The Forsaken God: The Realms Book Five: (An Epic LitRPG Series)

by C. M. Carney

  The alpha bandersnatch returned its gaze to Gryph. He tried to back away, but he’d chosen his ambush spot too well, and there was nowhere to hide. The alpha locked eyes with him, and the same intelligence lay behind them.

  “What are you?” Gryph said, and the beast cocked its head again, before snapping its tail. The last thing Gryph saw before the aetherial power sent him elsewhere, was the cat’s lips turned up in a smile.

  40

  The mad Seeker disappeared into the gloom of the tower and Lex turned to Errat. The warborn grinned like a kid who’d been told a great secret, one he’d promised to keep to himself. Errat stared at his hand, which seemed to be fading in and out of existence. The warborn laughed gleefully.

  “Yo, Errat, you listening? What the hell was that?”

  Errat turned to Lex, like a man pulled from a daydream and his grin widened. “Apologies friend Lex. But, friend Bart showed me how to meld with the Aether.”

  “I thought these bars interrupted magic,” Eris said.

  “They do,” Ovrym said, his eyes wide as understanding came to him. “But the Aether, in its most primal state, is not magic, but the base energy that all other spheres are drawn from. It existed before the Realms, before matter, and is therefore not bound by it.”

  “Yes, friend Ovrym is right,” Errat said and then closed his eyes and pushed the distortion through the rest of his body. He stepped forward and phased through the bars of his cell, nearly forgetting to go solid once again. He grabbed a handhold before gravity tugged him down into the abyss below his feet. Once safe, he laughed in relief and glee.

  “You wouldn’t by chance be able to teach the rest of us how to do that?” Vonn asked.

  “I cannot,” Errat said in genuine regret. “However, I believe I can extend my discorporation long enough to draw you through the bars.”

  “You think!” Lex said a bit harsher than intended, but visions of being skewered mid-phase by solid bars filled his imagination.

  Ovrym, who was closest to Errat, extended the stump of his bad arm through the bars of his cell. “Let's confirm your theory, before Lex’s prattling drives us all mad.” Errat shifted his body and crept closer to Ovrym.

  “I don’t prattle,” Lex complained.

  “Check your skill sheets,” Vonn said. “I am sure you’re a Grandmaster in Prattle.”

  “Ha, ha, ha,” Lex laughed without humor. “I hate every one of you.”

  Despite his protestations, Lex watched Ovrym with intense worry. Errat grabbed the xydai’s bicep, right above the elbow and waited for Ovrym to nod. Both men closed their eyes. Errat’s arm shimmered and phased, melding through and into Ovrym’s arm. It became impossible to determine where Errat’s arm ended and Ovrym’s began. The discorporation flowed up, and the xydai became fainter, like a visual echo. When the disturbance reached all the way to his feet, Errat pulled him through the bars.

  Lex grimaced at the slow progress, but soon Ovrym was through and his remaining hand grabbed a bar as his foot found a secure foothold. The sound of multiple released breaths flowed through the tower.

  “I will begin the climb,” Ovrym said, moving to the rope dangling in front of the Seeker’s cell. “Do not delay.” He turned his gaze to Lex. “We are about to face a god on his home turf. We will all need to be at our best.” Lex said nothing and nodded at the adjudicator, despite the obviousness of being singled out. A small smile pursed Ovrym’s lips in acknowledgement of Lex’s restraint, and he began to climb. It was no easy feat with only one arm.

  “Did that hurt as much as it looked like it did?” Vonn asked, unable to resist mocking Lex.

  “I am working hard to be a wise man,” Lex retorted.

  “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to work on that,” Vonn said, craning his neck towards the top of the tower, somewhere in the distant darkness. “This climb will be murder on those stumpy limbs of yours.”

  Errat moved to the next cell. Eris extended her arm without hesitation and after a minute Errat had freed her. Eris reached the rope and began to climb and Errat moved on to Vonn. It took far less time for Vonn’s extraction. It seemed Errat’s technique was improving.

  Vonn began his ascent as Errat reached Lex’s cell. Lex tried to force his heart to slow its crazed thumping. No matter how successful the other’s extraction had been, Lex feared the other shoe was about to drop. It had all been too easy. Errat looked down on the NPC, his joyous smile relieving some tension.

  “Do you really think there are biscuits?” Errat asked.

  “Um, I hope so,” Lex said, and then gave Errat a confused look. “I thought you didn’t eat?”

  “Warborn do not need to eat, but I have learned that I very much like food. Errat first heard about biscuits on hearing Yrriel say that friend Lex had delicious biscuits, and I have very much wanted to try them since. Why did friend Lex not share his biscuits with Errat?”

  “Uh,” Lex began, his face turning crimson. “Yeah, well, I only have two and Yrriel really likes them, so …”

  “Oh, of course. Yrriel is a very special. Friend Lex must save his biscuits for her.” The warborn extended his arm through the bars and with a moment’s hesitation, Lex grabbed him by the wrist. “Try to relax. It will make the process easier.”

  “Relax. Right. Just breathe easy.”

  Errat’s arm began to shimmer, and it extended up and into Lex. “And think of tasty biscuits.”

  Lex coughed, and the shimmer retreated somewhat. Lex apologized, recovered himself and nodded. He closed his eyes, putting all his intent into moving through the bars. The shimmer moved up his arm and into his body. He felt lighter and larger, as if his being were expanding. The sensation grew and for a moment Lex was all and everywhere.

  A moment later the sensation ceased, and Lex opened his eyes to find he was on the other side of the bars. His knees went weak seeing the nothingness below his feet and he gripped onto Errat like a drowning man to a lifeguard, nearly causing them both to fall. Errat’s prodigious strength saved them both and Errat placed Lex’s trembling hand onto the bars. Errat nodded past Raathiel’s cell to the rope swaying back and forth.

  "It is time to climb, friend Lex."

  Lex secured his feet and then moved one hand. His body shook, and he forced himself to not look down. Great, I’m afraid of heights, he thought to himself, wiping his sweaty palm against his robes before grabbing another bar and pulling himself across.

  The progress was slow, but Lex finally reached Raathiel’s cage. She eased her face to the bars and gave him a gentle, reassuring lick. She nodded up. “Go.”

  He reached up for the rope, when a flash of gray from the cell next to Raathiel's caught his eye. Lex turned as a puff of oily smoke drifted over him. “Gryph?” Lex asked, his tone desperate and full of worry. Through the murk, Lex could see a slumped figure.

  “It is not Gryph,” Raathiel said in her pained, reptilian voice. A golden glint of light sparkled off the armored form and fear gripped Lex’s heart. “Aluran,” Lex whispered, fearful that any sound would wake the slumped High God.

  "We must hurry friends," Errat said as he continued his journey across the front of Aluran's cell.

  Lex nodded back and started his climb, when movement from within Aluran’s cell caught his eye. Oh shit, shit, shit. No, no, no, Lex begged silently. He looked at Errat, who was only halfway across the face of Aluran’s cell and mouthed ‘Hurry Up!’

  Aluran stumbled to his feet, and a hand gripped the bars to steady himself. He stood in the gloom, and a wave of hatred and anger poured from him. Aluran’s hand snapped out and grabbed Errat by the forearm.

  The warborn was incredibly strong, by far the most physically powerful of the Adventure Party, but against the High God’s prodigious strength he stood no chance. Aluran pulled Errat close, slamming his face into the bars.

  “You will get me out of here,” the High God hissed, twisting Errat’s arm.

  Errat grunted in pain, but did not blink, nor turn his gaze f
rom Aluran. “Errat will not comply.” His arm shimmered and became immaterial. He started to pull free of Aluran’s grip, when the High God’s own arm shimmered, his cells intermixing with Errat’s.

  “What is he doing?” Lex roared and sent a volley of Order Bolts screaming towards Aluran. The unnerving white shards of magic zipped around Errat but dispersed the moment they neared the bleed metal bars of Aluran’s cell.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” Lex slipped down the rope, desperate to help Errat. He arrested his motion by grabbing a handhold of stone, but a moment later the stone ripped free causing him to lose his balance. His knees wobbled, and he began to sweat. He curled his other arm around the bars of the cell and forced himself to stop shaking.

  When he looked back up, Aluran had pulled Errat part of the way into his cell. Soon the warborn would be pulled all the way in, and then who knows what horrors Aluran would unleash upon him. Lex moved closer, trying to move to Errat’s aid.

  “No, friend Lex. Run. Now,” Errat grunted through the pain and the strain.

  Lex ignored him, clinging to the bar with his free hand. It was then he realized he still clung to the chunk of rock he’d torn from the wall of the tower. He looked down at it and then at Aluran. He gripped the rock and took careful aim.

  He pulled back like a major league pitcher and tossed the stone towards Aluran. It sailed through the air, just missing Errat’s head and smacked the High God in the temple. The rock did little damage. It didn’t even draw any blood. But it distracted the High God enough for Errat to disengage from his grip.

  The warborn fell back and Lex’s heart leapt into his throat. I’ve just killed my friend. Errat pushed off with his feet, sailed through the air, clearing the void at the tower’s center and smashed into the bars of the Seeker’s cell. Errat snagged a bar with one hand and arrested his fall. A moment later he’d climbed to safety, and he turned to Aluran.

  “You are alone without friends, and you will always be alone. That is why you will fail.” Errat turned away and climbed towards Raathiel’s cell.

  Lex stared at the warborn for a moment, thankful he could call the tall man a friend. Aluran punched the bars and Lex turned towards him and spoke in a clear voice, devoid of any fear.

  “Where is Gryph?”

  The High God paused and moved close to the bars so that Lex could see his eyes. “I fed on his soul and left his corpse as a feast for the bandersnatch.” The venom dripping in the man’s voice burned through Lex like acid, and Lex tensed his muscles ready to attack.

  “Lex,” Raathiel’s voice hissed. “He is lying.”

  Lex spun to the feathered coatl. “How do you know?”

  “I just do.”

  He saw the love, the pain, the worry in her eyes, but he also saw certainty and truth. He let that truth calm him and he nodded. Errat reached through the bars of her cell and she curled her scaly length around him.

  “It is time to climb,” the coatl said and closed her eyes, letting Errat pull her free.

  Lex nodded and turned back to Aluran. He glared at the man, no fear in his eyes. The High God returned his gaze unblinking. “Looks like it’s Lex: two and His High Douchiness: zero.”

  “There’s always a next time,” Aluran said, an icy chill in his tone.

  “You come near me, or Gryph, or any of my friends again, and I’ll kill you. This I vow.” The Realms felt the power of his words and coalesced about him. “And yeah, that was a Binding Vow, dickhead.”

  Lex turned his back on the High God and began to climb.

  41

  Gryph woke with a start. Everything hurt and for a moment his eyes refused to open, gummed shut by sleep. The smell of wood burning flowed to his nose. The sound of crackling wood and the dull clang of something metallic filled his ears. Warm furs covered him and though he was still in pain, the wound in his side seemed to have healed.

  Have I been out that long, or has someone healed me?

  “Ah, you’re awake,” a calm, older voice said. The light padding of footsteps came closer and Gryph forced his eyes open. A man-sized shape knelt before him and a strong hand eased him into a sitting position. “Easy. You’ve been through a hell of a lot.”

  Gryph’s vision finally cleared enough to see the man. He was short and a bit frumpy about the middle. He wore a simple robe and sandals, reminding Gryph of an actor from a biblical drama. The color and quantity of his hair suggested he was late middle age, but Gryph sensed he was much, much older. “Where am I and who are you?” His voice sounded creaky and parched.

  “I am called Herne, and this is my home.” Herne handed Gryph a gourd filled with crisp, cool water. “Drink this.” Gryph eyed the man with suspicion. “It is just water, and damn fine water if I may say so.” Gryph looked for any hint of subterfuge, but he was parched and if Herne wanted to harm him, he’d had plenty of opportunity while Gryph was unconscious. He took a deep drink, letting the cold-water cleanse away the mucus and grit that caked his throat. When he finished the water, he nodded his thanks to Herne, who took the gourd.

  “How long have I been out?” Gryph asked, worry for his friends filling him.

  “You have been with me for nearly a week.”

  “A week?” Gryph said in alarm and lurched into a sitting position. Pain punched into his side and the painful memory of being skewered by his own spear returned with force. Herne pushed him back with a strong, sure hand and after a moment the pain ceased.

  “Calm yourself. Time flows faster here than in the rest of this Realm. It has been less than an hour for your friends.”

  “Where are they? Are they safe?”

  “They were imprisoned in the Archive, but they have already escaped and are making their way to the top of the tower. It is fortunate, and quite surprising, that you count an aether mage among your friends. No others are capable of learning Bartholomew’s methods.”

  “Errat is different,” Gryph said, a small smile crossing his lips. Herne nodded in agreement. “Who is Bartholomew?

  “A fellow Seeker, but one whose mind has become a bit addled over the long centuries.”

  “Centuries? Just how old are you?”

  Herne turned from Gryph and walked to the iron pot hanging over the fire. He stirred the contents sending a pleasant aroma into the air. Gryph’s stomach grumbled. A moment later Herne returned and handed a steaming bowl to Gryph. A dozen questions burned for answers, but Gryph knew the look of a man who wanted to talk, wanted to confess. Herne would answer all of Gryph’s questions, if given the chance. Plus, Gryph was starving. He blew on a spoonful of stew and then took a bite. He nodded his appreciation to Herne.

  “Thank you. It’s good.”

  “I wish we had time for pleasantries and long chats, but even though time is moving at a crawl out there, it is still inexorable. And we are running out.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Herne hung his head and bore the look of a man forced to a painful conversation he wished to avoid. “I have waited for you Gryph for longer than I can remember. It was inevitable that a reborn Ossyrion would eventually come for me. I had hoped we would have more time.” Herne looked up, a grim smile on his face. It was clear that a debate was raging inside him. A moment later, a decision made, Herne spoke again. “But even here time passes. The High God is close to unravelling the ways of the Aether. Our brother is crafty, and I fear no cell will hold him for long.”

  “Our brother?” Gryph said in shock and he understood who Herne was, who he really was. “Cerrunos.” A swirl of emotions raged through him. Anger, fear, hurt, betrayal, sympathy, confusion. Herne looked nothing like the god from Ossyrion’s memory, yet Gryph knew he was right.

  “Yes, well partially,” Herne admitted.

  “What do you mean, partially?” Gryph said, his fists clenching, his emotions threatening to overcome him. Standing before him was the biggest traitor in the history of the Realms, a man responsible for incalculable suffering. A part of Gryph wanted to make him pay, to take
Ossyrion’s revenge, but in his weakened state this partial god could kill him.

  “I will try to explain,” the Seeker said. “I, Cerrunos, made this place mere hours before you and the others confronted Morrigan. I cast off my Godhead and used its power to build this Realm, a place to hide, a place to live free of fear.” Herne extended his hand palm up in the space between them and a sphere of light pulsed to life. Across the surface images of a verdant paradise flowed. It was this Realm, but also not. “What I did not understand, was that while I escaped Morrigan, I could never escape myself.”

  Gryph understood regret, and the power the past held over the present.

  “I thought I would find safety here, maybe even happiness. I was wrong, and this Realm began to suffer for it.” The images on the sphere shifted and monsters now walked the forest. “The jabberwocky, the bandersnatch, and other fell beasts rose in response to my guilt, tearing my paradise apart.”

  “I was alone here, and my guilt and shame and hatred soon threatened to tear me asunder. So, I split myself into five Aspects, each tasked with a job. I, the part known as Herne, exists only to await your return. To help in the war against Morrigan, against Aluran. It is my job to make amends.”

  Herne glanced sideways at Gryph. “I now know there is nothing I can do to earn forgiveness. My guilt is too great for that. Nothing I can do will ever balance the scales in my favor.”

  “This Bartholomew you spoke of is another Aspect?” Gryph asked, trying to wrap his head around the concept of one man becoming many.

  “Yes,” Herne said and hung his head. “He suffers daily, for he bears the burden of our guilt. It has driven him mad. On the good days he does not remember why he is the way he is, and he finds a small measure of peace. Other days he cannot abide himself. Those are the days he locks himself away.”

  Gryph tried to imagine what it would be like to exist simply to bear the burden of guilt and his insides grew cold. What Herne said next was even worse.

  "A third Aspect, he who bears our fear, remains locked in a cell at the heart of a mountain at the far end of this valley. Sometimes, when the night is calm, I can hear him screaming. I dislike calm nights.”