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Carver nodded. “That is correct. It only deleted Odin’s ownership, signifying that Daddy’s Little Murderer now does indeed belong to Daddy and Daddy alone. The gods are very particular about matters of ownership and possession.” He sniffed, throwing a casual glance at the katana strapped to Sterling’s hip. “It is why we cannot use Susanoo’s blade for Dustin’s ritual.”
So Carver agreed with Herald’s assessment, then. I threw a a quick look at Susanoo’s sword, then caught a glimpse of Sterling’s face by accident. He grimaced at me disapprovingly, then huffed as he look away. Great. Like I needed to be reminded that both Sterling and Herald hated me.
“Now,” Carver said. “If everyone is prepared, I’d like for all of us to be in attendance this time. The Boneyard is as sufficiently warded as it will ever be. We must be properly equipped to defend ourselves in case Zeus or Poseidon decide to show their faces once more.”
Sterling rolled his neck, the joints in his shoulders popping. “We’ll be ready for them.”
Mason stepped closer to our huddle, preparing himself for the sending spell. “We’ll deal with whatever comes our way.”
From Carver’s arms, Banjo pitched in as well. “Arf.”
“Then if we’re all prepared.”
Carver waved his hands, his fingers leaving traces of pale amber fire in the air. Then he gestured at the ground. Beneath us, flames erupted from the cracks in the stone floor of the Boneyard, a place that I’d called home for so, so long. As we vanished, I asked myself if I was ready to say goodbye to it, the way I would need to say goodbye to everyone I loved.
I wondered if I truly was so ready to go.
Chapter 21
I blinked as we reappeared in reality, clearing the haze of teleportation magic out of my eyes as I did my routine package check. What I should have checked for was my lungs.
It wasn’t just the atmosphere, either, though it was certainly thin, and cold. All the breath had truly left my body. I’d never been on a mountain before – I never had reason to go, let’s be honest. But something about this place was so ancient, so primal, the land surrounding it silver and green under the light of an enormous moon. Being so high up, seeing nothing but rainforest and fields for so far around, palpably knowing that you’re just a speck in the grand scheme of things – it was genuinely humbling. The mountain itself was a peak of blue and gray and brown, stalwart, majestic. It felt as though I could touch the clouds.
“Oh my God,” Asher muttered.
“I mean, I guess it’s okay,” Sterling said. Asher glared at him. Good old bad Sterling.
“Now,” Carver said. “Once all of you have collected your respective jaws from the ground, remember, we need to stay on our best behavior. Mount Kinabalu is a protected site, but it’s also a tourist spot.” He ran his finger up and down the mountain. “There are rest stops at various intervals, where climbers pause to sleep for the night. Try your best not to cause a ruckus.”
I threw my hands up. “But we’re here looking for gods in the middle of a death match. What are the chances of us keeping everything quiet?”
Carver examined his nails. “Slim to minimal, if I am to be perfectly honest. But we will do our best. If Odin and Loki draw attention to themselves, so be it. All we need is the sword, and we will be fine. Now, follow me.”
We followed Banjo, rather, his eyes glowing a faint blue as we ascended what was left of the mountain. He was taking us to some plateau, one we could see from below. Carver gestured beyond me as we walked past one of the rock formations. I did a double take when I caught sight of it, because it looked very much like a human face.
“There is a story here,” Carver said solemnly. “That once, a wealthy Chinese prince found himself stranded right here in Sabah, on the island of Borneo. He fell in love with a girl, and was treated as well as one of the locals, but part of him knew that his destiny was not to remain on these shores. He needed to go far, far away, to return where he belonged.”
Carver’s eyes flitted pointedly towards me as he said that. He had, as always, no way of knowing that Herald and I were having a spat – if you could even call it just a spat – but as always, Carver got it in one.
“So the prince set sail for China, promising his bride that he would return to see her and Sabahan soil once he had settled his affairs. But his father, a great king, refused his request to return. He was a prince. He needed to marry someone of his status, not some common village girl.”
Carver gestured at the stone face aga
in, bowing his head with reverence. “And so the girl waited, and waited, climbing each day to this part of the mountain, looking far across the forests and the hills, hoping to catch a glimpse of her lost lover’s triumphant return.”
The stone face turned a faint, ghostly blue as Banjo looked at it, as he gave a small, somber whine. Carver knelt to rub him on the back of his head.
“Each day she climbed, hoping, wanting, waiting. And we all know how this ends. The prince never returned, remaining in China, as was his noble duty. And the girl, now a woman grown, an old crone, died on this very mountain, still looking across fields and forests and oceans, awaiting her beloved. And in their infinite compassion, the spirits of the mountain turned her to stone, so she may watch and wait forever.”
Carver didn’t look at me as he finished his story, but I felt it stab into me all the same. I wondered if Herald would wait for me. It wasn’t fair, I knew, and it was selfish to expect it. I gave the petrified woman one last, lingering look, bowing my head respectfully as we pressed on. I couldn’t ask that of Herald, of anyone I loved.
We moved onwards in silence, following the little blue searchlights emanating from Banjo’s eyes. My mind was still distant when Mason brushed up against me, nudging me with his elbow.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hi.”
“Listen,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”
