Swarm and Steel, page 20
Damn it, Zerfall! You did this to me! Zerfall’s betrayal plagued her in ways she never imagined.
She glanced at the hand lying, fingers splayed, on the desk. The tattooed eye remained closed.
I hope you’re screaming in Swarm. I hope your every moment is haunted with the memory of what it cost you to betray me.
Hölle leaned forward, her forehead pressing against her reflection’s forehead. The cool glass soothed her thoughts. Zerfall’s actions weren’t Hölle’s fault, there was no way she could have foreseen the betrayal.
“It’s not my fault,” she whispered. “Zerfall is weak. Was weak,” she corrected. “Four hundred years was too much for her.”
“It’s too much for anyone,” said Pharisäer.
“I haven’t seen you in two days,” said Hölle, doing her best to sound casual. Pharisäer stood at the entrance to her chambers, her hair tied back in a style Zerfall would never have worn, Blutblüte hanging at her hip. The sight of the sword sent a stab of sharp pain ripping through Hölle’s gut and she hissed through clenched teeth.
I thought maybe I hallucinated you, or … She couldn’t finish the thought. “I thought you were gone.”
“Never,” said Pharisäer, closing the door behind her. “I will never abandon you.”
That smile, almost a knowing smirk.
Hölle remembered thinking Wahrergott had sent Pharisäer to replace Zerfall. She’d said it aloud with perfect certainty as if doing so made it fact. Now she doubted. Had the One True God sent Pharisäer, or was she nothing more than a manifestation of Hölle’s decaying sanity? The One True God protected Zerfall and I from the Pinnacle for four hundred years. He would not abandon me now. But Zerfall had. What if Wahrergott’s protection left with Zerfall? What if Wahrergott never—
“You’re in pain,” said Pharisäer. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“I need to—”
“It’s not your fault, you need to heal.”
Hölle straightened, but kept one hand pressed to her belly. “I’m fine.”
Pharisäer raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “You’re clenching your teeth.”
“I’m fine,” Hölle repeated, forcing her jaw to relax.
Glancing to where Hölle’s hand held her belly, Pharisäer said, “Yes, I can tell. Why are you rushing this? You were run through by several feet of steel.” Hölle’s gut clenched like a fist. “You need to rest, to heal. If you tear yourself open inside, everything you’ve worked for will fall apart.”
Pharisäer pulled Hölle into a hug, Blutblüte’s pommel pressing against her belly like an erect cock demanding entrance. “There is no shame in resting,” Pharisäer whispered into her ear. “Surrender. Surrender to your body’s needs. You can’t do this. Not alone. Let me help.”
Sagging, Hölle allowed the other woman to take some of her weight. Pharisäer was right. It was too much to do alone. She carried the fate of all humanity on her shoulders. The responsibility was more than she could bear.
Pharisäer cooed soft words of comfort as she guided Hölle back to bed.
Once nestled in the heavy blankets, Hölle felt her stomach relax and the pain fade. She pushed herself too hard. Taking a little more time to heal would hardly hinder the progress of her life’s work. Täuschung would unite all humanity in a hell of penance and set it free. This was a task requiring millennia of dedication and struggle; if it took a few months longer, so what? There was no deadline. All that mattered was that she didn’t fail.
Looking up at Pharisäer standing over her, Hölle reached out to catch her hand. Rubbing the fingers she arched an eyebrow and then frowned. “You have no calluses.”
“So?”
“This was Zerfall’s sword hand. Her fingers were hard and strong. Yours are as soft as mine.”
“I’m not Zerfall,” Pharisäer said, retrieving her hand. “You should remember that.”
“I know. I keep expecting you to be like her, to be her replacement.”
Pharisäer’s eyes glinted like glass. “She betrayed you.”
“I know—”
“I am not like her.”
Lying in bed, cocooned by a heavy blanket, staring up at this woman standing over her, the sword which had stabbed deep into Hölle’s guts hanging at her side, Hölle felt a tremor of fear. Pharisäer’s anger cut her features like cold diamond. This was not Zerfall; Pharisäer was both harder and softer. Physically, she showed none of Zerfall’s strength. Inside however lurked something sharp and dangerous. She might offer comfort Hölle desperately needed, but this woman held an edge not unlike Blutblüte.
You’re afraid of her.
“I have good news,” said Pharisäer, smiling brightly as if that moment of tension had never happened. “Aas has been dealt with.”
“Dead?”
“Better. I sent him to kill Nimmer.”
“Why?”
Pharisäer kept her face straight for a heartbeat and then burst out laughing. “For fun. I told Nimmer Aas was coming to kill him.”
“He didn’t take it well?”
“He panicked. It happened so fast I almost didn’t make it out.” She offered another innocent smile.
Hölle’s eyes widened in surprise. “Nimmer is cracking. How bad will the damage be when he snaps?” She shuddered to think what covering this up would cost. Luckily, bribery was everything in Geld.
“He’ll freeze a good chunk of a city block when his delusions take him.”
“You should have told me of your plan,” Hölle scolded. If she’d been trapped within Nimmer’s power, I’d be alone. Alone. The word terrified and excited. Her breath quickened and the room darkened. The garbage-strewn corners writhed with shadowy images of a feverish girl awakening, alone, in a sweat soaked cot, surrounded by the corpses of her family. “It was dangerous,” she snapped. “Stupid.”
Pharisäer, ignoring the dancing shadows, shrugged this away with a lift of one shoulder. “I may have also suggested to Aas there was a bit of a puzzle involved, something he’d need to figure out.”
Though her anger was not forgotten, Hölle had to laugh at the thought of Aas being presented with such a puzzle. In response to her shifting mood, the shadows faded away. “That’ll drive him crazy. He’ll spend hours with Nimmer before killing him.” Why had there been only one girl on the cot? That wasn’t right. Do you remember a time without me? Zerfall had asked in Hölle’s dream.
“Centuries,” said Pharisäer. “Isn’t this so much more fun than killing him?”
Zerfall was never this reckless. She’d always been more temperamental than Hölle, quicker to violence, but never incautious. “Careful,” warned Hölle. “Don’t underestimate Aas.”
Why did Pharisäer want Aas removed, but not dead? He knows more about Geisteskranken than anyone. Had Pharisäer temporarily disposed of Aas to stop Hölle from learning something? No, you’re being paranoid.
Pharisäer grinned white teeth at Hölle and waved off her warning with a graceful sweep of fingers. “That’s the beauty of it. If he’s smarter than I think and gets out sooner rather than later, he’ll have enjoyed my puzzle and appreciate my trust in his cleverness. If we don’t see him for several hundred years, he’ll return, awed and cowed by my genius.”
Hölle saw confidence in Pharisäer’s every movement, the way she brushed off Hölle’s concern, and the way she stood, Blutblüte hanging casually at her hip. Again her stomach tightened with pain. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am. I win, no matter what. Aas is out of the way, and when he returns I will own his heart more than Zerfall would have dreamed possible.”
Why does she want to own Aas’ heart? Was this jealous competition with a dead woman? The man was an odious wretch, as hideous as he was dangerous. Was there something Zerfall and Pharisäer saw in him that she missed? He’s educated, and he’s—Hölle kept her face blank as she examined Pharisäer. He’s a murderer.
FOR THE FIRST TIME ever, Virwirrt wore the robes of a Täuschung priest. It was good not to hide what he was. For too long the true Täuschung had remained hidden, skulking in basements. He limped, dragging his left foot behind him. His right arm hung useless, swinging with every step. Every year more of him fell to the disease devouring his muscle and bone. In less than a decade he’d be completely helpless, a bag of brain and blood. The doctors told him it was all in his mind, but he knew better.
Gods he hated being weak, being useless. All he ever wanted was to be strong, but the world made him its victim. His first memories were of being held helpless by bigger children as they mocked his inability to fight back. He remembered his father’s disgust that he hadn’t defended himself. He spent a lifetime under that disgust before the old bastard finally died.
“Zerfall said it’s time to show them I am powerful. Zerfall said it’s time to show the world the truth.”
He followed his prey, Beraubt, through the streets of Geld. She too wore the robes of a Täuschung priest. All of the Geisteskranken who had lived secret lives in the Täuschung compound now openly wore their vestments.
“Zerfall said no more hiding.”
Virwirrt followed his fellow priest, hating her as he hated all women. Except Zerfall. Zerfall was too terrifying to hate.
“Zerfall said Beraubt hates me. Zerfall said Beraubt turns my friends against me.”
He hadn’t slept in two weeks and the world around him felt like a poorly acted puppet show. None of this was real. Cobwebs of silky thought distracted him, made it difficult to remember why he was here. Pressure built behind his eyes, threatened to split his skull.
“Zerfall said Beraubt tells the other women I can’t rut, that fear unmans me.”
Morning dew glistened on the cobbled streets turning dull stone to sparkling diamonds. Somewhere behind him he heard exclamations of joy as someone stumbled across the wealth his hallucinations left behind. Like joy, the most ephemeral of emotions, the precious stones wouldn’t last. Taken beyond the sphere of his influence, they’d once again become dew drops soaking the pockets of the fools who collected them.
This early in the morning there were few pedestrians, the streets mostly empty. Though the city seemed abandoned, he felt the influence of the sane crushing him. Were the streets busier, he’d be helpless, just one more sleep-deprived madman. But now, in the early dawn hours, he was powerful. This was his time.
He passed within a stride of a man stumbling home from a long night at the pub and the drunk turned boneless, collapsing to the ground. Virwirrt liked people to be helpless. He needed it. How many people had he reduced to pathetic blubbering and begging in dark alleys, their impotent fear feeding his need? Their powerlessness made him strong. Only with a helpless woman could he successfully rut. He showed them his power. They worshipped him like a god. He saw it in the fear on their faces.
He passed the drunk. On any other day he’d stop to hurt the man, leave the victim some reminder of their inability to stop him. Not today.
“Zerfall said Beraubt betrayed us. Zerfall said Beraubt plots against us. Zerfall said Beraubt is trying to kill me. Zerfall said Beraubt is the reason I haven’t slept. Zerfall said …” The litany went on, a constant reminder. “Zerfall said Beraubt has to die.”
When Beraubt lay dead he could finally sleep. But first he’d show her he was a man. She shouldn’t have mocked me.
He watched Beraubt stagger and fall. On all fours she stared at the stone beneath her hands. He saw the street pulsate and breathe, form a mouth, lips of stone, and whisper to her. An Auslösekugeln addict, she was reputed to be capable of powerful hallucinations. He hated powerful women. Except Zerfall; she scared him. But that was alright, it didn’t make him a coward. Zerfall scared everyone.
“Zerfall said Beraubt is at her weakest in the morning. Zerfall said Beraubt will not have eaten Auslösekugeln since yesterday.”
Virwirrt drew a thin stiletto, keeping it hidden from sight. “Zerfall said I should play with Beraubt before I kill her. “
He examined the woman, taking in the tattered clothes and ragged fingernails. Even from a dozen paces he caught the stench of sweat and rotting teeth. She pressed her ear to the ground, listening to whatever it said. One small hallucination. If that was all she could manage, she’d soon be his. His own madness reached out a full half-dozen strides beyond him, twisting reality to suit his desire. He imagined her brain like rotted goat’s cheese, stinking and riddled with worms and mould. After he was finished with her, after she knew him for the powerful man he was, he’d open her skull and see if he was right.
“Zerfall said it was time to show the people of Geld the truth. Zerfall said it was time to open their eyes to the horror. Zerfall said it is time I walk among them, a god not yet risen.”
Beraubt would watch as he dismantled her. Virwirrt’s groin stirred in anticipation.
“Zerfall said I should do it right here on the street. Zerfall said I should display her as my trophy.”
As Virwirrt’s sphere of influence passed over Beraubt she glanced up, drooling brown down her chin and grinning Auslösekugeln-stained teeth. She spat a wad of well chewed leathery mushroom gristle at his feet. “Zerfall said you would follow me,” she said. “Zerfall said you would try and kill me.”
He bent his will against her, crushed her with his need. She’d be helpless, a doll to do with as he wished.
Beraubt stood, her sphere of influence washing over him like a shadow and encompassing the entire block. The world staggered, frayed apart.
“I knew you were coming,” she said. “I’ve been eating Auslösekugeln all night.”
Reality shuddered under her narcotic-induced madness. Every cobble stone for a hundred paces opened mouths and screamed. Every house sagged and expanded as it drew breath. The world came alive, lit with impossible colours too bright to see. The sun opened eyes of purple and black and giggled in terror. The clouds turned red and rained salty tears of blood. The drunk, still sprawled where he’d fallen, came apart like an over-ripe melon smashed against a wall.
“Zerfall said you like to hurt women,” she said.
Virwirrt’s knees buckled and he dropped to the street. His bones melted, soft cheese. His teeth fell out and dissolved in his mouth. The stones beneath him chewed at his flesh, eating him one mouthful at a time. He could do nothing to resist.
“Zerfall said—”
He didn’t hear the rest as his skull softened like butter left in the sun and fell in upon itself.
TWELVE
The goat wants what the goat wants and the snake wants what the snake wants, but Harea does whatever he wants.
—Basamortuan Proverb
I CAN NOT BELIEVE YOU KILLED me.
Jateko sat up, wide awake, blinking sand and grit from his eyes, the taste of feculence and sweat staining his tongue. His oihal lay crumpled at his feet, crusted solid in brownish blood. It looked to have been repaired, the larger holes sewn closed. Ignoring the stench, he donned the garb. He scratched at his near hairless chest. Was it a little less flat and featureless than he remembered? The world seemed crisper. He glanced about the inside of the karpan in which he’d slept. It was his, everything intimately familiar, and yet he’d never seen any of it before. He knew where his knives sat, where the water skin hung, and where he’d stashed a fistful of dried goat jerky in case he got hungry in the middle of the night.
Jerky. Bleah! He wanted something fresh. Gnawing hunger twisted his belly in an iron grip. He felt like he hadn’t eaten in months.
You ate my brain just last night.
Sure, but now he was ravenous.
Jateko stood, feeling strange in his body as if he were a little too tall and too weak. He approached the entrance, careful not to trip over his huge, floppy feet. Outside he found Zerfall sitting over Abiega’s corpse, flicking away carrion beetles, her right leg jutting out at an odd angle below the shattered knee. Abiega’s empty skull, its contents hacked free and devoured, reminded Jateko of his dream and the slippery wet clay taste of souls.
The sun hung low to the west, its fat belly brushing the horizon. Hadn’t it been nightfall when he fought Abiega? Either he hadn’t slept much at all, or he slept through an entire night and a day.
“I’m glad you’re up,” Zerfall said. “This was getting boring.” Even with only one working leg she stood in one smooth, graceful motion. For the first time he appreciated her perfect balance and flawless proprioception.
Proprioception?
The knowledge of one’s own body, answered the new voice in his head. Zerfall knows exactly where all of her is at all times. She moves like a predator.
“Oh,” he said aloud, nodding. “Thank you.”
Empty sockets turned toward him for a heartbeat and then swung away.
I bet she was unbelievably sexy before the rot set in. Jateko tried to ignore this uncomfortable thought.
“What are we going to do about your leg?” he asked.
“Afraid I’ll slow you down?”
Nothing about her changed and he read no hint of emotion in her face. He realized he was aware of how she had to draw breath into her dead lungs before each sentence.
She’s dead. Never forget.
“I won’t leave you,” he said.
She stared at him, her regard empty and heavy. “Why?”
“You’re going to do something important. I can tell. And you need my help.”
And you need her, said that new voice in his head. Think it through.
Jateko considered what would happen should he part ways with Zerfall. I’ll die.
Right. You need to be useful to her.
Empty sockets examined him and he wished he could read her expression.
She talked. She told him of a mad god and an even madder religion. She talked of assassins and Geisteskranken, city-states people who bent reality to their will. She told him of the woman who was her sister and something else, a sliver of Zerfall’s personality manifested as real. She told him of the purpose that drove her. She told him her plans, how she’d return to the city-states and kill this figment of her imagination, and burn her church to the ground, and how she’d kill a god.
