Read Younger Gods 1: The Younger Gods for Free Online Page A

could feel the cold in my bones as I conjured a cross-hatching of spikes on the ground before me like a sprung trap. Barbs of shimmering light shot up from the ground, trapping the spirit like a butterfly, the shining spikes piercing it at every angle.
    I stumbled back, the effort of two powerful workings taking the wind out of my lungs. Even with a power source, the energy still had to go through me, and it taxed the body. Not as much as drawing the Deeps directly, though.
    In answer, the spirit roared again, pain echoing in its voice distantly, as its hold on the material world dwindled.
    The spirit tore forward, brown wisps flowing out from its form and fading into nothingness as it reaved itself, pressing onward with an intensity I hadn’t seen from a terrestrial spirit.
    What had Esther done to inspire such devotion, such ferocity from a spirit she couldn’t have known for more than a scant moment?
    Drawing upon the opals, I shaped another bolt of will, which ripped through the air like lightning, shearing a cubic yard from the creature. It kept coming, even more faded. The crushing of branches and crackling of leaves beneath its amorphous feet told me it was solid enough to tear my throat out.
    These workings could best the creature with time, but already two of the five opals in my left hand were dark, their reserves depleted. And when they were empty, it was on to blood, or my own life force to power the workings.
    Igbe’s red flowed back into the scene, harrying at the back of the creature, its form half-visible through the fading brown of the earth spirit. The mud-brown mist lashed out with a limb and knocked Igbe back again, then pulled itself free of my spike trap and shuffled forward, gaining its footing again.
    I tried to evade the creature, shuffling away and unleashing another bolt of power. The creature pushed forward through the blast and knocked the topaz from my hand. My arm tore at the shoulder from the force of the blow, as if it were trying to wrench the limb out of its socket. I doubled over, pulling my arm in and trying to quiet the tearing pain.
    My death reached out for me, a rough sketch of a figure that would be more than real enough to tear my body to ribbons. The spirit leapt forward and brown streaks filled my vision.
    Antoinette’s chanting reached a crescendo, and as the spirit loomed over me, it was crushed beneath a thick tree branch.
    From the branch leapt another wispy form, this one the green of verdant moss. It was small, barely larger than Igbe. But instead of lashing out to strike the earth spirit, it stretched out and spun strands of light over the thick brown form, caging it in. Antoinette chanted faster now, her voice clear and strong.
    The brown spirit fought against the bright netting, tearing strands that cracked like burst tree limbs in a freezing Dakota winter.
    I scrambled back, my lungs paralyzed. I passed Antoinette, her eyes strained shut as she chanted. I sat back and watched the green tree spirit lock the brown form down, then saw the two of them seep back into the ground.
    And at once, the forest was silent, a felled limb splayed across the pathway the only physical remainder of the melee.
    Igbe limped back toward Antoinette, reduced to a half-dozen nearly-translucent strands of red.
    “I’m sorry, sister-daughter,” Igbe said, its voice soft as a whisper.
    Antoinette opened her eyes, a tired smile birthed on her face. She reached out to the spirit, touching the top of the tallest strand. “You did great, Igbe. Go home and rest. You’ve done me a great honor.”
    The threads folded in on themselves then fluttered up into the air, carried away on the wind.
    “Well done,” I said, breath coming out in crystalizing clouds, the cold seeping back in as the excitement of combat faded.
    Antoinette turned to me, her shoulders slumping as if they’d dropped a great weight. “Hope my momma’s looking down on me now. I never thought I’d have to conjure a spirit that