Failing all else, I put up a partial membrane. Those allowed only visual light through. I felt the same. Switching to a full membrane, a completely impenetrable barrier aside from that annoying shiny cloud who was currently MIA, I suddenly felt fine. The off-feeling vanished. Alternately turning the membrane on and off, I quickly confirmed there was something in the locale that affected me. I still had zero clue as to what it was or what it was designed to do. Oh joy. Another hopeless mystery. Maybe I actually was the god of those.
When I was done analyzing the whatever I caught up with my group. Yeah, not too hard, they'd moved maybe three meters. We shuffled on in silence for a while. I came up alongside Wul as unintentionally as I could appear to. After a few minutes I mumbled, “Never going to get used to that feeling.”
“Pardon?” he said, waking from some daydream.
“Oh, mostly grousing to myself. I said I'm never going to get used to that awful feeling. The one here at Beal's Point.”
He grunted a harrumph. “Not sure we're supposed to.”
So there was a signal in the area, an intentional one that Wul accepted to be unpleasant but necessary. Mandatory? “I know. I just wish there was an alternative.”
He stopped and stared at me. “You continue to be most peculiar.”
I shrugged. “So I've been told.”
“What alternative might you suggest?”
Oh boy, stepped in it again. I was one hell of a lousy spy. “Maybe read about it in a book?”
“Read about the past misery of prior defiled gods by reading it in a book in order to assimilate the message to not do as they did?”
I shrugged again, more apologetically. “Sure. Why not?”
“Ryanmax, what we are discussing borders on sacrilege.”
“Right in my wheelhouse. I'm a bit of an iconoclast.”
“A bit? You question and challenge perhaps the oldest law of the conclave, and that's a bit sacrilegious?”
I kind of giggled like the jackass I was being.
He shook his head. “You could learn of the past transgressions and their consequences from a book. But you couldn't absorb and internalize the essence of their sins that way. No book is large enough to hold that much guilt.” He spread his arms out wide.
So the yucky feeling I was experiencing was the assimilation of some dead gods' sins. I threw up in the back of my mouth—figuratively. Grossamus maximus. I had sins a plenty of my own, thank you very much. And at least I got to enjoy my sinning. Taking some loser’s burden was unacceptably unpleasant.
Aha. That was why Wul mentioned that we had to come here. It wasn't voluntary. This was no vacation. It was a pilgrimage. So the powers that were set up Beal's Point as an object lesson for the multitude of power-hungry immortals to try and keep them in line. That's why the figures were depicted so grotesquely. They were pariahs, not dignitaries. All us gods—I said us specifically because, you know, I was getting into character—were required to swallow the bitter medicine in hopes we would play nice. I guess it made some sense, but I would need to get my soul dry-cleaned if I even got out of here alive. I wanted no part of the alleged sins of the losing factions in high-level politics. Come on, that’s what it always was. Old men fighting and the winners revising history to make themselves shine brighter than a polished gold coin.
“I never actually met any of the denizens of Beal's Point,” I said, hoping I wasn't making a fatal error. “Did you, Wul?”
He scuffed his shoes on the ground. “One or two.”
“Were they really that bad that they needed to end up here?”
He turned to me in horror. “I am a freethinker, Ryanmax, but I am not a treasonist. I demand that you stop speaking seditiously in my presence. I hate coming here. I definitely don't want to become one of those entombed here.”
“Might you be overreacting a tad? No offense intended, but we're just talking here. What's more, no one can hear us. I didn't say these guys got a bum deal, I was asking if it was possible on a case-by-case basis.” I let that sink in. “Who'd you know? Name one of them.”
“Long ago I spent some time on a project with Denominus.”
“A project? That's nice. What project was it?”
“After the Third Transheaval we worked on a system to compress as many Leginites as possible into metal canisters.”
Sounded monstrous, but I elected not to press for details. I might be tempted to kill him, not pump him for information.
“Okay. In the time you spent with him did he impress you as a heathen, a villain, or a heretic?”
He sort of pouted a while before responding. “No. He was actually quite the opposite.”
“A true believer in all things PC?”
“PC?”
“Politically correct. Dogma, doctrine, and the official word of whoever the hell was running the show.”
“Ah. Yes, he certainly was that. Unshakable support for ruling coalition.”
I pointed to the nearest statue. “The same one that defiled him by dumping him here?”
Wul gestured to the far distance. “He's that one we passed a while back. Yes, it was his treasured central seat that turned against him.”
“For what?”
“Sedition.”
“Wul, sedition's a word. What'd he do?”
He lowered his head profoundly. “We were never fully informed. Sedition was all we were told.”
“Wow, that seems like a fair and open process, now doesn't it?”
“It was fair and it was open. I am satisfied with the decisions and actions of the conclave,” he replied through gritted teeth.
“Because you don't want to end up on a pole at Beal's Point.”
“No, because I trust my leaders and desire no higher glory than that which I already have,” he said more hotly.
“And possibly because one or both of our companions might have exceptional hearing and a tendency to betray nonbelievers.”
“That thought never crossed my mind,” he concluded, looking off toward them.
All right. Wul I could work with. He had a functioning mind. Now if I could just stop absorbing someone else's bad mojo, I might begin getting an upper hand in this realm.
TWENTY-ONE
“Vorc, the masses are becoming restless,” Dalfury said respectfully. He was the center seat's right hand and functioned as an advisor and a secretary. He was a sensitive and thoughtful individual and had served Vorc's mother in that same capacity for eons. Physically he was cloudy memory composed of cottony, wispy white and gray mists constantly churning in flux. As a demigod he represented—you guessed it—those with cloudy memories. Some godly spheres of influence were pretty straightforward like that.
“And you mention this to me again to what end?”
“To make certain you are well-informed and up to date.”
“And you mention this to me again to what end?” he repeated, trying not to smile.
“There exists an option in which you intervene, intercede, or otherwise influence the situation. It is potentially, er, destabilizing.”
“And what would you have me do?”
Dalfury's vapors churned more than normal. “I wouldn't know, Vorc. I am but a right hand.”
“That's it? Nothing more than a nebulous advisor? Really, old friend?”
“And I pray to the Forces I am adequate in that role.”
“Ah,” he responded, resting back into his pile of pillows. Vorc rubbed absently at his chin. “Let me pose it to you this way. You state you wouldn't know what action to take in this matter. Assume for the sake of argument that you did have a thought on the situation. What would it likely be?”
The cloud spun and billowed a few moments. “Well, if I had an opinion, it might be that you encourage our population to proceed as if our escape from this dimension were presently a certainty.”
“That would quash discontent? But what if fate does not so favor us? What position might I be in then?”
“A rather poor one.
But if we fail to succeed at this time, your position will be as unpleasant.”
“Beal's-Point-on-a-pedestal unpleasant?”
“Hardly. But think about it this way. If you say we go and we don't, you have a problem. If you say we aren't going, or simply say nothing and imply the same, you have a problem. If you say we go and we do, you have no problem.”
“So close my eyes, step off the cliff, and hope for the best.”
“That is one version of an opinion I might have if I ever had one.” The cloud folded to indicate a bow.
“Very well. Call a conclave for the day after tomorrow. I'll announce then that we're going on a rampage.”
“I shall be glad to, Vorc. You'll see. I have a good feeling about our chances.”
“I care nothing for feelings. I would prefer the poll numbers.” He pointed to his assistant intently. “I definitely want the exit poll numbers on my desk by the time I get back here.”
“So it will be, even if it takes voodoo magic.”
Vorc shook his head slowly. “Dalfury, please don't go there again. I'm still finding beads and chicken feathers in the oddest places.”
TWENTY-TWO
The four of us sat around a big fire resting. We were about halfway thought the gauntlet that was a Beal's Point pilgrimage. It turned out my companions had packed Hemnoplop with all manner of food and beverage before they set off. Yeah, small islands have a lot of nooks and crannies to haul stuff. And the added weight was nothing to him. We were feasting on fresh fruits, preserved meats, and lots of intoxicants. Lots. Dudes knew how to do it right. My kind of picnic.
Hemnoplop ate mass quantities but drank almost nothing. He kept going on about not wanting to destabilize his sedimentary layers with too much fluid accumulation. And if he got tipsy he'd tip, and it was oh so hard to get up unless there were elephants and dinosaurs present to help him. Argh. Dude was turning out to be quite the pansy. Oh well, more for me, right?
As the evening wore on, Wul made it a point to come over to me when the other two were busy arguing. I should say that Livryatous, who was three sheets to the wind, was arguing with Hemnoplop. The island mostly listened and nodded like he found the whole process enjoyable. La-who-zer.
“Ryanmax, mind if I sit with you a spell?”
“No. Pull up a rock.”
He did just that. “The night is cold but the fire warm. Life is good,” he said as he raised his glass.
I tapped mine to his and we threw the concoction back. I didn't ask the name, since I didn't want to seem unfamiliar with the commonplace. It was definitely fermented and distilled, but it had a bubbly tang. It was nice. “L'chaim,” popped out of my mouth.
He furrowed his brow and thought a minute. “Haven't heard that in a long time.” He reflected a bit longer. “Associated with the Hebrews, right?”
“Give the man a kewpie doll.”
“Did they worship you?”
Never been asked that before. Sure sounded odd entering my head. “Me, no. Someone named Yahweh last I heard.”
He glared at me long and hard. “You speak of matters others do not. I'm still deciding if that's a good thing or not.”
“But it's a fun one,” I said, offering him my glass to toast again.
After a pause he clinked mine, albeit kind of begrudgingly. “Yahweh is not a force spoken of often. Most are too nervous to say the word.”
“Gods nervous about saying a god's name? I never bought into that, friend. Silly superstition.”
He angled his head. “If you say so. I call it prudent.”
“Wul, come on. A god's a god's a god.”
“Now I know you're twisting my leg. You can't believe such a falsehood.”
Say what? “Help me out here. Are you twisting some part of my anatomy?”
“Ryanmax, there are universes of difference between gods. Tell me you know this.”
“Let's pretend, because we're friends and bored, that I don't and you explain it like I was four.”
He squinted at me, measuring my response. Finally he spoke. “To be a god like we Cleinoids, one must be immortal and have some manifest power, some non-spontaneous ability to act. You know, throwing lightning bolts or prophecy.”
“Sure.”
“But that we don't die doesn't mean we can't .”
I gestured broadly to the statues of Beal's Point. “Duh.”
“A god like … like the one you mentioned is very different. They are truly immortal. They possess powers such as omniscience. We do not.”
“Yeah, I knew an evil god who we ended. He knew a lot, but he wasn't omnipotent or anything.”
That gave him pause. “You knew a god we ended? How is that possible?”
Why did I shake my mouth off? Because I was an idiot, that was why. “Long story.”
He pointed to Hemnoplop. “I'm traveling with him. Time I got.”
“You finish your explanation, then it'll be my turn.”
“Agreed. I'm done. Talk.”
“No you're not because I'm still confused. Why stress over saying a name like Yahweh?”
Dude visibly cringed when I said the name. “Because to speak a name has power. It is an offer, an opportunity. Speak a name and that individual might learn of it. They might come to see why you spoke of them. That might be bad.”
“There're three mights in that sorry excuse for a justification. Might cubed makes the odds quite remote.”
“You want a power greater than yours to be standing here angry and bent on vengeance, even if the chances were slim?”
“Well no, but …”
“But nothing. You've been warned.”
Hmm. Summoning Yahweh actually sounded pretty good to me about then. He'd be able to clear up the entire ancient god threat quicker than an old man slipping on a banana peel.
“The god you knew?” he pressed.
“Ralph.”
He contorted his face, considering the name. “Never heard of him. Ralph? Are you certain?”
“Well, no, now that you ask. That's what he said I should call him. He lived in a globular cluster orbiting some stupid galaxy. Are we done here?”
“We haven't even started. A few scouts have slipped temporarily out of our universe into Prime. Yes, we are told they have caused some nuisance damage. But their time is limited and few are able to make the passage.”
Destroying an entire planet was nuisance damage? Wow, these guys did play hardball. Prime? What the hell was that? My head was spinning. “I wouldn't know about Prime.” Not certain what I actually just said, but I spoke with resolve. Resolve was good when knowledge and options were at a minimum.
“How … you knew a god in Prime. Are you trying to deceive me?”
“Me? Heavens no.” I did my best to seem hurt. Darn near teared up.
“Ryanmax, if you knew a god in the Prime Target, then you were in Prime. You're lying to my face one way or the other.” With serious attitude he asked, “Which is it?”
I think I'll title my autobiography Spending Eternity Weaseling Out of Problems My Big Mouth Caused. Yes, most definitely. “I said I didn't know about Prime. Come on, lighten up. I know so little about it I basically know nothing. Didn't say I hadn't been there.” I set my index fingers next to one another, then expanded them apart. “Two things are big-time different.”
He was quiet so long I got nervous. He relented finally. “When you excused yourself earlier to go back and complete some obeisance, I followed you.”
“What? How dare you, and why?”
“You were obviously trying to do something in private. Ryanmax, no one goes backwards here. The place is a shithole. One moves forward as fast as possible and one never looks back.” He looked to the fire. “I wanted to see what you were up to.”
“Maybe I wanted to take a dump all by my lonesome.”
“Then I'd have seen you take a dump, as you so colorfully call what I assume means pass excrement.” He looked back to the flames. “But that's not what I saw.”
“Yeah?” Oh crap-crap-crap. I was in for it now. “What'd you think you saw, secret squirrel?”
“I saw you repeatedly disappear and reappear.”
Dude, I am a god. What's the prob? “Wul, that's it? You saw a god become invisible and you're ready to, what, form a cult around me?”
He looked hurt. “You told us before you were the god of warriors.”
“Yeah. I am.”
“What good would the ability to become invisible be to a warrior?”
Huh? Can I get a duh? “I believe a warrior under extreme threat would welcome invisibility. Ya think?” I had to pepper that in. Jerk deserved it.
“Ryanmax, I was beginning to like you. I fancied we might even become friends in time. But you are obviously up to something sinister and you do not want me to know of it.” He sniffed loudly. “Such a betrayal precludes friendship, wouldn't you agree?”
On the chessboard of life I just slid from confused to dumfounded. “Wul, I 'd like to think we are becoming friends. Tell me, please, why invisibility is not an asset for a warrior.”
“Our powers help those we expend them on,” he said bitterly.
“Yeah, and when your ass is in a sling invisible is mighty handy.”
“You becoming invisible in no way helps the poor soul with his … whatever you said.”
Oh shit. I had it wrong and I was sounding evasive. “Wait,” I mostly whined, “are we talking about what's useful in battle, or are we talking about what powers any one of us …”
“Stop it. This is hurtful.” He stood to leave.
Showtime. I stood. “My power is spearing. I spear things. If I need to help a warrior in battle I spear what's causing them grief.” I raised a finger and pointed at the nearest large rock. I threw a pulsed full membrane and the rock exploded into dust. “There. Now I'm sorry …”
Return of the Ancient Gods Page 12
