The Way of the Brother Gods

THE WAY OF THE BROTHER GODS

Stuart Jaffe

For Zackary

A great nephew and Marine.

We're all proud of you.

THE WAY OF THE BROTHER GODS

Chapter 1

When Malja returned to consciousness, she was upside-down, tied up, and hanging from the rafters of a study. Her blood raged. Her head throbbed in the back, and though she couldn't move her arms to feel it, she knew a large bump had formed where she had been struck.

The study was immaculate in design, with ornate shelves and a high ceiling. Open beams cut across, and the coarse rope that bound her had been tied off on the center beam. Books filled the room. A dark-wood desk covered with papers, bits of metal, and colored wire, had been pushed against the wall to make an empty space below her.

To her right, she saw Tommy — blindfolded and bound to a chair. Though only fifteen, he was the most powerful magician Malja had ever known. Even Jarik and Callib, once extremely powerful magicians, had to rely on each other to produce their best magic. Tommy needed only himself. That was the reason for the blindfold. It kept him from seeing the tattoos that grew on his body. They were used to focus and create magic. When she had first met Tommy and saved him from slavery, he had only one tattoo on his forearm. Now, both arms and his entire torso were covered in intricate designs.

To Malja's left sat the dark-skinned man who had ambushed them when they had entered the mansion. He wore a tailored black suit and matching hat. Sitting on a wooden stool, he rocked back and forth as he played his guitar — a Bluesman. The thumping rhythm pulsed with Malja's blood and the moaning sound the man made reminded her of a wounded soldier. He never sang any words, just moaned a melody and played his steady rhythm.

She scanned the rest of the study. No sign of Fawbry. Good. That clownish fool could be a lot of trouble at times, but she had learned that he was loyal. If he wasn't tied up here, then hopefully, he had managed to avoid getting caught. And that meant she had someone out there trying to help her.

Breaking off from the song, the Bluesman eyed Malja and his mouth opened into a sadistic grin. "Well, you sure took your time waking up. I didn't think I hit you that hard."

"You didn't," she said. "Just catching up on my rest."

Honest amusement crossed his face. "Name's McGhee. I'm guessing you know I'm with the Bluesmen."

"There are no Bluesmen anymore. I was at their farm. I watched them all die at the hands of the magicians, Jarik and Callib."

"We weren't all there. Some of us, many of us, were scattered throughout Corlin and Penmarvia, doing our jobs."

"Murdering people."

McGhee flashed his smile again. He picked up a small device and pointed it at the fireplace. "Watch this," he said and pressed a button. A fire appeared and warmed the room. "Isn't that something? Cole Watts is the smartest lady I ever met. Makes me think that life before the Devastation must have been incredible. I mean she can't do magic, but the machines she can build — well, they're magical in their own way. That's probably why you came here looking for her. Not me, though. No, ma'am. I came here for the same reason I snuck up on you and cracked your head."

The heat from the fire wrapped around Malja, agitating the ache in her skull. Tommy stirred his thin body but not enough for Malja to know if he was awake. Then she spied movement from under the desk. Watching from the corner of her eye, she tried to make out if it had been nothing more than a shifting shadow or if ...

McGhee set his guitar aside. "I'm here to make things right. You and Cole Watts are responsible for the deaths of a lot of my brothers."

"We didn't kill them."

"Sure you did. If the two of you had never come into our lives, we'd all still be living. But Cole Watts had to have you for her experiment. We searched all over, and when some of my brothers found you, you killed them. But we caught you eventually."

"I was looking for her at the time."

With a chuckle, McGhee poked Malja causing her to swing a little. "You don't seem to fair well when you go looking for her. And it don't matter how you came there. We had you. I know she thought you were special, said you're the only one who can go through a portal without being burnt to ash, but the fact is, you only brought us trouble." Malja recalled when they had forced Fawbry's hand into an open portal and the hand seared off. Was he really under that desk right now? McGhee grabbed her chin and turned her so she faced him straight on albeit upside-down. "Jarik and Callib came because of you and that portal. They may have done the killing, but you and Cole Watts created the problem. And Wolf's right — how is it that the two of you survived? Nobody else did. Just you two. That's what bothers the rest of us Bluesmen."

"Wolf?"

"Sorry, but you won't live long enough to meet him. Shame, too, because he's a great man. He should've been leading us all along. He's smart, tough, and braver than any of the fools we've had in the past. Wolf's got the plan to get us Bluesmen back to where we want. It's going to be glorious. But before we can do anything, things got to be set right. You should've died back there on the farm. So, it's time to fix that situation."

Malja knew better than to argue the details with McGhee. Instead, she nodded towards Tommy. "Let the boy go. He wasn't there. He had nothing to do with any of it."

"I'm not going to kill a boy. But I'm not above using him either. He's going to make great bait to bring out Cole Watts." McGhee reached over to the desk and picked up a small book. As he did so, Malja snatched a sharp look into the shadows under the desk — Fawbry was there, for sure. McGhee went on, "Turns out this boy might be quite powerful. See this book here? Cole Watts kept a journal since she's been at this mansion. I think you'll find some of it to be quite interesting."

He tilted his head back and flipped through the pages. Malja struggled against her bindings but McGhee had done a professional job tying her up.

"Here," he said, pointing to a place in the book, "listen to this. 'The boy displayed such easy command of his power as if it required almost no effort at all to cast. He opened a portal to save Malja and did so without hesitation. If ever I can find Tommy again, perhaps he'll show me how he does it so that I can learn how to replicate the event mechanically.' You hear that, boy?" McGhee kicked Tommy's shin, and Tommy startled awake. "Good ol' Cole had something in store for you. I know her too well. When she talks about you showing her so she can learn, that means she's wanting to experiment on you, maybe even cut you open and have a little look at your innards."

"It's okay, Tommy," Malja said, keeping her voice firm and clear. From behind the blindfold, Tommy cocked his head, listening for clues to the situation.

McGhee turned through many more pages and then said, "I got here another little passage I think you'll enjoy. 'Today I met a very special man. A man named Harskill. He wore the same odd clothing that Malja wears.'"

Malja's attention snapped to McGhee hard enough to send her body spinning on the rope. All thoughts of Fawbry and escape vanished. McGhee steadied her with one hand. "That's right," he said. "Wasn't expecting that one when I walked in here. I was just looking for her or you. We're looking all over for you two. Now I find out you ain't the only one like you in this world no more. In fact, I think Wolf will find this very interesting, if he don't already know. Seems he knows lots of things I never expected. But having another like you — well, that's a serious threat to the Bluesmen, as far as I can tell. Wolf might just be a little happy with me when I show him that. Well, that and your head." He snapped the book shut and tossed it on the desk. Rubbing his belly, he stood. "Another little thing Cole Watts put in this house — a room for pissing and crapping. Can you imagine? Don't have to go out and dig a hole in the ground. Not an outhouse or anything. I swear, since I got here, I find every excuse to go." He walked to the door. "I'd let you give it a try, but the whole point of keeping you alive right now is so I can make you suffer for every one of my brothers you killed. And when I punch your gut and you're all full of pee, well, that's going to hurt real bad. In fact, when I get back from my luxurious piss, we're going to start your suffering in earnest."

As a last thought, McGhee picked up the journal again. "Might be fun to read while I go," he said and flashed his awful smile one more time before leaving the room.

A second later, McGhee returned wearing a ridiculous grin. "Fooled you. You really think I'm gonna just leave you here while I piss?"

"It would've been nice."

"I'm sure." Before he could say another word, a loud crash came from below. Shattered glass and banging pots. McGhee's face dropped as he looked out the door. He glanced back at Malja, clearly stuck. Pinching his lips, his eyes darted between the direction of the noise and Malja.

Malja wiggled her tied body and yelled, "Fawbry, we're upstairs!"

McGhee stomped right up and backhanded her mouth. "Why'd you do that? You know better. Now, I've got to go kill your friend."

Fawbry waited until he heard McGhee's footsteps echo down the hall. With a slight groan, Fawbry rolled out from under the desk, his unkempt hair looking particularly wild. "If he played one more song, I was going to scream."

"Hurry up," Malja said. "Get my hands free first."

Fawbry slipped a knife from his belt and went to work on the ropes around Malja's hands. He wore a stained tan shirt — his usual multi-colored robe would have stood out even in the shadows — and the odor of stress wafted around him.

"We're going to be fine," Malja said, keeping her eyes on the door. When her hands were free, she let her arms hang. Blood rushed straight through to her fingers, pinpricking her skin and relieving the pain in her shoulders.

Fawbry pulled a chair over and stood on it to reach the rope holding her overhead. As he cut, Malja readied to fall to the floor — no way could Fawbry catch her, though he might be able to slow her down. Either way, there would be noise enough to get the Bluesman's attention.

"Almost through," Fawbry said.

"When you finish, get Tommy free. I'll take care of McGhee."

"Already planning on it."

The half-cut rope snapped and Malja crashed to the floor. Only a deaf man would miss that amount of clatter. Fawbry froze, staring wide-eyed at the door. Malja pulled up to her feet, but the numbness in her legs made walking awkward. "Get Tommy," she said, and her voice brought Fawbry back. As he attended the boy, Malja looked around the study for Viper — her large sickle-shaped weapon with both inner- and outer-crescents capable of deadly strikes.

"Well, well," McGhee said from the doorway. He held his guitar in one hand, and with his free hand, he pulled a short sword from the instrument's neck. "There was a rat downstairs. Seems there's one up here, too."

No time for Viper. Malja launched toward the doorway, but her wakening legs moved too slow. She stumbled against the desk, knocking papers and books to the floor. McGhee backed into the hall, chuckling at her clumsy attack but keeping a careful distance between them. He could have cut her down with ease, but his knowledge of how dangerous she could be caused his caution. Sometimes, Malja was grateful for her reputation.

He stepped with grace as he backed toward the wide staircase that wound down to the huge foyer. Over a balcony railing, Malja saw two statues at the bottom. She remembered them from her last visit — one was of Moonlo, author of
The Book of Kryssta
; the other was the Korstra prophet, Galot. Korstra or Kryssta — she could have used the help of either brother god, except she guessed they wouldn't help a non-believer like her. Instead, she'd have to fight a weaponed opponent the way she always had in the past — by herself.

McGhee eased down the stairs, keeping his eyes on Malja as he inched backward. He never stopped smiling, but Malja thought she saw a twinge of concern in his eyes. Not fear. She knew that look too well to be mistaken. No, this was
concern.

"Worried you won't get away?" Malja said.

"I'm the one with the sword. I don't care how fast you are — you ain't strong enough to knock me out with one hit. Even if you land a punch, I'll still cut you open."