From Ashes and Dust (Book One)

Chapter 9.1

The strangled fight for a breath proved two things: Enyalius wasn't dead, and the godkiller hadn't worked.

How is he still alive?

Vatra released her knife. The blade stuck in Enyalius' chest flush against the hilt. She was frozen in place and stared down at the wound bubbling blood. Her legs straddled Enyalius on either side of his stomach, knees pressed into the soft dirt. The uncomfortable closeness to the god she hated more than anything would usually send her scurrying away within seconds. She couldn't find the strength to move.

Two hands grabbed Vatra at the hips and pushed her off. She fell to her backside in the grass, stunned to silence. Enyalius withdrew his arms, and with a firm pull, he yanked the godkiller from his heart.

Enyalius looked at the knife in his hand. "Don't tell me this is the weapon I saw you kill Silvanus with all those years ago," he said, a tone of disbelief lacing his words.

Panicked hands slapped over legs and arms as Revna seemed to mentally check that she was still alive. She touched her cheek before rustling over the grass towards Vatra.

"You would have killed me too, you know," Revna said. A fire flashed in her eyes. Though, it faded almost as quickly as it sparked.

"I'm glad we're all so concerned over my life." Enyalius lazily held the godkiller, enunciating his words with the knife. He pointed to himself with the tip of the blade. "She just tried to kill me."

"I-it should have killed you," Vatra choked her words through a paralysis gripping her throat. "Why didn't it kill you?"

"I don't know," Enyalius replied sourly. He drove the knife into the ground beside him and prodded around the healed wound on his chest with his opposite hand. "I'm quite glad to be alive, though," he added.

"I'm not," Vatra spat. She climbed to her feet and walked over to her knife. Pulling it free, Vatra examined the weapon for a possible explanation as to why it didn't work. It had been a few centuries since she used it.

Do godkillers have a shelf life? Vatra thought. Did it expire like a can of tomatoes?

Enyalius stood up with a scowl. "You are insufferably bitter, you know that?"

"For good reason," Vatra said. "My only regret is that I didn't try this sooner."

"I'd like to point out, again, that if you were to kill Enyalius, I would die as well," Revna interrupted their stare-off. "As much as I can understand your grudge, I'd prefer to have some say in my life."

Vatra peeled her eyes from Enyalius' and turned her attention to Revna. "And what would you do, mouse? I don't know you well enough to care much about how killing him would affect you."

Even Vatra had to admit her words were affected by her emotions. The truth was, she did care about Revna. She'd spent years defending people affected by the gods. Revna was no exception.

"You and I aren't so different," Revna said. She took a step closer to Vatra. "I might not be a fighter like you, but my life is tied to Enyalius just as yours. Over the years I've watched you try to rectify the gods' wrongs. I've always admired you for it. And for that, I know you don't mean what you say."

Holding back a roll of her eyes, Vatra sighed. "You speak so highly of Enyalius, I'm surprised you'd consider our situations even remotely similar. Did he throw you in a volcano, too?"

"I'm a fylgja. Many years ago I agreed to be bound to Enyalius after his rampages found him on the bad side of my people. Trust me, I don't follow him because I think he's righteous. On the contrary, I keep him in line," Revna said. She traced the runes along her hairline with a finger, as if pulled into a memory.