Do the Gods Despise Us?

by Jeff Henrikson

  Seker did not even waste a glance at him as he stared at the book and whispered two arcane words. Zoey recoiled again at the powerful voice that seared his soul with its complete subversion of all that was good. Black light flared from the only rune on the book’s cover. The book levitated off the disc, expanded rapidly in size, and lowered gently into Seker’s waiting hand.

  Now that his purpose had been fulfilled once again, Zoey looked up slowly with pride. He could not help but smile at his accomplishment. Seker must have sensed his satisfaction, because he looked away from the book and down toward his feet. Before Zoey could make even the slightest whimper, Seker casually raised his foot and smashed him down into the souls that composed the floor of his hall. The souls surrounding Zoey eagerly tore into the former book carrier, stripping him of both his flesh and the small fragment of a soul that Seker had given to him. Each of these condemned souls were then torn apart in turn by other souls, desperate for a memory that was not their own and for a sensation that they would never feel again, until the substance of even those fragments was destroyed.

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  Seker gloated at the self-destruction and hate that even the lowliest in his kingdom demonstrated. He touched the bone clasp that kept the book closed and again whispered one arcane word to bring the dead forth. The book snapped open to the last page, and Seker watched with delight as names of the newly dead were added at the bottom of the list. He impassively perused the names, absorbing what was known about those who were newly dead until he reached four names: Ramon, Tristan, Jefon, and Xander.

  These four would give him the answers he sought. The war should have begun by now, but something was holding the two sides back. In the end it would not matter. From his altar in the Old Shetley Fortress, Seker could see that Gram was close to finishing his work. When he was finished and the Cataclysm Spell was cast – then there would be war. Invictus would not stand by while the surface elves were destroyed. Invictus would marshal his forces and make war with Evona, causing so much death and destruction. Just thinking of it made him smile at what was to come.

  But first, he had to stop these elves. These companions. Even with more than half their group dead, Seker had seen that they could still stop Gram from completing his work. That could not be allowed to happen. With a single divine thought, Seker sat back on his throne and brought Ramon before him.

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  Ramon opened his eyes and found himself standing before a huge throne in a room that was completely dark, save for the throne directly in front of him and the many different images of torture and death off in the distance. He couldn’t remember how he had arrived in this place. For that matter, he couldn’t remember anything about who he was, aside from his name. Panic began to set in as Ramon looked around. Who was he? Where had he come from? What was he doing here? It was the fear of not knowing what lay beyond the darkness, along with not knowing who he was, that was driving him insane.

  Just as Ramon opened his mouth to scream out into the darkness like a little child, a chill voice blasted through the air. “Do you know why I have called you here before your time?”

  It was only then that Ramon looked up from the bones that made up the floor and noticed a giant man with horns sitting on a fifty foot tall throne in front of him. The giant glared at him with red eyes. It was the eyes that compelled him to answer. Not changing position, Ramon indicated his ignorance by shaking his head. The person sitting on the throne looked familiar, but Ramon knew it couldn’t be him.

  His thoughts were interrupted when the chill voice cut through the air once again. “You are dead, Ramon. You have entered my kingdom of Purgatory. Normally, I could not call you forth so soon, but since you worshiped me during your mortal life you are mine to do with as I will. I can deny you your memories for example, or I can place you in the eternal fires of damnation. But I can also grant you a life of ease. I can give you the power in death that you sought in life. Would you like the opportunity to gain my favor?”

  Ramon looked into the eyes of his god and quickly nodded his head. He would do anything.

  Seker closed the book in his hands and reached down to place it on a glowing disc. After a few moments, Seker said, “I am the God of the Dead. All who die must pass through my kingdom, for I am the end of all. Know who you are, my servant, and answer my questions to gain my favor.”

  A flood of thoughts, dreams, and feelings – all that composed life – rushed into Ramon’s mind. The sensations were overwhelmingly vivid to his dry husk of a spirit. He remembered capturing countless magic-users and turning them over to Gram, arriving at the fortress in the forest and desecrating an altar to Tia in the name of Seker, the elves who boldly walked up to the gate, and finally, he remembered dying at the hands of Evisar as his sword broke Ramon’s mace in half and sank into his skull. He screamed at what he had lost. The power that had once been his and never would be again.

  “I am not interested in your pitiful memories and trifling aspirations to power, fool. You had a fortress at your command, and still you could not kill those pitiful elves.” Seker lowered his voice to a hopeful whisper. “But you can yet be redeemed.”

  “How, master? How? I’ll do anything you ask.”

  Seker smiled at his power over those in his kingdom and said, “Tell me what you know of these elves so that I might kill them for you.”

  Staggered by his memories, the servant nonetheless was brought to attention by his god’s voice. Swimming through blurred, congealed memories, Ramon spoke out desperately. “I attacked the elves unawares by the river with twenty men.” He thought for a moment before continuing. “We took one of them captive, but they put up a fearsome fight. We took the captive to the fortress and thought we were safe, but the elves followed us there.” Ramon stood in silence and hoped that what he said had been enough.

  “Pitiful mortal. What do I care about how difficult it was to fight them? Tell me what I want to hear or your fate is sealed.”

  “Wh – wh – what can I say, my lord?”

  “Did any of the elves do anything extraordinary? Did any of the elves do anything you could not explain?”

  Ramon looked away from the horror of Seker’s red eyes and down at the floor so he could think. Then he was forced to look away from the horror of the bones on the floor and closed his eyes. “One of the elves was strange. He produced a fortune for the release of his friend seemingly out of nowhere. Then, during the battle inside the fortress where I was killed, the same elf shot arrows from his bow with a speed and accuracy not of this world.”

  Ramon had nothing else to say, so he stood waiting at the base of Seker’s throne. Seker seemed to ponder his words for a moment before he spoke. “You have served me well, my servant, by bringing me a speck of useful information. As your reward, you may carry the book of the dead for the next thousand years.”

  “B-but, my lord, you said you would give me a life of ease in your kingdom.” Ramon screamed out as Seker raised his foot and smashed him into the floor. As before, the souls around Ramon tore at his flesh and spirit until he was left with nothing but an empty shell.

  Chapter 52: Seker Enters the War

  Seker stood up and gestured for his throne to change into its natural form. The throne stirred as bones unwrapped from bones. Sinew and magic pulled the bones apart and then recombined them into the massive skeletal dragon known as Blackfang.

  Blackfang served as Seker’s throne. It was his only purpose in the afterlife. Had he not been more once? Could he not remember a time when there had been more than the throne? Memories of a mate and unhatched eggs flirted with his mind. Blackfang flinched uncontrollably as memories of intense pain lanced through his body. For an instant he saw a necromancer wizard standing in front of him with undead energy coursing through his fingertips into his massive body. But then the flicker of memory was gone and there was only the darkness of Seker’s inner sanctum.

  Blackfang took
a step closer to Seker and thought rather than said, “Mortals.”

  “Pitiful.” Seker replied mentally. “Sometimes I wonder why I obtain these souls. Yes, yes, God of the Dead, I know. Regardless, this faithful servant is less than useless. The elves who are left alive can still prevent the war. I must know everything about them so that when they come before me I can turn those who are dead against those who are living.”

  Blackfang half-listened to Seker rage for a time while surreptitiously summoning his trinket. It was not easy surprising a god, but one did not serve as the throne of the God of the Dead without doing so every half-eon or so. After a brief pause from a particularly vicious rant, Blackfang held out the scale of a silver dragon in his left claw and asked, “Would this help?”

  Seker looked at Blackfang for a long moment as anger and curiosity struggled within him. He finally said, “Give me that.”

  “Of course, master.” Blackfang bowed low mockingly. Seker looked at him balefully and as a punishment, willed that Blackfang remember who he was. Memories flooded back into his mind. He looked down at his body and was appalled to see a skeleton where his powerful copper body should have been. He remembered with shocking clarity the necromancer wizard from so long ago who had secretly slipped into his lair and threatened his eggs and mate with destruction.

  The necromancer stood triumphantly over his eggs and agreed to let his mate and progeny live only if Blackfang agreed to undergo the transformation into a skeletal dracolich. With little choice, he was forced to stand still, impotent, as the wizard cast his dark magic on him.

  The necromancer transformed him into an undead skeleton, doomed to remain alive and animated for all time. Even today, Blackfang knew that his undead skeletal body still roamed Tellus, while his spirit resided in the afterlife as Seker’s throne. Such is the curse of the undead.

  Once the necromancer cast his spell, and Blackfang’s loyalty was compelled, the wizard killed his mate in order to prove his power. The necromancer left his eggs undamaged in order to ensure Blackfang’s loyalty for all time. The memories of the demise of his mate and the endless servitude to which he was bound were more than he could bear. The hate once buried under eons of service flared forth again and he moved unconsciously toward Seker. He took only a single step before snapping suddenly still. The will binding him to his massive skeletal frame was beyond even his hate, and his obedience was compelled. Seker gave a ghastly smile.

  “Do not forget, Blackfang, that you are mine, even beyond your hate for me. Your service has been so long that you have forgotten what it is that compels your hate, and that is truly sweet to my tongue. Have you pieced together yet that it was I who ordered the necromancer into your lair so long ago?” Seker threw his head back and laughed uncontrollably. “Ah foolish, foolish Blackfang. Such endless delight I take in your twisted perversion. I was the one who ordered the necromancer into your lair. I knew of your power, and I wanted to yoke it for my own. Now your skeletal remains serve me on Tellus and your spirit serves as my throne in the heavens.”

  Blackfang had, in fact, not known the truth and it drove him past the point of insanity. He roared with defiance and took one step toward Seker. The smile left Seker’s face as Blackfang took another step forward, and then another. Blackfang drove forward with an incredible strength of will, fueled by his renewed hatred for the God of the Dead. Seker took two steps back and seemed genuinely afraid, until Blackfang got to within two steps of the god he served. Seker’s smile returned, and he merely held his hand up in a stopping motion to freeze Blackfang where he stood.

  “Ah, Blackfang. You provide such amusement but, honestly, will you never learn? Perhaps a reminder of your true position in my kingdom is in order.”

  Blackfang, compelled, groveled at the feet of Seker. Words of worship were forced from his mouth. Seker eventually released him from the compulsion and the dracolich stepped back from Seker and caught his balance.

  Seker said, “Now, proceed with the seeing.”

  Gathering himself and his shattered pride, Blackfang cleared his mind. He tossed the silver dragon scale into the darkness; it flew magically into one of the scenes of death that adorned the walls. The scene of death froze in place and was replaced by a vision of Seker’s altar that resided under the Old Shetley Fortress in Darkwood Forest. After a period of concentration, the dracolich began a low chant, his sibilant voice slowly building to a final cry of immense power. The view of the altar slowly cleared away to reveal a group of elves walking up to a fortress in the woods. They looked like a pitiful band, but Seker could see their power and knew their future.

  Seker watched with interest as the elves entered the fortress and sneered at the foolishness of his followers as the invisible elf sneaked by. Even more disturbing was that no matter how long he gazed at Jefon, he still could not see the shape of this elf. He was only a shadow with no discernable features. Seker cursed, knowing that only the influence of another god could block his vision. He supposed it was unavoidable that other gods should be in play here, given that the future of the entire elven race was in question. For a god to take such direct action by involving a chosen was extremely uncommon. This marked elf was the key, and he would bear closer watching.

  The seeing continued and Seker was intrigued to see the elves barter with Ramon, whom he had just smashed back into his floor, for the release of their captured wizard. It sickened him to watch the display of compassion, and he cursed them for fools. When would the world learn that death is the only constant and that kindness and sacrifice can only bring you back to that single constant?

  Seker leaned forward with interest as the shadowed elf pulled a huge sum of money out of a pouch on his belt. Seker willed the seeing to slow as the shadowed elf flipped a platinum coin at Ramon. Ramon caught the coin and flashed into a shadow figure himself for a short time. Seker looked at the brilliant coin in Ramon’s hand and saw a falcon in flight. Martel! The shadowed elf, known as Jefon, could only belong to Martel.

  “Damn those elven gods. Can’t they just accept the inevitable?” Seker continued to watch and his mood improved significantly as Gram blew his men out the door with a wall of fire. Seker smiled at Gram’s power. Over the years, this servant had brought many souls into his kingdom.

  As the battle began in earnest, Seker watched with lust and reveled in each person’s exquisite death. He watched Gram kill one companion after another until finally it was over.

  Now he understood who he was dealing with. Seker commanded Blackfang to become his throne once again, and he sat down with satisfaction. He closed the portal with a thought and summoned Tristan, Xander, and Jefon to appear before him.

  Chapter 53: Seker and Jefon

  Jefon appeared in a cavern of utter darkness, not knowing where he was or how he got there. Darkness surrounded him, and even with his new night eyes, Jefon couldn’t see more than twenty feet in front of him. Fear set in as he remembered dying at the hands of the wizard Gram while trying to save Evisar. He spun around in a circle and was relieved to see Tristan and Xander standing next to him. Jefon took it as a good sign that Evisar was nowhere to be found. Both of his friends had looks of acceptance; it was clear they also remembered dying at the hands of Gram. Xander seemed resigned to his fate while Tristan looked scared beyond reason at the darkness around him.

  After a few moments Tristan’s resolve broke and he screamed into the darkness, “What is this place!?”

  Jefon went to him and put his arm around the large warrior. “Easy, Tristan, it’ll be alright.”

  Xander answered Tristan’s question. “This is purgatory.” Jefon nodded his head, finally understanding what he was seeing.

  A voice pierced the darkness, “Very good, Xander the thief. Xander the liar. You are in purgatory awaiting my judgment.” A little more light shone in front of the companions and Jefon saw a fifty foot tall figure sitting on a skeleton throne. “Come forward. We have much to discuss about your future in my kingdom.”

  Je
fon obediently led Tristan forward with Xander by his side. As Jefon walked he heard squishing and crunching noises with each step and was mortified to find that the floor was made of nothing more than decaying flesh and bones with the whispers of spirits moving among the ruins.

  Jefon’s head snapped up and he tried to think of something else. “Whatever you do, don’t look down.”

  Xander answered him, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  The companions walked to the foot of the throne and looked up at the face of death towering above them. “I am Seker, God of Death. Every soul who dies comes before me and I decide how they will live out eternity. Each of you died tragically before your time, and for this alone I am inclined to throw all of you into one of the seven hells, but let us examine your lives and see if we can find you worthy of a better fate. Jefon, we will examine your life first. Step forward.” Jefon obediently and humbly stepped forward. “Jefon, son of Lacrue Talisman, worshipper of Martel. Why did you go to the fortress in Darkwood Forest?”

  Ever since he could read, Jefon had read every religious document he could get his hands on, but he could not remember reading about a worthiness test. Of course there were only a few accounts written of those who had come back from the dead. He remembered reading about purgatory, but it had been described as a waiting area, nothing more. A soul waited in purgatory, and if your god found you worthy he would come to collect your soul, taking you back to live out eternity with him. If your god didn’t find you worthy and didn’t come to collect your soul, then and only then, did your soul belong to the God of the Dead to do with as he pleased.

  Jefon answered the question truthfully. “We went to the fortress to rescue Valihorn and find an entrance to the Underworld.”