Discarded Gods: A Bastard Cadre Story Page 2

  Sloan, meet me in Eliz.

  There was no response and no other messages.

  Ethan tossed the AI onto the man’s lap and said, “It’s all yours, Sloan.”

  Behind him, the boy asked, “What now?”

  Ethan turned to look at him. He was maybe ten years old, slight with untidy brown hair that hung in his face.

  Fucked if I know, Ethan thought and looked around to avoid the boy’s eyes.

  “What do I do now?” the boy asked.

  He waited for Ethan’s answer and adjusted the strap of a backpack he wore over his left shoulder.

  Ethan held out the laser-cutter he’d taken from the dead man. When the boy didn’t move, he said, “Take it. Take it, and if anybody like him ever tries to get you to do something you don’t want to do, or go somewhere you don’t want to go, you point it at them, and you pull the trigger, and then you get as far away from them as you can.”

  He knew what the boy was really asking. Will you help me? But just as the boy wouldn’t say the words, Ethan wouldn’t say the answer. No.

  “Is that it?” the boy asked, taking the weapon from Ethan.

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  The boy looked at the weapon, turning it over in his hands, the way Ethan had. When he looked up again, he said, “He shot you. There.” He pointed at Ethan’s left arm.

  Ethan looked down at himself. The blast had put a hole in his shirt sleeve, and the exposed skin was grazed red. If it weren’t for his talent, he probably would have lost the arm. He might have even bled to death. He looked back at the boy and nodded. “He did.”

  Satisfied the dead man’s companion was long gone, Ethan nodded at the boy again and turned to leave.

  “I’m resourceful,” the boy blurted out.

  Ethan stopped, his right boot in the pool of blood collecting around the dead man. He looked back at the boy and said, “Then you’ll be just fine. Take care, kid.” Ethan strode to the exit before the boy could say anything else.

  3

  The suns had reached the horizon by the time Ethan finally decided to jump.

  He’d spent the afternoon roaming the city asking himself variations of the same question.

  Is it enough?

  He’d decided it wasn’t.

  Part of him, he knew, had wanted to run into the boy again.

  His determination to leave the world felt tenuous after helping him. When it was over, he’d been in a hurry to get away from the boy and any obligation saving his life might have brought, but when he’d stood in front of this building again, he’d decided to walk the city streets instead of coming straight back to the ledge.

  Could caring for somebody be enough? Even now with the decision made, the question continued to surface, and his internal monolog sought an answer. His head felt like it was spinning.

  He looked down at the street below and told himself, It has to be high enough.

  Ethan’s talent kept him from sustaining injuries that would maim or kill other people, but he wasn’t indestructible, he wasn’t a damn immortal.

  It’s high enough, he told himself and started to lean forward.

  He pulled himself back suddenly. In a voice as certain as he could make it, he said, “Don’t try to claim me. If you try to take me into your realm, I’ll fight you until you let me go. Let me drift in the Abyss. Let me go and fade.”

  He didn’t know if the Gods had heard him, but it would have to do. If he hadn’t spent the last year and a half hoping Maria had escaped the Gods in death, he might have hoped to see her again on the other side, but he didn’t think that would be good for either of them.

  Dead should be dead.

  He tightened his grip on the wakizashi and—

  “Do you reckon it’ll work?” a voice asked in the dusk light.

  With his will gathered to lean forward and fall, it took Ethan a moment to understand he’d been asked a question. He exhaled slowly and shuffled his feet on the ledge so that he could see who spoke.

  There was a man in a long tattered coat with clumps of dirty brown hair standing out from his head. Ethan hadn’t heard him approach, but he stood in the center of the rooftop.

  “Why wouldn’t it work?” Ethan asked.

  The man shrugged. “Is this your stuff?” He pointed at the backpack, the laser-cutters, and Ethan’s katana.

  Ethan studied the man without answering.

  “Can I have it?” the man asked. “You know, after you’ve jumped?”

  The world is empty, except for when you want it to be, Ethan thought and faced the setting suns again.

  “I mean, I could just take it when you’re gone, right, but that seems rude, and I don’t like to be rude. Besides, I’d have to wait around for you to jump and it seems like that could take a while. I’m no good at waiting, and I’m not real good with pain either. So can I have it, you know, before you jump? Like, now?”

  “You’re not good with pain?” Ethan asked, facing the man again.

  “Aye, never have been. I’m cursed. It doesn’t even matter if the pain is mine or other people’s. I saw this woman jump once. Just like you, she was. I tried to talk her down, but in the end, she jumped. She died instantly, but I had to live with the pain for weeks. I wasn’t hurt-hurt, but I could feel her pain like it was me who hit that pavement. It only stopped when I found a vat of whiskey to crawl into. Even now, I can still feel it if I close my eyes and think about it. She hit the pavement face first. Can you imagine that?” He slapped his face hard with both hands, and when he opened his eyes again, he said, “Bang! I bet she closed her eyes. She must have, right? I couldn’t watch the ground rushing up to meet me like that.” He shuddered, twitching his arms and shoulders at his sides. “Are you going to close your eyes when you do it?”

  Ethan felt his mind move to engage with the question. Well, will I?

  He shook his head and asked, “Why did you ask if I think it will work?”

  The man shrugged. “Doesn’t always, does it? Shit might be bad now, but imagine that; breaking all the bones in your body, just lying there waiting for somebody to come along and scoop you up or put you out of your misery. I’d want to be sure if it was me.”

  Ethan studied the man. His entire face was screwed up in a squint against the day’s final light. He broke eye contact with Ethan twice. On the second time, Ethan realized, He knows something.

  “Why jump?” the stranger asked. He immediately waved his hands in front of his chest and said, “No, no. I don’t mean why do it. That’s your business, and frankly, I have my own shit to deal with. I mean why do it by jumping? There has to be a better way.”

  Ethan felt a compulsion to answer the question, but he fought it and studied the man. He asked, “What do you want?”

  The man leaned back, his eyebrows rising. “Well, that’s a big question. Are you sure you’ve got time for the answer?” When Ethan didn’t speak, the man continued, “Short-term, right now, I don’t want to feel you hit that fucking pavement. I don’t think I could take it if you actually jumped. It wouldn’t just be that bitch that jumped and left me with her pain; I’d have to deal with yours too, you fucker. I guess I could deal with it by following you over.” He took a heavy glass bottle from one of his coat’s deep pockets and shook it. It was half full with oak brown liquid. “I don’t think there’s enough whiskey left in Newterra to numb that kind of pain. Following you over might be the thing to do.”

  Ethan looked at the disheveled man and said, “If I jump, I’m saying I don’t care about the world or anybody who’s left in it. Your feelings don’t matter.”

  The man continued to squint against the sister suns. He shrugged and asked, “If it doesn’t matter, why haven’t you jumped yet?”

  Ethan clenched his jaw and shuffled to the very edge of the ledge. He looked down at the street far below, then back at the strange man on the rooftop who held half a bottle of whiskey in one hand and scratched his ratty hair with the other.

  “Because I d
on’t know,” Ethan admitted.

  “That’s fair, especially considering your talent. Shit could end up much worse…”

  Ethan jumped down from the ledge and took two long strides to the man. He grabbed his throat in his right hand and demanded, “Who are you?”

  “The name’s James,” he spoke in a squeak and reached with his free hand into one of his pockets.

  Ethan grabbed his wrist before James could withdraw his hand and whatever was inside the pocket.

  In a whisper, James asked, “Drink?”

  Still with Ethan’s hand clasped on his wrist, James eased his hand out of the pocket to reveal a second unopened bottle.

  Ethan relaxed his grip, but he didn’t let go. He asked, “What do you know about my talent?”

  James didn’t try to pull away, but he stood there, apparently content with Ethan’s hands on his throat and wrist. “I know that if you’re going to do it, you want to make sure you get it right.”

  “How do you know?”

  James said, “I can feel people’s pain, and I know their talents. I guess that’s my talent.”

  Ethan continued to study James, but after a few seconds, he felt self-conscious with his hands on the other man and let him go. He turned his back on him and walked to the wall. He didn’t think he had what it took to climb back up there a third time. Not tonight.

  4

  “Will you join me for a drink?” James offered the bottle.

  Ethan glanced at it then back at James.

  “For somebody who wants to end it all, you sure are a cautious bastard.” James put the bottle to his lips and took a swig. When he was done, he offered it to Ethan again. “Better?”

  Ethan nodded and accepted the bottle. He drank and passed it back.

  James had two more gulps, then asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.” Ethan crossed the rooftop to his backpack and opened it.

  “Aye, you don’t seem like the talkative type. Me, I can barely keep my mouth shut.”

  Ethan took two water bottles from his pack and held one up for James.

  James shook his head. “I never touch the stuff.”

  Ethan sat down with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him. “So what are you, a reader?”

  James took another swig from his bottle and said, “You know, we’ve shared refreshment, I talked you down off a ledge—”

  “Don’t push it,” Ethan said.

  James grinned and said, “I wouldn’t dream of it. As I was saying, we’ve shared refreshment, we’re getting acquainted, you want to know personal details about me, but I don’t even know your name. You’ve got mine. James Tardson if you need the whole thing.”

  “Ethan Godkin,” Ethan said.

  James walked across the rooftop toward Ethan. His feet barely made a sound even though he swayed between steps. He sat on the floor and asked, “A man of faith, huh?”

  “No,” Ethan said and reached for the offered bottle.

  “You don’t give much away, do you, Godkin?” James asked. When Ethan drank from the bottle and handed it back without comment, James asked, “So how does a man with no faith acquire the name Godkin? The Chosen don’t hand that one out too readily.”

  “I used to work for one of the Chosen.” Not willing to talk about his past, Ethan asked, “So are you reader?”

  “You lost your faith; I get it. The Cleansing will do that to a man.”

  “I never had faith, at least, not in the Gods,” Ethan said, putting an edge in his tone.

  “Right, right. Me either. Fuckers the lot of them. I can tell you’re getting testy, so I’ll answer your question, but for every one of yours I answer, you have to give me one. After all, what’s the point of conversing with folk you run across in this empty fucking wasteland if you end up doing all the talking? I can listen to myself any day of the week and usually do.”

  Ethan considered for a moment, then nodded. James passed the bottle back.

  “Okay, Godkin, no, I’m not a reader. I can’t look at a man and know what he’s thinking or what he’s going to do or anything like that, but I do know things. My folks took me to see a couple of readers when I was a kid. Apparently, I’m sensitive, but not sensitive enough to be useful. It always seems to get me in more trouble than anything. A couple of schools took me in, but after a few months, they always sent me back to my folks. Just like with you and your talent. I know enough to get in trouble, but not enough to be useful.”

  “Maybe you should keep what you know to yourself,” Ethan said.

  James waved this suggestion away. “So how’d you get the name Godkin, Godkin?”

  “I told you, I used to work for one of the Chosen.”

  “Yeah, you told me, but that’s not an answer. I could have said no I’m not a reader, but that wouldn’t answer the actual question, would it? And it would make for a shit story. You must have done something mighty impressive to be given that name. A man like you walking around with that name, you could have had anything you liked before the Cleansing.”

  Ethan thought about it. He’d never wanted the name, and he’d never exploited the advantages it opened up to him.

  “Come on, what did you do?” James finished the bottle and flung it away from himself, and it sailed silently over the edge of the building. When Ethan stayed quiet James laughed and said, “Talking is good for you, you know? I’ll tell you what, if we talk all night and you don’t feel better in the morning, I’ll jump with you. We’ll go over together.”

  “Why?” Ethan asked.

  “Fuck you, you know why,” James said and opened the second bottle. “We’re nothing without other people, even miserable uncommunicative fuckers like you. Besides, if you jump and I’m anywhere near you when you do, I’ll feel it, and I don’t think I can take another one.”

  Ethan leaned back and laughed cynically. “You’re that confident?”

  “Aye, you got it. If we spend the night talking, there’s no way you’ll jump in the morning. It’s a safe bet.”

  Ethan nodded. “All right. I’ll take it.”

  James clapped his hands together and leaned forward. “Great! So what did you do?”

  “There wasn’t just one thing, but the thing that sealed it was giving Damorsin’s heart to Lord Duman of Mawtar.”

  James’s expression turned sour. “Seriously?”

  Ethan nodded.

  James shook his head in dismay. “You’re shit at this, you are. That’s not how you tell a story, blurting out the punchline without any kind of build up. What’s wrong with you?”

  Ethan snatched the bottle and drank.

  “If I had a story like that I could have strung it out until morning and had you hanging on every word between now and then.”

  Ethan shrugged. “That’s what happened.”

  James shook his head. He produced a third bottle from one of his deep pockets and plonked it down on the gravel next to him. He said, “I can see we’re going to need this. Look, telling me you elevated a man from being like the rest of us to being a God’s Chosen, one of the lords of this land, you might as well have told me you were part of the original Excalibur crew from Earth. You don’t just drop that on a fella, you build it up and make something of it. There’s so much to work with, why were you in Mawtar in the first place? Did you and Duman plan it together? How long did you know him before you helped him become a Chosen? How did you kill the old Lord of Mawtar and take the God’s heart?”

  “I’m not telling you any of that,” Ethan said, remembering Maria.

  “Then maybe we’ll both be jumping in the morning. Okay, tell me this, how long did you know Duman before you agreed to help him? Did he call you Godkin as soon as he became Damorsin’s Chosen?”

  “It wasn’t Lord Duman who named me Godkin.”

  “What?” James screeched. “So you’re saying there was another Lord involved in Duman’s ascension? That makes a conspiracy, and you don’t think there’s much
to say?”

  Ethan shrugged again. “It’s all conspiracies with the Chosen. Plotting against each other on behalf of their Gods is what they do. That’s why the world is the way it is.”

  “Aye, but we don’t all rub shoulders with the Chosen, do we?” James said. “But you, you hang out with not one but two of ‘em, and you don’t think that even rates a mention in your story. Tell me, do you know any other Chosen?”

  Ethan shifted uncomfortably where he sat.

  “Come on, Godkin,” James pressed.

  “A few,” Ethan admitted.

  “A few! I might just jump now.” James grinned and coaxed a laugh from Ethan. “Ah, that’s better.”

  “It’s the booze, not the talking,” Ethan said.

  “It doesn’t matter what it is, the world is empty, you take what you can get when you can get it and worry about tomorrow tomorrow. My guess is, you’re overthinking it, and that’s what’s got you up on that ledge. Maybe if you let the words out more, they wouldn’t rattle around inside your head causing so many problems.”

  “Is that why you never stop talking?”

  “Aye, it is. Never a saner man will you meet.” James paused, and his expression turned serious. “So you’ve been around the Gods too, then?”

  Ethan shrugged. “I’ve been close, but it’s my turn to ask a question.”

  James nodded. “Aye, I’ll save it for my turn.”

  Ethan tried to think of something, but nothing came to him. He knew what that said about him, that he didn’t care about people or wasn’t interested in them, but he pushed it away, telling himself, There’s nobody to care about. He said, “Ask your question.”

  “Okay, you’ve known Chosen. That puts you about as close to the Gods as anybody gets. Why’d they do it?”

  “It?” Ethan asked, knowing exactly what James meant.

  “It,” James said spreading his arms out to his sides. He glanced left and right. “It. Why’d they cleanse Newterra? Three hundred million people gone, just like that.” James snapped the fingers on his right hand in a loud click. “It.”