot.

  The image this brain threw at him clarified the risk. It would have to be dealt with. He found some solid earth where he could plant his feet. The rain and the thick soles of these boots would interfere with his drawing of power, but he didn't suppose that would matter much. The two men running toward him across the rocky plain were only mortals, after all. Wearing Thelyan's white, they carried things Kai recognized as rifles, and were surrounded by a fine mist of static power.

  Mages with weapons? What use did a mage have for a weapon? His power should be his only weapon. Ka'an would show them how it was done.

  He drew heat from stone, force from the tiny concussions of raindrops. Not much, but it should be enough to teach these ridiculous creatures a lesson. He spun up a ward against projectiles.

  Ignoring the furious thrashing of Kai inside him, he fashioned a noose of will and cast it into the nearer man's heart.

  That man sagged, choking. How irritating; he should have died in an instant. He was somehow fighting off Ka'an's death spell. Ka'an would win, but it would take time, and the other man had dropped to one knee and raised his rifle.

  Crack and whine, and chips flew up from between Ka'an's feet. He ignored that, busy forcing aside the shieldings of his victim. These gave way, flinging the man into death, just as another gunshot sounded. Ka'an was startled to feel a slap against his thigh, followed by a stinging sensation. He looked down to see a red rip in his trousers where the bullet had creased him. How had it gotten through his ward?

  His flicker of confusion quickly turned to anger as Kai surged up inside him, running along the body's nerves like fire on spilled oil. He pressed back, and a thought struck him like a slap: Not now, fuckwit. Then he was moving, and the next bullet buzzed past without striking.

  Just below the surface, Ka'an fumed at Kai's actions as the body dashed straight at the enemy.

  How dare he. How dare he oppose my will, and endanger this body, which I have claimed? The enemy was throwing aside his gun, standing, raising his hand and opening his mouth to trigger a spell. Ka'an tried to jerk the body aside, and found Kai's will weakly held, but now it was as if the body itself had intentions of its own. The first syllable of the spell was spoken, making air chill and skin prickle; then Ka'an's new body was airborne, heel striking the white-clad man in the center of the chest, knocking him down.

  A wash of heat swept over him and was gone: a fire spell cut off before it could catch hold. Kai was in control now, snatching up the fallen rifle and aiming it. His thoughts as he put it to his shoulder were chaotic, spinning vaguely in the direction of picking off these men one by one and rescuing the red-haired boy. He pulled the trigger; the enemy's head splattered red across the ground; the rifle kicked against half-healed bone.

  In the pain that followed, Ka'an took charge again.

  There would be no more silliness about rescues. And there would most certainly be no more name-calling o
r disrespect. Ka'an was a god. Kai was just a trace left in the brain, soon to be absorbed. From deep within, Kai growled defiance as Ka'an pushed him down, but Ka'an paid him no attention.

  --==*==--

  By nightfall, he could not make the body do more than trudge stumblingly along. It was exhausted. He let it lie down, though he was impatient with mortal limitations. Now he had to remember how to fall asleep without being trapped in unconsciousness. He, the Dreamer, afraid of dreams! Yet he could still sense Kai rumbling in him, like an undigested meal. It was possible that the mortal might take control when Ka'an relaxed his grip.

  And do what? Ka'an smiled. He would be unable to stand, let alone take them anywhere Ka'an didn't want to go.

  Nevertheless it was a delicate operation. Ka'an would have to remain lucid if he wished to retain control after the body had rested. Gently, carefully, he let Kai slip past him just enough to inhabit the upper layer, the one that felt cold and tasted grit. Let him deal with the ache of hunger in the body's stomach. Ka'an remained just behind him, lacing tendrils of himself through Kai's perceptions; eavesdropping.

  Blinking, Kai flexed his hand before his face, then groaned. He pushed himself up on his hands.

  Ka'an immediately jerked him back; the body flopped like a rag doll. You shan't go anywhere, Kai. I simply mean to let you sleep.

  "In a mud puddle?" Kai mumbled when Ka'an let him out again. "Just going upslope a bit.

  Asshole." This insult got him pulled away once more. The next time Ka'an gave him the body, he crawled on his belly away from the waterway they'd been following. Once on harder ground, he wrapped his coat around him and curled into a ball. Miserably chilled and hungry, he put his arms over his face. He was, Ka'an realized, aware of the same dilemma Ka'an had seen, that of relinquishing control to sleep. Why he was so determined to go blundering back into danger for some white-faced catamite was a mystery.

  From Kai's part of their shared pattern came a surge of pity. You have no idea what anything's worth.

  Sleep, Ghost, Ka'an replied angrily. Neither of us is served by your maundering.

  Kai's reluctant agreement was followed by a relaxing of muscles, if not of mind. The mortal had to bear the brunt of the body's discomfort; if he hadn't been perfectly exhausted, sleep would have been impossible. Ka'an caught his last waking thought: the determination that, when he had rested, he would certainly force himself to the front, defeat what he saw as an intruding, alien mind. He still didn't understand. He should have been honored to be host to his god. Thelyan's influence had done a great deal of harm. Kai didn't have the faintest idea what Ka'an really was, how impossible it would be to win against him, and thus intended to try. This, as he sank into Ka'an's own realm, carrying Ka'an with him.

  Kai's dreams began as planning; he tried to find a method of effecting his intended rescue.

  Mental maps unrolled. These plans soon skewed out of lucidity, but Ka'an was easily able to retain detachment, and observe rather than being involved. Kai ran through nightmare landscapes of looming water-walls, hunting the red-haired boy. He was frantic. Black towers of water crashed on him, and he believed his Ashes had drowned, but went on searching. He believed that if he could find the body, he could follow the departing soul into the land of ghosts.

  Several times, Ka'an was nearly drawn into the dream by its intensity. Had people dreamed so forcefully, in his days of rulership? The body wasn't getting good rest. With a twist of power he hadn't exercised in centuries, Ka'an washed light over the dreamscape and put dry land before the eye of Kai's thoughts. But it wasn't enough; Kai was still in nightmare, still searching, reeling with despair. So Ka'an gave him an image of his white-faced boy, standing unharmed in a field of poppies. He waited to see if the symbolism of the poppies would reach him, remind him how to surrender his will.

  Then something disturbing happened: the image of the white boy changed without Ka'an's permission, and without the intervention of Kai's imagination either. It went into sharp focus, suddenly detached from the fabric of the dream. Ka'an had cleaned the boy up a bit, but abruptly he was just as wet and bedraggled as he'd been when Kai last saw him, one arm of his white shirt soaked thinly red. He reached out to snatch up Kai's hand and press it to his cheek.

  "Where were you, I was looking for you," Kai said in a dreamer's babbling voice. His relief was overwhelming, strong enough to disturb Ka'an's concentration; this time he was actually dragged partway into the dream before he shook himself free.

  "You got away. You're all right," Ashes replied; his voice was also a dreamer's, and there came with it a thread of trickled power. Ka'an fought for the detachment to trace it.

  "You're bleeding."

  "They shot me but they healed it. And my ankle."

  "They caught you. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." Kai's dream-self shimmered with anguish, much stronger than anything that could be expressed while awake. The storm of regret subsided instantly when Ashes kissed his fingers and smiled forgiveness.

  "I don't know where I am. Some kind of trance. This is a true dream, isn't it? I can feel your hand."

  "Yes."

  The boy's blue eyes widened in anxiety. "You'll come for me, won't you? I already miss you."

  "I promise. But I have to fight this monster first."

  "That one?" He pointed. They both turned to look, and they were staring at Ka'an. Too late, he realized he'd been drawn into the dream.

  Very well. He'd show the mortal what a god looked like. Wrapping his aspect around him in full glory, he glared, making his eyes crackle with green fire. Made his voice thrum in Kai's chest like a drum when he spoke: "You are only a small part of me, Ghost. All that is great or bright or true in you comes from me. Don't you want to be united with something higher than yourself?"

  He held his arms out, changing the tone of the dream to one of lostness, loneliness, presenting himself as the only home.

  But instead of longing toward the vision of the god, Kai wrapped his arms protectively around Ashes, meeting Ka'an's glare with a scowl. "Get the hell out of my head!"

  "How dare you speak to me that way!" Ka'an reared up, becoming terrible, but Kai wasn't frightened. Even Ashes was just looking on with faintly disapproving curiosity, as if watching someone else's child misbehave.

  Disgusted with himself, Ka'an jerked free of Kai's thoughts, leaving the dream in ruins behind him. He shivered awake. He had possession of the body, which seemed on the verge of hypothermia. Inside him, Kai threshed about helplessly, looking for his lost dream, and was easily subdued.

  The rain had stopped. Clouds fled in rags, revealing glimpses of thin moonlight. Where there had been a foaming river, there now flowed a quieter stream. Ka'an dragged his sluggish body upright, reflecting that it must be a well-trained body indeed, to be able to go on after only an hour's sleep in such wretched conditions, especially chilled as it was. Fortunate, that the dream had gone badly. He might have died -- it might have died of the cold, otherwise, casting him blindly toward his next birth.

  Not this time. He was determined that this time, he would rise to his true power again. He would take his rightful place. Forcing the exhausted body onward, he followed the flowing water.

  --==*==--

  Something big was happening out there. Hints and echoes tortured Chaiel, made him twist within his prison. Something big.

  He couldn't make sense of it. Couldn't slow it down enough to look at it. The babble of voices beat him, visions bludgeoned him, knowlege stretched his brain and cluttered him until he couldn't think. Memories tore at him, never quite coming clear. He was afraid.

  When light burst suddenly in on him, he screamed.

  It's only Thelyan, he told himself sternly, and calmed enough to look, though a desperate edge stayed on his thoughts. Why was the Judge bothering him again so soon? And why -- the novelty of this took Chaiel's breath away -- why did he have another person with him? He always came alone. What was happening?

  This other person was a holl
ow-cheeked youth in dirty clothes, whose eyelids sagged as if he were half asleep. He stood with a slumping posture, hands loose at his sides, gazing incuriously at Chaiel. Behind streaked spectacles, his eyes were glassy crescents of watery blue. Thelyan was smiling.

  "I don't have any questions for you this time, Chaiel," Thelyan said. "I've found Ka'an, and I'll absorb him soon. Tomorrow or the next day, if all goes well. After that, whether I have a use for you depends on how cooperative you are. With that in mind, I've decided to give you a present."

  He turned to the slack-faced youth. "Undress and remove your spectacles."

  Still hammered by fragmentary visions, Chaiel fought to make sense of this. He felt his lips twisting in a posture between laughing and weeping. "What do I want with that? Bring me a girl."

  "You asked me if you could have Medur. The answer is yes."

  With dawning horror, Chaiel remembered. He remembered how he had seen that Medur was housed in male flesh this incarnation, and he remembered asking, as a joke, to be given her if she was found, and had not connected the two conversations. Now he understood what he'd brought on himself. Thelyan was not a prankster. He really meant to throw this mindless body into Chaiel's prison to crowd him, to drool and mumble at him and keep him from ever knowing a moment's peace. Probably the thing would be left in here with him for eternity.