Live Like a God

by Taylor Kole

Guiding her hand away, he said, “Did they tell you what they wanted?”

  She locked her knees, slapped her thighs and fully stood. “Who cares what they want. Some of us only want to please you, and find that simple deed difficult.”

  Looking over her toned body, he understood the curves and implied firmness should warrant attraction, but he felt nothing. He imagined her a teenager from his world, buried in her phone, snapchatting funny memes, or sitting in a gymnasium live-streaming her boyfriend’s basketball game.

  With a sigh for being unable to help this Reysonan, he headed toward the exit.

  The temple was metal, perhaps pewter, and used for defense. Because of that, it offered no windows, which denied him the ability to gauge time. If a few men had been waiting since dawn, then the suns had already risen.

  “JoshRidley,” Bellora called. “You’re forgetting your blade.”

  Looking past her he saw it next to the bed. The scabbard leaned against the wall. He assumed he was heading outside to talk with men interested in a hunt, perhaps he would invite his guests inside. If so, he didn’t need to attach his weapon. However the possibility of running into a demon, like the one that killed Nero, with only his bare hands as defense spurred him in the direction of his weapon, double-time.

  “Thanks for reminding me.” Once the scimitar was across his back, he crossed the cavernous hall, traveled the silent corridor, and pushed open the double door entrance.

  The suns glowed softly in their imitation of rising, casting a bright warm hue over a mass of gathered people. The light’s angle temporarily impaired his vision.

  As Josh squinted to help survey the crowd, which had to be a quarter of the village population, they stirred from sitting on steps or dirt, from leaning against fencing or huddling in the shade. Whispers spread. Women and children bid farewell to their men near the temple entrance and joined the throngs of people stretching out from the base of the steps, filling the road in both directions.

  A familiar voice broke through the crowd. “Good morning, JoshRidley,” Flavius said as he raced up the steps, stopping one below him.

  The boy had polished his mismatched armor. His sandy blond hair glowed as if recently washed. His excitement was contagious, judging by the faces Josh scanned.

  Seasoned men waited near the top of the steps in their version of high spirits, lacking scowls and with the occasional smirk or nod. Padded leather and chainmail covered their chests. Their anklets, gauntlets, and helmets of various designs reflected the gleam of the rising suns.

  Many of the men carried a long pole with a curved blade at the top and a straight blade beneath that. Cables trailed to a lever of sorts near the handle, as if pulling it would pinch the cutting edges together. The weapon reminded Josh of one of those lawn care tools used to trim high branches.

  “What is all of this?” he asked with a twinge of exasperation, feeling like the victim of an ambush.

  Flavius’ smile dropped. “I don’t understand the question.” He surveyed those present as if seeking Josh’s meaning.

  Gently grabbing his page behind the arm, he guided him inside for a private chat. Before his second step he spotted Junea knifing her way through the crowd’s outer edge and released Flavius.

  “’Tis the hunting party you requested,” Flavius said with some confusion.

  All eyes watched him. Their combined focus impacted him like a sustained psychic ray. Imagining this concentration of human attention amplified by a stadium full of spectators, Josh experienced his first glimpse of the atmosphere inside an arena and partially understood why professional athletes fought so hard against their retirement.

  The warriors near the doors nodded confidently as his gaze found them.

  Josh lowered his voice and addressed his young acolyte. “I asked to speak with men about the dangers facing Reysona so I could choose how to help.” He lacked the courage to add, at a later date.

  Josh’s career in finance made him a realist, and even though it felt amazing to kill a preoccupied spider, there was a gulf between him and Ares, the god of war.

  He continued at near whisper. “Those men look ready for battle, which is troubling. I only agreed to talk. I just want—”

  Junea glided up the stairs.

  Unable to balk with her in earshot, he contemplated the advantages of talking inside the temple.

  Flavius said, “My lord, there is no time for talk. Six suns have set since your arrival. Slaying a queen is paramount. If we sent every man in Reysona, we would fail. For you, her death is but a decision.” The confusion on Flavius’ face slowed Josh’s heart rate.

  To the boy, a god who could save the entire world stood before him.

  Josh was just a buff accountant.

  Light chatter thrummed in the street. Without singling out one conversation, just deriving topic from tone, Josh knew this morning was a momentous one for a people who lived their lives with fear. The present dawn promised a chance for a respite from evil, hope for a safer world. The proof prayers were answered stood incarnate before them. Josh simply wished the responsibility lay with another.

  He noticed a father squatting in front of his young son near the dirt road, explaining something in detail to the boy who continued to break from his father’s gaze for a glimpse of the sculpted god in the doorway. As if the pressure wasn’t enough, a soothing voice emanated near him.

  “You look radiant, JoshRidley,” Junea said.

  She wore tight knee-length shorts and a top with two flowers detailed up each side. Her voluminous hair, so black it appeared polished, hung in ringlets. The clarity of her dark eyes captivated Josh. Each step she took increased his awe of her. Again, in a deep recess of his mind he conjured improper—but more aligned with the old Josh he knew—images. He and Junea cuddled on a porch swing at night then migrating into the house; he tracing fingers across her bare back; their noses touching, eyes locked as they lay in bed, communicating without words.

  Realizing he still stared at Junea—that she had spoke nearly a minute prior—he cleared his throat and said, “Thank you. You look radiant as well”

  To avoid the uncharacteristic madness that accompanied his new chemical makeup or the embarrassment of stumbling over every third word, he thought of Karen’s smile from years prior. From when he bought them matching jogging outfits and they spent the afternoon at Jackson Park, sharing the day’s sunshine with amorous birds and other couples. Recalling this helped with his mental sins.

  Two years had passed since that day at the park. He couldn’t think of a more recent romantic memory. When was the last time she smiled at him? When was the last time they had kissed with open mouths? When was the last time they made love without a preceding discussion and bottle of wine?

  Flavius’ head swiveled from Josh to Junea. Finally he chuckled and said, “It seems you’ve cast a love spell on our lord.”

  Oh, you little bastard, thought Josh.

  “Is this true, JoshRidley?” Junea looped her arm in Josh’s and in a voice only the trio could hear said, “You honor me. If you didn’t have a village to save we would enter your home and explore our compatibility.” Squeezing his steel arm, she guided him to the center of the platform overlooking the crowd.

  In a loud voice she announced, “’Tis a glorious day for a raid.”

  The crowd cheered. The sound jarred him back to the purpose of this assembly: Josh going beyond the wall.

  Remembering the constant fear during his journey from the Hall of the Gods to Reysona killed his desire to leave.

  Junea addressed Flavius in a stately tone. “I hear mornings are the best time to approach the eviscerators.”

  A stout man holding one of the mechanical spears interjected. “These demons are as active at night as in the day.” Sensing he had foiled her intention he added, “It is us who cannot face them at night,” and in a louder voice. “We must embark with the maximum daylight.”

  “Orion, come forth,” Junea said. The burly man, who could s
tir a debate about humans descending from bears rather than apes, stepped forward. Junea continued, “Orion has assumed Nero’s command of the guard and will be your best asset on this adventure.”

  “But I—” Josh stopped when Orion kneeled.

  “These fierce creatures are the embodiment of evil, great JoshRidley. It will be my honor to witness you showing them that hate is no match for a god’s benevolence.” Orion rose and retreated a step.

  Junea leaned close and spoke in his ear. “This is why you are here, great JoshRidley. I know of your inner woes. They are misplaced. When you return from this heroic venture you will have done the greatest deed in our history.”

  She slid her hand down his arm, interlaced their fingers and, with suggestion rather than force, lifted their hands into the air. “JoshRidley will be the greatest god to ever grace Betaloome. He shall make Bristalius proud and Reysona famous. Give him your thanks and your prayers of safe passage.”

  En masse, the crowd knelt and a communal murmuring washed over them.

  Josh marveled at the depth of their faith in him. Accepting he was their only hope aroused his resolve. He possessed an actual power and it could save lives. He inhaled deeply and surveyed the kneeling crowd. His vision locked on the lone standing figure.

  The young boy whose father had been instructing him watched Josh. He could be no more than five but he stared with fixed determination as if he wanted to remember this forever.

  The boy clicked his heels and saluted.

  Josh returned the salute. Each centimeter of movement emboldened him to the task ahead. He would try and help. A suffering people needed a relief only he could provide. For now, he’d consider killing something wicked enough to be named, demon queen.

  VII

  Reysona boasted two hundred able-bodied men. Yet, in the jungle, too many men invited danger. Noise attracted predators. Many feet marching in the wrong territory signaled war to an ant colony, and a long trail of bodies drew the attention of flutterships (dragonflies) or flying spears (mosquitoes).

  With those many dangers in his thoughts, Josh exited the inner gate, one of a six man team.

  Orion lumbered at the head of the party, followed by Reysona’s most seasoned guide, Artemis. Artemis was the most serious man Josh had ever met. He was devoid of humor and impervious to distractions. Every time Josh asked him what that sound was or what to do if a trapper pounced, Artemis crouched lower and moved forward a little faster. Flavius followed Josh. Two other hunters completed the single file. The group hugged the perimeter of the fence for fifteen minutes, at which point they angled into the jungle, officially starting the quest.

  Common lichen gave the moist earth a camouflage pattern. Rainwater formed puddles of various sizes and filled the pockets of certain leaves. The combined effect was a humid woodland. The occasional dome-shaped droplets of water dotting the floor made the atmosphere alien. Waist-high, the droplets appeared gelatin and poking them dispersed the fluid like a ruptured amniotic sac.

  If pressed, Josh would label his surroundings a jungle, yet the vegetation resembled nothing he’d seen on normal-sized Earth. Gargantuan leaves blotted out light for stretches; other stretches passed in open fields, granting a view of two visible suns. Though green, at this level, every plant had a distinct green hue. The six-inch indentation into the soil that each of his steps created marked a visible trail and shockingly, revealed the presence of toiling creatures active near the surface.

  Around three hundred yards beyond the outer wall Josh detected a stench similar to foot odor.

  The foulness compounded every additional twenty feet.

  Noticing Josh’s increased sniffles, Orion dropped behind Artemis and spoke softly. “That is the eviscerators’ putrid method of mapping. This scent tells us we have reached their outer border. It’s meant as a warning to keep out.”

  With closer proximity to the ant’s territory, the smell was like rotten meat boiled in pond scum.

  When the stench reached its worst, Josh considered tying a cloth over his mouth and nose, but then he found it lessening—or, more likely, he was growing accustomed to the smell.

  A hundred yards further, Orion halted the line and ordered the men to make camp. He then led Josh a few paces ahead. Pointing at a long strip of soil that was darker than the rest, he said, “That marks their boundary.”

  A patina stripe, similar to a sprayed chemical, created a visible path nearly four feet wide that stretched off in both directions.

  “The foul monsters release that funk from their arses,” Orion said. “They map all of their territory using scents. One smell will determine their borders. Another guides laborers to a food source. Others are messages only their evil minds can read. They also chirp and butt heads, but the majority of their communication is done through smells.”

  Josh followed the path with his eyes until it disappeared. The path’s precision amazed him. Sharing thoughts. Mapping terrain. Leaving informative guideposts. Were the ants that used to live beneath his feet as advanced as these?

  “Sentries make rounds every four or five days to maintain the integrity of the boundaries,” Orion said “By the strength of this odor they have passed recently, which should help in our approach. Come.”

  Orion brought Josh to the back of the group. Artemis was sharpening branch tips. Another man unpacked their gear. Flavius and the final man stood watch at opposite ends. Each of the lookouts wielded the specially-designed pruning weapon, along with what must be their normal choice. Flavius wore his short sword, his fellow guard had a battle axe loosely tied to his waist.

  “What is the purpose of those?” Josh asked, nodding at the long weapons.

  At Josh’s question, Flavius lifted his weapon and displayed the cutting function. “It’s called a salca,” Orion said. “The eviscerators have feelers on top of their heads to detect scents, possibly movements. If we sever them they become disoriented, allowing us to cut the other. With both gone they are partially blind, and easier to kill. Sometimes with both feelers cut they will lie down and allow their slaughter. We always oblige.”

  Flavius approached the men. Addressing Orion he said, “I am JoshRidley’s chosen acolyte. It should be me that guides him to the queen’s lair.”

  “You would be considered, young Flavius, if you had ever saw a mound. The scout who accompanies our god must have familiarity with this terrain, remain invisible, and guide him to the entrance without deviations.”

  “Who is more silent than I?” Flavius said, then looked around for support.

  Sensing danger for the one who accompanied him, abhorring the thought of Flavius coming to harm, and needing the option of running without shame, Josh said, “There will be other opportunities to hunt.”

  Flavius dropped his head and nodded.

  Surprised by the ease of his first command, Josh asked Orion, “What is our plan, exactly?”

  “Artemis will escort you,” Orion said. “The mound is half a shadow bar or more into their lands. He can lead you to the entrance unseen, but will be little help in the final conflict.” He paused and continued with more emphasis, “You must understand. Demons guard their home with merciless violence. If you find conflict, stay mindful of their jaws. I do not know if they can crush a god, but they snap the bones in our bodies as if they were dried wheat.”

  Josh swallowed then flexed his pectorals. Their density calmed him. He wasn’t sure a low-caliber bullet could penetrate him.

  “Outside their cave will be two wardens. Large, menacing guardians who only have two mindsets: alert and rage. You’ll have to pass them undetected to enter the queen’s lair. From there, all we know has been pieced from legend. It is said the queen wields strength to rival your own and a temper that cannot be matched. They say she sleeps much of her life. That is the best time to strike.”

  “I could help by snipping her feelers,” Flavius added, as if the idea made perfect sense. “Who is faster with a salca?”

  “No,” both adults
said in unison. Josh had too much on his mind to be distracted with concerns of Flavius’ safety. The hurt in the boy’s eyes made him add, “Orion is right. I need a scout who has been to the mound.” Sensing his page’s forthcoming counter, he spoke with more authority. “The acolyte serves me, right? I shouldn’t have to explain myself. You will remain here. That’s it.”

  Flavius bit his bottom lip, then nodded.

  “We will need for a warrior as fast as you at camp,” Orion said. “We will not have a god to hide behind should a demon stumble upon us.”

  Josh contemplated coming face-to-face with a dumb, yet brutally strong ant. He detached the blade from the harness across his back. The click of unclasping metal drew everyone’s attention. The members of the small party shuffled backward to give the long blade room.

  Slowly, Josh cut through the air horizontally, feeling the control; then vertically, focusing on his worry; then diagonally, unifying weapon and muscle.

  As with nearly all human decisions, his motivation for risking himself centered on his own benefit. He wanted to see a giant ant. He was learning the strength in him needed to be put to use. And he was a little pissed off that some of the villagers thought an insect was his equal. Josh would split the ant queen’s head, probably after waking her up, and relish the crunch of blade into exoskeleton as he eliminated her with barbaric finality.

  A smooth slice of the sword to his right, a quick stab, a chop to the left.

  Should he find his life in danger, he’d run. Plain and simple. His commitment to helping depended on the limits of his power. Helping Reysona was important, but so was returning to Karen in one piece—and, because of this experience, injecting a renewed vigor to their lives.

  Josh could never explain the expense to her. Even if much of the reason he came here was for her. He longed to be a man she could run to in a time of danger. On a new front, he wanted to make sure Flavius’ future was less dangerous. And though he wouldn’t be able to accept Junea’s offer to explore their compatibility, the deepest part of him wanted to meet her expectations, look into those piercing eyes, and feel worthy of the respect in them.