Into the Fire - an Urbis Arcana short story
Near West Side, Chicago
October 8, 1871
It’s been so long since I cut loose.
The smell of blood and sweat. The feel of my blades - sharp beyond sharpness, perfectly balanced - cut into flesh and bone. The sounds primal screams of silly little mortals fighting for their silly little lives, all of the silly trappings of this silly civilization vanishing in the face of certain death. Oh, how I missed it.
I suppose I could have killed them with my bare hands, but that would take too long, and some of them might run away.
The wounds were already healing, and I didn’t hurry them along. I wanted to hold on to this feeling as long as I could.
I turned into the alley. A man covered in blood tends to attract attention even in this wretched part of this cold, dirty city. I’d rid of these clothes, change my face and go down to the Levees. I knew a few whores over there that don’t mind a little pain.
But just as I started to undress, I felt the magic stir. The shadows grew, and men and women in respectable clothes appeared within them.
I counted eight. Their souls blazed bright with power - some brighter, some dimmer, but run of the mill mortal conjurers they were not.
They encircled me, and I reached into the Clear for my blades. They were strong, but they were still mortal. Nothing to be concerned about.
One of the shorter figures came out of the shadows to face me. A figure was dressed in the men’s clothes, but it was, unmistakably, a ‘she.’ Her dark skin didn’t have the tattoos, and her hair was much longer than what I was used to, but even after all those centuries, I remembered.
I liked her better when she was naked.
“Wanderer?” I studied her carefully, looking for any weapons she might be carrying. “How are you still alive? Did the Light God decide to spare you after all?”
“No,” she shrugged. “But when did I ever let death stop me?”
So her followers brought her back. Of course. I kept forgetting mortals could do that.
“But it’s not about me. It’s about what you… what do you call yourself these days?”
“The name I use with mortal weaklings isn’t important. I suppose you can call me Mars. Always did like the Romans. They appreciated me more than Greeks ever did.”
“Very well, Mars,” the Wanderer said. She didn’t seem to be carrying any of her old weapons, but only a fool would let his guard down around her. “You massacred an entire boarding house. For no reason. Whatever happened to the glory in the field of battle?”
“The battlefields aren’t what they used to be,” I said. “These new mortal weapons can cause so much delicious destruction. I can appreciate that. But I miss the days when I could charge into the field of battle and watch my enemy die as I cut his throat. There is no challenge, no joy, no life.”
“So you massacre innocent people,” there was no question, no outrage in her voice - just the statement of fact.
“They are mortals,” I shrugged. “There will always be more of them.”
“I see. And what gives you the right to kill them, exactly?”
I had to laugh:
“I let you in my bedchamber and suddenly you think you can lecture a god. The audacity… You are powerful - for a mortal - and we had some fun, but you need to remember your place.”
The Wanderer looked at me and smiled.
“You think the world hasn’t changed,” she said. “You think that, just because people once worshipped you, you are untouchable. But we both know that gods can die. You just need the right tools.”
I scanned the people around me, and I saw the figure to my left - a tall, massively built red-haired man - reaching into the Clear and pulling out an enormous hammer.
It didn’t look like I remembered, but the power coming from it left no room for doubt. I was looking at the god who, last I heard, called himself Thor.
If I had the luxury of gasping, awestruck, I would have. But there was no time. I scanned the other seven figures… and realized that the power I’ve been sensing from them was a decoy, a trick.
Two were mortal sorcerers, but they were more powerful than I thought. Two of them were gods. And the other three… were Far Siders.
Much as I tried, I couldn’t keep fear from washing over me. There were three Far Siders. Three!
“What is this!” I cried out.
“A group of like-minded individuals who want to change the world,” said the Far Sider on the Wanderer’s right. “The world is already changing, and the old ways are becoming obsolete. We want to building something new, something that would suit the new world better.”
“The days of gods using mortal humans as playthings are over,” said the Wanderer. “Normally, we would offer you a chance to join us… But even if you do agree, your bloodlust will eventually win out, and then… Sparing you would just postpone the inevitable. Lord Oak, Lady Venus - whenever you’re ready.”
The Far Siders’ power didn’t have the same feel as mortal magic. It was more like the power of the gods, except somehow… strange. And when their power created a bubble around us, every muscle in my body screamed to run away, to flee.
I gripped the handles of my swords.
“You won’t get away with this, you mortal bitch!” I screamed. “Even if you kill me, the Light God will know! By the time he’s done with you, you’ll be begging for a death beyond resurrection!”
“You think Dyeus will save you?” the goddess on my right. “Nergal, you silly boy - Dyeus is dead.”
I nearly dropped my blades.
“Inanna?” I asked, but that was a pointless question. She looked different than I remembered - taller, fairer - but voice, the names she used, names that haven’t been used in several millennia… There could be no one else. The eldest among the oldest of us. The goddess of love and war. My equal.
“Hello, Nergal,” Inanna smiled sweetly. “It has been so long. I wish we had time to talk, but you just had to kill all those mortals.”
“What are you doing? This is insane! You killed mortals - thousands of them!”
“I did. But that was before mortals invented canons that can turn fortresses to rubble. They make iron ships that don’t sink! The way they’re going, who knows what they’ll invent next.”
“You’re afraid of mortals?”
“Yes. And you should be, too.”
“The Light God…”
“I told you - Dyeus is dead,” Inanna said, sounding like she was addressing a small child “He was beyond hope, I’m afraid. He started to believe his own lies. Thinking that he was the God of Abraham… It would be funny it if it wasn’t so terribly sad. We had to kill him.”
“How…”
“It wasn’t easy. Even in the end, he was the strongest among us. So many of us died… But at the end, even he succumbed. Perkwunos delivered a killing blow.”
“It ruined my hammer,” said Thor. “Good thing our friends from the Far Side gave it a new vessel.”
“A god, accepting a gift from a Far Sider? This is madness.”
“This is the new world,” Thor said simply.
The surge of power raced through the hammer and the air cracked with electricity.
“You are listening to a mortal! You are letting a mortal lead you! This isn’t right!”
“Oh, Nergal,” said Inanna. “You don’t understand. The Wanderer doesn’t command us. We are a democracy. We voted on it. I’m sorry, child, I truly am.”
But even as she said it, she reached into the Clear and pulled out her own sword.
So that was it. They were going to try to kill me, this insane alliance of mortals, gods and abominations.
I raised my swords and gathered all my power.
Maybe they would kill me. Maybe they wouldn’t. But I would fight for every second of my life. My blades would cut flesh and bone and the smell of blood would fill the air.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
2013 (c) strannik01