capable of, whatever he would have done, the gods had no power here.
“I know how terrible it must be to be cut off from the Pantheon,” said Altan. “But if you fight for me, if you promise to contain yourself, then you never have to suffer that again.”
“We have become divine,” said Feylen. “Do you think we care what happens to mortals?”
“I don’t need you to care about mortals,” said Altan. “I need you to remember me. I need the power of your god, but I need more the man inside. I need the person in control. I know you’re in there, Feylen.”
“In control? You speak to us of control?” Feylen gnashed his teeth when he spoke, like every word was a curse. “We cannot be controlled like pack animals for your use. You’re in over your head, little Speerly. You’ve brought down forces you don’t understand into your pathetic little material world, and your world would be infinitely more interesting if someone smashed it up for a bit.”
The color drained from Altan’s face.
“Rin, get back,” he said quietly.
Jiang was right. Chaghan had been right. An entire army of these creatures would have spelled the end of the world.
She had never felt so wrong.
We can’t let this thing leave the mountain.
The same thought seemed to strike Feylen at precisely that moment. He looked between them and the stream of light two tiers up, through which they could just hear the wind howling outside, and he smiled crookedly.
“Ah,” he said. “Left it wide open, haven’t you?”
His luminous eyes came alive with malicious glee, and he regarded the exit with the yearning of a drowning man desperate to come up for air.
“Feylen, please.” Altan stretched out a hand, and his voice was quiet when he spoke to Feylen, as if he thought he could calm him the way he had calmed Suni.
“You cannot threaten us. We can rip you apart,” sneered Feylen.
“I know you can,” said Altan. “But I trust that you won’t. I’m trusting the person inside.”
“You are a fool to think me human.”
“Me,” said Altan. “You said me.”
Feylen’s face spasmed. The blue light dimmed from his eyes. His features morphed just so slightly; the sneer disappeared, and his mouth worked as if trying to decide what commands to obey.
Altan lifted his trident out to the side, far away from Feylen. Then, with a slow deliberateness, he flung the weapon away from him. It clattered against the wall, echoed in the silence of the mountain.
Feylen stared at the weapon in wide-eyed disbelief.
“I’m trusting you with my life,” said Altan. “I know you’re in there, Feylen.”
Slowly, he stretched his hand out again.
And Feylen grasped it.
The contact sent tremors through Feylen’s body. When he looked up, he had that same terrified expression she’d seen in Suni. His eyes were wide, dark and imploring, like a child seeking a protector; a lost soul desperately seeking an anchor back to the mortal world.
“Altan?” he whispered.
“I’m here.” Altan walked forward. As before, he approached the god without fear, despite full knowledge of what it could do to him.
“I can’t die,” Feylen whispered. His voice contained none of that grating quality now; it was tremulous, so vulnerable there was no doubt that this Feylen was human. “It’s awful, Trengsin. Why can’t I die? I should never have summoned that god . . . Our minds are meant to be our own, not shared with these things . . . I do not live here in this mountain . . . but I can’t die.”
Rin felt sick.
Jiang was right. The gods had no place in their world. No wonder the Speerlies had driven themselves mad. No wonder Jiang was so terrified of pulling the gods down into the mortal realm.
The Pantheon was where they belonged; the Pantheon was where they should stay. This was a power mankind never should have meddled with.
What were they thinking? They should leave, now, while Feylen was still under control; they should pull the stone door closed so that he could never escape.
But Altan showed none of her fear. Altan had his soldier back.
“I can’t let you die yet,” Altan said. “I need you to fight for me. Can you do that?”
Feylen had not let go of Altan’s arm; he drew him closer, as if into an embrace. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Altan’s ear, and whispered so that Rin could barely hear what he said: “Kill yourself, Trengsin. Die while you still can.”
His eyes met Rin’s over Altan’s shoulder.