The Thief Who Spat In Luck's Good Eye (24 page)

As for Holgren, he was squatting in one blood-washed corner, elbows on knees, thumbs pressed against the bridge of his nose. Whatever he was doing had the hairs on the back of my neck trying to loose themselves from my skin.

“
So,” I said, more loudly than I intended, “are we ready?”

Make the stroke clean, thief. One blow only if you can manage it. I’ll not have you carving on me.

“
I'll do my best. Holgren, are you ready?”

“
As ready as I can be.” He stood up and walked over to Tha-Agoth. “I wish—”

“—
you had access to your sanctum. I know. You don't. So let's move on.”

He smiled half-heartedly and looked down at Tha-Agoth.

“
Forget the rod,” he told the godling, “and concentrate solely on healing the damage we are about to cause. I want as much of your power diverted from the rod as possible.”

You do not forget a spear through your heart, mage.

“
Do the best you can.” Holgren turned from Tha-Agoth and looked at me. “Once you've finished the beheading, I want you to swing on the rod at my signal. However much I may weaken it, physical blows will still be necessary. And do try not to hit me, Amra.”

“
You take the fun out of everything.”

Holgren moved to the other side of the altar, across from the doors. I lined myself up with Tha-Agoth's neck, planted my feet, and took a few practice swings. The sword's balance felt all wrong; it was far too long for me and the grip was slick. I didn't have to fight with it, though. I just had to hit a stationary target or two. I hoped I could cut through with one swing—beheadings were a grisly business. There was a reason the condemned paid their executioners to do their best.

Satisfied as I was going to be with the weapon, I stepped forward until the last few inches of the blade hovered just above Tha-Agoth's neck. He looked at me with those star-filled eyes of his, but said nothing. He turned his head and looked up at the snowflakes skirling in from the broken windows far above.

“
Are we ready?” I whispered, and looked at Holgren. He was kneeling down, and his hands clasped the rod just above Tha-Agoth's chest. His head was bowed. He looked to be praying, almost.

“
Strike when you will,” he said, voice muffled, “but wait for my signal before you swing at the rod.”

“
Alright.” My palms were suddenly sweaty, making the sword-hilt even more slippery. I thought about wiping them dry, but decided against the delay. The sooner this was over the better.

Holding the sword in two hands I lined up the blade along Tha-Agoth's throat. I took a deep breath and pulled it overhead. With a wordless cry I whipped it down on the god's neck with all the force I could muster. The edge of the sword stayed perpendicular to the ground, thankfully, and bit into Tha-Agoth's neck with a meaty smack.

The shock of impact rode up my arms and I nearly lost hold of the hilt. Blood sprayed up, hot rivulets of it splashing my face and torso, but I'd done it.

“
Again, Amra!” Holgren's voice was strident. I looked more closely at the cut I'd made. I'd failed to cut all the way through. Tha-Agoth's head was still connected to his body by a thin strip of flesh at the back of his neck. His body spasmed. His torso tried to curl into a backbreaking arch, but it was held in place by the rod. His head was already reattaching itself to his body.

“
Cut again, Amra! Quickly!” Holgren's voice was rough with strain. I cursed, dropped the sword, and severed the remaining scrap of flesh with my knife. Then I pulled Tha-Agoth's head a little away from the rest of him and scrambled for the dropped sword. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw Tha-Agoth's eyes tracking my every move. I know he blinked.

A greenish, pulsing glow began to suffuse the room, emanating from the point where Holgren clutched the rod. It lit his face, gave him a diabolic look. His lips were pulled back front his teeth and his forearms trembled with the effort of his magics. A low groan began to force past his teeth, growing slowly louder.

“
Holgren?”

The green glow suddenly turned to a burst of brilliant red, and Holgren flew back from the rod as if he'd been hurled away from it by an invisible giant. He slammed into the far wall and slid down to the floor. Then the unnatural light died, and was replaced by the weak winter light from far above.

I dropped the sword and ran over to Holgren. He was already climbing to his feet. The palms of his hands were burned.

“
What happened?”

He let me help him to his feet. “I failed,” he said, voice tight. “I don't have the power to destroy the rod. It's been feeding off him for an age. Its reserves are vast.”

“
So we can't break the rod. We'll just have to try something else.”

“
What else is there?”

I looked back at the rod, the altar, the beheaded god. Good question. What else was there to try? The rod was indestructible. We could try to break the altar using the pick, but that would take weeks at best. I watched Tha-Agoth's head slowly reattach itself to his body, and an idea came to me.

“
So the rod won't break. We don't need it to.”

“
What have you thought of?”

“
We need to get him free of the rod, not the other way around.”

Holgren looked at me and I saw understanding spark in his eyes. “Why didn't I think of that? Brilliant!”

“
I know. Come on, let's do it before he has a chance to object.”

Object to what?

Too late. “We're going to free you,” I said. “It's going to be painful.”

You will not sever my head from my body again.
His voice was full of pain, and a little fear.

"You're absolutely right.” I walked back over to him and picked up the bloody sword.

Tell me what you intend to do.

“
We can't break the rod, so were going to cut you free.”

I have been struggling against it for centuries, with no effect.

“
You're also weak as a kitten. You don't have the physical ability to pull yourself free of the rod. If you did, you'd have escaped long ago. Now do you want to be free or not?”

Yes
, he hissed.

“
Then prepare yourself. As I said, this is going to hurt. A lot.”

The rod was about two inches in diameter, and had speared him through roughly through the heart, or near enough. I would have to cut more than a hand span's worth of flesh and bone from the rod to his side. And I'd probably have to do it more than once, considering the rate at which he healed.

“
Holgren.”

“
Yes?”

“
I want you to stay on the other side. Start pulling once I get enough of his chest cut away to free him. I don't want to have to keep hacking at him. Pull him by his right arm.”

“
Alright.”

It was easier to think of him as a pig or a cow about to be butchered. I wasn't sure I could go through with it otherwise, immortal or no. I wasn't particularly squeamish, but this was going to be gruesome. Not that beheading him hadn't been, but ...

“
Put your left arm above your head and stretch out your right for Holgren to pull on.” I didn't want to hack his arm by accident. He did as I asked, and then there was nothing left to do but start cutting.

The main difference between beheading someone and butchering them is the screaming. It's hard to scream when your vocal cords have been severed along with the rest of your neck. When chunks are being taken out of your chest you can scream just fine, though the blood from your punctured lung works its way into your throat and mouth, and gives the screaming a wet, bubbling quality. And when you're a god, you can stream right into someone's mind so they get the full effect.

I couldn't very well tell him to be quiet. I gritted my teeth and hacked through flesh and ribs, clearing a bloody path for Holgren to pull him free of the rod. I kept hoping he would pass out. He didn't. Tha-Agoth healed with amazing rapidity.

We resorted to a constant tugging on Holgren's part and methodical hacking on mine. It might have gone a little more smoothly if I’d thought to cut out a wedge-shaped portion out of the god's flesh, but I didn't until later. So I had to sever reconnecting flesh continually.

At last Holgren gave a yank. Tha-Agoth fell to the bloodwashed floor of his temple in a limp, shrieking heap. I let the gore-drenched sword slip from my fingers. It fell to the stone floor with a metallic ring. I was exhausted. I felt as if I'd been hauling nets all day, something I had never been fond of. I was drenched in blood. On the positive side, none of it was mine.

Tha-Agoth's shrieks began to subside. I looked over at Holgren and he looked back at me, smiling. “You did it,” he said.

Free
. Tha-Agoth rose from the floor, one hand on the altar for support. A golden glow began to gather around him. I could see the wound I'd caused healing over completely.

Free,
he said again, and the golden aura grew in intensity. He stretched out his arms, threw his head back and howled. It made the very stones tremble. There was an undeniable—glory, I suppose—about him. I knew I was in the presence of a power, something greater than me. Greater than I ever would be. I shrugged the feeling off as much as I could. I began to have second thoughts about what we'd just done.

Tha-Agoth beat furiously on the rod that had pinned him for so many years with both fists. At first nothing happened. Then the rod started to bend under the assault. Tha-Agoth unleashed a flurry of blows, hands bloody. Finally the rod snapped about two feet above the altar. Tha-Agoth wrenched the short length of rod from the stone that supported it and hurled it away toward the stairs.

So much for your indestructible object, mage.

Holgren took a step back from him, a bit too late. I'd have backed off when fists started flying.

Tha-Agoth grabbed him by his shirtfront and lifted him off his feet. Holgren made no move, but I felt magic gathering around him. It wouldn't be enough, whatever he was preparing.

“
Think very carefully about what you do next, Tha-Agoth," I said.

You sent my sister to my enemy. For that I should kill you. But, you freed me from an age of torment. What should I do with you two?

“
Why don't we just call it even and start fresh? We aren't your main concern, Tha-Agoth. We want the Shadow King destroyed as much as you do, if not more. We're your allies.”

The enemy of my enemy is not necessarily my friend.

“
We share a common goal, damn it. What happens after the Shadow King is destroyed doesn't really concern us right now. We've got to get to Athagos before she gets to him. Frankly, we don't have time for this.”

Tha-Agoth dropped Holgren, who stumbled but did not fall, still holding on to energies he'd summoned.

I know truth when I hear it.

“
Good. What do you suggest we do next?”

Now I go and look at the whole of the sky for the first time in a thousand years, instead of mere slivers of it.
With that he walked across the chamber, through the doors and up the stairs.

I looked at Holgren. He shrugged. We followed Tha-Agoth up into the wreckage of his city, Holgren ahead of me. I stopped and surreptitiously picked up the short piece of rod that Tha-Agoth had flung toward the stairs, securing it under my ragged shirt in my belt. It was mostly instinct that made me do it. I had a vague, itchy feeling that it might come in handy at some point.

How much has time undone
, Tha-Agoth said upon entering the Tabernacle grounds.
The gardens have run riot.
Something close to shock suffused his features. What did he expect after a thousand years?

“
I'm afraid you haven't seen the half of it yet,” I told him. “Wait until you get out into the city. Though a lot of the destruction is covered by the snow.”

Yes. The weather is inclement.
He glanced up at the sky. The wind suddenly died and the snow stopped falling. Just like that. Then the cloud cover began to thin away. The sun broke through. I could feel the temperature begin to climb.

I began to understand just how powerful he actually was. A hope for surviving the Shadow King began to grow within me, tempered by a certain feeling of dread for what might happen after. We had unleashed a power on the world that would probably, for good or ill, change it forever.

Tha-Agoth started off toward the gates. We followed him through the melting snow. When he saw what had happened to his city. I thought he was going to cry.

He turned in slow circles, taking in the destruction. The feeling of loss and sorrow rolled off him in waves.

How fate must hate me to allow this to happen.

“
I don't know anything about fate. I do know a little about time. Nothing lasts forever.”

He stared at me, a grim expression on his bronze face.

Not so, Amra. I will show you otherwise.
He set off to the north. Holgren and I followed. What else could we do?

Tha-Agoth climbed the tower I'd gone to the day before—was it only a day? We followed. “What are you planning?” I asked him as we went up the cracked stairs.