The Blackgod

It will be good to see Tsem, too, she reflected, and decided that perhaps her anger at Perkar was, after all, inappropriate. She had never needed anyone before, never been annoyed at someone simply for not choosing to remain near her. What was the point in becoming too dependent on a barbarian she hardly knew?

Satisfied for the moment, she glanced out at the landscape once more. Up ahead—half of the horses had already passed it—she could see a little cairn of stones. As she watched, Brother Horse reined in his horse, dismounted, and added a stone from his pack to the pile. Hezhi thought to herself that she should remember to ask him why … and then she saw it.

Though “saw” could never describe the way her eyes were invaded, as if they were doors forced by soldiers storming a house. Images and sensations far removed from mere vision raced through those shattered portals and assaulted her mind. It was a shivering of the air, like the outline of a ghost, uke her father conjuring, like the string of a lute vibrating, but it was something much more violent than that, a rape, and she shrieked at the unexpectedness of it, at the alien thoughts that suddenly filled her head like crawling worms and spider hairs. She gagged and turned away, only vaguely aware of a voice, shrieking—her own voice. She was as she had been by the River, growing, her power becoming greater as her self shrank away beneath a flood of motives that were no more hers than the distant stars. Then she lost that association, shuttered her eyes against the terror, but it was still there, in her head.

And then it was gone, leaving only a confused memory, a beast who crossed the trail and left only its stench.

Brother Horse was beside Dark, murmuring something soothing. He was dismounted, she saw, holding out his arms to her. She felt, for a moment, that she would not need his comfort, for she seemed not to feel anything at all besides confusion. Her body, however, knew better than her shocked mind, and as the first of many sobs heaved from her tiny chest, she slid from Dark into Brother Horse's arms, the scent of leather and smoke and old man. He stroked her hair and said nothing of consequence. Nothing, that is, save for one brief statement.

“I was afraid of this,” he murmured. “I feared this would happen.”

II Rebirth

GHE awoke. Something was trying to eat him.

It was something massive, an impression of fish, snake, and scorpion all at once. It nuzzled against him, fine tentacles groping at the strands of power that held his life together. This he noticed only peripherally, without any real fear. All of his fear and emotion was consumed in a flame that racked his body with trembling need, a need so great he did not even begin to understand it, one that allowed no space for other concerns. Every fiber of him yearned, pleaded, begged. He gasped and pushed away from the monstrous nuisance, searching for whatever it was he needed so badly. He sucked in a breath and his lungs stung as if he had inhaled shards of glass, and he suddenly understood that he had not breathed in a great while …

The thing took hold of him with cables of living flesh, and Ghe snarled, turned on it, and lashed out with the edge of his palm and with all his objectless frustration. The blow glanced harmlessly from the armored skin of the thing, but at the same moment, the beast seemed to open up, become a fine webwork of lines, clustered about a knot of color so tantalizing, so very beautiful, that Ghe cried aloud. He recognized, in that instant, his need. It was hunger he felt, magnified and distorted beyond all comprehension, but still hunger. Hunger for what he saw, for the light and life of this thing. Howling like a dog, he reached, tore at the rich heartstrands of the monster, snapped them like spider-web. He understood that it was not his hands that did this—he could see them, motionless against the rubbery flesh—yet as the strings of light writhed apart they seemed to burrow into his palms, course like fiery new veins up his arms, into his chest, burning into the cavern where his hunger dwelt and filling it with substance. It was such a profound pleasure and agony that it threatened mindless delirium. The fish-thing struggled, tore at him with claw and stinger, but its life gave Ghe strength, and pain meant little in the face of his hunger. Soon enough, the beast lay still, the last feeble strands of its life drifting into the waist-deep water like shed hairs.

Only then did Ghe look about him. It was dark, pitch-dark, and yet he could see. He was beneath the vault of a great hall, majesty cloaked in darkness, drowned in water, smeared with filth. Water, cold and flat as lead, filled the place. Four hallways ran out from the great chamber, each blocked by a massive iron grille.

“Where am I?” he asked aloud of the darkness. “What place is this?” But it seemed to him that it was his place, his throne room. He could see the throne itself, carven alabaster waves lapping down from it to join the real water. Thoughtfully, he approached the magnificent chair, walking up the steps to it and out of the water. After a moment's reflection, he settled into it and surveyed his newfound kingdom once again.

Far off, down one of the halls, something moved, rippling the water. He could sense the flicker of its heartstrands. That stirred a faint hunger, but he was sated enough to be curious. Concentrating, he saw another, and another.

“You there,” he grated, his voice harsh and clotted from long disuse. “You there,” he repeated. “Who are you?”

For a long moment no reply came, but then slowly, with seeming reluctance, one of the swimmers approached. A semi-Human head arose from the water and peered at him through the grille.

“You killed Nu,” the head accused.

“Did I? This Nu tried to eat me.”

Gar-teeth flashed in the fishlike face; bulging eyes goggled at him. “Hezhi? Is that you? Hezhi, my niece?” the head asked.

Ghe narrowed his eyes. “What do you know of her?” he demanded.

“Ah, so it is not you, not Hezhi.” The head sniffed. ”Not of the Royal Blood at all, but like the Royal Blood. How did you kill Nu?”

“I ate him, I think.”

“Her,” the creature corrected pettishly.

“Her,” Ghe amended. “Tell me, where am I?”

“Well,” the thing answered, now swimming—or possibly pacing—back and forth at the grate. “Well. So many visitors lately.”

“Answer me,” Ghe commanded.

“So many visitors coming in the back door, not down the stair at all.”

“The stair?” Ghe frowned. He remembered a stair, remembered himself and others carrying someone down it, long ago, down it into a black place. “The Darkness Stair? We are below the Darkness Stair?”

“The chambers of the Blessed.” The thing in the water sneered. “Don't you feel blessed?”

“But I didn't come down the stair?”

“ You fell in, through the duct, the one Hezhi crawled through. We thought you were dead, all except Nu. I think she thought you were her child, something stupid like that.” The creature laughed. ”Now I guess she doesn't think anything. Lucky Nu, eh?”

Ghe felt his annoyance growing. Still, he tried to keep hold of his anger, control it, as he always had. “How long? How long ago?”

The head suddenly burst into a gurgling parody of laughter. That went on for some time, as Ghe gripped the armrest of the throne more and more tightly. When at last the creature lapsed into quiet sobs of mirth—or sorrow —it was difficult to tell—he repeated his question.

“I'm sorry,” the creature said. “I'm afraid I lost track of the suns passing overhead, the phases of the moon. Careless of me, eh?”

“Long time? Short time?”

“All time is long,” the thing returned, and retreated beneath the water.

GHE remained on the alabaster throne, ordering his thoughts, watching the distant swirl of the creatures. They were the Blessed, of course, the sort of things Hezhi would have become; creatures so filled with the River's power that they became distorted and inhuman. Here the priesthood trapped them, where their power was nullified by the essence of the River itself. The water in the hall was barely wet at all; it was She'ned, smoke-water, a powerful, numbing substance.

Why am I alive? The thought bloomed like a black rose, always there, never fully opened before. He had thought and dreamed and remembered for what seemed like an eternity; but at the root of