Slit Throat Saga 2: The Stormbringer Rises: Slit Throat Saga, #2

By Teshelle Combs

Nexus was a girl. Once upon a time. Until she found metal. And Lorr found her. And she found Behr. And now she's started a war between the realms that hate her and the City that wants her dead. Who are her allies? Who are her enemies? And how many Life Tips will it take to keep the young Ruler alive this time?

 

Prepare your heart for the drama, the adventure, the romance, the wickedness that is Slit Throat Saga 2.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teshelle Combs
• Release date: May 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224560899

Book preview

Episode 87: Names You Shouldn’t Say

Life tip: No one loves the one who asks all the questions.

Nothing made sense when I opened my eyes.

I was in a tree. Well, not dangling in the branches, but inside of a house built among giant boughs. It was a modest little dwelling place with creaking floorboards. I discovered how loud they were when I tried to be sneaky, rolling from my back to my belly and getting to my feet.

I landed hard and I tried to ignore the bruises I knew were spreading along my back.

I was alone in this strange new place. No Stjarna, no Fiel, no Dallr. No Lórr. Just me.

There was a flayme going in a small fyreplace, and a cup of something hot sat steaming on the old table in front of the hearth.

Hello? Anyone here?

There had to be someone present if a cup was still steaming and a fyre still crackling. But there was no answer. I uncurled my fingers and put them around the warm metal of the cup. My whole body thrummed in response, so loudly that no other sound could reach me. I snatched my hand away, looking around once more. Still no one. So I touched the cup again. More thrumming. Humming really. Reverberating through my arm and all the way down to my feet.

I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.

I gasped, removing my hand and sending the steaming liquid splashing to the floor. It soaked through the floorboards. Dark brown—almost black—and viscous. But it didn’t smell like coffee. A scent the likes of which I had never experienced before wafted up to my nose. Something I’d smelled for ages but couldn’t name.

I turned to see who’d spoken. An old woman. The oldest woman I’d ever seen. I realized, mostly because of a little tug in my brain, that people in the City didn’t live to be that old. Drenge was younger than every single one of the elderly present at the Fall. Perhaps only the Bests Of Us got up in age.

Turning my attention back to the mess I was making, I bit my lip rings. I’m sorry, I said to the old woman, bowing at the waist. I didn’t mean to spill the drink or to intrude.

The old woman had knobs where there should have been smooth bones. Her eyebrows were so long and gray that they were braided at the ends, glinting metal clasps fastened to each. Her wrinkles were etched deep into her face. Like rivers through canyons. I had never seen a river or a canyon, but I knew what they were.

How did you get in here? She leaned heavily on a cane made of some glittery, nonmetallic substance.

Without awareness of how rude I was being, my curiosity drew me to the cane. Slowly, I moved toward it, twisting my head to see it in different lights. It was special. So special that it made me nervous. Yet it drew me in.

May I touch it? I asked, already close enough to breathe on the thing.

With a grunt, the woman angled the cane toward me, smacking the bottom of it down on the floorboards with a thud.

I traced my fingers over the beauty of the cane. The translucent material shimmered and shone, reflecting refracted light through illuminating hues. What are these things? I can’t classify them.

Carnelian. Jet. Amber. And you cannot classify them because they are not metals. They are beyond your reach.

I straightened up. Where am I right now? And who are you? What is this?

The old woman—at first I thought she frowned but I was beginning to think it was her default facial expression—pulled her cane back toward her. I have already asked the first question. Should I not receive the first answer?

I swallowed. Forgive me. I don’t remember the question.

How did you get in here?

A pang in my stomach before it twisted itself into one tight knot. Burr. That’s the same question he’d asked when he saw what I did to the tower at the Fall. And then he screamed a lot about ‘my kind’ and war and destruction.

I shook my head, wishing I could erase the memory. Or rather, erase reality. As usual, I am unsure of how I got here. Or what I’m supposed to do now. The last thing I remember was the gatekeeper, Dallr, thrusting his staff into the—

Gods and goddesses beneath, curse that boy.

I blinked. Um...I would gladly leave if you don’t mind me doing so.

There are no doors here, idiot.

I looked around. No doors. No windows either. Then how did I know we were up in a tree? I pulled magnesium to my fingers. Titanium clenched my heart. Then how did I get in here? Magnet stones?

You are the one who breaks it all. The Goddess of Storm, then. Is that right? Fine. Come. I will give you what you need.

Oh. Like...are you one of Behr’s friends, then?

The old, hunched woman reached up and slapped me across the face. It was so hard that I fell to my knees. My jaw is broken. My jaw is broken. My metal rushed to fix it, and I thanked them. They were getting smarter even though I, apparently, remained foolish.

Keep that name out of my mind.

So no Behr welcome here. Where am I then? Who is this woman?

Episode 88: Zirconium On The Rocks

Life tip: Better to vomit on purpose than on demand.

Listen to what I am saying to you. You will fight. You will fight the enemy and you will fight the ally. You will not stop until the fighting is over and it is destroyed. You will tear it apart. This is the way you will go.

"But...my name...it means connector. I am supposed to bring Rulers together. At least that’s what Be"—I clamped my mouth shut just in time.

Build. Demolish. Connect. Divide. These are the same. You are the same.

The old woman scuffled away with her cane. I realized that I was kneeling in the remnants of the spilled drink. The liquid hissed and curled around my fingers as if it recognized me. As if it was...alive.

I waited for quite some time, and when she returned, I scrambled to my feet.

She shoved an object wrapped in leather and linen into my arms. Take this wretched thing. It has missed you and complains constantly.

What is it?

Unwrap it, fool.

I placed it on the table where the cup used to sit and carefully unwrapped the object. Tungsten, the hardest of metals; titanium; and steel. Forged into a blade. I touched the hilt, embedded with the materials I’d seen in the old woman’s cane. The sword hummed to life beneath my touch. With no warning, tears sprang to my eyes. As if I had been waiting for this very sword for a thousand years. As if it had been waiting for me.

And this. The old woman slammed another steaming cup down on the table, using her bent fingers to slide it across the rough wood without spilling a drop, though the liquid sloshed to the brim.

What...is it?

Drink.

I lifted the cup to my nose. It smells so strange. But I felt no warning in my body, and so I took a sip. To my surprise, though the contents steamed, the liquid was not hot. It was, however, utterly repulsive.

Do I have to?

The woman looked like she had another slap in her. I tilted my head back and let the sludge sink down my throat. Can’t be worse than a cup full of Metatoxin.

Oh it was worse. It was worse.

My body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to gag or gasp. I doubled over, retching onto the ground with no consideration for manners or cleanliness. I kept going like this until I thought I would die in that mysterious treehouse under the frown of a mean old lady. But why give me a sword if she planned to poison me?

When I finished voiding my innards, I pulled myself out of it. My head reeled, but my stomach settled again.

There. That’s all the old woman said.

There? I coughed. "You almost killed me. What the hel!"

Were you never taught to mind your drinks? Especially at a place like the Fall? One would think any of your advisors would have warned you.

Oh...well, they did warn me.

Yet you swallowed half a bottle of tainted mead?

...Tainted?

Mmm. Not poisoned to kill. But to influence.

My eyes widened. Someone controlled my actions?

No fool. Someone influenced them. Did you lose your inhibition? Were you sloppy? Were you...careless?

I tugged on my braids, trying to think. Yes. I...I was. I thought I was having fun. I destroyed half a building.

Have you ever thought destroying was fun before?

No. When had I ever taken pleasure in destroying? No, I made things. Stur. My drakon. Even what I did in Shuǐ was to make an escape route for hurting people. I prefer building.

Yet you destroyed at the Fall. Easy to mistake, as building and destroying are one and the same. But it was not you alone choosing this option. You had help. You had influence. She pointed to the empty cup with her cane. The zirconium purged you. Your perception is your own again.

I rubbed my temple, closing my eyes. I started a war.

You did not, stupid girl. You are not big enough to start a war. But you will finish one.

Let me guess. Starting and finishing are the same thing too.

Get your sword and get out of my house. Go back to your Behr. Go find your precious Gatekeeper.

But there are no doors—

Episode 89: The Best Standards Remain Unmet

Life Tip: Beginnings and ends are easy; it’s the middles you need to watch out for.

Nexus, there you are!

Here I am? Where’s here? I was belly down on a cobblestone street, bits of gravel pressing into my cheek. My head throbbed, and I could still taste the metallic burn of the zirconium on my tongue. I blinked, my vision little more than a white haze, my ears ringing even though I knew I heard someone call to me. I shut my eyes again and took a few deep breaths.

When I opened my eyes again, I could make out where I was. The wooden platform loomed above me, casting shadows across my body, blocking out the glow of the moon. I gasped, rolling away and scrambling to my feet much too quickly. Disoriented, I took faltering steps away from the place where I’d seen so many lose their lives for the Fight.

The platform itself had been chipped, singed, and covered in black and red paint. The letters and images were done in haste, with slashed rage. Words like ‘no more’ and ‘the Fight will fall’. There were also phrases such as ‘Meta is murder’ and ‘death to metal’.

Hands gripped my shoulders, turning me around with a rough jerk. Nexus, goddess! We couldn't find you! Why do you keep disappearing like that?

Stjarna. Her white skin and bright hair glowed against the dark of night, though the City street lights cast gold against her complexion as well.

My mind couldn’t reconcile what I was seeing. Stjarna. Stjarna in her full Heim garb, with her face paint and her metal-clasped hair and her behr skin and linen clothes. Standing on Ender Stream. In the City.

"What...is...what?"

We all agreed to meet back where we landed. Let’s go.

Where...what...? I couldn’t form sensible words.

Stjarna led me by the hand, since I was utterly useless, and we ducked through the same alley where I’d left Dahn waiting when I was summoned for the Fall. Dahn wasn’t there, of course. She probably thought I’d died in the mysterious tunnels beneath Ender Stream looking for Monny. I glanced down at the ground beneath my feet as Stjarna led me. Monny....

I found her, thank goddess, Stjarna said, presenting me to the rest of our little crew.

You scared us, Fiel said, throwing a thick, soft arm around my neck. We thought maybe they’d taken you.

Taken me? Who...?

Burr, of course. He’s declared war, Nexus. She stared at me with unusually serious brown eyes, the gold writings on her skin shimmering. You do understand what he meant by war, don’t you?

I pressed a hand to my Forehead. Everything still hurt. And the words of the old woman were beginning to float away, leaving my memory one syllable at a time. I needed to write them down. I needed to center myself. I will finish it, I mumbled, hoping no one could hear me. I sounded insane.

I don’t think she understands what’s going on.

The voice came from a scarlet-headed fox of a Melhoran. He stood in the darkest shadows of the alley, but his gold shone even from there as he leaned against the walls.

She knows what war is, Fiel snapped.

I shook my head, clearing my throat so my voice could finally escape my mouth. I only know of it minimally. We were taught very little about the Old Wars. Only enough to prevent us from repeating them. I have no helpful knowledge. No strategies, no expectations. I don’t know the rules or even if there are rules. I looked around, my heart beginning to race as it clicked into my brain. All of these people from the other realms were in the City. I didn't know how we got here but I knew I was the only one who could travel in and out with my magnet stones. They were trapped. And they were made almost entirely of metal. We need to hide. Now.

Hide more than this? Beijo asked. He gestured around. We are already crouching in this dirty alley like caats stealing rhats.

It’s not even dirty here, Vetroue argued. There is no ash coating the ground or walls. I think it’s quite pleasant.

Not all of us live in a trash volcano, Vertroue. I have standards.

No. Your standards have you.

What does that even mean?

I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Beijo. You are too busy worshiping your precious standards to learn any words of wisdom from holy texts, Vertroue said, her voice calm but filled with venom.

Guys, shut up. Shut up! Fiel interjected, raising one hand.

Yes, please shut up, Mil muttered, still sulking in his corner.

You too, Mil. Shut it. Then Fiel pulled metal to her palm, wearing it like a slick glove. "Feel those vibrations? Someone...something is coming."

Episode 91: New Monsters In An Old City

Life tip: Sometimes the best allies make terrible friends.

We pressed into the shadows, keeping close to the alley walls. Fiel rested her metal hand on the ground.

What is it? I asked.

It’s something...wild? It moves quickly and it roars constantly. You might be able to hear it soon.

I shook my head. But we don’t have monsters in the City.

Wait. Which realm is this? Vertroue asked. None of us recognized it, and Dallr is nowhere to be found.

The City. Where I’m from. Only I don’t know how we got here and I don’t know how to get you out.

If this is your home, could we not stay a while? she asked. We could use some rest. And a place to strategize.

Oh, no, no. No. We need to get you out of here immediately. As soon as possible.

It was Dallr, no? Beijo interrupted. With his stick thing. He mimicked banging an invisible staff into the ground. We all went flying.

Warning, Stjarna said, her hand to her belly. I felt it too, churning deep inside me. Like my body had an ancient alarm system installed and it was going off.

What warning? Beijo asked, crouching next to my sister.

You don’t get those? Like...a feeling that tells you when you’re in trouble? Varying degrees of danger?

Beijo scoffed. You mean gas? That’s disgusting, Stjar.

Don’t call me Stjar, my sister snapped. Use my full name.

Beijo scoffed. If I had that much gas, I’d be grumpy too.

I’m not grumpy, idiot, I’m trying to save your stupid life. Though I don’t know why I’m trying so hard. It’s basically worthless.

"I’m not asking you for help, Stjar."

Silence is the most sensible way forward, Vertroue added. It is pointless to both hide and argue.

Similar to pointless warning systems, Beijo chuckled.

Fiel growled. Even without a warning system, I know when we should keep our mouths closed, she said. "Talking fixes nothing if you never learn to shut up."

They all fell silent, and Stjarna glared through the dark for a long time. You don’t have to be an arsehole, Fiel.

"Goddess, Stjarna, not now."

Oh? Then when? When is a good time for you?

I was grateful Fiel didn’t answer.

So they do already know each other. I suspected they might have all crossed paths, but the bite in their words stung of messy pasts and damaged feelings. I pushed their turbulence out of mind. The warning in my stomach told me that the danger level was high. I readied myself for a fight in case cowering failed us and Morals found us.

Fiel was right. After a few more moments, I heard a rumble approaching. It was a familiar sound, yet foreign. Like a normal City transport, but much more intense and traveling faster than I expected. There were limits for our speed in the City, and most vehicles were pre-programmed at the House Of Forms to maintain those speeds unless manually overridden, and then if one chose to take manual control, that override would have to be explained to the Fenders at the House Of Houses. If the violation was uncalled for, extra service would be required. Repeat offenders would be taken to the House Of Certainty for questioning.

But the machine that zoomed towards us was not a transport. It revved by on two wheels, lights beaming and blinking. A rider sat on top of it, straddling it like they would a hørs. Except a hørs didn’t have that kind of power.

What on Aarde is that thing?

It must have heard me, because it circled back around and headed our way.

Episode 92: Truth And Lies Are Equally Terrifying

Life Tip: Know the difference between cowardice and caution.

The mechanical beast on two large wheels peeled to a stop in front of the alley. Whoever rode on top climbed off and turned toward us. The closer they got, the more I could make out details under the streetlights from where we crouched in the shadows.

What do we do? Beijo asked. Attack?

Maybe we run, Fiel answered. Which direction, Nexus? How do we get out of here?

No, we don’t run. Not if we don’t know what that is. We wouldn’t know which way to go.

What do you mean ‘what it is’? Stjarna asked.

It could be a Former, a Fender. I have no idea. I’ve never seen anything like that in the City.

You are speaking a different language right now, Stjarna said. I don’t know what any of that means...but you seem different than usual. It is kind of freaking me out, Nex.

I nodded, only half listening. The other half of my attention went to imagining my half-sister being dragged onto the wooden platform by a couple of Morals. The Best Of Us spinning and clapping and praising God that the Fight would continue, that they had found yet another Meta to set back on the right path. That the wrongs of the City would be righted as her blood ran clear down Ender Stream.

She’s scared, Mil chimed in, as if the notion amused him. We’ve all allied ourselves to a coward. Wonderful.

She’s not a coward, Stjarna snapped. You have no idea what you’re talking about, Mil. She’s braver than all of us combined. Why don’t you shut up? It’s probably the most useful thing you could do right now.

Mil chuckled, his gold writing catching the tiny bits of light that bled through the shadows. Looks like you’re scared too, Stjar.

"Do not call me Stjar, Stjarna said far too loudly. We’re not friends, Mil."

"You’re acting like that was my decision, Stjarna," he fyred back.

I blinked, asking iridium if there was any way to sharpen my eyesight. With a hiss, the regal metal obliged, and I felt the rods and cones of my eyes strain to adjust in compliance, the metal coaxing them along. I imagined a Wizen would love to know that such a thing was biologically possible. With metal, they could stop prescribing spectacles altogether.

My vision improved, and I could make out more of the rider. A fit black and gray coat made of what looked like wool. And a black synthetix helmet that gleamed as they turned their head to check for bystanders.

I readied my metal for combat. The warning in my stomach was so strong it made my hands shake. I wondered if the god of the Fight would hear me if I prayed. Or if I’d have better luck with the gods and goddesses of the realms. I ended up praying to no one and hoping I didn’t accidentally call Lórr for help.

The helmeted figure seemed slim enough, but there was no way for me to tell who they were beneath their uniform. I had never seen anything like it. A Fender? A Former? What happened in the City while I was away at the Fall potentially destroying all of Aarde? I thought...time was meant to remain at a standstill.

The figure stood still. I couldn’t see their eyes, but it seemed they were staring directly at us. Directly at me. The moments passed with excruciating slowness. They were calculating, that was for sure. How to kill us? I had no idea.

Nothing to report out here, they said to someone I couldn’t see. Must have been a false alarm.

It clicked into place in my mind. Wool. They were dressed in wool. Like what Morals wore for their uniforms.

The figure turned and went back the way they came, mounting the mechanical beast and roaring it to life again as they zoomed away down Ender Stream and off into the night.

Oh goddess, that was close, Fiel said, sighing with relief. But how did they not see us? Did one of you pull up a cloak? You know...that would have been smart.

Mutterings that meant none of us were smart enough to have done any such thing.

Do you know who it was, Nex? Fiel asked.

I shook my head, standing to my feet and wiping sweaty hands on my dress. I was lying, of course, about not knowing the identity of the wool-clad rider. I would know that voice anywhere.

Sisters never forget.

Episode 93: There Are Bins

Life Tip: The most urgent problems are never the loudest.

Titanium held my heart together as I walked a cluster of metal-laden Rulers through back alleys, dodging streetlights on our way to my flat. I shushed them fourteen times, but it did little to quell their bickering.

We have curfews here. You’ll get us all caught. Please keep quiet.

What’s a curfew? Fiel asked.

It’s when you must go to your hammock before the ash coats your lungs, Vertroue answered. We have this in Rykdom.

I pressed magnesium directly to my temples. No. It has nothing to do with ash. It has everything to do with Morals dragging us all to the House Of Certainty for questioning.

What’s the ‘House Of Certainty’? Vertroue asked.

It’s bad. Just...shhh.

The front door to my flat was locked, so I wiggled the synthetix handle.

Why don’t you have metal locks here? Fiel asked. This is tiresome.

Because they are tiresome people is my guess, Mil answered.

I knocked lightly on the door. All the lights were out, but at this hour, someone had to be home.

The handle clicked, and the door creaked open. Dahn’s scowl peeked through the crack.

Oh my god, Nexus, what the himmin and hel?

Dahn, hey. Let me in. Why are you creeping behind the door like that?

Because you have brought a band of mongrels with you, and they look iffy. Blink twice if they’re forcing you to be here.

No one is forcing me. Let us in.

Dahn pursed perfect lips. You blinked twice.

No, I blinked a normal amount. I wasn’t counting. I’m not under duress. Distress? Yes. Duress? No. Now move, or I’ll kick the door down. This is my home.

Alright, alright. Dahn opened the door so the Rulers could flood in, elbowing one another for first place.

Why is it so dark in here? I asked, pulling my magnesium back into my fingers since we were finally safe. Well...relatively safe. Safer than we were stomping around Ender Stream.

So they don’t cycle past and investigate us, Dahn answered as if it were an obvious response. As if I should have thought of that myself.

What’s cycling past?

Well—Dahn glared at me—you’ve been gone so long, I guess you wouldn’t know, would you?

The lot of us froze, each face staring at Dahn. What do you mean, ‘gone so long’? I asked on all of our behalves. We could only have been gone a short while. The Fall—it’s outside of time.

I don’t know what the Fall is, but you’ve been gone for months, Nex. Months. I thought you died under the Stream in those tunnels. I thought you were being held prisoner alongside Monny. I thought...but I’m always thinking you’re dead, and you never seem to manage it.

Should I hug you?

No, she snapped. Her hair was wavy from the Wizen braids she must have worn all day at the House Of Reason. You’re the least reliable friend on Aarde, Nexus Aerixon. I don’t want anything from you. Definitely not a hug. She motioned to my friends. Who are these? Our replacements?

You wish, Stjarna said, looking Dahn over with a sneer. We’re the upgrade.

Oh? Dahn clenched her fists. How about I upgrade your pretty little face? You don’t know me! Don’t come into my—

I stepped between them and put my hands up. Enough, enough. We have no time for this. What we need is to find the most pressing emergency. Who needs immediate help? Who needs our attention first? Then we’re going to go to sleep. And tomorrow morning, we will start with the most urgent task.

I vote on getting the hel out of here, Beijo said.

Yes, agreed Fiel with an enthusiastic nod.

I’m here to help Nexus, Stjarna said. I’m not going anywhere unless she is.

Where there is injustice, there I stand, Vertroue added.

This seems like a mess, Mil said with a smirk. I can’t look away from a decent mess.

Cool, I said, nodding. That was heartfelt and mostly unhelpful. I sighed. Dahn, what about you? What do you need?

Well...everything is terrible and the whole City is crumbling, so...yeah, I’d say we need help.

Crumbling? I asked, a solid lump in my throat.

Oh yes. Like...there’s a bin for bodies outside the House Of Certainty.

Immediately, sweat broke out on my forehead. I swallowed and I couldn’t remember my throat ever being so dry. Is this my fault? Is it the war Burr warned he would rage? Or did he also disappear for months? God, I hope he is busy getting smacked around in some old lady’s tree. Alright. We’ll start there.

Episode 94: Relics And Razers And Those In Between

Life Tip: Factions never die.

You people don’t believe in sleep? Mil griped. He rifled through our cabinets in the dark. Or lights? Or food?

Ignore him, I told Dahn. That strategy has been working great for me so far.

But she was biting her lip, the cloak hiding her steel