One (The Godslayer Cycle Book 1)

by Ron Glick

  “Ninety leagues?” protested Brea. “Surely there is someone closer...”

  “None whom are invested as you already are,” said Imery, shrugging lightly. “And as I have said, you are in need of time away.”

  “What lies in Scollhaven then?”

  “A truth needing to be revealed,” answered Imery cryptically. “Something there has affected my faithful. Something prevents their calling for blessing or aid. Only a God could shield a place so. And I believe it will prove to be a piece to answering the riddle surrounding Goodsmith.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because in all of Na'Ril, two acts of divine power not connected to the New Order in a passing of days within so close a proximity cannot not be related,” explained the Goddess. “One is the echo of the other, and one is the source that must be removed to eliminate the other. One act taken by them must have a counterpoint elsewhere. Remove the one that acts as the core, eliminate the act entirely.”

  Imery scowled as she sensed a new argument brewing in her formerly devout disciple. “Let me put it to you this way: As it appears now, Goodsmith is a pawn. He has been set up to distract us from whatever it is the Old Gods are about. They set him up, it appears, to make it seem he was someone of significance, when in truth he is little more than what he appears on the surface: a simpleton living out a less than noteworthy existence in an even less civilized land. If this is true, then what is really at stake is actually in Scollhaven. If you travel there and remove this threat, then whatever reason the Old Gods had for using Goodsmith goes away, and you can return here to chase after the man to your heart's content without fear of reprisal.

  “The only way you will be able to prove this, however, is to travel to Scollhaven and confront whatever it is that is hidden there. Expose it, prove your young Goodsmith innocent of machinations. If you do not, I will have no choice but to eliminate the potential threat Goodsmith represents...”

  “Kill him, you mean!” snapped Brea.

  “Just so,” snipped Imery.

  Brea glared at the figure of her Goddess a moment before she spoke again. “Forgive my curiosity,” she said, “but why can you not go there and find out for yourself? Surely nothing I could do could come close to what a Goddess is capable of...”

  “The Pantheon does not yet realize we know of their work in Scollhaven,” answered the Goddess, losing patience at having to continuously answer such pointless questions. “If I were to appear there, the plot would be hidden, for whomever acts to shield my faithful would sense my presence immediately. The same would be true if I simply teleported you there – my power would be felt by the Pantheon and they would hide what they are about. If a mortal travels there under her own power, however, even one of my faithful, you may well pass beneath their notice and concern.”

  Imery walked up to Brea and took the priestess' hand in her own. “Take this and hire a couple retainers to travel with you,” she said, opening her hand to expose a wealth of gold coins now lying in Brea's open palm. “Though the way is smooth, there are perils for a woman to travel alone through the Wildelands. And you cannot afford delays. There is no telling how soon it shall be before the Pantheon learns of our own plans.”

  Then, before Brea could say more, the Goddess no longer stood before her. In the space of a moment, the divine being was simply gone.

  Brea rose and moved to sit heavily upon the bed, coins tinkling from her grasp as she did so. Perhaps Nate was a pawn of the Old Gods, but she had become Imery's. And she dared not defy the Goddess' instructions, either. There was no telling what this infantile being she had once revered may do to repay a wayward priestess assigned to such a trust.

  And the Goddess had directed her to Scollhaven.

  * * *

  Avery fell backwards with a sigh, the soft mattress and pillows beneath him barely noticed. The sweat on his brow and chest, for the first time in five years, had been the result of pleasure rather than fear or hardship. And the physical exertion he was expending was a far cry better than the running he had always seemed to have been doing in that time. Yes, life had certainly taken a turn for the better!

  “Are you pleased, my Lord?” came the voice of the raven haired beauty presently snuggling into his midsection. A brunette moved to snuggle against his upper body, now that he was again in a prone position, nibbling at his neck as she did so. This was the third bout he had had since last evening, these being ladies number six and seven, with half the town now waiting upon his pleasure to replace them. These two had been sisters, quarreling over which of them he would take to his bed first. He had settled the dispute by taking them both, even though he had just finished with three wenches whom had been known collectively as the whores of this town. He had only once before this evening lain with a woman, after all, and he had wanted the experience. And there was certainly something to be said for sibling rivalry between women completely dedicated to pleasing a man in every way possible!

  “Oh, very much,” sighed Avery. “You have no idea how good it is to feel the touch of a woman after so many years alone.”

  “Why would you ever be alone?” purred the brunette as her tongue began licking at his ear. “Mmmmm,” she said, tasting his sweaty skin. “Weren't there other Gods and... Goddesses with you?” The girl sounded almost jealous as she nipped at his ear. Clearly, the thought of another woman with her God, even a Goddess, was not a pleasant thought for her.

  “Not for a very, very long time,” Avery said, thinking back to his life before being cast out. He had known only one woman, really, though he had certainly fondled his fair share, to be certain. It had been a short affair, a bare week of passion. She had been a merchant's daughter, traveling with her father across the countryside as he sold his wares. And when he departed, so had she. Ironically enough, he never did find out what it was her father had sold. Before now, this had been Avery's most precious memory, the lost love of his life. But she had in no way been as dedicated to pleasing him as any of the women he had known since becoming a “God”. Having experienced a wealth of pleasures from half a dozen women in short succession, he now realized how naive he had been to think that the brief liaisons he had shared with the merchant's daughter were anything more than romantic idealism.

  His first conquest of the evening had been the red-headed barmaid, Viola. She had actually petitioned him, feeling she owed her savior for his intervention. And how grateful she had been! The red hair had proved more apt for her than he could have imagined as she had unleashed a fire of passion upon him that none of the other women, even professional ladies of the night, had been able to match. Not that each woman who had pleasured him had not thrown her all into the effort – there had just been something pure and powerful in Viola's lovemaking that the other women simply had not been able to match. Just thinking about Viola made his body respond and the young woman curled around his waist took no time in noticing.

  “Again, my Lord?” she gasped. “How are you still able? I know you have had your sport all day...”

  “And twice with me alone!” snipped in her sister, raising her head to scowl at the other woman. “He blessed me twice!”

  “Only because he blessed me with his mouth more!” spat her equally aggressive sibling.

  Avery grinned lasciviously. “I am a God, my sweets. Did you expect less?”

  The brunette giggled and the raven-haired woman smiled vacuously up at Avery as she yielded once again to Avery's passions. Yet even as he sated his body's lust, as the brunette caressed his body as he ravished her sister's, he considered the girls' words. He did indeed feel more vital, more powerful than he had ever felt before. It was as though his body were making up for all of the years of neglect it had suffered, rising to occasion now lest it be lost again in the near future. And there was certainly no lack of willing partners, either!

  The afternoon waned as he continued his frolic with the sisters who laughed so sweetly in unison, and whose cries of desire sounded so much alike.
That was as much as he knew about them though. He could not even recall asking for their names...

  Ariana. The name came to him suddenly. That was the name of the raven-haired one, the one lying under him now, pulling his body tightly against hers. She must have mentioned it at some point before he had bedded the sisters. Avery tensed as the brunette nibbled at the back of his neck. Alinia. That was her name. When he had opened his door to release the three other ladies and had discovered these two outside in heated argument over which could please him more, and who he would want pleased by more, he had not asked their names. Once he had settled the dispute by taking them both to his chambers, they had only pleaded for him to bless their bodies. The blood had been pounding in his ears, the lust coursing through his veins, making everything else around him insignificant. The rise and fall of their bosoms as they had pleaded with him, their breaths coming so fast that their chests practically heaved their breasts towards him, was too much for his mind to comprehend anything else. He had abandoned the cloister of other women waiting for his attentions and had retreated immediately with the two into his room without further hesitation. Yet at no point could he recall them ever telling him their names...

  Poor Hamil, Avery thought, his mind for some reason falling to the young scribe that had attached himself to Avery sometime during the night before he had bedded Viola, even as he continued his coupling. The smallish man had set upon himself the task of recording the Scripture of Avery, penning to parchment the tale of Avery's triumphant return to the mortal realm from whence he had been banished. The scribe's method of wording had reminded Avery more of a bard than an accountant, but he had been pleased with the young man's efforts and had granted his blessing to the chronicle.

  Hamil had faithfully followed Avery about town all day, taking his rest outside Avery's door when he had first bedded Viola, and then later in the day when he had bedded the others. Avery certainly could not fault the young man's zeal. He intended, apparently, to follow Avery in his every waking moment lest some pearl of wisdom should escape his accounting. And the scribe had been diligently at work when the two sisters had caught his attention, even when Avery had made a very unorthodox, and unannounced, departure in order to sate his newest appetites.

  Likely by now the scribe was asleep outside his door again, awaiting Avery's glorious exit. Avery felt a small amount of guilt that Hamil should suffer so much at his side. He decided that he would have to devise a way that could permit the young man to withdraw for proper rest, at least. Perhaps he could appoint others to take notes while Hamil rested? Surely, this inexplicable energy he found himself possessed with could not be transferred to his faithful so readily. Hamil would need to rest or he would become ill. And how could a God explain that his followers became sick?

  As he finished his latest romp with Ariana, Avery rolled away in satisfaction. Alinia wasted no time in trying to climb upon him, to once again establish her dominance in having had him more than her sister. Surprisingly, he still felt full of zest and ardor at the proposition, though he could sense that both girls were taxing themselves beyond their own reserves.

  “Please, my Lord,” Alinia whined as Avery eased her off of him. “I need you one more time.”

  “You are more tired than you would have me believe,” said Avery, remembering his thoughts of how his scribe would become ill from zealous devotion. “You will need to rest before you become ill...”

  “But you consume me,” pleaded Alinia, rising up to kiss Avery deeply.

  “No more so than me,” came Ariana's own fatigued inclusion.

  Avery looked upon Ariana's sweat-glistened skin. Her breasts heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her muscles tensing and releasing from her throes of ecstasy that were still coursing through her body. In spite of the clear exhaustion, he knew the young lady would continue to rise to the demand that her lust compelled her to, if for no other reason than to compete with her sister in their mad contest to win his undivided affection.

  “You are only mortals,” said Avery at last. “You have not my endurance.” He smiled, not without gentility. “You both have pleased me without measure. Rest, the both of you, for a time now. I should be returning to my faithful.”

  With sweet smiles of satisfaction, the girls each closed their eyes and within moments were asleep to either side of him, passed out from utter exhaustion. It seemed, even in sleep, the two were competitive, neither willing to give an inch until the other was willing to relax, as well. Avery moved to the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the sisters. He paused to gaze back at the ladies, ever lustful, but still with a degree of respect intact. As much as he wanted to ease himself back onto the girls, he would withdraw and find another to satisfy his urges. He did not wish to hurt them, and he had begun to consider the possibility may truly exist. Empowered as a God, he had seemed to be unsatiable. Perhaps there was more to this than simply taking advantage of opportunities so long denied him, and potentially consequences, as well?

  Then he spied the marking upon Alinia's right wrist. Curiously, he turned her arm so that he could better see the welling sore. When he recognized it, he gasped in spite of himself. She had had the heretic symbol branded upon her arm in near precise imitation of his own!

  Was she a heretic like he himself had been? If so, it was a very recent piece of work. The sore had not even begun to scab yet. He tried to recall back to his own branding, to recall how long it had taken for the skin to finally fall away. Two days? Three? He could not be certain. He had been so distraught by the event that such details now escaped his recollection.

  Still, Alinia's wound seemed fresh. Very fresh.

  A sudden thought crossed his mind, and with dread he reached across the sleeping girl's body to retrieve the arm of her sister. There it was – as fresh upon Ariana's right arm as upon Alinia's!

  Without a thought, Avery willed himself unseen and climbed from the bed. He dressed quickly and left the room, his mind abuzz with the notion that the sisters' markings were a sign of something more.

  Outside the door, Hamil did indeed lay sprawled in the walkway, his tome that he had been chronicling Avery's works and deeds in acting as a pillow. The young man's arms were locked to his sides, but his right arm was in such a position that it took only a slight effort to move the material aside. Sure enough, the same brand stood red and inflamed upon the back of his wrist: four horns opposed to each other.

  How many others were there? Avery caught himself panicking. Had the entire town set themselves out as heretics? All because Avery had claimed it was his mark of divinity? Because he had sworn to protect any with that mark...

  No, not as heretics, Avery realized. As devout faithful. They had marked themselves as a sign of devotion to him. They truly saw him as their God and they willingly scarred themselves to demonstrate their devotion. And they believed he would protect them for doing so...

  By the Old Gods, he thought. Correction: by the real Old Gods, he amended. He had created a fellowship of heretics!

  Well, so long as he had One at his side, he was as good as a God. That much was for certain. And he seemed to be growing more powerful every moment. Perhaps these people's worship, their devotion, truly was empowering him, just like a real God? He remembered something he was told as a child about that, about how a God drew his power from the faith of his followers. At the time, it had been told to him as an admonition against being faithless, assuring him that he would be forever denied the Gods' blessings if he did not fully commit his spirit to them in faith. Now though, the words took on an entirely new meaning.

  If the Gods drew their power from faith, and he was becoming more powerful with the faith of his people, then he must truly be a God after all!

  Of course, the real Gods had the whole world to draw upon and he only yet had a small fellowship by comparison. But if he could increase his influence, send out missionaries to spread word of his divinity, how much more powerful could he become?

  Avery grinned
at the prospect. He had finally come into something that he could truly revel in. Many could dream of the power of a God. Avery had the power at his fingertips!

  Satisfaction surged through him as he drew One from its scabbard upon his back. Carefully, he turned the blade, studying its every fine detail yet again. Which God did you belong to, I wonder? he thought. You must have belonged to Malik, for only a God of War would have need of such a blade. Yet it is hard to imagine a force that could defeat him...

  That thought sent a shiver of dread through him instead. If Malik had died, his sword cast out to be buried and forgotten, what did that say for him? Malik had had all the power of a real God and certainly enough faithful worldwide to protect even a God of War. What hope then did an ex-merchant-in-training have in fending against whatever it was that had defeated him?

  He glanced down at the sleeping body at his feet. Hamil's scripture now had a much more urgent need for completion. Avery was extremely vulnerable while he held such a small fraction of divine power. He needed more and quickly before he became a target – before he attracted the attention of the Gods' slayer!

  “Hamil, wake up,” Avery said. He wanted to go off alone for a time, but he needed to leave instructions first. Besides, he thought, Viola may be ready to help distract me for a time. Fates know I need to find something else to occupy me while I plan what to do next.

  “Master?” said Hamil sleepily, lazily looking from side to side. Avery had not chosen to be seen, only heard.