“I get the impression things are going to get substantially worse.” Eno took the bottle from Drayce, who somehow managed to drink the alcohol without flinching, but then his stomach was clearly made of cast iron.
This time, Vale had no sarcastic comment or ugly laugh. She silently nodded, staring into the fire. “The heart of Zastrad is where the true zealots live. Madness reigns in the heart of Zastrad.”
“Worse than the bar where those people celebrated the death of their friends?” Caelan shook his head. “I’ve never seen such a complete lack of respect for life.”
“And that’s why you need me more than anything,” Vale whispered. She turned narrowed eyes on Caelan, her mouth a harsh slash across her thin, weathered face. “The people of Zastrad have the ultimate respect for life, because only the living can die and offer their souls up to the Dead God. Death is the ultimate achievement in Zastrad. There is nothing else. It’s just waiting for death or delivering souls to the Dead God. All the other stuff humans do—work, marry, make money, buy things—none of that matters here.”
“The suicide rate here must be insanely high,” Drayce mumbled under his breath.
Vale’s mouth quirked in a twisted smile. “You’d think, but apparently the Dead God is picky. He doesn’t want cheap souls, and suicide is cheap to a Zastrian. They believe the Dead God wants those who spent a lifetime in worship of him or those who died in a battle.”
Eno grunted, making a somewhat dismissive sound in the back of his throat. Or maybe it was the whiskey burning away his esophagus. “But he’s dead. How can he want anything?”
“The Dead God is accumulating souls. When he gets enough souls, he can return to Thia and cleanse the world.”
And you’re telling me I shouldn’t be more worried about this when I go meet your brother? Caelan shot at Tula.
The Goddess of Life huffed softly, and he swore he could feel the little puff of air across his brain. Silly lies and superstitions. Collecting souls and cleansing the world. All nonsense.
For some reason, Caelan couldn’t say that he was entirely convinced. But right now, the alternative was Zyros, Goddess of the Hunt, getting loose and turning all of Thia into a wild, no-man’s-land like the Ordas. No one would survive that either.
“That’s why we didn’t have to worry about authorities back at that village. There is no law against murder here,” Rayne filled in. He accepted the bottle from Eno and passed it along to Vale without taking a drink. At least he was sticking to being the smart one of the group.
“Yep. Kill anyone you like. Most won’t blink at it. However, you will get in a shit-ton of trouble if you don’t offer those dead up in honor of Nyx.”
“You mean, they’ll kill you for not honoring the god with your kill,” Drayce said.
“Nope. They lock you up until you’ve properly repented and begged the Dead God for forgiveness. Only when you’ve purified your soul will you be released.”
Caelan lifted an eyebrow at their new companion. “Released as in set free from jail or released as in killed?”
Vale grinned at him. “Both. But you’re starting to understand.”
Except he didn’t want to understand. He wanted away from this country and its people as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to worry about his friends being slaughtered for no reason other than this Dead God demanding more sacrifices. Eno, Rayne, and Drayce needed to be safely away from Zastrad. They all needed to live long, productive lives that fulfilled whatever hopes and dreams they might have.
He wanted to include Vale in that list, but there was something about the way she spoke of Zastrad’s belief system that rattled him. Had she been here too long? Could she even be trusted to watch their backs on this journey?
SIX
Rayne Laurent
The moment the sun disappeared below the horizon, the temperature plummeted twenty degrees. Rayne was tempted to drag his sleeping bag out of his tent and wrap himself in it because the fire was only keeping the front half of his body warm. In the deepest parts of his mind, he could imagine Eno coming up behind him and wrapping his wider frame around him, using his body heat to chase away the cold. The thought alone nearly did the job, but then the wind whipped across the plain and sliced through his clothes.
The thick stew he’d pulled together for their dinner filled his stomach and kept the inside of his body toasty. It had definitely been a good choice and used up many of the vegetables that had been in danger of going bad from their journey.
Vale was quick to point out that Zastrians weren’t big on farming. Their cuisine largely consisted of goat, sheep, and yak, as well as root vegetables and some rice. Apparently, there were some larger orchards and farms to the far east near the ocean. The land was flatter and the climate more temperate, allowing for seasonal farming.