The world ended on an August Sunday. This is the story of some who survived the end of everything.
Fourteen
Perched on the wall with Sif at his side, Thordin stared out toward the west, toward the oncoming storm. The faint rasp of her whetstone across an edge of steel was almost comforting, a counterpoint to the growl of thunder.
“It’s going to be nasty,” he murmured.
She snorted softly but didn’t look up from her work. “These days they tend to be. Between the height of summer—such as it is—and whatever the hell is going on well west of here, it’s to be expected, isn’t it?”
“Mm. It doesn’t feel like a normal kind of nasty, though.” He’d been able to sense the storms ever since his parents had been killed, since he’d called that first storm without knowing that he’d done it. He risked a glance toward Sif, intent on her work. He hadn’t told her, though he suspected she already knew.
After she watched me holding that shield during the storm, she must know that there’s something—that there’s something more than just the mortal left in me.
“What?”
He startled, blinking, looking away quickly, back to the sky and the vista laid out before the walls. “Nothing.”
“Bollocks,” she said. The whetstone went still. “I could hear shit rattling around in that head of yours. What are you feeling out there?”
“That’s the problem. I can’t put my finger on it.” He exhaled quietly. “It doesn’t feel normal.”
“Who could it be?” There was a gentle probe in her voice and he knew that she hadn’t meant for the question to sting, but it did all the same.
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I really don’t.” His lips thinned, his fingers tightening around the edge of the wall. “I don’t remember everything, Sif. A lot, yeah, but not...not everything.”
For a few moments, there was only silence before she edged closer to him, wrapped one arm around his waist and squeezed gently. Thordin stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“From what I’ve seen, it’s enough.” She pressed her lips to the corner of his jaw, then his ear.
“Try harder,” she whispered. “It’ll come to you.”
After another squeeze, she released him, returning to sharpening the blade across her knees. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.
Head in the game, Thordin. Head in the fucking game. Concentrate.
Thunder rolled, closer now. The clouds piled on top of each other, then curled back, the squall line well-defined and but moving slowly, still at least a dozen miles out, still over the water.
Concentrate.
There was moisture on the wind; he could taste it mingling with the faint scent of salt—unusual, to be certain, this far inland.
“Wait,” he whispered, standing slowly, balancing. “Wait.”
“What is it?”
“No. No, it can’t be.”
“Thordin.”
He groped for her arm, his hand shaking. Sif stiffened, wrapping her hand over his. Her tone gentled.
“Who is it?” she asked in a whisper.
“The dead have come again,” he breathed, pointing at the shadow walking in the distance, the leading edge of the massive storm trailing behind him like a cloak flapping in the wind. “Anhur walks again.”
“But you killed him,” Sif breathed, her fingers tightening. “You killed him centuries ago.”
“Apparently not enough to stick.” Thordin swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. He felt cold. “Get the others. Warn them.”
“You go.”
“No. No, this fight is mine—will be mine.”
She jerked him down into a crouch, meeting his gaze fiercely. “That doesn’t fly when it’s Phelan saying it and it’s sure as hell not going to fly when you’re saying it, not after the stunt you pulled with the lindwyrm. This is our fight, Thordin—all of us together. I’ve lost you once and then nearly once again. I don’t intend to lose you for good. I refuse to let that happen.”
He swallowed bile, momentarily losing himself in her blue-eyed gaze, reading the fear and the pain that lurked beneath the steel.
“Right,” he whispered. “All right.”
“Go warn them. Tell them what they need to do. I’ll be here, waiting. Go.”
Thordin sucked in a deep breath and pressed his mouth over hers, stealing a kiss that he hoped would give him more strength than he suspected he had—would give him the strength he would need for the coming battle. Sif wrapped one arm around his neck and held him there for a few extra heartbeats, then released him.
“We will have our eternity this time,” she whispered.
Mutely, he nodded. She released him and gave him a gentle shove.
“Now hurry. If he’s here, Menhit can’t be far behind, now can she?”
A shiver shot down his spine. “No. No, she won’t be.”
He dropped off the wall and took off at a dead run toward the center of the settlement to raise the alarm even as Sif set aside the blade and readied her bow.
His heart hammered against his breastbone, as heavy as a ball of lead trapped in the cage of his ribs. I killed that bastard long ago. She’s right. He should be dead.
I should also know better than to underestimate anyone from Aegyptus, too, but apparently I’m an idiot who thinks people from that particular Otherworld are going to stay dead just because I want them to. Nothing stays dead anymore—and they’ve got less reason than most.
Thordin swore under his breath.
He spotted Davon halfway between the wall and the well.
“Thordin, what—”
“Something’s coming,” Thordin blurted, barely pausing. “Get the others up on the wall and do it fast.”
“What’s coming?” Davon asked, spinning to track Thordin as he kept running. “Thordin!”
“Trouble,” Thordin shouted back, then he was at the edge of the tent and still moving fast. He could hear Davon’s quiet curse behind him, but he also heard the other man start moving, too.
His heart had climbed into his throat by the time he got close to the fire, but he could also hear the whistles of alarm being raised. Marin was already standing by the time he got there, her arms empty but the sling she carried her son in hanging loose around her chest.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice steady.
“Something’s coming. It’s not a normal storm.”
The figure sitting on the ground at Marin’s feet stiffened, sucking in a soft breath. “I knew it,” Hecate breathed. “I knew something didn’t feel right.” She looked back over her shoulder toward Thordin, her eyes wide and afraid—more afraid than he could rightfully say he’d ever seen them, though he’d seen little of her in the days of old and remembered even less. She held baby Lin in her arms, the newborn gently cradled against her chest. “Who’s coming?”
“Anhur,” Thordin said, his voice choked. “And where he goes, Menhit can’t be far behind.”
“Hell,” Rory said, shaking his head. “We can’t go two damn weeks without someone new gunning for us, can we? Turning into one of those damn monster of the week shows.”
“This is a little less monster-of-the-week and a little more someone called in backup, if I’m reading this right,” Phelan said, his expression grim. He stepped around Marin and Hecate to reach for Thordin’s shoulder. “How much time do we have?”
“He’s leading the storm front,” Thordin said. His stomach twisted in on itself and he tasted bile at the back of his throat. “I couldn’t see what else he was bringing with it.”
“If Menhit’s with him, the camazotzi,” Marin said grimly. She glanced back toward Tala and Neve. “You two better get under cover with the twins.”
Tala nodded slightly, reaching down with one hand to help Neve to her feet, her son nestled in one arm as Neve cradled little Gwen. “Do you know where Angie is?”
“Probably already on her way there,” Marin said. She crouched to take Lin from Hecate.
“Are you coming with us?” Neve asked.
“They’ll need me on the wall,” Marin said.
J.T. cleared his throat. “Mar—”
“Don’t,” she said. Thordin’s stomach dropped. He’d heard that tone before and the look on Phelan’s face—and J.T.’s, for that matter—told them that all three of them knew she wasn’t going to budge on this. “I know where I’m needed.”
“What about Lin?” Hecate asked as she slowly climbed to her feet, swaying slightly. Thordin’s lips thinned. The witch-goddess was pale. Under ordinary circumstances, while he might not entirely trust her, her magic could have been useful up on the wall.
Except she’s not going to be up to slinging magic anytime soon. I didn’t realize how much that fight took from her until now.
Marin took a step forward and hugged Hecate gently, mindful of the newborn cradled in one arm. “You and I talked about you taking care of him when I can’t. This is one of those moments. Go with Tala and Neve. I’ll bring Lin. I know that I can trust the three of you to take good care of him until we’ve dealt with the threat that’s coming to knock on our gates.”
“I—are you—”
“I’m sure,” Marin said.
Thordin’s throat tightened and he stood mute as Marin gently turned Hecate and started to lead her after Neve and Tala. “That’s a thing I never thought I’d ever live to see,” he murmured to Phelan and J.T., shaking his head slightly.
Phelan snorted. “Well, that describes a lot of things these days. Let’s get back to the wall. I’m sure Thom, Matt, and the rest will be joining us shortly.”
“I’ll go round them up,” J.T. said. His gaze was also on Marin and Hecate’s retreating backs, his voice caught somewhere between thoughtful and concerned. Phelan reached over to squeeze his shoulder.
“They’ll be fine,” he said, his voice firm.
Thordin glanced toward his friend, frowning. He wasn’t sure where Phelan got his certainty, but sometimes he wished that he’d share.
“Let’s go,” Rory said, already walking away from the fire.
Thordin exhaled, squeezing his hands into fists, then turned to follow, Phelan falling in a step behind.
Sif’s eyes narrowed as she tracked Anhur’s approach, squinting at the shadows that seemed to gather around his feet, writhing and twisting. She hadn’t determined whether or not it was an optical illusion when Seamus joined her on the wall, grim-faced.
“That was fast,” she said. “Thordin find you first?”
“I could feel something coming,” Seamus said, his voice low and grim.
“Mm,” she said, frowning slightly. “One of the great hunters has harnessed the skies again. Anhur comes.”
“He was supposed to be dead. We heard about it in the north.”
“Thordin killed him at Saqqara,” Sif said quietly, shifting her weight. She had an arrow at hand, but her draw arm was relaxed as she watched the enemy’s advance. “He shouldn’t have been able to come back.”
“Aegyptus always had its secrets,” Seamus murmured, shaking his head. “And they certainly had a penchant for cropping up just when you thought they were down for the count.”
“He was dead, Seamus. Thordin took off his head.”
“But did you burn the body?”
Sif winced.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Seamus said, then shook his head, leaning forward slightly. He wore a sword strapped to his hip and had a bow at hand. “That’s the only way to make sure they stay gone with that one, Sif.”
“Forgive me if we didn’t have the luxury of immolating the corpse, Seamus.”
“I’m just saying.”
She felt the very strong temptation to punch him, one she suppressed ruthlessly. Behind them, she could hear the sounds of Paul and some of the others manning the watchtower, preparing for a fight. Her jaw tightened.
“I don’t suppose we’re anticipating the ability to negotiate,” Seamus said, glancing back over his shoulder for a moment, then forward again to the advancing storm.
“No,” Sif said. “Not at all. Thordin killed him, Seamus. He’s not here to negotiate with us. He’s here to take down anyone who gets in his way.”
“Well. Why should today be any different from any other day?”
Grim-faced, Sif stood slowly. “They won’t make it here in time,” she said. “The others? He’ll be on us before they’re arrayed on the wall. He’s coming too fast.”
Seamus straightened slowly, his fingers tightening around the haft of his bow. “Then we need to delay him.”
She looked at him with a faint smile. “I’m glad we’re of the same mind in this.”
Seamus nodded slowly. “I imagine we are. Do you want me to come along, or cover you from the wall?”
For a few seconds, she stared at him, weighing options. Finally, she shook her head. “If Menhit shows up down there to back him up, you’ll be in danger from her little true love trick. Cover me and whatever you do, don’t let Thordin follow me out into that field.”
Seamus nodded, expression grim. “I’ll do what I can.”
“I mean it, Seamus. Do whatever you have to do to keep him off of that field.”
“I will,” he assured her, his voice quiet. “Now go, before someone shows up to talk you out of this.”
“Thank you for not trying.”
“I’m in favor of anything that keeps everyone here alive. Be careful.”
Sif gave him a firm nod and dropped off the wall. She landed in a crouch and straightened slowly, staring out over the field for a moment before she started to walk forward, toward Anhur and what she suspected would be a vain attempt to divert him from his goal—or his task, as she suspected was actually the case.
Even if he truly wanted revenge, he wouldn’t come of his own accord. I know that for certain. His death had been too brutal. The man wasn’t fearless. Sif suspected even death didn’t fully erase old fears, and the fear of death was the oldest for all of them.
Even a thousand years can’t erase some fears.
Her fingers tightened around the haft of her bow. She wasn’t about to let anyone take Thordin from her. Not again.
Never again.
Taking a deep breath, she began to run.
Awakenings is a fiction serial written by Erin M. Klitzke. It updates three times a week at http://awakenings.embklitzke.com. Full chapters will be released here on Tumblr once a week.
Copyright 2008-2017 Erin M. Klitzke.
Like what you see? Consider becoming a patron on Patreon!
The world ended on an August Sunday. This is the story of some who survived the end of everything.
Fifteen
Seamus was the only one perched near the gate when I arrived, my bow in hand and a quiver of arrows at my hip. Paul was up in the watch-tower with Davon; Rory and Greg were securing the gates, layering the second heavy bar into place. I could see the Wild Hunt starting to assume positions up on the walls, but none of them were terribly close to the gate—only Seamus, whose back was to me as he stared out over the field beyond the walls.
A chill crept down my spine.
I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I swallowed my unease and jogged the last few steps to the wall. “Seamus!”
He tore his gaze from the field to look toward me, blinking rapidly for a few seconds before he straightened from his crouch. “What are you doing here?”
“Defending my home,” I said as I started to climb up to the top of the wall. Rory broke away from the gates to give me a hand up and Seamus reached down to pull me the last little bit up onto the wall. I didn’t want to let on, but I was still more than a little sore from Lin’s birth. “Where the hell else would I be?”
“With my sister and your son and Tala and the kids?”
I’d left Hecate and my son with Neve, headed for the tunnels and safety, reassured by both me—and Neve—that everything would be fine. Tala had told me that she wasn’t going to stay hidden, though, not now. She was coming, too—she couldn’t justify hiding anymore, not to herself even if the rest of us would have let her hide forever if she’d wanted to.
“Even Tala’s coming to the wall,” I said quietly. “The last time Menhit came, she was able to call the camazotzi and control them like Cariocecus used to do. We’re going to need all the hands we can muster out here on the wall.”
Seamus wasn’t paying attention to my answer, though. He was gazing out over the field again, his brow furrowed, expression grim. I stared at him for a second, then followed his sight-line.
My stomach dropped. “What the hell is she doing?”
“Playing the hero,” Seamus said grimly. “Or at least trying.”
“She’s going to get herself killed.”
Seamus exhaled. “Déithe agus arrachtaigh. I hope not, Marin. I hope not.”
“Why didn’t you stop her?”
Seamus shook his head. “How could I and why would I? If anyone’s got any chance in hell of getting them to talk before they attack, it’s going to be her. She can offer the bastard his life—she can tell him that he’ll live if he turns back and he might actually believe it.” He sighed. “And if that doesn’t work, I’m sure she’s got a plan. She usually does and I’m sure she’s playing things ridiculously close to the vest.”
I stared at him, jaw tightening. “You should have gone with her.”
“Someone had to stay on the wall and make sure Thordin didn’t go off after her.”
“Congratulations. You still have that job and you get to convince him that this was a good idea.”
He winced but didn’t say anything, turning his attention back to the field. I got myself situated next to him, readying my bow.
The line of clouds heralding the storm had slowed slightly, though it hadn’t stopped moving. I could see the figure leading it now, a broad-shouldered man in a dark cloak, a shadow on the landscape. “Who was he then?” I asked Seamus, my eyes narrowing slightly, as if that would give me a better view of the enemy.
At least it looks like he’s alone—but that squall-line is following him. That’s never a good sign.
His being alone also made me wonder where his backup was lurking. On wings, in the storm? Hidden to our eye like the Greys could be?
Or something worse, something more horrifying than either of those possibilities?
“He was from Aegyptus,” Seamus said quietly. “One of the southern groups.”
“Southrons?”
The ghost of a smile curved Seamus’s lips and then vanished in the space of a few heartbeats. “Yes and no. We didn’t tangle with them so much as some of the others did. They were a southern group without falling into the term. Does that...does that make sense? They warred with the Southrons as much as we did, sometimes.”
It did and it didn’t, but I was willing to let that much go—it was thousands of miles and thousands of years away by now. “Right. Keep going.”
Seamus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “He was one of the mid-level powers there—not in charge, but not a peon, either. A hunting god, which is how I think he ran afoul of Thordin in the first place—ranging too far afield of territory and a lot of rot like that. I don’t know. There was a lot going on during the wars and I couldn’t track all of it.”
“Well, you guys had your own problems to keep track of.”
“There is that.” Seamus shifted his weight slightly, repositioning next to me at the top of the wall. “There was the matter of a little war we were fighting.”
“Little,” I said, then snorted. “Right. Master of understatement right here next to me.” I swallowed, tasting bile at the back of my throat. “Give me the short answer, since she’s almost reached him. How dangerous is he?”
“As dangerous as a hunter gets, especially when backed into a corner.”
“Great,” I muttered. “Just great.”
Out on the field before the wall, Sif had slowed—but so had the figure ahead of her. My stomach sank.
“What the hell is going on out here?”
A chill shot through me as I heard the annoyance—and an undercurrent of fear—in my brother’s voice. My jaw tightened and I didn’t dare glance back to see the expression on his face. I already knew what it looked like, anyway.
He wasn’t happy, but neither was I. I didn’t answer him, either, knowing that he’d be on top of the wall with me soon enough—he and Thom both, probably, with Thordin and J.T. likely taking the other side. I’d be surprised if it turned out any different.
Seamus glanced sidelong at me—I caught his gaze out of the corner of my eye—and grimaced. “You’d better get up here fast,” he called, half twisting back to look behind him, down to the ground on the other side of the wall. “There’s not much time.”
“Where’s Sif?” Thordin asked.
This time, both of us ignored the question. My brother climbed up onto the wall, taking up a position next to me, his eyes narrowed, gaze focused first on me and then shifting out to the field. “Is that him?”
“That’s him,” I confirmed. My hand tightened around my bow. Sif and Anhur hadn’t quite met up out there in the field, but they were getting close enough that I didn’t dare tear my gaze away.
This feels too familiar. I don’t like it.
“Why is he here?” Matt asked.
“Not sure, but we’re certainly going to find out soon,” Seamus said quietly. “Running theory is that it has to do with Menhit coming back for another bite at the apple.”
Matt went rigid next to me. “No.”
“What are we saying no to?” Thom took up a position on the other side of Matt, perching nearest to the gate, his brow furrowing.
“He can’t be here because of her,” Matt said, staring at me. I could feel the weight of his stare, his voice laced less with fear and more with horror. “She was working for Hecate the last time she showed up here. Then, after I went with Hecate, she told her to back off, to leave us alone, that we weren’t a concern anymore. Whoever that guy is out there, he’s not here because of her.”
“That assumes that Menhit’s not hiring out to the highest bidder—or worse, gone freelance.” Seamus took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. A shiver crept down my spine. There was a ring of rightness to his words, as if I knew he’d grasped the truth of it.
Behind me, I could hear Thordin clambering up onto the wall.
I held my breath.
Out on the field, Sif had stopped walking.
Awakenings is a fiction serial written by Erin M. Klitzke. It updates three times a week at http://awakenings.embklitzke.com. Full chapters will be released here on Tumblr once a week.
Copyright 2008-2017 Erin M. Klitzke.
Like what you see? Consider becoming a patron on Patreon!
The door creaked softly as Sif pushed it open and Neve followed close on the warrior’s heels as the other woman turned up the wick on a lamp left near the door. Thordin lay in front of them, stretched out in the bed and covered by a pair of quilts—probably Jacqueline or Tala’s handiwork, if Neve had to guess. His beard had started to come in with a faint red sheen in the time he’d lain…
