The Undying God

by Nathan Wilson

  The Undying God

  Nathan Wilson

  The Undying God is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2012 Nathan Wilson

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved.

  Smashwords Edition License Notes:

  Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  Cover art: Photography by Vanessa Barklay, Nuno Silva, Isabella Buchinger, Lisa Krombholz, Julia Ivanova, and Ivanov Alexey.

  Discover other titles by Nathan Wilson at Smashwords.com:

  Red Widow

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Part I: Misanthrophilia

  Chapter 1

  Margzor gazed at the city of Sepulzer from a forest veiled in twilight. Shadows contoured to the glen with cryptic grace, embracing the world in a spell of lush darkness.

  Time seemed to hang in limbo, caught somewhere between the present and the future. Not even the man standing beneath the trees moved, whose figure seemed little more than an extension of the wilderness. His green eyes roamed across the city with intrigue, and his lips curled in a daunting grimace.

  Ebony armor seamlessly conformed to his body, camouflaging all but his face and hands. Tusks protruded from his steel-clad shoulders, the latter of which suspended a chain that so immaculately slithered across his chest. The exquisite detail tantalized the eye, an impenetrable shell of defenses that wouldn’t let anyone in.

  Margzor glided past the trees and his hollow gaze riveted on the city below. His every movement was attuned to an environment that had become an integral part of his existence.

  It was impossible to say how many years he endured in the wilds. In fact, decades had been snuffed out since he last approached society. He may as well have been looking upon an alien world. He glanced across extravagant palaces that dwarfed humble dwellings belonging to common folk. They slept peacefully within the city, isolated from the world outside.

  The silhouette of the city entranced his imagination. He wondered if such beauty concealed a much darker world inside, its raw, hideous nature only exposed when intimately approached.

  He had been watching the city for many nights and days, studying its intricate layout. The region was impressive, an aesthetic gem in this abyss of a planet.

  However, he sought one building in particular, slumbering in the depths of society. He came to a stop at the edge of a jutting cliff just beyond the forest. At this elevation, the view was overwhelming. It could inspire many things in his heart; fear, astonishment, or peace. He felt none of these emotions as he continued in search of his destination.

  Night stretched across the city, blackening the world before his eyes.

  At last, he spied the temple, just as the presence within him indicated. He lingered there as the minutes slipped by, each second only strengthening his resolve. He was committed to the path he had chosen, an opportunity that would change not only his life but countless others. Hundreds, possibly thousands of people would feel the aftermath of his future actions.

  The days ahead would be the most arduous of his life, of that he was certain. He would almost inevitably die.

  That notion did little to dissuade him. His martyrdom was inconsequential compared to the end results. He would gladly die a thousand times to achieve his desired outcome. Reality could not continue to progress this way; he had to stop it. He had to be the change he wanted to see.

  Irreversible change.

  Margzor turned away and vanished from the cliff, sinking back into the shadows.

  * * *

  A single jasmine flower fell from Nishka’s hand. Its petals took wing on the breeze and scattered upon the burial site.

  Sunlight purged the last traces of winter hibernating in the wilderness, beckoning spring to reveal her majesty. The trees had already stretched in every direction, eager to embrace their renewal. Although she was surrounded by newfound life, Nishka couldn’t open her eyes wide enough to look beyond the death of one woman.

  Nishka closed her eyes, listening to someone’s voice that remained vivid in her memory despite years of absence. A warm nostalgia replaced the sorrow in her chest. She remembered a day when sadness did not bite her heart, when life was without pain.

  Nishka wished to stay for a minute more as she reflected on the happy memories, but another loved one would be waiting for her at home. With that hopeful thought now kindling in her heart, she turned to leave.

  However, another set of eyes observed Nishka as she departed from the glen. After a pause, he ventured toward the grave. He stooped low and picked up one of the jasmine petals, turning it over between his pale fingers. It was still warm from her touch, as though imbued with her very essence. The sunlight danced impishly in his flaming eyes. She would never even suspect he was stalking her.

  Nishka poked her head out of the forest and a sigh unfurled from her chest. A familiar house awaited her at the outskirts of the village of Riverwell. Those walls represented her spiritual oasis, a place she could always feel secure, no matter how drastically the world changed around her.

  She nudged open the door. Inside she saw her father washing the ash from his face, having finished forging for the day. He had been a blacksmith for as long as she could remember, forging steel with meticulous attention to detail.

  Matthias’ haggard face lit up with a smile when he saw his daughter. Nishka resembled her mother in every way, from the chime of her laughter to her mischievous smile.

  Her dark eyebrows arched above exquisite, blue eyes, two facets of color that resembled marvelous sapphires. The sun highlighted her skin with majestic perfection. She nearly emanated with magnificence in the warmth of day.

  Nishka pulled the door shut behind her and swooped into her father’s hug.

  “Oh my gods, you need a bath,” she joked. When Nishka wiggled out of his hug, she had ashes smudged across her cheek. “What?” she demanded when Matthias burst out laughing.

  “You walk outside like that and you’ll scare away the boys!”

  “Oh yeah, what boy ever heard of a woman working a forge?” She wiped the ashes on her sleeve. “And what do you think? Should I devote my life to
cooking and sewing?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t have a death wish, do you?” Matthias laughed as Nishka playfully threw a wet cloth at him.

  “Caravans will be passing through Riverwell soon,” he announced. “The spring market is just around the corner.” Nishka didn’t realize how soon the day had arrived.

  Once each year, her father left the village and marketed his goods in the six city-states that formed Eyegad. It seemed like only yesterday the snow had fallen, yet spring was already bringing new life and change. The sun had returned to cast its glow upon the forests and melt the frost. Slowly, the cold days had been replaced by clear skies, and more travelers were churning up dust on the road.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it this year.” He picked up a hammer abandoned on the table and studied it with nostalgia. “I am too weary to travel, nor do I have the patience to barter with fools,” he said, and his lips curled in a wry smile.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Matthias took a deep breath.

  “I need you to act on my behalf.” No sooner had the words left his lips, Nishka loudly protested.

  “Father, I need to stay here and look after you!” He smiled, expecting this reaction. Not only had she inherited her mother’s beauty, she inherited her stubborn will.

  “How do you suppose I will be hurt?”

  “While smithing.”

  “You insult me, I’m a far better smith than that!” he said, feigning injury. “It’s been nearly thirty-two years since I first picked up the hammer and toiled at the forge.”

  “You aren’t as young as you used to be—”

  “Which is why I need you to travel in my stead.” Nishka tried to utter a reply, but it was defeated by her father’s logic. She cursed herself for stumbling into his trap.

  “How will you look after me when you are hungry? If I become ill, how will you nurse me back to health when you can’t afford medicine?” Nishka sighed and accepted the crux of his argument. “I found someone wandering the roads who can escort you.”

  “You mean a bodyguard?” she asked.

  He looked at his only daughter with unease.

  “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

  “Then why are you hiring this man to protect me?”

  “In the unlikely chance that something does happen!” The anger melted from his face and he looked away in shame. Nishka had not heard him speak like that in many years. He looked apologetically at her but she could tell something else weighed on his heart.

  “You must understand me… Bandits and thieves are notorious at this time of year. I cannot allow you to travel alone.”

  Nishka gazed out the window, glaring at the dirt road that led far away from home. She loathed the notion of separating from her father. Of course she wanted to see the world outside of Riverwell, but at the same time, the prospect intimidated her.

  “Nishka...” She faced her father. “If you encounter danger, do not be afraid to run.” Nishka’s eyes widened. “Bandits and thieves will show you no mercy.”

  He stroked his daughter’s cheek and looked into her eyes. He would be devastated if any harm came to Nishka. One day, he would have to accept that she was no longer a child and she wouldn’t need him anymore. This could be her opportunity to find a better life outside of Riverwell.

  Nishka took his hand and squeezed it. She appreciated his concern, but she didn’t believe it was warranted, least of all in the form of a bodyguard.

  “Come,” Matthias beckoned. “He is waiting outside.” Nishka repressed a sigh, hardly keen on the idea of a man escorting her across Eyegad. For the sake of her father, she followed him, slightly intrigued. The door swung open and Nishka almost barreled into the stranger.

  The breath rushed out of her lungs in shock. He was a man of slender build, but perhaps his most striking features were his skin and hair. His skin bore a distinct paleness, as though the moon imbued his flesh with the color of snow.

  In contrast, his hair had an unnatural, bluish tinge, making him look all the more extraordinary. He possessed a narrow face with handsome features, among them eyes nearly as vibrant as the sky on a summer day. They did not merely look at Nishka. Rather, they looked through her, probing her mind.

  She did not like his expression at all, a chilling gaze both unfeeling and cold.

  Clutched in his hand was a black staff crowned with an orb, whereas the other end tapered to a sharp tip. Nishka saw her reflection in the orb, and only then did she realize the horrified expression on her face.

  Chapter 2

  “Can I trust him?” Nishka asked.

  “I don’t see why not. He’s a capable fellow.”

  Nishka glanced over her shoulder and looked at her escort as though he was misshapen.

  “He looks perfectly capable of spooking me and everyone else in this village.” Matthias chuckled at the comment dripping with sarcasm.

  “He is an extraordinary character, I’ll give him that much!” He heaved another crate into the donkey-drawn cart with less strength than usual.

  “And you found him wandering on the road…?”

  “Give him a chance, Nishka. If your mother judged me purely on the premise of my face, I wouldn’t have a beautiful daughter like you.”

  Nishka’s expression softened at the mention of her mother. Her father kissed her lightly on the cheek and continued with preparations for the journey. Nishka watched somberly.

  Didn’t her father understand the burden he was placing on her? She was a stranger to the city-states, and she had never sold anything before. She feared his expectations were misplaced.

  When the final preparations had been made, it was time for the father and daughter to exchange good-byes.

  Nishka kissed him on the cheek and hugged him tightly.

  “I’ll be back soon,” she said in his cloistering embrace.

  “Don’t worry.” The warm look had returned to his eyes that she cherished from her childhood, but this time the colors had begun to dim with age. Nishka took solace in those eyes that even now seemed so much older than yesterday.

  He was no longer the tall and strong man she remembered from years ago. Perhaps that memory was becoming less vivid as she grappled with the reality that even time could defeat her father. Nishka couldn’t prolong their cruel good-bye forever. With a final parting embrace, she joined the stranger awaiting her by the side of the road.

  “Take care of yourself, Nishka,” Matthias called. He quietly receded into the house, but not before burning his beloved daughter’s image into his mind. As soon as he vanished from sight, Nishka snapped a look at the bodyguard.

  “How much did my father pay you to follow me?”

  “Enough,” he vaguely replied. Nishka noticed the coin purse dangling from his belt, no doubt bulging with the latest addition of silver. Perhaps she would see for herself how much he had swindled from her father.

  “What is your name?”

  “Arxu.” Another one-word answer. Nishka couldn’t pin down the origins of “Arxu,” but it was obviously foreign to these lands.

  “So what do you do, Arxu?”

  “I am a Nightwalker. What is your trade?”

  “I assist my father in whatever needs to be done, mostly menial tasks; sharpening the edges of swords, operating the bellows, and breaking charcoal.”

  “That sounds like an apprentice.”

  “No, I’m not an apprentice.”

  “Most apprentices become journeymen in early adulthood,” Arxu continued much to her indignation. “Then they leave apprenticeship in search of work elsewhere. How old are you?”

  “Seventeen—”

  “It is rather unusual for one to remain in apprenticeship for so long. Why do you stay by your father’s side?”

  “I’m not an apprentice,” she repeated irately. Arxu did not press the matter. Nishka hesitated when Riverwell was far behind, an obscure shape
melting on the horizon. The sky was already fading to orange as the day ended.

  This would be the furthest she had ever traveled from home, and the first step into the countryside seemed by far the most arduous. With each step Nishka took, she felt a pressing weight on her heart; memories of her childhood home surfaced within, and she wondered if the Riverwell of her memory would greet her upon her return.

  * * *

  Nishka gathered around the campfire at sunset. How could it be that Riverwell lay miles behind her? Having spent most of her life beside her father, she was not ready to welcome this change. Despite Arxu’s company, she felt banished to these strange lands. She considered the man across the campsite, where he tethered the donkey to a tree. He spoke so little he was nearly mute.

  By the way he carried his staff, Nishka assumed he was skilled in its deadly use. She wondered what mysteries there were to this man’s character. Of all the people she met, he was the most reserved, only speaking about the task appointed to him.

  Nishka felt demeaned by the notion of a stranger watching over her every move. She shook her head in disappointment. What made her father think he could escort her? Sometimes, she believed Matthias was too trusting of others.

  “Thirty silver coins,” Arxu said.

  “What?”

  “That’s how much your father paid for my services.” Nishka’s heart slapped against her ribs. The amount her father had invested in her safety stunned her. “And an additional thirty silver coins upon your safe return.”

  “Hold on—” Nishka rose to her feet, feeling the blood boil in her veins. “You’re extorting my father. He doesn’t have that kind of money to pay you.” The accusation bounced harmlessly off Arxu, who didn’t even bother to meet her gaze.

  “We negotiated the price. I can assure you no extortion was needed.” In one last desperate attempt to be rid of him, Nishka dug into her own coin purse.