Killing Time

by C. M. Carney

  The Mayor was finishing his speech and turned to me. “Does the condemned have any last words?”

  “I do.” I cleared my throat in an overly dramatic and obnoxious fashion. This went on for several seconds before the Mayor’s irritation boiled over and he snapped at me to get on with it. “There are no perfect men nor many perfect women. I am not a perfect man, nor a... Umm… perfect woman, but I have tried to live my life by the ideals I believe in. Sure sometimes those ideals have led me to unfortunate incidents of mass murder, and maybe, just maybe, occasionally, I liked the killing, but I ask, does that make one a bad person?”

  Numerous nods and several confused mumbles of “yes” filled the crowd, even from some of those who had, until then, been real supportive. This isn’t going quite the way I’d hoped. “Anyway, my point is, that we all try to do the best that we can in this life. That, I guess, is my message to all of you fine folks gathered here today.” I paused, and aside from the occasional cough, the crowd looked at me with confused silence.

  “Okay, anyway, that’s about all I have to say today, apart from this. Kids, say no to drugs, just do it and, uh, stay in school.“ I looked right at the Mayor and grinned. He scowled through his thin lips and his weasel eyes glared judgment.

  “Catch ya on the flip side,” I said, and I sent a mental command to the port stone. I felt Vonn grab me a bit too tightly, like a girlfriend really turned on by a ride on her hunky boyfriend’s new motorcycle. I only had a moment to feel uncomfortable however before the world turned inside out. Light expanded and contracted in concert. Up became down, left became right and then we shifted and we were somewhere else. I fell to my knees and the thin gruel and rock-hard bread they’d fed me in the pokey came back up.

  “You okay,” I heard Vonn say. I waved my hand back at him in annoyance. Why does everyone else seem immune to that shit? At least this time I was on some soft grass. After a minute I regained my composure and stood. Vonn handed me a water skin. I drank heartily and then passed it back to him. “Thanks,” I said. “For everything.”

  He nodded and then pointed at my face. “You got a little something in your beard there.”

  I reached up to find my beard had not survived my retching unscathed. Bits of partially digested muck crusted my thick facial hair. “Uggh, I need to shave this thing off.”

  Vonn handed me a satchel that looked remarkably like my own. I opened it to find all my gear. My eyes snapped up and he answered me before the question even formed on my lips.

  “I told you I was more rogue than knight. While everyone was all distracted with the mass arrests and your interrogation, I took some liberties with the town evidence locker. Got me some good stuff too.”

  I jumped at the man and gave him a huge hug. “You’re my second best friend in all the Realms,” I said, struggling to hold back a sniffle. “Of course that may have something to do with the fact that I’ve killed almost everyone I know a few times too many.”

  “Yeah, you should probably leave that habit in the past.”

  I grinned, suited up and had a look around. We were in a valley, between a few tall peaks. Up ahead was an ancient looking tower. It was circular and made of more metal than stone. Around its base was a mound of dirt and grass that resembled the opened peels of a banana as if the tower had recently pushed up from under the earth.

  “That’s Thalmiir architecture,” I said in a stunned tone.

  “Is that important?” Vonn said.

  “The Thalmiir have been extinct for centuries, and their cities were all lost.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, which genuinely concerned me. “Gryph, what have you got yourself into?”

  With nothing else to do, Vonn and I walked towards the doorway into the tower. I knew that my Player was somewhere in this ancient lost city, and he needed me.

  The End of Killing Time.

  Book Three of the Realms.

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  Scourge

  Of

  Souls

  Book Four of the Realms

  by

  C.M. Carney

  Prologue

  The words of rejection, of rebuke were barely out of Gryph’s mouth when the High God Aluran waved his hand, dismissing the player. Gryph blinked out of existence, banished back to whatever haven shielded him from the High God’s gaze.

  The pop of air rushing to fill the hole in space held all the potency of a bolt of the High God’s lightning. None of the other gods of the Pantheon spoke and few dared to even breathe as they silently begged the aether to turn their wrathful father’s gaze elsewhere.

  Several moments passed, tension hanging in the air like a storm about to break. A bank of dark clouds rolled in from the Shining Sea blocking the light of the sun and leached what little warmth still flowed through the gods’ bodies. The world itself seemed moved by the High God’s anger.

  A dozen pair of eyes followed the subtle rise and fall of the High God’s breath, each one thrummed with the possibility of imminent violence. None of them would say it, fewer would even let themselves think it, but each of them knew deep in their souls what drove his anger.

  The High God Aluran, Arche of the Pantheon, Prime Mover of the Realms, Father to All, was terrified.

  The other gods of the Pantheon watched as Aluran’s will slowly eased control back into his body. His breathing calmed, and he gazed down upon the city. The storm clouds retreated and the sun once again poked warm fingers down upon them all. Across the city, a million souls felt a pressure they could not understand release. Smiles returned to faces, laughter flowed from their mouths and life continued, as though the tension-filled pause had been but a figment.

  The common folk of Avernia were the lucky ones. They could return to their pleasant, normal lives. The Pantheon knew no such comforts. The High God had not dismissed them from the Quorum as was tradition. One and all, the Pantheon knew fear.

  As it should be, the High God thought. I can already hear your unspoken whispers, read the desire for challenge on your faces. This whelp godling Gryph has challenged me, made me look weak. I will show all of you true fear. I will show you the cost of betrayal.

  He sent a mental summons. A moment later the air of the Agora grew chill.

  “How may I serve you, Your Eminence?” came the resonant voice of the Hooded Man as he flowed from the shadows.

  The High God turned, purposely ignoring his Pantheon. His gaze fell upon the tall figure clad in a robe of dark muslin. The man, if one was generous with the term, wore a cavernous hood that shielded his eyes. His clasped hands lay forever unseen within the sleeves of his voluminous robe. There was something unnatural about the man.

  “What news of the Maker?”

  “I fear there has been no sign of him, Your Eminence.” The Hooded Man hesitated for the merest of moments, adding another layer to the theater of fear the High God was directing. “I have also been, as yet, unable to determine how he escaped. I offer my most humble apologies for my failure. If you wish to end my life, I will gladly submit to your justice.”

  Everyone knew the Hooded Man was the High God’s most loyal servant. The creature had served him longer than any of the Pantheon had been alive. If the High God was willing to punish the H
ooded Man for failure, then none of them were safe from his wrath.

  The High God let the silence hang heavy for several long heartbeats, adding further apprehension to the moment. Finally he waved a hand almost casually.“ That will not be necessary, at this time.” He paused letting the last three words sink in. “We must assume that the Maker has completed his weapon?” Aluran turned and let his gaze flow across the lesser gods.

  “Yes, Your Eminence.”

  “What weapon?” Kharmaxun, the God of War, blurted, unable to hide his greed.

  The High God smiled to himself and turned on the brutish god. Of course the mention of a weapon draws your attention Kharmaxun. You are nothing if not predictable. Thank you for playing your role to perfection. His words descended on the war god like a hammer. “The player killing kind. The permanent player killing kind.”

  Unease surged through the Pantheon as the gods exchanged looks of panic. They were all natives of Earth, players who had gained entry to the Realms via the High God’s game. Because players could respawn, death was but a setback, a momentary blip in their otherwise immortal lives. Until now. The Maker’s weapon could fundamentally shift the balance of power on Korynn. Aluran would ensure that balance tipped in his favor.

  “If this man can kill players, he is a threat to us all,” Zeckoth, the God of Knowledge said.

  “Not all of us,” Aluran corrected, a finger raised in the air. “Never forget that you are players first and gods only by my consent.” He passed his eyes over the rest of the Pantheon. “Whereas I am a true God. The Maker’s weapon cannot harm me.”

  If only I knew that for sure.

  The High God turned and walked to the edge of the Agora, staring out over the Shining Sea. A moment later he turned back to the gods. “Do not fear my children. I will let no man, no mere mortal harm any of you. I will find this weapon and I will keep it safe.”

  The undercurrent of threat was obvious to them all and Aluran let the smallest of smiles curl the edges of his lips. Time for the final reveal. He turned to the Hooded Man.

  “Summon the Scourge,” Aluran said in a cold, calm voice. A wave of dread rippled through the Pantheon and a desperate gasp of shock squeaked from Qylena, the Goddess of Nature and Harvests. You are right to fear daughter.

  “As you command Your Eminence,” the Hooded Man said with a bow. A moment later a rush of air pulsed across the Agora drawing with it a palpable darkness. Silence hung heavy for mere moments before the sound of a cane tapping lightly on the stone tiles made all the gods flinch.

  Tap, tap step. Tap, tap, step. Tap, tap, step. A tall, lithe form stepped onto the balcony and walked to the High God and bowed. To the eye, it was just a man, but every one of the Pantheon knew it was something much more terrible.

  The man was rail thin. He wore a dark silver suit and a wide-brimmed circular hat. To all outward appearances, he looked to be a well-respected gentleman. He carried a black cane, which produced a melodic tapping with each of the man’s fluid motions.

  The brim of the man’s hat rose, exposing a pair of deep black eyes flecked with star-like points of silver. His face was lean and bore a healthy tan and had it not been for the alien-ness of his eyes he would have been considered handsome. He looked at the High God and bowed ever so slightly.

  “How may we serve you master?”

  “I have a task for you dread Scourge,” Aluran said in a firm, calm voice. “Find the Maker, add him to your quintessence and bring his weapon to me.”

  “As the High God commands.”

  “Before you go, I have a gift for you.”

  Without turning the Hooded Man called over his shoulder. “Bring her.”

  Two armed sentries, garbed in intricate silver plate mail strode into the room, dragging a small elf woman. Blood covered her face, and she was in obvious pain. The guards dropped her to the ground and left.

  The shaking woman raised her head and a beatific smile of utter joy crossed her face on seeing Aluran gazing down upon her. Her joy quickly faded to fear and regret as a cracked voice came from her parched throat.

  “Your Eminence, my God, I have failed you.”

  “Evidently so, Anveryn.” Aluran knelt and moved a strand of the woman’s hair from her eyes. He had sent her after Gryph’s NPC and what should have been a simple fetch and retrieve mission had turned to disaster. Anveryn was once his best agent. Now she was broken.

  Anveryn leaned into the High God’s hand, seeking solace. Tears flowed from the slight wood elf’s startling violet eyes. They were not tears brought on by fear though that emotion was surely present. They were tears of regret, of disappointment, tears of apology. “I am sorry. I … I will never fail you again.”

  “I know Anveryn.” He paused for a heartbeat. “Unfortunately you are unfit to continue in my service, but in my mercy I offer you a choice.” Aluran yanked his hand back, tearing away Anveryn’s last vestige of hope. He stood and without turning his gaze he spoke. “It is time for you to feed my Scourge.”

  Tears flowed down Anveryn’s face and her mouth opened to beg, but no words pushed past her anguish. Her eyes were wide, desperate and a wail of terror tore at her throat. Aluran turned his back on her and with that final dismissal, her mind fractured.

  The Scourge came closer. Tap, tap step. Tap, tap, step. Tap, tap, step.

  Tendrils of silver laced darkness seeped from inside the Scourge, leaching through the skin of his back. They stretched upwards from the man and solidified into four serpentine tentacles. Reptilian mouths opened with a hiss and every man and woman of the Pantheon shivered, for they all knew the Scourge was no singular man, but a creature that contained multitudes.

  Glints of silver energy flowed up and down the shadowy scales of the reptilian beasts and it gazed upon Anveryn through eyes that matched their master. “We offer you a choice. Continue to serve the High God as part of us or die and face the truth of your soul’s burden.”

  Anveryn blubbered, fear and anguish battling within her. She tried to speak, but her words failed her. Finally she pushed a final word through her lips. “… serve…”

  The Scourge smiled, and the serpents struck.

  Aluran turned to face the rest of the Pantheon, high on their thrones. It took a moment for the lesser gods to pull their gaze away from the horror of the Scourge, but the High God’s gaze bore all the gravity of a star, and soon all had turned to him.

  “Each one of you will leave here and scour your lands for this wretch who falsely claims the mantle of godhood. When you do, bring him to me, and earn my reward.” His gaze flowed over them, daring any to defy his commands. None did. With a casual wave of his hand, he dismissed all but one of the Pantheon, ending the Quorum.

  Only Ferrancia, the Messenger Goddess, remained. Her eyes went to the Scourge and a look of ill ease painted her face for the merest of moments before she composed herself. But the High God saw. “Be at ease daughter. I am not angry with you.” Her sigh of relief was palpable even among the gentle breeze and the sound of birds. “I wish to keep you close. It is likely that I will need you in the coming days.”

  “I am here to serve you in any way I can father,” she said walking up to the High God.

  “Good, you will take up residence in the Crag.”

  The remote location bewildered Ferrancia. The Crag was a last resort fortress built before the time of the Pantheon, hewn from a spire of bare rock. It looked down upon the city from high in the mountains. It was impossible to reach, accessible only through a heavily guarded mountain road or by a restricted port circle.

  “The Crag?” Ferrancia asked, her voice tinged with uncontrolled shock. “Are you expecting trouble? Surely this Gryph is but a mere annoyance.”

  “I always expect trouble, daughter.” The High God took the goddess’ face in a gentle hand and smiled down upon her. “Please, do as I ask. The reasons will become clear in the fullness of time.”

  Ferrancia bowed, an adroit enough politician to know when questions should g
o unasked. “Of course, father.” With that, she turned on her heels and walked off the balcony. The High God watched her leave, and a knot in his stomach released its tension.

  “Leave me and see to your duties,” the High God said, and both the Hooded Man and the Scourge bowed and departed.

  Aluran waited until he was alone before turning towards the bay. The sun glinted off the up and down motion of the waves, sparkling like diamonds. He gripped the railing with hands stronger than iron and forced the tension to drain from his shoulders. His ease did not last and his fear, his anger became strength. Beneath his hands, thin cracks began to spider through the marble of the railing. The cracks became fissures and the snap of breaking stone flowed over the balcony. Throughout the keep a rumble like the tremor of a distant earthquake caused servants and soldiers to glance around nervously. All felt the High God’s wrath.

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