The Crippled God

two remained behind. Kalt Urmanal of the Orshayn T’lan Imass ignored the command of his clan, the pressure of its will. Trembling, he held himself against the sweep of that dread tide pulling so insistently into the First Sword’s shadow.
    He would not bow to Onos T’oolan. And much as he yearned to fall to insensate dust, releasing for ever his tortured spirit, instead he held his place, surrounded by half-devoured corpses – eye sockets plucked clean, soft lips and cheeks stripped away by eager beaks – and grasped in both hands the crumbling madness of all that life – and death – had delivered to him.
    But he knew with desolation as abject as anything he had felt before that there would be no gift of peace, not for him nor for any of the others, and that even dissolution might prove unequal to the task of cleansing his soul.
    The flint sword in his hand was heavy, as if caked in mud. If only it was . His bones, hardened to stone, wrapped round him like a cage of vast, crushing weight.
    As dawn rose on the fourth day, as the screams in his skull broke like sand before the wind, he lifted his head and looked across to the one other who had not yielded to the First Sword’s ineffable summons.
    A Bonecaster of the Brold clan. Of the Second Ritual, the Failed Ritual. And if only it had failed. Knife Drip, such a sweet name, such a prophetic name . ‘This,’ said Kalt Urmanal, ‘is the Ritual you sought, Nom Kala. This is the escape you desired.’ He gestured with his free hand. ‘Your escape from these … children. Who would, in years to come – years they no longer have awaiting them – who would, then, have hunted down your kin. Your mate, your children. They would have killed you all without a moment’s thought. In their eyes, you were beasts. You were less than they were, and so you deserved less.’
    ‘The beast,’ she said, ‘that dies at the hand of a human remains innocent.’
    ‘While that human cannot make the same claim.’
    ‘Can they not?’
    Kalt Urmanal tilted his head, studied the white-fur-clad woman. ‘The hunter finds justification.’
    ‘Need suffices.’
    ‘And the murderer?’
    ‘Need suffices.’
    ‘Then we are all cursed to commit endless crimes, and this is our eternal fate. And it is our gift to justify all that we do.’ But this is no gift . ‘Tell me, Nom Kala, do you feel innocent?’
    ‘I feel nothing.’
    ‘I do not believe you.’
    ‘I feel nothing because there is nothing left.’
    ‘Very well. Now I believe you, Nom Kala.’ He scanned the field of slaughter. ‘It was my thought to stand here until their very bones vanished beneath the thin soil, hid inside brush and grasses. Until nothing remained of what has happened here.’ He paused, and then said again, ‘It was my thought.’
    ‘You will find no penance, Kalt Urmanal.’
    ‘Ah. Yes, that was the word I sought. I had forgotten it.’
    ‘As you would.’
    ‘As I would.’
    Neither spoke again until the sun had once more vanished, yielding the sky to the Jade Strangers and the broken moon that was rising fitfully in the northeast. Then Kalt Urmanal hefted his weapon. ‘I smell blood.’
    Nom Kala stirred. ‘Yes,’ she said.
    ‘Immortal blood, not yet spilled, but … soon.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘In moments of murder,’ said Kalt Urmanal, ‘the world laughs.’
    ‘Your thoughts are harsh,’ replied Nom Kala, settling her hair-matted mace in its sling draped across her back. She collected her harpoons.
    ‘Are they? Nom Kala, have you ever known a world at peace? I knowthe answer. I have existed far longer than you, and in that time there was no peace. Ever.’
    ‘I have known moments of peace,’ she said, facing him. ‘It is foolish to expect more than that, Kalt Urmanal.’
    ‘Do you seek such a moment now?’
    She hesitated and then said, ‘Perhaps.’
    ‘Then I shall accompany you. We shall journey to find it. That single, most precious moment.’
    ‘Do not cling to hope.’
    ‘No, I shall cling to you, Nom Kala.’
    She flinched. ‘Do not do that,’ she whispered.
    ‘I can see you were beautiful once. And now, for the yearning in your empty heart, you are beautiful again.’
    ‘Will you so torment me? If so, do not journey with me, I beg you.’
    ‘I shall be silent at your side, unless you choose otherwise, Nom Kala. Look at us, we two remain. Deathless, and so well suited to this search for a moment of peace. Shall we begin?’
    Saying nothing, she began walking.
    As