Volistad’s warning was cut off as the monstrous brute of a priest shook him violently by the neck. There was a loud snap, and the berserker tossed the ranger aside. He tumbled across the ice, limp. No. I didn’t believe it. I stood and stared at the sprawled, ragged body and tried to process what had just happened. Only the sudden drop in temperature around me reminded me of the danger. Behind you. I spun and came face to face with Vassa, the elder priest. His arms were still outstretched, one hand reaching for me, the other gripping a bone dagger. I raised my arms instinctively in self-defense, and then frowned. He wasn't moving. He stood there, frozen in place, eyes wide. What- Nissikul stepped past him, her face tight with rage. She still wore her witch-plate, but she had let the helm dissipate. Her eyes were the same twin black abysses as usual, but tears had frozen in tracks down her face. Her breath came up in a cloud of fog all around her, and even with my new affinity for the lethal cold of Chalice, I could feel her anger in the precipitous drop in the temperature.

Vassa groaned through clenched, frozen teeth, and his eyes moved frantically back and forth. Holy shit, Nissi. The enraged Stormcaller had encased him completely in ice. She met my eyes as she stepped past the transfixed Elder. “Can’t kill him. Not yet. The duel isn’t over.”

“What?” I pointed out at the field. “Didn’t you hear that monster break his neck? Volistad is dead!”

“No,” Nissikul said firmly. “He isn’t. I can still sense his thoughts. He’s alive. He’s in a lot of pain, but he’s alive.”

I looked out at the field. The gigantic priest had thrown back his blood-smeared head and was in the midst of a teeth-rattling roar. The crowd was, surprisingly, not roaring with him. They seemed more shocked than anything else. We were standing on a precipice. I could feel it. One push and the assembled Erinye would swarm us and tear us apart with the kind of frenzy only a mob could muster. But if we played things right….

"Akkandaka," Thukkar said, struggling through the crowd to reach me. “Joanna,” he corrected, seeing the look on my face. “That thing out there isn’t a priest.”

“I know,” I said, “He’s a berserker. Probably this coward’s hit man.” I gestured to the frozen Vassa, who tried to say something. Only a muffled, wordless moan came out.

“No,” Thukkar hissed impatiently. “He’s not Erinye. That’s one of the Children of the Eater King. I would stake my life on it.” Around us, the gathered Erinye were turning towards me, and I could see dangerous glints in their eyes. I tried to ignore them. I didn’t have much time. In my mind, the images of being torn apart by a howling mob were replaced by memories of trying to kill a minotaur with an old billhook. I could see Lot pushing towards us through the crowd, Elder Perwik at his shoulder. Lot’s face shone with triumph. The Master Ranger’s expression was more restrained, but there was violence in his eyes. He fully expected me to fight. That’s why he wasn’t calling an end to the duel. He wanted to be within a striking distance when he did. Everything was about to fall apart. There was, however, a chance that I could still turn this around, however slim.

I looked back at Thukkar. “Convince your master of this.” I looked over at Nissikul. “Keep Vassa here. I have questions for the high priest whose assassin is a Dark One’s abomination.” I shot one last look over at Perwik, who frowned as Thukkar forced his way into his path. This had better work.

I stepped through the crowd, keeping my movements calm and unhurried. I couldn't rush to Volistad's side, much as I might have wanted to. If I ran, if it looked for a second like I was fleeing, the whole tribe would be on me in seconds. As it was, the gathered Erinye were confused. They stood nervously in their furs, watching their Elders and watching me, not sure of what was happening. Many of them were still staring at the mad priest, who was bounding back and forth around the circle, sometimes walking like a man, and sometimes falling forward onto his arms like a pale, hairless ape. I guessed that the thing inside the priest's body had spiked its host's adrenal glands for a burst of hysterical strength and endurance. Now, it must have been having trouble bringing that rage back down. The spectacle was bizarre to watch, and I figured that the unnerving sight was part of why everything hadn't turned into a mob execution just yet.

I let my senses play out in a circle around me, the machine spirits now connected to my will spiraling out to taste the air. I could hear Volistad’s heartbeat now. It was strong as ever, though his breathing was ragged. He wasn’t moving- chances were he was paralyzed- but he was alive, and he was awake. I winced, but I didn’t have time to try to help him yet. The priest. This all hinged on the priest. “Hey! Eater-Spawn!”

The cavorting Kotikedd stopped, and then swiveled suddenly to face me, mad eyes staring. His face split into a wide, insane grin, and he showed me all of his teeth. Surprisingly, he was still capable of speech. “Ah, ‘Chosen of Ravanur’. I wondered if I would get to kill you today.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Please. You failed to kill my ranger. What makes you think you could kill me?” I sent an invisible cloud of nanites toward him, 'and they surrounded his head, letting themselves get sucked into his lungs with his next breath. Immediately, I was able to sense the target I was looking for. Just like the minotaur, there was something metal curled up in this thing’s chest, right around where the heart should have been. Well, shit. That last one hadn't been a cakewalk to bring down. On the other hand, I hadn't been a god then. The nanites in the berserker's lungs began crawling through into his bloodstream. I wondered if the priest was dead, and there was nothing more than a meat suit, or if the original personality of Kotikedd was in there, a prisoner in his mind.

The inquisitor glanced over at Volistad’s crumpled body. He shrugged. “Dead enough.”

"Well then," I said, showing all my teeth in an Erinye grin. "Maybe today is your lucky day. Come and get me." My nanites found the metal creature curled up in the berserker's chest. A commotion had started somewhere behind me, but I couldn't waste a second looking to see what it was. This all hinged on the next couple of seconds. I scanned the Eater-spawn and quickly found what I was looking for. This creature was a machine. Machines needed power. This one, I reasoned, would run off of the bioelectric energy of its host's body, saving whatever internal power it stored to escape if its vessel died. That meant that it was uniquely vulnerable, in a way with which I had become intimately familiar. Like every other non-Stormcaller out here, this man was wearing one of the Deepseeker's "blessings". Though that old man had been conspicuously absent during this whole farce, his works were not. I had recharged one of those devices with bioelectric energy, and they could store quite the charge despite their unassuming appearances. This one was in the form of a simple metal bracer, worn about the priest's right forearm. I reached out for it with a machine spirit, found its energy storage, and broke it. The energy trapped within was released, all at once.

Kotikedd took one step towards me and froze, his narrow eyes flying open wide. His muscles spasmed, all at once, and his teeth slammed together. Something pink and bloody fell to the ice at his feet. He had bitten through his tongue. He voided his bowels and fell, his whole body still seizing even as he writhed in his own filth. The commotion turned to shouts, and I could hear running feet coming up from behind me. "Come on!” I seethed under my breath. “Show yourself!”

The priest’s chest exploded out in a gout of blood, and his struggles immediately ceased. From the shattered remains of his ribcage something metallic and slick with gore scrambled. It crawled up out of the corpse on too many legs, letting out a tinny, horrible wail. It began to scramble towards me, though the shock had clearly wounded it badly. It weaved back and forth erratically, and sparks dribbled from between its segmented metal plates. I raised one hand high toward the cloudy sky, calling the great storm spirits I knew waited far above. Their answer was immediate. A great bolt of lightning dropped from the heavens and smote the Eater’s Spawn, striking everyone around me blind with the intensity of the strike. Steam billowed up around me in a pillar, and I moved to Volistad’s side.

His neck was bent at an unnatural angle, and his blue-on-brown eyes stared up at me with helpless rage and pain. He tried to speak, but I shook my head to silence him. I took one of his limp hands in mine, knowing he probably couldn’t feel it. “I’m sorry,” I said, holding back the tears. In a minute, the steam would clear, and I would need to be a god again. Gods did not cry. “I’m sorry I sent you into that. If I had known-”

Volistad moaned something, spit bloody foam, and managed to say, “No.” He was right, of course. This had been necessary. It had been the plan. I had had my part of it, but so had he. But that didn’t make me feel any less guilty. What kind of god was I if I couldn’t even save my own champion?

The commotion had stopped. Everything was silent as if the whole of this frozen, shitty world was holding its breath. I let go of Volistad's hand. I would do everything I could to save him. But I had to keep us from being torn to shreds by a mob first. I stood, the steam fading around me like a ragged shroud.

The crowd was silent and still, every one of them staring, rapt at attention at whatever was happening behind me. I turned and stopped. Vassa was still frozen where he stood, Nissikul standing beside him with a lazy hand on his petrified shoulder. Beside him, Elder Lot lay on his face, one of his arms twisted painfully behind him in Elder Perwik's iron grip. The Master of the Rangers held a dagger point to the base of the Master Stormcaller's skull and was ready to bury it in the old Erinye's brain. Beside the pair of grappling Elders, there stood a ragged old man with wide, mad eyes, a weapon dangling lazily from his knobbly hands that was unmistakably some kind of gun, though not any gun I had ever seen. Beside me, Volistad began to laugh weakly. Through his pained chuckles I heard him grunt out, “utrezbekan Deepseeker.”