Page 36 of The Merciless Ones

Even before the thought leaves my brain, I feel Ixa bursting from the wagon’s leads, his body exploding into an even larger version of his massive true form. Usually, he’s the size of a bull, maybe a tiny bit larger. Today, he’s four times that. I don’t have to see the transformation to know it. It’s an instinct deep inside me, another facet of the deep connection that binds us. Ixa barrels down the field, trampling over the jatu surrounding our wagons. He’s a gleaming shadow in the darkness, a vengeful colossus that almost resembles a mammut, those hulking grey tusked and spiked creatures we sometimes ride into battle, except mammuts are slow and bulky, not sleek and graceful like Ixa as he leaps into the circle of jatu surrounding us, the crowd screaming and fleeing in his wake.

He roars so loudly, the sound echoes across the field, sending a few of the jatu stumbling back. A high-pitched shriek quickly answers his call, followed by another, then another – Katya and the other deathshrieks. I heave a sigh of relief. I’d almost forgotten they were there. As they crash in from the forest, even more screams rise into the air, the ordinary citizens in the crowd fleeing.

I quickly jump onto Ixa’s back. “Hop on!” I shout to the others. There’s more than enough room for us all now.

As Keita, Belcalis and the twins join me, the other uruni alongside them, a fierce wind whooshes past. Melanis is winging towards the platform, Britta and Li each under an arm. But Elder Kadiri doesn’t seem worried by her approach or even ours. While all the other priests flee for shelter, he just stands beside the sleeping alaki, a smug look in his eyes.

Apprehension surges inside me. “Stay alert for traps!” I shout.

To Ixa, I add, Ixa, keep an eye out!

Deka! My massive companion agrees, landing on the platform with a resounding thump.

But the moment I slide off him, I feel it, the energy gathering in the air. It’s so immediately familiar, especially given we used something almost exactly the same to travel here to Zhúshan, I know what it is instantly. “It’s a door! Multiple doors!” But the mothers didn’t make them. The energy is different – malevolent, almost. I don’t even have to wonder how this is possible before the first tear rips through the air, the bright gleam of afternoon sunlight shimmering on the other side of it. As I watch, stunned, a massive form emerges, the all-too-familiar golden armour covering it doing nothing to hide the horrifyingly dagger-sharp claws, the gaunt, eerily human-like build. It’s a deathshriek, only unlike Katya and the others, its skin – the few parts of it that are not covered by armour – is deep purple and crisscrossed by golden veins. Even stranger, it’s wearing golden infernal armour – the exact same kind alaki wear – and carrying a spear whose flower-like shape and dagger petals are also immediately familiar. It’s that same type of spear the jatu at the Oyomosin were carrying, only this deathshriek can’t possibly be one of them. True jatu don’t become deathshrieks when they die, and even if they did, we burned everything in the Oyomosin to a crisp.

But jatu resurrect now… The thought slithers into my mind, as does a very familiar pain. I wince at the intensity. There, on the deathshriek’s breastplate, is the very thing I’ve been dreading all this while: that symbol, sinisterly displayed as if just waiting for me to see it. I swiftly glance away, grateful when the pain recedes to a constant dull throb.

Not that it matters any more. The pain is nothing compared to this, the horrifying understanding suddenly coalescing in my brain: this deathshriek is that same jatu leader we saw back at the Oyomosin. He’s a male deathshriek, and he’s not the only one.

Even more tears appear in the air, more deathshrieks emerging, all of them that same purple colour with gold veins, all of them carrying those flower spears, that jatu symbol glaring at me from the breastplates of their golden infernal armour. I feel cold all over.

Within moments, the deathshrieks have arranged themselves into a circle surrounding us, those spears steadfastly pointed. Every time Melanis swoops towards Elder Kadiri, they lift up those spears, fending her off. Even with all her speed and agility, she can’t get through. These deathshrieks are in another class completely, something I’ve never seen before. And they move with such discipline, they almost seem to be multiple extensions of one being.

“Stop!” I command them, fighting past the pain throbbing in my skull.

There are too many of those jatu symbols surrounding me, too much power deflecting mine, which is why the deathshrieks disregard my commands as they slowly and steadily approach, their formation closing in around us.

But I’ve spent weeks preparing for this, weeks training against the symbol’s effects. I won’t let a few arcane symbols conquer me. “STOP, I COMMAND YOU!” I shout again.

As before, the deathshrieks ignore me.

The symbol’s power is still too strong, too effective a shield against mine.

And now, Elder Kadiri is smirking. “Your voice has no power here, honoured Nuru,” he says mockingly. “The kaduth binds it as effectively as chains bind the body.”

The kaduth? Knowing the name of that accursed symbol does nothing to still the anger now roaring in my veins. “What is it that you want?” I snarl, enraged.

I know it’s something; I know that much. If Elder Kadiri had just wanted to stop me, he could have had one of the jatu stab me in the crowd while my friends and I were distracted by Elfriede’s speech. It would take me at least a few hours to revive, Elfriede knows this.

Speaking of whom…

I shoot a poisonous look at my former friend. She’s still standing there, watching. Why hasn’t she fled with everyone else? Why hasn’t she summoned the last ounce of shame she has left? But she remains there, just beside those sleeping girls, who are almost completely flesh-coloured again. A slight tremor runs through one of them, a plump, pale Eastern child only barely fifteen, and I swallow down bile at the horror that she might wake up soon.

Please don’t wake now, I pray silently while Elder Kadiri smirks at me.

“Want?” Elder Kadiri seems amused as he repeats my question: “What is it that I want? Hmm…an intriguing question. Except…this is not about what I want, honoured Nuru. This is about Him.” He points a gnarled finger to the sky.

“Him?” I repeat, a desperate bid to hide my growing dread when that same alaki twitches softly.

Please, not now, I urge again. I silently will her to return to her slumber, but luck, as always, isn’t with me. The other girls are also beginning to twitch, slowly coming awake.

“Idugu…” Elder Kadiri’s voice draws my attention back to him. He has a strange, almost vacant look in his eyes now. “He whispers to me in my dreams. Tells me that He is fascinated with you. That He engineered this entire scenario just to meet you.”

“Idugu?” I scoff even as I feel it, that oily presence hovering in the air. “There are only four gods in Otera, and they are the Gilded Ones.”

“Is that what they told you?” Elder Kadiri smiles a soft, pitying smile. “Poor child, so thoroughly deceived by those demons. I’m certain they also told you that they never ate children, never gained power from consuming innocence.”

“They didn’t have to,” I grit out, rage building again. My entire life, I’ve heard stories of how the Gilded Ones ate children, destroyed Otera with their ravenous hunger. “The mothers are gods – protectors. They would never hurt their children.”

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