Author's Note: As always with Vienna Teng, go right ahead and listen to this song, however you can find it – most likely on youtube, though I think the only versions available are the live ones. I promise, it's pretty.
53.
Oh, my god
What have I done
Chasing some mirage in my Mojave sun
Don't say every chance is lost,
Please, don't say anything at all
In sand and thorns
I'm walking forth
Bare and blinking as the day that I was born
Bells in spires of China white
Ring for an Augustine tonight
Oh now, I'm breaking down
Oh, let me be
Let me be your Augustine
Lead me now
I understand
Faith is both the prison and the open hand
Bells on low on high
Will you ring for Augustine tonight
Oh, now I'm breaking down,
Every illusion in between
All the lies that I have seen
Oh, let me be your Augustine
- Vienna Teng, "Augustine"
The world convulsed around me, shuddering like a thunderclap.
Then everything went still, and he was there, his cloaked figure blotting out the light of the sun.
His grey eyes took it all in instantly – the blade, the blood, everything - and darkened to a grey so dark it was nearly black. He reached out to me. "Rebecca," he said, and his voice caught on my name, like it hurt him. "I am here."
I looked up at him, and wondered if anyone, mortal or otherwise, had ever looked at me like that, like the dagger was in his chest as much as it was in mine. "Hey, Mister Windy," I said eventually. I smiled, faintly. "Glad you could make it."
His lips tightened. He didn't smile. "You need healing, child," he said. His eyes clouded. "But that is not why you called me here…is it?"
"No," I admitted. I straightened, gingerly, though delicacy didn't seem to be necessary. The pain wasn't nearly as bad here, in this dreamy otherworld. I could almost breathe, which was useful, because it would have been hard to talk otherwise, and that was annoying. "I need help," I said abruptly.
He just looked at me, his face unreadable. "Speak," he said.
I considered and discarded several explanations, before I settled on the most succinct of them all. "Bitch needs to go down," I said bluntly.
I knew by now that he'd test me with questions. That didn't make it any less irritating when he did just that. "Why?" he asked, just as bluntly.
My lips thinned grimly. "She's the one who stabbed me, and, for all I know, she's already killed the others," I said, my voice taut with half-stifled rage. The grief was there, but I shoved it away. I'd have plenty of time to grieve once I was dead. "I'm not gonna let her get away with it."
He lifted his eyebrows skeptically. "That is not the only reason," he argued.
I knew there was really no way to hide the truth from him. He'd always find it, in the end. It was what he did – uncover the secrets, the truths, that no one else could. "No," I said eventually. "It isn't." I drew in a breath. "I like this world, all right?" I snapped defensively. I thought of everyone I'd ever really cared for, and, with the exception of my father, saw that every single one of them came from a different world than I did. "I…like the people. I don't want her to kill them in some crazy power-grab."
At that, my god's face lost some of its severity, relaxing into a genuine smile. "Then my gift has not been wasted," he said softly. His voice was like a wash of sunlight on my frayed nerves. Then it turned crisp, businesslike. "What will you do?"
That was easy. "Destroy the mythal," I said. "It's protecting her, somehow. I can't reach her while she's hooked up to it."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving my face. They were as grey as the rain, and infinitely sad. I supposed that he had a good reason to be. He was about to lose another one of his people, and I knew he didn't like that. "What would you have of me?" he asked.
Darkly, I smirked. "Keep her off my back," I said. "I'm going to rain on her parade, but it's going to take all of my attention, and I don't want any interruptions while I'm doing it."
Shaundakul's smile widened into a grin that was almost feral. "It would be my pleasure," he said pleasantly. Steel rang dully as he unslung his greatsword from his back. The shadows lengthened, streaming deep and dark over the sun-bright glass. "Go, and do as you must, my dearest child," he told me tenderly. His eyes gleamed like molten steel. "I will let none stand in your way."
I nodded, peering up at him through eyes that were suddenly blurring. There was a lot to say, but then, I figured that I didn't really need to say it. That was the difference between gods and mortals. When someone could see right into your heart, you could leave a lot unspoken – including words like goodbye.
I took a deep breath – probably the last I'd be able to draw, so I figured I might as well enjoy it. There was no fear left, and not much room for regrets, either. All there was was a sort of detached calm.
I wondered if this was how Drogan had felt, right before he died. I hoped so. I didn't really want to have to be afraid, not on top of everything else.
"Whenever you're ready," I told my god, gravely.
He inclined his head…
…and then the world came back in a rush of color and noise.
Pain came back, too, and I found myself grinning, fiercely, my teeth bared in a rictus of agony and anger and vicious, visceral satisfaction at the thought of what I was about to do.
Nobody picked a fight with a Blumenthal without suffering the consequences. Nobody.
The nerve of the woman…
Heurodis was staring at me, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What trickery is this?" she demanded, the lines of power between her and the mythallar beginning to hum.
I would have laughed, if I had the breath. The wind, I noticed, was changing. "The worst kind," I croaked. "Divine."
Then a shadow sliced between us, whooshing through the air with the whistle and thrum of a very, very big sword.
The wind slammed down in front of the medusa, knocking her right off of her feet.
I grinned even more widely at the medusa's scream of outrage. It was, I decided, music to my ears.
Then I turned away. I wasn't worried about turning my back on her. Shaundakul would guard it for me.
Me, I had some meteorological work to do.
I wrapped both hands around Silent Partner, relying on the quarterstaff to keep me upright. My legs were starting to feel weak, but I didn't want to sit quite yet, for fear that I'd never get up again.
The pain was bad. I tried to breathe shallowly, but every breath was a searing agony, anyway, so it was kind of a losing battle.
Like a wildfire through a forest, the pain swept all of the undergrowth away. Every irrelevancy, every distraction, every weak and half-baked objection – gone to ash.
What remained was clarity, as sharp and bright as shattered glass.
There were no more chances, and I had no more time to waste. No more excuses. Either I did this now, or no one ever would.
Might as well get on with it, then, I thought, and raised my face to the sky.
This far above the ground, the currents of wind rolled like waves. Here and there, there were tangles, where the clouds scudded across the restless sky.
The power beneath my heart trembled and leapt like a nervous puppy, begging to be let out to play.
Why not? I thought. It wasn't as if I had anything left to lose.
I threw the door wide open.
