by Ron Glick
“Dariel created the prophecy! Surely in all this time he would have voiced that possibility if it were his intent...”
“You know as well as I, Malik, that a prophecy gains a life of its own, subject to its own whims after being empowered. Dariel lost any capacity to govern the will of the prophecy once the words left his lips.”
Malik's beauteous face scowled. “I still say we should have tried harder to wrestle control away from the prophecy...”
“You know why the Pantheon unilaterally denied that move, Malik. Any effort to try to undermine the prophecy only risked taking what little potential influence we had at all, such as in creating the one the prophecy spoke of, away from us altogether.”
Malik made no effort to disguise her contempt, shifting herself to her masculine form as her anger took reign. “The Pantheon has chosen to overrule most of what I have done alone through the millenia! This subject is no exception. And I remind you, originally it had been my intent to act alone in this. Oh, surely with Charith's aid, but not with the interference of the rest of the Pantheon. Had you yourself not exposed my work, Dariel would never have had the opportunity to steal the swords or create the prophecy in the first place!”
“Any matter affecting the Pantheon as a whole should rightfully be held to the will of the Panthoen collectively. You know that, Malik. You should never have created the swords to begin with, not without discussing the subject with the whole of us! If you had acted less recklessly, Dariel would not have had the opportunity to act!”
Malik scowled again. “The majority would have permitted our faith to decline until there was nothing left! We needed a way to fight back that did not breach the covenant. I found a way, but if I had brought this idea forth and it was denied, as it most certainly would have been, I would have been banned from doing anything! Secrecy was the only hope of my plan succeeding...”
“Need I remind you that your defiant conduct, demonstrated so many times over our reign, led to this calamity? You have ever balked at the will of the Pantheon...”
“With good cause!” spat Malik. “No one else has had my vision! No one else foresaw our decline against the New Order as I did, and not one of you would have taken steps to defend ourselves! At least with the swords, even ensnared by prophecy, there is a chance we will not expire. What else has been done to stave off our extinction, even after my prediction has come to pass?”
“With the swords and prophecy about, it was too risky to take another course,” responded Airek coolly. “You took that option away from the rest of us.”
Malik was about to retort, but stopped himself. With considerable effort, he forced himself to smile, though there was little sincerity in the expression. “This will gain us nothing and it detracts from a more urgent matter. Namely, Goodsmith must be forced to act. Now. Without further delay.”
“And why this sudden urgency? And why tell this to me? There is still that element of blame you have for me regarding Nathaniel...”
“I do blame you. For not doing more to coerce the mortal when you had the chance. Instead, you let him turn his back on you and walk away. Then, instead of bringing your wrath down upon him for debasing a God, you turned over his recruitment to that slut, Karmel, who for all intents and purposes would rather fondle the man than treat him as the servant he is!”
Airek opened his mouth to respond, but Malik raised a hand. “You are right. This gets us nowhere and still the subject of which I would speak remains unsaid.”
Malik made a visible effort to compose himself before continuing. It crossed his mind to resume his feminine form, but that would have seemed too obvious a move. “If Goodsmith does not take up his duties and seek out the swords, we know the prophecy will either compel him or destroy him so that another Avatar might be created. We are agreed upon that much, are we not?”
“Karmel has already brought this to his attention. She believes that in time, he will come to accept his responsibilities to avoid the former if not the latter.”
Malik nodded. “The latter has already come to pass. There is already another Avatar.”
Airek recoiled as though he had been physically struck. “That is not possible. Who?”
“Imery's whelp, the one calling herself Lady Brea. Surely you realized that her inquisition of Goodsmith by the river employed magical abilities not common amongst New Order clergy.” Malik smirked. “That was no spell she used to divine truth behind his words. That was a divine power that could only have been gifted her by the Goddess herself.”
Airek looked on speechless as Malik continued. “An Avatar is no more than an emissary to a God, Airek. If Brea has been chosen as Imery's emissary, and she has been granted power to fulfill that duty, she meets not only the definition of Avatar, but also the prerequisites of the prophecy.”
“Assuming, of course, that the prophecy refers specifically to an Avatar,” Airek interposed. “We assume that the Avatar is the 'one' that the prophecy refers to, because we created one to serve that purpose. But there is no guarantee that any Avatar, ours or Imery's, would necessarily be the one mentioned in the prophecy.”
“Just so. But surely you would not discount the possibility? We have all drawn the conclusion that the one must be someone exceptional, someone attuned to power. Otherwise, a single sword would be all they could manage control of at any point in time. Only a mortal whose magic potential has been augmented could possibly bring the swords together in a single purpose...”
“The Pantheon must be told,” said Airek simply.
“No!” roared Malik. “I came to you alone for a reason. You have seen how the Pantheon balks at my suggestions. We have not the time to waste in debate. We must act now!”
“What would you have of me then?”
“Goodsmith already knows you. Go to him. Explain the urgency of this affair. Give him a better understanding of the Pantheon and give him reason to come to our service before it is too late and this priestess is charged with securing the swords!”
Airek considered. “I do not believe it will serve our purpose to tell Nathaniel that another Avatar has come into being. He may decide that removes the obligation from him entirely, regardless that the new Avatar will serve the New Order instead.”
“Fine,” grunted Malik. “Tell him whatever you like. But take him off alone where he cannot be distracted and convince him. We cannot afford further delay! Our very existence is at stake!”
“For once, Malik,” Airek replied, “we are in full agreement.”
Chapter Twelve
Brea paced the length of her room. She had been pacing for some time now, only recently having switched out of frustration from pacing the breadth of the room. She had been in a mood ever since returning from her trip to Nate Goodsmith's. Things were not right, she did not know how to deal with them, and she felt that things had gone completely out of control. And Brea did not handle being out of control well.
She had done as her Goddess had bade her to do. She had gone to confront Goodsmith, supposedly free from the influence of the charm upon her. Or at the very least, she was supposed to be able to resist its influence so long as she focused upon her service to Imery. Yet upon seeing the man, all the same feelings had rushed to the fore, challenging her resolve. She had still managed to keep to her purpose, though. In spite of her feelings, she had followed Nate and faced off with whom she had thought to have been a God. All in her Goddess' name, all in faith that she would be sheltered from any consequences.
Because Imery had told her it was so. And Imery had been wrong. Her Goddess, Deity of Truth, the center of her faith, had been wrong. At the very least, she had been wrong – at the worst, her Goddess had lied to her! And when the moment of confrontation had come, she had known, deep down inside her, that she had stood on the bank of the creek alone. Her Goddess was nowhere near and had Goodsmith retaliated, she knew she would not have been protected.
The idea of Nate being a God was not the only thing the Goddess had been wrong
about, either. Imery had come to Brea with charges of unfaithfulness, of practicing worship of the Old Gods. Thinking back on Imery's inquisition of the night before made her shudder. She had been overwhelmed with rapture at her Goddess' touch and had not considered the implications of what Imery's false accusations had meant.
That her Goddess was fallible. That Imery was not all-knowing. That the Goddess of Truth did not always know the truth. And because of this, Brea was having a crisis of faith in her deity.
Worse still, Brea now realized upon reflection that her Goddess' actions had been... petty. There did not seem to be a more appropriate word. The Goddess' motivations for going after Nate at all were petty. The assault upon Brea herself had been almost childish, impetuous. An attempt to punish her for what? For possibly looking elsewhere for worship? As a mortal, should not it have been her right to decide whom she worshiped? Imery's reaction had been akin to that of a spoiled child, throwing a tantrum because she had not gotten her way. How could a Goddess act in such a way and still be seen as a divine being?
Oh, these are heretical thoughts! Brea scorned herself. They went against the preachings, questioned Imery's perfection. As Goddess of Truth, there was no greater embodiment of all that was, so how could she possibly not be perfect in all things? If Imery were not the standard by which to judge truth as a pure thing, untainted by mortal vice and deception, then who or what was? And how many of the elders who preached of Imery's divine perfection had actually met the Goddess in person, in the first place?
Brea had witnessed things personally that now cast doubt upon the very foundations of her faith. If Imery were not the perfect being worthy of worship, then what was she? And could Brea continue being faithful to a Goddess who had betrayed the tenants of her own doctrine?
For the hundredth time, she considered praying for guidance. But fear kept her from doing so. What if Imery sensed her doubts? She had visited harsh punishment upon her for suspicion of lost faith; how much worse a punishment would she meet out for heretical thoughts? Yet was it right to live in fear of her own God?
Ultimately, the decision was taken from her. As she turned in her pacing, suddenly Imery herself stood to the side of the room where there had been only empty air a moment before.
Brea halted in shock, her breath taken from her. “Imery,” she managed after she managed to draw breath back in, then without another moment's hesitation, dropped to her knees, bowing in reverence. Fear gripped her insides, certain that the Goddess had sensed her doubts and had come to punish her for her arrogance in presuming that she had the right to judge a God.
“Rise, my child,” said Imery. “I would speak with you, not the backside of your head.”
Tentatively, Brea rose, thinking quickly of how best to defend herself. “Forgive me, Oh Imery. For I have failed you,” she muttered weakly.
Imery raised an eyebrow in an expression of curiosity. “In what way?”
“I failed to expose Nate Goodsmith as one of the Old Gods, as you commanded me.”
“Goodsmith was not one of the Old Gods,” purred Imery, as though she had known this all along. “How could you have thought I would wish you to expose him for something he was not?”
Brea flushed in frustration. “You had said he was...”
“Nathaniel Goodsmith has the power of an Old God. Or someone cast the illusion upon him that he did. Only one of the Old Gods themselves could have made it appear that a mortal was one of their own. We will now endeavor to learn why.”
“I – I am confused, my Goddess,” said Brea. “How could you have not known the truth...” She clipped off her words, recognizing the blasphemy in them too late.
Imery however seemed unoffended. “Truth is the pursuit of knowledge as much as it is knowing something to be true, revealing what is true from what is false, my child. Truth is not always something easily exposed, but it is the charge of my faithful to shed light upon it. Truth is often hidden, and occasionally it is even hidden from me.”
This explanation made Brea hesitate. It seemed reasonable. And it was in the written word that devotees of Imery were to pursue truth. Was it so much of a difference in interpretation to learn that the Goddess herself was forever engaged in such action? That truth, even to a God, must be rooted out and revealed before it could be recognized?
“So when you thought Nate...” Brea started.
“Goodsmith is a pawn of some sort,” answered Imery. “He, for reasons only the Old Gods know at this time, was designed to be a decoy to distract anyone coming in search of their true purpose.”
“What purpose is that?”
“That, my dear child, is what we must divine.” The Goddess moved across the room to glance out the window. “The Old Gods have been long absent from the mortal realm. And the people have prospered for it. Now, after all this time, they would reappear for a purpose that they would mask behind hapless pawns and deeply laden secrets.”
Imery turned back to face Brea. “The New Order has been content to leave the Pantheon – the Old Gods – alone, to let them fade peacefully into oblivion. It seems our gentility has been taken advantage of. The Old Gods are usurping power within the mortal realm, acting through subterfuge to accomplish what direct words of faith could not. Since it is another group of Gods at work, even I am blind to their ultimate plan. Which makes it imperative that I overcome their deceptions to reveal the truth before they wreak havoc amongst our faithful.”
Brea spoke before she took the time to think. “So Nate is not in league with them...?”
Imery's brows knit for a moment before her face returned to a calm penance. “Not likely. Goodsmith is in some way involved, though. The taint of Pantheon magic is upon him and that could only have come from them.”
“But he can still be saved? Turned from whatever misdirection he has been led...?”
“You are still unusually devoted to this man,” Imery replied coolly. “Cast thoughts of rutting with this one aside, my daughter. You are no longer under his influence so long as you remain devoted to me. You can overcome this flaw...”
“I don't want to overcome it! I love him!” Brea blurted before she could stop herself. Immediately her hands flew to her mouth.
Imery did well to hide her internal response, but for all her efforts to mask her physical reaction, there was no mistaking the embers behind her eyes. “You do not know what you are saying. I had believed you capable of differentiating between the effects of the charm and your natural impulses. I forgot, it seems, that mortals are not always predictable. Obviously, it was a mistake to send you again to face Goodsmith. It is well then that I have come to assign you a task that will take you away from him for a time. Long enough, I am sure, to break this unholy hold he has upon you.”
“Did you know about his mother?” Brea asked, her impulses still dominating her will. Deep down, she knew she should not be talking so abrasively, but she could not seem to stop herself.
“His mother?” Imery asked. “What about his mother?”
“She was killed by someone claiming to be a priest of Zantel. Some ten years ago. If you could tell me how to find that woman, to bring her to justice, Nate could see that the New Order is really good, not dark like he believes. It is only because he blames the New Order for his mother's death, and if we proved our faith does not condone such murder... Then the Old Gods would lose whatever hold they have on him and...”
Imery raised her hand. “Enough, child,” she said. “Goodsmith is corrupted and you will have to accept that he may well be beyond redemption. It may be necessary even to remove him if he proves an intractable pawn of the Pantheon. You must steel yourself for that eventuality...”
“For what?” cried Brea in shock. “You're going to kill Nate? I tell you his mother was killed by a false priest, and you think killing him will redeem us in any way?”
“No, child. I shall not kill him,” said Imery. “You will.”
“I cannot!” Brea protested.
Imery s
miled gently. “As time passes and you spend time away from him, that feeling will change.
“But make no mistake, child,” Imery's voice dropped noticeably. “You are my servant and you will do my bidding. If the time does come, you will obey me. You will not survive the consequences if you do not.”
Brea felt the cold chill of fear embrace her again. There it was. The spiteful pettiness of a spoiled child. The attitude demanding unquestioning obeisance to whatever impetuous whim she might have. The very core of her doubts...
“Say what you will,” Brea said, her voice quaking with fear despite the content of her words, “but I would die before harming Nate. You may punish me, my Goddess, but I tell you I cannot do as you ask.”
Imery's smile vanished. “There is yet time for you to change your mind. Do not commit yourself so soon. As you distance yourself, these thoughts will go away and you will beg me for forgiveness. You will beg me to carry out my will, child. I assure you, you will.”
Brea could not bring forth the strength to further challenge her Goddess. Instead, after a moment, Brea tried to shift the conversation. “You keep saying 'distance'?” she asked tentatively.
“Yes. I have a task for you, one that will require some travel. Are you familiar with a place called Scollhaven?”
“No,” admitted Brea. “I've never heard of it.”
“Just as well,” said Imery. “It's a small hamlet deeper into what you know as the Wildelands. There is a connection there to Goodsmith that I require to be investigated. You are my most trusted disciple, whom I have already gifted with extraordinary power. I need you to go there and learn what you may. I have need of information if I am to delve into this mystery the Pantheon plays at.”
“How distant is it?” asked Brea haltingly.
“Some ninety leagues from where we are now. Though it is located beyond the borders of the Wildelands, it is relatively smooth land, mostly trees and forest between here and there, save for one fairly large ridge. There is a pass, however, so you would have no need to scale it. The path you would take would not go into the mountains for which the region is so well known. If you make due haste and devote yourself to the task, you can return within the month before winter closes the sole pass along the route, if after your time there you still feel the compulsion to return.”
