Kismet: A Game of Fates

Chapter 11 - Kahar's Secret

A Truce was a terrible thing. In all this life, she had been warned of the consequences, of the irreparable damage of a single moment.

How easy had the word left her lips.

Kahar watched Asha's blade swing to finish her killing blow. She braced herself for the black smoke that would envelop Luca's body and take the wisp of his baren soul to the Underworld.

The smoke erupted. Not from Luca– from the blade, itself. It engulfed the sword, before its edge could touch Luca. Thick smoke flared from all of the weapons. Mesmerized by the scene of shocked Valkyries, Kahar did not notice the smoke of her own scythe. A heartbeat, and it was fully enveloped; one more, and it was gone.

Her scythe was gone. Surrendered. She did not have time to mourn the weapon. Not while Asha still stood above Luca and her minions outnumbering them. Weapons or not, Asha was unpredictable.

She began to laugh. Chills bit inch-deep into Kahar's spine.

"A Truce– Really?" Asha looked up from Luca's body on the ground. She met Kahar's eyes. "Of all the empty-headed bats– You –should have known better."

"Get away from him."

"How many memories have you given up for this one's life? How many Keres will suffer for this one?" She punctuated her words with kicks to Luca's stomach, though her ward was too unconscious to flinch.

"I have nothing to say to you."

"You will not have much to say to any of them, now that you have lost their memories. How will you greet any of them at Solstice now, Kahar?" It was true– her scythe and the history it held for her past pairs were lost in smoke. She wondered what it would mean for the newborns with memories owed: would they ascend or remain newborns forever? She put the thought aside until she had less feathers to deal with.

"With my Double at my side and honour in my name."

"Is this about your last one? It was his fault for having his wings out."

"We were flying."

"The rule is simple, Kahar: wings are for battle. You know it, I know it. If he did not, then it is not my fault for taking it as an attack– It is yours."

It was true. Haizon should not have been flying. She would not have allowed it, should not have allowed it, had it not been such a beautiful night. They were going to stay above the clouds, out of sight. No one would see them– or so they thought.

"I do not kill your kin," said Kahar. "You could have shown me the same mercy."

The words rang in her ears. The truth had been so tightly wound, Asha's words just enough for her to come undone; a spool of thread rolling down the stairs. Though some suspected her aversion to bloodshed, no Keres knew its extent. It was not her war to win, she told herself, but it was her life to live. It had always been an unspoken agreement between the Valkyries and her.

Until now. Had Luca heard? This conversation had gone too far.

Kahar felt her hand motioning open, close, and open again. She was reaching for her Scythe. She would have to find another way to end this conversation.

She looked around for anything she could use as a weapon. The mortals had left their camp in chaos when the Salamander attacked. Half-strung tents, backpacks with items Kahar did not know the names of pouring from them, and a fire for cooking with no one left to feed.

That caught her attention.

"For an angel, you sure like to kill." It was enough for Asha to leave Luca's unconscious body for a more lively prey. Carefully, Kahar took one step back for every step Asha came forward.

"Ladies, grab the end of the line, I'll deal with" she ordered, the valkyries leaving her side to obey. Asha kept her eyes on Kahar. You believe to be a rare bird in a wake of vultures? Please–" spat Asha, as they passed the tents, then the backpacks. "Lives are the currency of your every transaction. You spare ours to save yours. Mortals are bounties for you to collect, their unspent years more Luck for you to claim. And you pretend to care for your wards, but only so long as they make it to solstice– for your own reputation. You are no better than the rest of them; pacifist or not. Perhaps this agreement of ours has reached its end."

Kahar stopped walking.

The Valkyrie now stood so close to her, Kahar could smell the first day of Spring. So close, she could have yanked a white, white feather from her massive wings.

In fact, that is exactly what she did.

Without breaking eye-contact with the angel, Kahar's hand plucked a feather from her wing and a strange cry came out of Asha, like she had just stepped barefoot on a sharp rock. Her head turned to look at the source of the pain.

She had given in to the perfect distraction.

Kahar jumped back, flying just high enough to grab the pot behind her and avoid stepping directly into the fire. Her hands burned at the touch of the cauldron, but she did not let go. With a quick motion, Kahar dumped the boiling contents of the heavy pot onto the Valkyrie's head. A scorching, soupy helmet.

This time, Asha shrieked. Falling to her knees, the burning pot sizzled against her skin. The smell of stew overpowered everything else. Kahar reached for the peeling knife on the ground, and grabbed one of Asha's white wings. Quickly, she sliced the tendon between the wing and skin. It would heal, but not fast enough for Asha to chase after them.

She had to find Luca, and fast. The other two valkyries would be coming after her and she was out of ideas– and hot pots. Adrenaline thrummed in her veins. She tried to situate herself, and the others, but Luca was not where he had been lying just moments ago. She followed the sounds of shouting.

Around the bend, two buildings held each other from falling, a happenstance-gateway. A river of teal water ran between the leaning towers. The City was filled with spots like these, where the slightest gust of wind seemed like it might crumble the artefacts of a world forgotten, and yet they endured.

Desperate shouts snapped her back into focus.

The Valkyries were flying away, huddled close as if carrying something between them.

She sighed in relief when she saw Luca, kneeling at the edge of the water next to the body of the child he was so eager to capture. His head hung low, his face in his hands. They might make it to Solstice.

"You are alive," said Kahar, treading carefully. She did not know how much he had heard from the fight with Asha. She would have to kill him before bringing him to Solstice if he were to reveal her secret to the others. She still had the knife in her hand, blade hidden against the back of her wrist.

"They took him," said Luca, barely a whisper, "they took Vaughan."

"The spirit? That is strange." Kahar thought back to the Valkyrie who had fought her for the spirit, how easy it had felt to win. Nothing of today was how it should be and it made her throat close up. What could the guardians of mortals want with a spirit?

"They have him– I tried to grab him, but it didn't work and now– God, I was so hard on him. I just wanted him to fend for himself, to make something of himself. I wanted to see him be okay without me and now he's–."

Luca, of all things, began to sob.

"Luca," she said. She knelt beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Luca," he said, turning to her. "Who's Luca?"

Staring back at her were not the same dark, cold eyes she knew and trusted.

Her heart sank as a cold pool of blue drowned her every sense.

"My name is Dan."