Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [122]
“My traveling companions,” Rhys said. “Let them go, my lord. They are innocents, caught up in this by accident.”
Chemosh looked intrigued. “The kender claims he met your god.…”
“He’s a kender, my lord,” Rhys said desperately.
At that unfortunate moment Nightshade shouted, “Hey, Rhys, I’ve come to deal with that Mina-person!” His voice and his footfalls echoed through the grotto. “Atta, not so fast!”
“Deal with Mina?” Chemosh repeated. “He does not sound so innocent. It seems now I will have two souls to question.…”
“Nightshade!” Rhys shouted. “Don’t come in here! Run! Take Atta and—”
“Silence, monk,” ordered Chemosh, and he clamped his hand over Rhys’s mouth.
The chill of death permeated Rhys’s limbs. The terrible cold was like shards of ice in his blood stream. Cold, searing pain wracked his body. He groaned and struggled.
The Lord of Death kept fast hold on him, his cruel touch freezing the blood. Rhys sank to his knees.
Atta dashed into the chamber. She saw her master on his knees, obviously in distress and a man bending over him. Atta didn’t like this man. There was something fell about him, something that frightened her. The man had no scent, for one thing. Every living thing, every dead thing has an odor, some pleasant, others not so much, but not this man, and that frightened her. The man was, in this, like that loud and obnoxious woman from the sea, and like the monk who had just laid gentle hands on her. None of them had a smell to them, and the dog found that uncanny and terrifying.
Atta was scared. Her simple heart trembled. Instinct urged her to turn tail and run, but this strange man was hurting her master, and that could not be allowed. Her heart swelled in fury, and she leaped to the attack. She did not go for the throat, for the man had his back to her, bending over Rhys. She sought instead to cripple her enemy. Wisdom handed down to her by her ancient ancestor, the wolf, told her how to bring down a larger foe—go for the leg. Break the bone or sever a tendon.
Atta sank her teeth into Chemosh’s ankle.
The aspect of a god is formed of the god’s essence spun into an image that appears mortal to the minds of men. The aspect is visible to the mortal eye, sensible to the mortal touch. The god’s aspect can speak to mortals, hear them and react to them. Since the aspect is made of immortal essence, the aspect feels no pain or pleasurable sensations of the flesh. The god will often pretend to do so, in order to appear more lifelike to mortals. In the case of Chemosh and his love for Mina, the god can even sometimes persuade himself into believing the lie.
Chemosh could not possibly have felt Atta’s sharp teeth freezing onto his leg, but he did. In truth, the teeth Chemosh felt were not those of the dog. They were the teeth of Majere’s wrath. Thus it was that Huma’s dragonlance, blessed by all the gods of good, struck Takhisis’s aspect a blow that she felt and forced her to withdraw, spitting and snarling defiance, from the world. The gods have the power to inflict pain upon each other, though they are loath to do so, for each god knows the dire consequences that might result from such action. The gods resort to such drastic measures only when it is clear to them the balance is about to be overthrown, for Chaos lies just beyond, waiting eagerly for war to break out in the heavens. When that happens, the gods will destroy each other and give Chaos his long-sought victory—the end of all things.
A god will rarely attack another god directly but will act only through mortals. The attack is limited in scope and not likely to cause the aspect severe harm—just enough to let the other god know that he or she has transgressed, gone too far, crossed the line.
Majere’s anger bit into Chemosh’s ankle with Atta’s teeth, and the Lord of Death roared in fury. He turned from Rhys, kicked out his leg and flung Atta off him. Lifting his foot over her body, Chemosh was going to show Majere what he thought of him by stomping this mutt to death.
Rhys still held the splinter of the staff in his bloody