“Good!” the dwarf said, slamming his fist on the table. He glared at the man with the dagger in his eye. “Emerhilk has been a blight on this alliance. It would be good to have an orc at the table once again.”
“I didn’t hear you singing Ternoth’s praises when he was trying to invade your realm,” Emerhilk replied. He was calm and measured in his words, apparently unconcerned with the dwarf’s provocations.
“Bah,” the dwarfgod replied. “I never took wars personal. Ternoth liked to fight and so do I. If we can’t find anyone to fight together, we fight each other. I miss those days.”
“I do not miss all the suffering it caused, Turm,” Agara said. “But that is not the point. The problem is that a raised god will divert followers from us. We all have a somewhat even split of orc followers, right?”
“All except Emerhilk,” Turm said, chuckling a little as more steam burst from his beard.
“So, we cannot allow this to happen. Seventeen million souls a piece is quite a bit of power to suddenly lose,” Agara said.
“For some of us,” Turm said. “But battle and war have a lot more followers than healing and suffering. Because while they might worship you for a season when they get sick, the moment a mortal gets healthy, they go right back to fighting. I don’t see how this is my concern. Besides, I want an orc friend again. It’s been too long since my people have been engaged in a good war.”
“I don’t need anyone’s help to act,” Agara said. “I just wish to know if this being has had any dealings with you all. As per our alliance, I cannot simply act against a divine being without your vote.”
“Is it divine?” Eflora asked as she fluttered around the tree image floating on the table. “Because how can a divine being not be a god?”
Agara shrugged. “The World Tree is not from our land, it follows different rules. However, it got here, and whatever made it, the energies surrounding it are divine. It can interact with our avatars without being obliterated by the divine power.”
“Well if it’s a divine being, then I say we just strike a deal,” Turm said. “Tell it to cut out the orc savior crap and then give it a domain. I can give it…” Turm grumbled for a moment and turned to one of the gods sitting next to him. This god was a spectacled creature, with many eyes contained behind each spectacle. “Which domains am I responsible for again? Other than war and courage?”
The spectacled creature sighed. “Turm, you are responsible for War, Courage, Strength, Valor and Sieges.”
“I’ll give it Valor; it’s a dungeon, right?” Turm said. “It’ll love the idea. So, we give the tree a domain, turn it into a minor god, under my reign.”
“Why?” Agara asked. “Why reward it for its interference in our affairs? I would rather just kill it.”
Gannix raised his head at that. He cleared his throat, wheezing a bit, causing all the other gods to look at him.
“Something to say, bean counter?” Turm asked.
“Killing him would unbalance this world. The World Tree has become a part of the ecology of not only Feverwood, but a large chunk of South Yehan. The consequences of his death would eliminate, by my calculation, three million people from this world.”
“Three million just for killing a tree?” Turm shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “I am doing war all wrong!”
The Mist goddess spoke up. “Gannix is right. We cannot just slay a being because it opposes us. There would be many unforeseen consequences.”
“What do you see in the mists?” Agara asked.
The Mistmother shook her head. “It is not for you to know what dark portents I see. But this Tree cannot fall. Yet, perhaps a lesson in humility is in order.”
“We cut off his branches,” Emerhilk said. “Including the one housing the orc souls. That will teach the World Tree not to usurp the gods.”
“Bah!” Turm shouted. “Why make an enemy instead of an ally? If we piss that tree off, it might end up friends with Jepner or some of his rotten ilk. The last thing we need is to create a problem when we could be creating a solution.”
“Since when do you not want to solve your problems through violence?” Eflora asked, fluttering up to him. He swatted at her a few times, but she was deft to doge his blows.
“I am all for war and violence, but not against those who are innocent. The orcs worship us because, without our protection, they would go to the Abyss. They worship out of fear, not devotion. I protect them out of respect for Ternoth, but you bastards only want the energy their worship provides. Let them have their afterlife and their god. The Tree is doing them a great kindness. I will not return goodness for evil.”
“It is not evil to protect one’s property,” Agara said.
“Save it, Agara,” Turm said. “You’d eat your own children if it’d get you one more worshipper.”
The divine energies of Agara began to flare at those words. The power was overwhelming for me, but I could feel Gannix reinforce me, to keep me connected to this realm. Turm’s own power flared up too, matching her evenly. They seemed to be on the same level, both Greater Gods who had the same level of power.
“Cease the power struggle,” Gannix said. “Call it to a vote. Greater Gods at the table, who then will allow for the destruction of the World Tree’s limbs?”
Agara, Emerhilk and the Mistmother raised their hands. Turm shook his head at that. He glanced at Eflora.
“You aren’t voting with them?”
“I forbid the death of any plants,” she said, wincing. Tears began to fall down her cheek. “If it were up to me, they would live forever and ever. I understand the need to bring the World Tree down a peg, but I could not vote yes and retain my power over the Nature domain.”
“Majority rules then,” Agara said. “I shall cut the tree down myself.”
Chapter 31
I had no desire to have my latest and most impressive accomplishment destroyed by the gods. But then again, I don’t believe that I had the power that could rebuff someone like Agara. The vision that Gannix had granted me faded once the vote was concluded. Their own avatars all vanished too, as the matter had been settled. Destruction would be coming my way soon.
How was I to stop this? My mind searched for methods, for some kind of way to perhaps bargain with Agara, or at the very least convince her to have mercy on me. I found it rather ironic that a goddess of mercy and healing would be so power thirsty, but then again, I’m guessing that she did not start out as a Greater God. Someone with that kind of tenacity and paranoia no doubt must have fought her way to the top.
I regret the fact that I hadn’t dedicated a portion of my time learning more about the gods and goddesses. In my mind, I thought it wouldn’t be relevant, due to the fact that I would never follow or worship them. In time, they would come to me, I had believed, to hold their courts on a great hall of my own creation. The time for learning and introduction would have been then. But now? Now I was facing foes who I had erroneously believed did not care about my actions.
It would be one thing if Agara and her allies had simply wanted to harm me. I would live as long as they did, so a petty attack against me would fade over time. I could suffer from their envious injuries, if it were only to cause me pain. But cutting off the limb that held New Orcsamar would also bring great harm to the orc people. They had looked to me to become their steward, to hold their lives and to protect them. It was my duty to keep that limb safe from this attack. But how?
A flash of energy enveloped the area around me and time felt as if it were slowing down to a halt. Even though I barely notice the passage of seconds and minutes, I could see birds stopping in midair, leaves hovering in place instead of falling. And the divine energy pulsed around me, violent, strong. Agara had arrived. I barely had ten minutes to prepare. I had nothing.
“We meet again,” Agara said. Her body was different this time. The thorns that had plunged into her body as armor had wrapped around her arm was well, fashionin
g themselves into a longsword that dripped blood continually. Tears were streaming down her left eye, which seemed to look everywhere except at me. This manifestation of hers must be for battle. I wished that I could give her a fight.
“Indeed. You intend to do me harm,” I replied, trying to expand my own divine energy to meet hers. It wasn’t working.
“No, I simply intend to help you,” she said, dragging the sword across the ground a little. “You must understand that your actions will only attract the attention of other, less benevolent beings. By stealing followers of other gods, by creating a new realm to draw the souls of the dead in, you are usurping the natural order of things. I am here to put a right to that wrong.”
“What are you planning to do?” I asked, knowing full well the answer. I was stalling for time, trying to think of something I could do. Would the Einherjar be able to fight her? No, they were still weak from entering a new realm and holding it up. I couldn’t call them to manifest yet, the damage to their spirits from such an action could be permanent.
Agara held up the sword and inspected it. “I shall cut your branch down, the one bearing your little realm. Release the souls from it now, please. I would not wish them any harm.”
At least she was being merciful in that regard. “And if I don’t?” I asked.
She let out a laugh and swung the long blade, stopping it inches away from the branch holding the portal. “Then I will force them out with my power. But it could be very, very painful for you. Trust me, friend, I am helping you here. You are meddling affairs greater than yourself. I can feel your thoughts right now, frantic, trying to find some kind of way to escape this fate. If you had the power to fight me, you’d have the power to fight any other god. We would band together and destroy you, out of self-preservation. My advice to you would be this: stay out of divine affairs.”
“I made a deal with your priestesses, remember?” I said, desperate for something to work. “We pledged that we would not hurt one another. That extends to you, does it not?”
Agara shrugged. “You have hurt me by taking more of my followers. As we speak, orcs are melting down my shrines and clearing out my temples. The moment you created that portal, they abandoned me in their hearts. I warned you about this. Last chance, free the souls before I use my power to do so.”
Finally, I relented. There was nothing to be done. I could at the very least keep my dignity by releasing the souls of the orcs. This would ensure that there was no damage done to them. I opened the portal wider, drawing them out slowly, in a spirit essence. I could sense the confusion in the Bravelords. I wish I had a better answer for them.
The moment the spirits were freed, the blade was brought down on my limb, slicing it off in one clean blow. The agony was unbearable; I could feel the magic burst out of my body, the divine power rapidly escaping the wound. I lost most of my magic stores in less than ten seconds.
“A real pity,” Agara said. “If you had simply been content to grow upwards, to become a better dungeon, no one would have seen a reason to bother you. But if you try to play god, don’t be surprised if others want to join the game too. Farewell. You should hope to never see me again.”
And with those words, she was gone. My wound was closed off, now that the presence of the sword had vanished. But the limb ached; it ached with a pain I had never before felt. Not once in my life had anyone caused such damage to my body. Not even a single branch could be snapped off of me by mortal hands. The agony was unbearable.
The spirits of the dead orcs were ascending upwards too, no doubt being drawn to Agara’s realm, where she would keep them until they chose to follow her or take their chances in the underworld. This would not be received well by the orc people. Their hope was now lost. My power was severely injured, and I had lost my new realm. The sun was coming up at this point, but I felt more as if it were setting on me. I would be able to regain the power in time, but all of the effort, the sacrifices, the hard work, it was all in vain.
I grew silent from my sorrow and frustration over the next two months. The only words I spoke were to Ehdrid, so that he may explain Agara’s treachery to the orcs. I would not speak to Gariatha, for I was ashamed of my woeful inadequacy. I was unable to protect the new realm. I was unable to protect myself. Silence was the only answer for this pain.
So, I sat, ignoring all pleas from Gariatha to speak with her. I ignored Ehdrid, the tribe members who sought to parley with me. I silenced all sound within me, just to sit in peace. The goblins understood that this was a time of grief and pinned fallen leaves to their clothes in solidarity with me. They spoke no words, because no sound could travel within. The shopkeepers were less understanding of this and believed there to be some kind of crisis happening. Many left. The few who stayed were forced to rely on written words or a crude sign language to communicate with each other.
Yet the Merchant Queen would not leave. She sat in her trading post, in silence as well. But I paid little attention to any of the people within me. I instead reflected and contemplated endlessly about what had happened to me.
Was I a victim? Or had I earned this fate by tempting the gods? I had been naïve, I knew, to think that I would be left to my own devices after creating New Orcsamar. Just like with my foolish trust in the necromancer, I had believed that the gods had no concern about my actions. Yet, three of the Great Gods saw fit to order this cruelty upon me. And Agara hinted that there were others who would do darker deeds, had she not intervened.
The missing limb throbbed day and night. I could regrow it easily with my magic, if I wished. The portal would still be gone—that magic was disrupted and dispersed—but I could at least make the pain vanish. Yet, I chose to keep the wound. It would be a reminder of the injury brought upon me by the cruelty of the power hungry and my own foolishness. I would not allow the pain to subside until I had repaid Agara in kind for her deed.
My thoughts turned to revenge. To war. Agara was a powerful deity, bitter and clamorous, who saw fit to punish those who defied her. There must be other gods who despised her, or who had suffered from her tyrannical actions. Perhaps I could contact them for aid. Then again, they would just look at me as a tool, to be used when convenient and thrown away once I was no longer of any value. No, I would have to do this on my own.
By the beginning of the third month, I was ready to speak again. The orcs had still refused to leave me alone, the goblins were beginning to tire of the silence and the last shopkeep was preparing to depart for another dungeon, one where he could speak words. My despair subsided and was replaced with a burning anger. I would create a new realm, but one that would house the souls of any who wished, Agara be damned. But first, I needed to come up with a plan for how to protect myself from her or any other god’s divine power.
Chapter 32
Ehdrid sat in the silence of his spiritual retreat, soaking in what I had just told him. He was growing older and wearier with each passing day, but today he looked especially exhausted. Perhaps it was because I just told him that I wanted revenge against a Greater God. Or perhaps it was the weight of having to shepherd an entire community through silence for two straight months. Finally, he spoke, with weight and measure.
“My race has no love for the gods,” Ehdrid said. “For they did not create us. Our people were created by the ancient wizards, using Deep Magic to create servitors and slaves. We were ugly and outcast, servants only for gruesome tasks. When we die, we do not go to the gods, but become as spirits, wandering this world forever. As shaman, it is my task to speak to them, to settle their pain and to learn their wisdom. And in this moment, I hear a thousand voices cry out in agony at your desire. You seek only to destroy yourself by committing to revenge.”
“These spirits you hear crying out, what do they say?” I asked.
Ehdrid shrugged. “They speak in many voices and many tongues, but they all say the same. That revenge is a poison that destroys the soul. When a goblin is bitter and cruel, their spir
its become poisoned and they become terrible wraiths in death. If you hold to this rage, they warn me, you will become a wraith when Agara destroys you. There will be no rest, no peace. Your spirit will become a nightmare for all who live on this land.”
I bristled at those words, my entire body shaking, causing the walls to his hut to tremble. “I will have my revenge,” I told him.
“They always do,” Ehdrid replied, sighing. “But suppose that you were able to kill Agara. Or at least, take her power away. Would this not beget more revenge? You only feed a cycle of pain. Your spirit will take on much poison from this. You will not survive. There will always be the cold and the cruel, looking to take what you own. And you may defend your life, you may fight to survive, but I know your heart, World Tree. You do not want to fight Agara to protect yourself or your kin. You want to harm her because she has harmed you.”
“And that desire for revenge is a poison,” I said, grudgingly. His words were true. In my time of reflection, I was only thinking about harming Agara so that I may recover my wounded pride. The anger burning inside of me was great, but the thought of seeing that goddess in pain put more fuel on the fire. Far more than the thought of restoring Orcsamar. “So, I must do nothing?”
“For a time,” Ehdrid said. “You must let the ire die down. Heal your wound, my friend. Restore the order within, and then look for a way to protect yourself from this in the future. We will follow you as you wish, but I will not order my people to aid you in revenge. I pledged to protect you and serve you, this means that I must not do that which will bring you further harm.”
This was a very kind and nuanced way for Ehdrid to tell me that I was on my own if I wished to pursue hurting Agara. “My anger is great, Ehdrid.”
Ehdrid nodded at that and raised his staff up. I saw flickers of little blue lights, swirling around his staff. “At all times, I am accompanied by the spirits of great goblin kings and conquerors. Those who saw to create their own realm, to govern. The spirits of other shaman, who all advise me in death as one day I will advise another after I have passed. It is not easy to sit amongst them, to hear their bickering and quarrels, the things they disagree on. When they speak with a unified voice, I know that I must listen. Let go of your hate. They urge you as one. It will only distort your soul. The anger will only grow greater, even if you succeed. The fire will die over time, but if you choose to let it burn, you will not have the power to quench it.”
Tree Dungeon Page 17
