by Ron Glick
In this case, nothing changed as she began to pace thoughtfully. This had become something she finally had to concede she could not settle alone. Too many things were beyond her sight – her sight! – which disturbed her well enough. But the issue involving Scollhaven could be indicative of something that went beyond her own sphere of influence. She needed to know if other Gods' faithful had also ceased worship in that hamlet or whether this were somehow an assault upon her alone. To seek out other help would be seen as a sign of weakness to her brethren, though, especially if it proved that she alone had been targeted. But it was a risk she now realized she needed to take.
Imery knew she had to call upon at least one of her fellow Gods. But there were other risks associated with exposing her knowledge other than loss of face. If this turned out to be an assault solely upon her, she would be exposing her vulnerability to other Gods' advantage. Any other God could potentially seek out the source of the disturbances on their own, turning whatever it was to their own interests. To a point, the Gods of the New Order cooperated with each other, but that cooperation only went so far. If one could improve his or her standing with their own faithful at the expense of one of their fellows, they would do so without hesitation. There was a constant element of adversarial conflict amongst them, and Imery could not discard the potential liabilities she could potentially inherit if this recently discovered dilemma became more widely known.
She therefore decided not to summon a full assembly. For now, she would concentrate her inquiries to a few, or even one, who would be less inclined to take advantage if she exposed a fault of her own rather than a threat to the Order. Of the twenty-four Greater Gods, there were only two she felt could fit the role of trusted accomplice: Kelvor, God of Justice, and Corus, God of Knowledge. Neither would benefit from the sphere of truth waning, short of their trying to wrest the sphere of influence from her entirely, nor should either possess alliances amongst the other Gods that would jeopardize their loyalties. This was, of course, pure speculation since none but a God himself could know his own mind. And still, even entrusting two at first could prove too risky, so the best option was to select one of the two at first. Once she had decided that as a course, it truly became easy enough to select between the two.
Part of Imery's consciousness divided to send a portion of herself to summon the other God. She could just as easily have had that other self carry on the complete encounter within the other's domain, but she wanted to have some control over the encounter. And this meant she needed to have the meeting within her own domain, not another's. It was common protocol among the Gods, even if it was less efficient. It was a matter of pretense, actually – the pretense that the one whose domain they occupied had a greater position over the visiting deity. In the game between Gods, posture was often the only advantage one had. Only if she were seeking special favor would she have conducted the meeting in another's domain, and she had no intention of presenting the image that she was in any way weakened at this time.
The summons was nearly instantaneous. It was never necessary to seek out another God because they generally knew where each incarnation of each other God was at any given moment simply by opening their minds to the other God's presence. Of course there was exception – if a God wished to shield one of his incarnations, which probably occurred far more often than was even suspected, he could hide one or more incarnations from others who were not specifically seeking out that specific form. But even a hidden incarnation could be detected if a God committed his will to finding it. There were always any number of incarnations not shrouded, however, so making contact with any number of facets at any given time was never difficult. And, of course, there was never a concern of interrupting whatever the other God was doing since he only needed to create another self to address the summons if the form contacted were preoccupied. Even with being less efficient, the difference therefore was barely a matter of note – at least to the Gods themselves.
Within a moment, the other God stood in her presence. Unlike Imery's delicate gossamer, Kelvor was dressed in full regalia. He chose his image from that of a knight templar, complete with full plate mail armor and a great sword at his side. The armor itself appeared to be made of pure silver gilded with gold, though it was actually of much sterner material. It was this image of firm, unyielding integrity that his faithful, the Platinum Sect of Knights, tried so hard to emulate.
“Lady Imery,” boomed the voice from beneath the helm. “I answer your summons. To what do I owe this invitation?”
“A matter has come to my attention,” began Imery with no other need for welcome, “that may have impact upon our New Order.”
Kelvor shrugged his massive shoulders. “Then it would be proper to conduct an assembly,” he responded in his cool, uncompromising manner.
“Not first without some additional inquiry,” said Imery. “It may be nothing to concern ourselves with, but it could also prove to be a matter of greater import. I cannot yet say.”
Being a guest, Kelvor could manipulate his immediate environment, if not the larger composition of unreality that Imery had manifested, and did so to summon a high backed chair, complete with his holy symbol embossed at several noticeable points in the intricate carvings of the seat. He casually sat down before continuing. “Perhaps I could better judge the merit of independent action if I knew more about your concern.”
Imery hid her discomfort at the other Gods' familiarity and summoned a less imposing plush seat for herself. It would not do to get into a game of posturing with one she sought as an ally.
“I have discovered activities within the mortal realm apparently instigated by members of the Pantheon.”
Kelvor flicked a wrist to indicate his impression of the Old Gods. “That would seem insignificant. The Old Gods are fading. In time, they will be completely forgotten by the mortals and the New Order alike. Why concern ourselves with their prattlings?”
“Because whatever they are about is hidden from me and any other God of the New Order.”
Kelvor betrayed mild interest with a tilt of his helmed head. “So they have mustered enough power to hide something from us. What could they do in their diminished states that could affect us though?”
“That I do not know. It is part of what is hidden. Yet there are twelve buds in the Field of Knowledge, ten clustered together for over three centuries, two more recent.” As she spoke, the images of the unbloomed flowers materialized before Kelvor so that he could verify this for himself. “Each carries the odor of the Pantheon's magic. The knowledge contained within each flower is only beginning to blossom in three of them, yet barely enough to recognize the scent of magic. Nothing else is discernible.”
Kelvor leaned forward, intrigued now in spite of himself. “A mystery then. This would be Corus' sphere more than my own. And it does originate in the Field of Knowledge.”
“As you say, it originates there. Yet it is not confined to there. As you know, the Field reflects only knowledge that exists within, or is at the very least linked to, the mortal realm, so in truth, this actually originates there, not within the Field, at all. Only my discovery of this begins there.”
“There is more then?”
Imery nodded. “There is a man known as Nathaniel Goodsmith. He came to my attention when he charmed one of my disciples, using magic that also carried the stench of the Pantheon's taint.”
As a matter of routine, Kelvor cast his own senses out to locate the Goodsmith Imery spoke of. Immediately, his helm actually creased where his mouth would have been, an obvious frown. “I cannot sense this man of which you speak.”
“Precisely,” replied Imery, breathing an inner sigh of relief that it was not her alone that was blind to the man's presence. “Something masks him from our perceptions. I can only sense him at all through my disciple.”
“So you believe Goodsmith is one of the unknowns in the mortal realm? Perhaps he is one of the Pantheon in hiding? It would answer why they have been so silent i
n recent centuries.”
“One of the unknowns, certainly. But I have already eliminated the possibility that he is one of the Pantheon. Which means he is something... else.”
Kelvor reacted visibly to the implication. “Another unknown. Another entity allied with the Pantheon? One capable of masking itself from our perceptions?”
Imery had not considered that possibility, but would not confess such to her fellow. “Or perhaps simply a demi-God. The element of unknown is too grand to be certain.”
“I begin to understand your concern. Perhaps it is not these Old Gods alone that we must contend with.”
“And yet,” interjected Imery, “there is one more piece to this scenario. I have detected a diminishment in faithful praise within the mortal town of Scollhaven. And I suspect it is not limited to my faithful alone.”
Kelvor's armored features scowled anew. This time, however, he seemed to take notice of the odd flex of his metallic features and his helm dissolved to reveal the sharply cut features of the man beneath, his smoothly shaved scalp only slightly less reflective than the helmet it had replaced. “I can sense a decline there, as well, now that I seek it out. Alone, it was not notable, until you mentioned it.”
“Scollhaven is less than a hundred leagues from Oaken Wood, the closest habitat to where Goodsmith is. The closeness cannot be coincidence.”
“I agree,” Kelvor spat back, steepling his gauntleted fingertips against his lips. “Anything more?”
“As yet, no,” admitted Imery. “Which is why I felt it premature to take before the assembly.”
Kelvor considered. “I agree. Perhaps only the likes of you and I could comprehend the implications of what you suggest. Until more is learned, I would judge it vital to limit this information to ourselves. Is that your intended proposal?”
“Between us and possibly Corus...”
Kelvor held up a hand to stop her. “As God of Knowledge, Corus does not do well with secrets. 'Knowledge is meant to be known,' is his creed, after all. I would not judge his involvement wise at this stage.”
Imery had to concede the point. Corus would have been a great resource to draw upon in their endeavor, but it was true that he would be more likely to take the information to the assembly as not. “I concede,” she voiced her thoughts aloud.
Kevlor smiled in satisfaction. “Then if we are to work together, I would judge our first priority to dispatch an emissary to Scollhaven to learn how that event, whatever it may be, is related to Goodsmith.”
“A worthy suggestion,” admitted Imery. “And I believe I already have the perfect disciple for the task.”
* * *
Airek paced the pavilion. It was not uncommon for the Gods to come individually here, and Airek did it quite a lot when she felt the need for contemplation. This pavilion was one structure that existed outside any one Gods' realm of influence. It was comprised of energies and perceptions of all the Gods, yet still maintained an essence that existed without any influence whatsoever. It was the closest thing within their plane of existence that permitted her to be removed from any extraneous influences, her own or those of other Gods. It also served for a place where she could more easily predict the potential responses the others might have had to whatever might be troubling her. The Gods' essences were each here, in a sense, as this pavilion existed as a joined effort of will from them all. As such, Airek could sense the sympathetic energies here, absent any other motivations, and use them to guide her in how to negotiate with the other Gods.
Right now she was unsettled greatly and needed to draw upon the others' wisdom, yet she dared not go to any of them directly. Not yet. For what troubled her at the moment was Nathaniel Goodsmith, the Avatar.
Airek had met the young man twice now with bare success of conveying their intent. But Goodsmith had rejected his duties as Avatar, and that was simply not acceptable. If the young man continued to avoid his duties, the prophecy would either create another to fill the role he should have played or bear down upon him such pressure that he would have no other option than to pursue his destiny.
Neither was a perfect option, for the Pantheon had little time for another Avatar to be selected, one who would be further away still. Worse still, the Pantheon would have no control over the form the new Avatar would take. Even if a new champion were christened and then brought to bear, there was no guarantee that the new Avatar would be any more cooperative than the current one.
And should Goodsmith be bent to the will of the prophecy, there was little hope that he would consider the Pantheon as allies in his shackled existence. It was possible even that Goodsmith could become an agent of the New Order, and then the Pantheon would have created their own destruction. With an Avatar empowered by them, wielding mystical swords capable of slaying Gods, what little hope they had of a future would soon be quashed.
Airek sighed inwardly. It seemed that Karmel had developed a better rapport with Goodsmith than she had, though. At least, the God and Goddess of Magic and Chance reported that he had seemed more receptive to her female presence. Yet Goodsmith had still not agreed to take up his mantle.
With the first of the swords active within the mortal realms, there was no way to determine how any delay would affect the balance of the prophecy, either. Not for the first time, Airek found herself cursing Dariel for creating the prophecy in the first place. And in the very next breath, he cursed Charith for giving the swords power to slay a God and Malik for creating the damnable things, at all.
Worse still, the Pantheon stood divided over whether the swords and the prophecy were the proper course to take. Of course, Malik and Charith stood behind their original plan in creating them, and by association held reluctant support for the prophecy that now guided their use. Karmel supported the balance of magic the prophecy placed upon the swords, and admired the ingenuity which was used to forge their function. Naris revelled in the potential rivalry the swords created and the bond that had been forged by the prophecy between the swords and the Gods. Of the four, the only consistent agreement however was that the prophecy served a worthwhile purpose.
In opposition to this philosophy stood Airek himself, along with Lendus, Sarla and Elgoth. Each of them believed that the prophecy represented devastating consequences within their own spheres of influence. The other three all agreed with Airek that the prophecy could too easily be turned upon the Old Gods themselves rather than upon the New Order. If a single sword could slay one of the Godlings, it could slay one of the Pantheon, as well.
Dariel was the odd God out. Though he readily supported the need for the prophecy which he had created, he frequently expressed regret that the swords had been created to necessitate it at all. He still held that the prophecy was the best course under the circumstances though, and tipped the balance on Pantheon decisions involving steps in support of the prophecy, including the creation of the Avatar. Yet his support was fickle and he just as often took a neutral stance, causing imbalance within the Pantheon.
Also not for the first time in recent days, Airek found herself wishing that she had not lived to see the prophecy take form. After all, was not the prophecy designed to avenge the nine Gods? Even she had believed that would entail that the Pantheon would be gone entirely before the first sword revealed itself...
“I am somehow not surprised to find you here,” came a voice from behind.
Airek was not startled, of course. She had instantly been aware of her sister's appearance within the pavilion. None of the Gods could enter here undetected. Yet as she turned to face her sister, she nevertheless shifted to her male aspect, a clear sign of the expected conflict to come.
“Are you seeking me specifically, Malik, or are you here for another purpose?”
“Oh, I am here to speak with you, brother,” answered the deity of War and Peace, presently dressed in a subtle robe of yellow and brown hues. “And I believe this is the perfect setting for our conversation, under the circumstances.”
“And what would
the 'circumstances' of this talk entail?”
“Your Avatar, of course.”
“Our Avatar, Malik. I hold no claim over this one. He does not even take to worship us. Any of us!”
“Yes,” acknowledged Malik. “You do not have a hold on him. Nor any control, either. And that is what I would discuss.”
“I gather you somehow fault me for that? I had very little to say positive in the creation of the Avatar matrix. It was all but universally agreed that the one inheriting the Avatar potential could not be one dominated by us. Your own enchantments make the swords imperceptible to us, and any mortal controlled directly by us would suffer the same restriction.”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted Malik, waving her seemingly delicate hand. “I know the argument. And I concede that the Pantheon's will went against me on the issue. Yet I would remind you now, as I did then, that there are ways to control this Goodsmith without directly holding him to our will. Dariel began this affair through deception. I would suggest we take a page from his book on how to motivate this mortal to take up our cause.”
“And risk alienating the man forever if he were to discover how he had been manipulated. We did our best in selecting the births of those with the seed to mothers of strong faith. Nathaniel Goodsmith was no different. It was poor fortune that caused Mariel to fall victim to New Order machination that would ultimately distance him out of spite from us.”
“We should have taken a more active role in the boy's upbringing when that happened...”
“And risk tainting the independence necessary to be the Avatar? Without even knowing whether Nathaniel would ever be the one selected to become the Avatar? Besides, has it never occurred to you in hindsight that perhaps this was the will of the prophecy being manifested? That our choosing the family into whom the Avatar might be born into, in trying to govern that our potential was raised strong in our ways, was not too much manipulation and control? Clearly, the prophecy wishes the Avatar to be independent of us – it speaks of only one being able to follow, and one guided by us might not have been within the prophecy's meaning.”
