Page 110 of The Merciless Ones

The deathshrieks’ hisses and growls, they’re blending into words – sentences. Pleas. “Free us… Kill us…”

The words blend together, a hurricane of pain bombarding my ears. How could the Gilded Ones stand this? How could they harden themselves to such suffering? No wonder the jatu rose up. No wonder they did what they could to trap the goddesses. The Idugu may be evil and malicious, but their counterparts are exactly like them. Worse, even.

I continue gazing into that pit, unable to stomach what I’m seeing. Are these truly the gods I’ve worshipped for so long? The ones I’ve fought for all this time?

I whirl towards Etzli, who is still sitting there, a serene expression on her face. More of her vines are slithering around her, pulsating like leeches as they draw blood from the deathshrieks in the pit.

“Demon!” The word bursts from me, every syllable of it filled with hatred. “You are the vilest of demons, and I will end you!”

I rush towards her, atikas raised, but Etzli fluidly rises and backhands me across the room. I land in the middle of the pit, the stone slab that Britta summons the only barrier preventing my body from plummeting into the abyss. The air Adwapa sends my way cushions my landing, so I’m able to bounce up as easily as a cloud.

“We’ve got ye, Deka!” Britta calls.

“Thanks!” I say, leaping onto the dais and running back to Etzli.

She’s standing now, those disgusting vines creeping down her legs like roots and slithering into the abyss. Worse, the other goddesses are stirring beside her. I can’t tell if it’s because they’ve regained enough power, or because Etzli is waking them. It doesn’t matter – either way, I have to stop them, have to sever them from the vines. That in mind, I leap towards Etzli, atikas primed, but she catches both blades one-handed, not even flinching when they cut into her flesh. I jump backwards before she can backhand me again, but as I angle myself for the next attack, a familiar voice rings through the chamber.

“What is the meaning of this?” White Hands demands, walking in.

Victory flashes in Etzli’s eyes. She turns to White Hands, smiles welcomingly. “Beloved daughter, the Nuru has turned traitorous and is attacking us. Contain her.”

My entire body stills, dread thrumming through me. White Hands is here, a sword at her side. If there’s one person I don’t want to cross swords with, it’s her. She’s been my mentor since the moment she rescued me from that cellar – almost a godmother to me, albeit a distant and sometimes cruel one. I don’t want to fight her, but any hesitation on my part would be a fatal mistake. White Hands always fights to kill.

Always.

Beside her, Melanis is rising, staggering over, her wing still bleeding. “Come, Sister,” she says, “I’ll aid you.”

When the pair walk towards Etzli, I raise my hands, the words blurting out of me in such a rush, I’m not even certain they make sense. “They’ve been killing the male deathshrieks, White Hands. All this time, the mothers have been killing our brothers just like the monsters they were accused of being. That’s why the jatu rebelled, because they found out that there were male deathshrieks here and the goddesses were eating them.”

I point to the abyss. “Look, see for yourself.”

White Hands looks down, her brow furrowing. Annoyance? Anger? I can’t tell. She turns back to Etzli. “Are those reborn jatu?” she asks casually.

Etzli waves the question away, unconcerned. “They are of no consequence to us. Not like you and your sisters. You swore loyalty to us. You did not turn away from us, unlike them. They imprisoned us – caged us. They deserve their fate. Now, come – you are our daughter, are you not?” There’s an implication in this question, one so subtle, I’m sure I’m the only one who sees White Hands stiffen subtly.

Etzli does not notice. “You are our first. You must end this.”

My heart falters when White Hands nods, unsheathes her sword. She climbs up to the dais, her eyes stern as she looks at me. “White Hands,” I plead, tears coming to my eyes. Please, please, please…

But White Hands continues to approach, a resigned expression on her face. “I must do this,” she says, then she leaps at me.

I steel myself, preparing for the impact, but then she twists midway, turning to Etzli. “They were our brothers!” she shouts, attacking the startled goddess.

“You dare!” Melanis rushes towards her, but White Hands parries so swiftly, she’s disembowelled the other Firstborn before she can even lift her sword.

“Know your place!” White Hands barks before returning her attention to Etzli. Relieved gratitude explodes through me as she hammers at the goddess over and over.

“What are you doing?” the goddess rages, surging up. “How dare you attack me?”

White Hands doesn’t acknowledge this rebuke as she continues striking her. She glances at me. “Are you waiting for an invitation, Deka? End her!”

I bolt forwards, attacking Etzli from the other side, but the goddess fends us off easily. By now, she’s absorbed so much power, her movements don’t even resemble a human’s any more. Multiple arms repel our swords; skin thickens to metallic hardness, then heats up like fire. Through it all, White Hands and I continue our attack. When one of us falters, the other takes over, hacking and slicing. We target Etzli’s vines, try to sever them from her, but it’s a futile effort.

“Help them!” a distant voice shouts.

Belcalis’s.

She jumps into the fray as well, her entire body golden as she slices at Etzli with her daggers. The goddess screams in rage, her anger multiplying even more when flames roast her vines, courtesy of Keita. She creates more and more vines, all of them shooting out of her, slithering over the deathshrieks in the abyss like leafy black serpents to augment her power until she’s fighting better with every second that passes. Even then, we hold our own: every time she knocks one of us towards the abyss, Britta is there, creating surfaces to catch us, while Adwapa and Asha help us land softly using the wind.

---