Tinker's Justice
Page 33
“Eziel?” Juliana asked. She knew the face from the statue in the Acardian city of Golis, where the ancient gods stood in sculpted form, watching over a plaza.
He frowned, but it carried no hint of anger. “You are too young to know me,” he said.
“But not I,” Bvatrain said, drawing the god’s attention.
“Nor I,” added Illiardra.
“Why have you summoned me?” Eziel asked. “I had no idea these worlds still held life, so long had they been dormant.”
“Dormant?” Illiardra asked. “Your brethren cleaved them loose in fear of Tallax.”
Eziel scoffed. “Not fear for us, but fear for mortals of the other worlds. The daruu of Tellurak died at his hands. He drove the Korrish dragons to extinction. All because he was unable to find the answer to the one question he cared for.”
“He has been dead for thousands of winters,” Illiardra protested.
“And the worlds have drifted back together once again,” Eziel replied. “You could have contacted us long before now, if you were in no further danger. I’m surprised you turned to science instead of magic though. I did not expect it of a pastoral world.”
“Does this mean you’re going to return?” Juliana asked. She had prayed to Tansha as a child—the blink of an eye ago, to the ageless creatures around her. There was still a part of her that longed for proof that the goddess was real.
“Return?” Eziel asked. “Why would we return here? Our work is done—long since done.”
“You still have worshipers here,” Bvatrain said. “Some few in this world, many more in Korr and Tellurak. The humans of Korr just fought a war in your name.”
Eziel’s face wrinkled in disgust. “I taught them the means to defend themselves, not to wage war. I suppose I must shoulder blame for letting that message erode in the winds of time. But it is not for me to disabuse them. Let them believe of me as they will. They are not my problem any longer.”
“But what of the Korrish weapon that broke the moon?” Viyax asked. “What if they turn it against us? We need your help.”
Eziel threw his head back and laughed. “Is this why you’ve called for aid after all this time? Because some class three or four world gained access to class seven science? You mighty magicians are afraid of technology that can barely toddle across the floor, and you cower in the corners from it?”
“Yes?” Viyax ventured sheepishly.
“Come to me when their civilization expands to the stars, and they threaten to collapse the heavens upon themselves. That day they might inconvenience my current works, and I might come to stop them for you then. Those of you whom I remember, you disappoint me. You are so much as you were. Grow. Begin anew. Explore. Do not fritter away your vast lifespans. Even your so-called immortality is not without end.”
“What would you have us do?” Illiardra asked.
“Have you do?” Eziel asked. “I would have you tend to your own affairs. You want the gods watching over you, but to whom do these mortals turn? They pray to memories, listen to echoes, read shadows of old beliefs. Steer them. Guide them. Protect them as we once did, as we once needed to. This world is old enough; it no longer needs us. It has its guardians.”
With that, lightning struck where Eziel stood, and he was gone. The skies cleared and the broken moon stared down at them once more, accusingly. In the silence that followed, the immortals looked to one another, each trying to decide what to make of Eziel’s admonishment.
“I guess no more non-intervention,” Kyrus said with a wan smile.
“If there are no other volunteers, I’ll be the goddess of war,” Juliana offered.
* * * * * * * *
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About the Author
Born in New Hampshire in 1977, J.S. Morin found himself captivated by the wonders of fantasy novels at a young age. He was introduced to the genre via the works of R.A. Salvatore, Ed Greenwood, and Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman. He loved exploring other people’s worlds, from Shadowdale to Hyrule. He also quickly found Dungeons and Dragons to be a creative outlet for stories, characters, and new worlds of his own creation.
His other passion was for building and designing things, and when it came time to choose a career, he went down that road. A Mechanical Engineer by day, he spends his evenings with his wife in their New Hampshire home, enjoying the simplicity of life in a quiet state.
By night he dreams elaborate dreams of visiting fanciful worlds, performing acts of heroism, and solving intriguing puzzles, which inspire him to craft stories that he hopes will help shape the lives of the next generation of fantasy readers. He hopes to avoid finishing growing up.
Tanner scratched at a week’s beard, weighing the risk of trying to shave with a runed sword. He had never been fond of beards, but he had never been fond of beaches either, yet here he was. The liftwing was perched not fifty paces away at the edge of the sand and the tall grasses. One wheel was broken, having given out when he made his first landing. For someone who never took a lesson, he considered it a victory.
He took a bite of a fruit he couldn’t name, the juices running down his face amid the unaccustomed hair. The first day, he had counted himself lucky for having found a grove of trees laden with the fruits not far from shore. By now he was sick to death of them, but had yet to find anything else that looked safe to eat.
Tanner looked up into the bright blue sky. “Dan, I know yesterday I swore I’d have your spleen out for leaving me here. I take it back. You get them to open a gate and we can call it even.”
He took another bite, and waited.