Eight 4.15: The City of Blood III (Patreon)

Author's Note: I'm going to be away for a few days, so I'm posting this a day early. Enjoy.

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This is all Heleitia’s fault; she’s turned Ikfael against me. That was my first thought. The mass of anger, disappointment, and fear swirling through me needed a target, and the stonewater serpent was the readiest one available. The Deer God also deserved some measure of blame. If not for his ambitions, I wouldn’t have been put into this situation.

A second furious pass swept Aslishtei onto the list of targets. She was the one whose offer had triggered this disaster. And why not, I thought. let’s add the Maltrans and Albei’s hierophant too. They’d contributed to the chaos that had awoken Heleitia from her sleep. If the greater spirit had continued resting under the Glen, none of this would’ve happened.

Gods, I was angry. Furious. Upset. I felt like my heart was going to burst and my veins pop from the pressure. I couldn’t look at Ikfael and turning to the others at the table made it worse. The two of us had become a spectacle to the horrified audience watching the drama unfolding. I closed my eyes to shut them out, count my breaths, and bring myself under control.

Inside me, Yuki shook off their daze and started to bleed away the adrenaline. The toxic cocktail of emotions and hormones flowing through me was too potent to leave alone. It was all I could do to keep my mouth shut. If I lashed out in my current condition, it’d be over. History had taught me that.

No, not over, I told myself. Reconciliation was possible, but the road to it became so much harder. History had taught me that.

Working together, Yuki and I created enough space for another thought to arise, Fear is the other side of anger. That was another hard-won lesson—one I didn’t want to examine closely. But experience told me to be ruthless, so I forced myself to see what fears lay underneath my anger.

Loss was an old friend I’d wished never to see ever again. There was no avoiding it, though. Life and loss were inseparable, a yawning chasm whose precipice I’d stumbled toward once again. This time it wouldn’t be cancer that stripped me of my home, but… what? My shortlist of people to blame?

Heleitia really was the worst. If it weren’t for her efforts to manipulate me, Ikfael wouldn’t be doing this. She wouldn’t be following in the greater spirit of the land’s metaphorical footsteps, engaging in her own manipulation—the emotional kind. I’d had more than enough of that with my first family!

That was another fear I was too familiar with: Of losing myself to other people’s expectations, to society’s demands, to everyone and everything that had pushed me to become something I didn’t want to be.

The heavens knew Yuki and I had struggled on that front. Our relationship had been rocky as hell at the start, but they’d learned to respect my boundaries and I’d done the same in return. Now, we had an incredibly fruitful relationship. We were a comfort to each other. Why couldn’t Ikfael and me be that way too?

The question felt like a livewire—dangerous, but I couldn’t help coming closer to examine it. Truly, what kept Ikfael and me from being that to each other?

There was her trauma, of course. After her experiences as Ikiira, Ikfael didn’t trust easily. She was reluctant to form bonds with others and often hid her feelings. She was so tsundere, our otter.

As for me, I… I noticed how I’d left myself off the list of people to blame, which was—if I was honest—an unlikely circumstance. With a sinking feeling, I acknowledged that in a fight between two equal partners, it was a rare occurrence for only one to be the source of strife. The balance could be skewed, sure, with one more innocent than the other, but in this case?

Heleitia and the Deer God had poked my trauma, and in turn I’d poked Ikfael’s, to which she’d poked me right back. We were at the edge of a downward spiral, a word away from the dissolution of something beautiful.

The last eight years were tough; let there be no doubt about it. But those years were also full of joy in no small part because of Ikfael’s presence in my life. We’d faced a lot together—monsters of all kinds—and we’d grown closer as a result.

The crux of the problem was that I didn’t trust Heleitia. There was a decent chance the stonewater serpent was the one who’d put Ikfael up to this emotional blackmail. To what ends, though, I had no idea. Heleitia’s goals were an ongoing mystery to me. Yet I didn’t believe that Ikfael would ever do anything to intentionally hurt me. The potential for unintentional harm was what worried me.

Still, it might be possible to resist Heleitia while accommodating Ikfael. Participating in the peltwei’s Unity spell would reveal Yuki, but it wouldn’t reveal Yuki’s role in Ikfael’s Boon.

I had a hyper-intelligent, symbiotic lichen living inside me. So what? Big, freaking deal. Maybe Aslishtei would lay off trying to get me into her family for real. I didn’t possess a second set of meridians like she’d thought.

Yuki was our lodge’s secret weapon, so there’d be some risk in adding one more person to the need-to-know list, yet risk was inevitable in a struggle of life and death. And that was what it felt like in the moment—my life with Ikfael at stake.

Are you okay with doing this? I asked Yuki.

They joined with me, and our consciousnesses merged to gather the full extent of Ollie/Eight’s considerations. Then, they fell back out to ponder the question on their own. I could feel, however, their reluctance to let go of Ikfael. She was a core part of our family, after all. And sometimes you did things for family that you didn’t like, that were uncomfortable, that were compromises.

Ikfael’s motivations weren’t clear. Was her demand just an excuse to diminish the ties between us, or did she have a genuinely good reason, one that she couldn’t talk about or explain?

Yuki prodded me to ask, so I opened my eyes to do so and found that the room had emptied. The others had left us alone to argue in private. Pings to the team returned that they were at the dining room’s doors, standing guard.

Next to me, Ikfael gazed down at her claws, lost in thought and looking a bit lost herself.

“Can you tell me why it’s important to you for me to agree to Aslishtei’s request?” I asked.

“Yes,” she signed quickly, then slowed to ensure her signs were legible. “There’s a divergence ahead in the flow of events. By accepting Aslishtei’s request, you steer us toward one side more than the other.”

“Are you a fortune teller now? Following after He—following after you know who as a diviner?” I couldn’t help the bitterness creeping into my voice.

Whether Ikfael heard it or not, she answered my question plainly, “I don’t have those skills or talents, but I do have a zasha who owns them. I would be a fool not to listen to her advice. Am I fool, Eight?”

I sighed and said, “No, I know you’re not. But I can ask you the same question, do you think I’m foolish?”

“Sometimes you are,” Ikfael signed. “No, don’t interrupt, just listen. For this place and time, you don’t always fit in. Do you understand?”

The cup of tea in front of me had grown cold in the time I’d spent getting myself under control. I took a sip anyway, the bitter tang lingering in my mouth.

“Because I’m from elsewhere,” I said.

In fact, Ikfael had seen my old world. Back near the time when we’d first met, the fallen god Diriktot had taken her there for a visit as a reward for her helping me.

She nodded. “Your knowledge and skills run deep, and they’ve served you well—served us well—but there are also times when they clash with the paths of those around you. Rivers roil when they merge, that is natural, but they eventually harmonize, the water flowing as one.”

“That’s not true. There are eddies and obstacles that split the—”

Ikfael picked up a piece of fried potato and threw it at me. “Must you always be so specific? I am pointing toward a meaning. Obviously, you are not a river. It is an explanation. An explanation!”

“All right, all right, I get it.”

I waved at her to stop, but it seemed like she couldn’t. She threw piece after piece at me until the bowl in front of her was emptied. “You—you are so frustrating!”

“Well, I can say the same about you,” I said, my voice rising.

“How? How am I frustrating?”

“Remember that giant turd? I was brand new to the Glen, and you sent me to clean it up. There were flies that could chew through wood, and I got stabbed by a parasite.”

“Of course I sent you,” Ikfael signed. “That thing was disgusting. Besides, I healed the wound and made sure our dealings were balanced.”

She folded her arms as if to stew, and I did the same. We were both being ridiculous, actually, and I knew it. There was no grudge for what had happened back then. All I’d cared about was surviving, and Ikfael had helped me do that, multiple times. It was just… I was mad at her and she was mad at me.

Once I’d calmed down enough, Yuki noted, ‘Ikfael answered our question.’

That she did, I replied, but it doesn’t help. The reason is Heleitia.

‘Because we don’t know if we can trust the serpent,’ Yuki said.

Not after how she treated me, I said.

Yuki’s qi spun in a circle, thinking. ‘Which was caused by the Deer God’s interference.’

Are you saying it was his fault? I asked.

‘If he hadn’t been there, would she have felt like she needed to defend her territory?’ Yuki replied.

No, I hedged, probably not.

‘If we met a king or queen, we’d be expected to bow,’ Yuki observed.

I don’t like where this train of thought is going, I said.

‘Why didn’t we bow?’ Yuki asked.

The Deer God didn’t want to yield, I answered.

Yuki was relentless and refused to get off the train. The pursued the line of thought:‘So we do what he wants but not what she wants?’

I took another sip of the cold tea, ignoring the piece of potato that had fallen in it. This time, the taste was salty and bitter.

I… maybe… I don’t know. I was under a lot of pressure at the time. It may be that I clung to what was closer to home—to my hold home, my old world.

‘Do we trust Ikfael or not?’ Yuki asked.

We do, but there’s a chance her zasha is manipulating her.

‘Then do we trust Ikfael to recognize manipulation? To resist it when it might cause her or the people she cares about harm?’ Yuki’s qi stilled, having arrived at their destination.

Because that really was the core of the issue. The realization spreading through me: I thought of Ikfael as being naïve. She was wise and deep, yes, but also a simple village girl who through a twist of fate had landed in a unique position.

On the other hand, I was more worldly, even if most of my experience came from a different one. I’d seen it as my role to protect Ikfael. I came from a place of greater understanding of science, psychology, politics, and so much more. Surely, the guidance I’d offered was helpful to her and to my family, lodge, and village too.

Life was better for them because of my presence. I didn’t doubt that, but I also felt myself squirm as I began to realize the extent of my arrogance. There were things I wasn’t wrong about—the abuse of darklight, for example—but maybe, maybe I had let the rest get to my head.

My efforts to raise the kids right, to influence the direction of our Hunter’s Lodge, to navigate the village politics, and to manage the pressures coming from Albei—I felt like I had to be the pivot around which all those things turned. Plus there was the constant, slow-burn amazement from other people at the number of my talents. I’d thought I’d done a good job keeping that from inflating my ego, but that was the thing about pride; it could be a damn subtle poison.

I felt my face heat with embarrassment. I’d been so angry before, and now all I felt was disappointment in myself. The pendulum of emotions swung wildly.

This was the second uncomfortable recognition of me fumbling in as many days. Clearly, I didn’t know myself as well as I thought I had. No, that wasn’t quite it. I knew myself very well—these behaviors weren’t new; they were patterns that had existed well before my arrival in Diaksha—I’d just let myself get complacent in keeping them in check.

Yuki rode the emotional waves, tasting them as they flowed past and integrating the insights as they came. I sensed a commitment from them to do better, which was mirrored in me too. But what did that look like, especially in the context of the argument with Ikfael?

A simple answer was to trust her and accept Aslishtei’s offer to try Unity. But there was still a chance that Heleitia was manipulating Ikfael. Could I treat them as two things independent of each other?

‘Do we just eat the loss?’ Yuki asked tentatively. ‘We reveal ourselves to Aslishtei and hope that whatever Heleitia has divined is good.’

The scope of risk wasn’t actually that bad as long as we kept Yuki’s role in the Boon hidden. It was just the uncertainty of not knowing what we’d be putting into motion that was a concern. Although, I hadn’t felt any resistance from the Taoism skill or sensed anything from the Deer God, so it might really be okay.

I’d been quiet for a while now, determined to thoroughly consider the situation so that I didn’t muck it up any further. When I became aware of my surroundings again, I found that I’d taken on Ikfael’s favorite thinking position—my chin braced on my hand.

She was back to gazing at her claws, her shoulders hunched. My heart constricted at the sight. My scalp tingled too, like being poked with needles.

The words didn’t want to come, but I’d been in this place before—not with Ikfael, but with other family members. There was nothing to do but own up to the mistakes I’d made, no matter how uncomfortable the process made me.

“I made a mistake in not trusting you more,” I began. “I’m sorry about that; I just thought that—I thought that I knew better. Which is stupid, but there it is. I said it. You know my circumstances. They made me think I was doing better than I was, even though you’ve saved my life so many times. I’ll agree to the Unity spell. My aim is never to hurt you, I hope you know that.”

“Even though you’re willing to leave,” Ikfael signed.

“That’s—that’s a different thing than agreeing to the Unity spell,” I said.

“Is it?” Ikfael asked. The sadness hadn’t left her face. Even though, I’d apologized and agreed to go along with the exchange, she still looked lost.

I felt the clamp around my heart tighten. “No, I suppose not. The underlying issue…”

If I withdrew my threat to leave the Glen, then Heleitia and the Deer God would likely continue their conflict, and I’d be stuck in the middle of their pissing match. Would that be so bad? I wondered. Well, yes, especially if they turned up the influence and pressure.

But that wouldn’t, couldn’t be an every-day thing though. Even they’d eventually get tired of butting heads. And if I had to, I could stay in Voorhei for longer stretches to make things tolerable. Ikfael could come visit me there. I’d make it work. For her, I’d do it.

Swallowing, I let Ikfael know, “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking straight when I made the threat I’d made. I’ll take it back and deal with the consequences. I won’t leave the Glen.”

But Ikfael shook her head. Her signs were slow, but sure: “That’s not true. All along you’ve been planning to leave. To see the world, you’ve said.”

I felt my equilibrium tilt sideways as everything I’d been thinking and feeling went all cattywampus. This, this was the real source of Ikfael’s concern, the reason why she’d taken my threat so seriously. Ikfael must’ve been worried about me leaving for a long, long time.

And, well… she wasn’t wrong, was she? Everyone around me knew that I’d hoped to travel the world one day. To explore what this Diaksha had to offer. The other cities in our alliance were an obvious start, but there were other more distant destinations—Dolbec’s Rock for example or Budi-ei to the south where Albei’s limited stocks of cacao came from. And if I grew strong enough, I might even risk crossing the ocean to visit the lands there. There were ships who made the journey, their crews supplemented by diviners and the element-touched. Surely, they’d want a Storm Caller aboard too.

Since arriving on Diaksha I’d gone from focusing on survival to establishing a home and becoming capable. Eventually, though, I wanted to make the most of this opportunity at a second chance at life. I didn’t want to wait so long to go exploring as I had in my first.

And I’d made no effort to hide that fact from my family. I’d thought they all understood. I’d go, but then I’d come back. Voorhei was my home. I wasn’t so dense as to not realize it. When the time came, I wouldn’t be leaving them behind forever.

At first, I’d thought that my family would come with me, but once the dangers had been made clear, I knew that it would be out of the question. Plus, the members of my family were busy with their own lives. Bihei had her beaux, and the kids were in the process of establishing a business. In a few years they’d be married and having their own children.

Ikfael would obviously have to stay at the Glen, tied as she was to guarding Heleitia’s door, but we could stay in touch through Yuki. I’d be only a phone call away from any of my family’s members. It was something I’d done tons of times when I was on location for the documentaries I’d worked on. My family then had hated when I went away, but they’d eventually come to understand the reasons why. Ikfael would to, or so I’d thought.

“I’ll come back—” I said, starting to explain.

“Will you?” she signed, cutting me off. “This Diaksha forces us all to strive, and there is danger at every step along the Path to Perfection. You cannot guarantee your own safety. Even if you take Snow and your other friend with you, that isn’t enough. Becoming silvered isn’t enough.”

Ikfael paused to run her paws through her fur, to rein in the intensity of her signing. “The wilds and oceans teem with the dark and dangerous. You will head into them thinking yourself ready—no, it’s not a matter of confidence—you will be ready, but then one day there will be no word from you. Only silence when we call. The land will swallow you, and those left behind will be left forever wondering about what happened to their Eight. They’ll lose you forever, with not even your ghost to keep them company. All that will be left is loneliness and sorrow.”

“That will be your legacy,” Ikfael signed with a kind of finality. “Just more loss in a world already full of it.”

My mouth had gone dry as I’d watched the words flow from her. “Do you—do you know that for sure? Like in a divination way?”

Ikfael turned aside, not responding. Or maybe not able to respond because of—hells, I didn’t know—reasons. Spirit reasons, divination reasons, whatever. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that Ikfael was utterly convinced that if and when I left to travel, even with Yuki and Snow with me, I wouldn’t ever return.

“You could’ve just told me,” I said. “I would’ve listened to you.”

“You would have,” Ikfael signed with a sigh, “and then you would’ve trained and planned and developed contingencies—Plans B, C, D, and E. The number of spells at your disposal would become even more ridiculous. You would pile effort upon effort until you finally convince yourself that you can do it. That you knew better than my simple understanding of the world.”

Her too-accurate characterization of me stung, especially that last dart. It’d been right in line with my own recent recognition of how I’d been treating her.

“Unity will help somehow?” I asked.

Her expression turned cagey. “Maybe.”

“There’s no explanation or anything?”

Ikfael shook her head. “I can’t even tell you why I can’t tell you more.”

So we sat for a time—Ikfael forlorn, and me stewing in my gods-be-damned-teenage hormones, trying to think through the morass left by the emotional seesaw I was riding. Well, it wasn’t all hormones. I’d be deceiving myself if I tried to excuse my behavior on them.

I’d let my status and my Status get to me. If Ikfael was right about my future, chewing rocks would’ve been the least of my problems.

So, “Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it. I’ll agree to Aslishtei’s Unity, and I promise not to leave you alone at the Glen.”

Startled, Ikfael raised her head to look at me. “You will?”

I couldn’t help seeing the glimmer of hope in her eyes. She’d really thought I’d leave her behind, even after everything she’d said. That hurt me more than everything else that had come before.

“Yes,” I said, determined to prove she could count on me. “I will.”