One (The Godslayer Cycle Book 1)

by Ron Glick

  “Look after the ladies within, Hamil,” Avery instructed. “I have another I would see.”

  “Master, while you reposed, a man came to summon you,” blurted the scribe. “The magistrate would hear your testimony regarding Quinn's crimes. Of course, he would not disturb you, but asked that you come at your soonest convenience.”

  Avery thoughtfully re-sheathed One. He had not realized that he still had the blade drawn until that moment. “Why would the magistrate require to see me? Surely, your accounts alone should suffice. And dozens witnessed the man's confession.”

  The scribe looked uneasy at speaking to a disembodied voice, but continued. “It is the way of the law to hear from witnesses directly, Master. The magistrate is... not convinced of your divinity, I think, and would challenge your claims. Or perhaps Quinn has arranged this. He does have great influence.”

  “Indeed,” mused Avery. “Perhaps he needs a new lesson in humility.” Avery was not sure if he meant the magistrate or Quinn, and somehow it hardly mattered – all that mattered was that he have an outlet for his vengeance. He had become possessed with such impulses since first he had challenged Quinn the night before, and he just did not care to resist the urges they now called upon him to do.

  Avery asked for and received directions to Drake's home, leaving a bewildered Hamil behind, especially since the little man did not realize that he was no longer in his God's presence.

  Avery made his way quickly out of the inn and into the street. The Leaping Lizard had only a few patrons at this time of day, and its owner seemed pleasantly engaged in his work. But Avery could not miss the welted sore upon his right wrist as he bustled about, nor the occasional sign displayed as one customer or another moved his arm. At least one man did not have the mark yet, a loner that sat to the back of the room. Avery recognized him as one of the three who had chased him two nights ago.

  Oh well, thought the faux God, at least not everyone has succumbed to madness. He knew he would have to bless those that had branded themselves in some way, yet Avery was still personally appalled that anyone would intentionally brand themselves as heretics. Of course, he had years of bitterness that gave him a somewhat tainted viewpoint on the topic. To him, it was a mark of scorn. To these people, it had become a mark of reverence, devotion. And Avery would need to take full advantage of their blind loyalty for as long as he could, which meant he would have to openly praise what he internally thought of as travesty.

  As he walked into the street, the day's bright light struck him and he grinned impishly. He truly felt alive now; the burden and fears of being an outcast had been fully dispelled. He had new purpose in life and faithful attendants at his beck and call. What better life could one imagine?

  Avery had to quell the lust that again rose in his loins with effort. The power made him lustful. It made him want pleasure and Viola's fabulous passion dredged itself up from his memory yet again to taunt him.

  But Avery had another matter to take care of first. The magistrate was a challenge to his authority and needed to be dealt with posthaste. With that thought came the resolve to put aside his carnal desires, at least for awhile.

  Avery strolled casually across town, following Hamil's directions easily. It really was a small town, perhaps home to a couple thousand, at most, so he was not likely to get lost.

  Moving along unseen, he could not help but notice men, women and even children openly displaying the heretical emblem, now his holy symbol. It seemed to be an even division of the populace that had taken to marking themselves. There must have been a mass movement to organize the people this morning while his focus had been elsewhere. He silenced his own internal qualms at the thought of a mob descending somewhere – likely the blacksmith's shop, he realized – to be branded.

  Finally, Avery came to the building that Hamil had described. Two armed men stood, one to either side of the entrance, their eyes casting watchfully from side to side. Avery took note that neither wore his emblem on their wrist. He wondered if Drake had intentionally chosen these two as guards for that very reason.

  Avery willed himself to be seen, appearing suddenly before the two men, who reacted with startled curses. “Your magistrate has requested an audience,” he heard himself say. He amazed himself at how official he could sound if he needed to be. “You will announce me.”

  The larger of the two men placed his hand upon the sword hilt at his side. “None may enter armed. You will need to relinquish your sword.”

  Avery lowered his brow menacingly at the implied threat. “None but I touches One,” he said.

  The larger man looked to his companion and swallowed before responding. “We have orders to take it from you, if you refuse,” he said, drawing his own blade. Avery heard the sound of his companion doing the same.

  “You may try,” sneered Avery.

  The two hesitated only a moment more before they both drew new courage and charged forward. The larger man's blade raised high, while the other thrusted forward with his own. With speed Avery could not believe of himself, he drew One while stepping easily to dodge the thrust. One rose high and intercepted the larger man's sword on its downward stroke, the man's blade shattering upon impact. Turning, Avery brought One around in a smooth arc that cleanly severed the other man's head from its shoulders, then twisted the blade in his hand to thrust backwards to impale the larger man through the chest.

  In all, the skirmish had lasted seconds. Avery had not even worked up a sweat, he realized, as he slid One neatly clean of the man's body, letting it fall lifeless to the ground. A few people had stopped to stare at the sight, some in awe, others in disbelief. None, he was sure, had ever laid eyes upon him before, but recognition dawned in all of them nevertheless. They had at the very least heard of the new God in their midst. And now they had seen him in action. The word would spread further.

  “Wh-what is this? What happened here?” came a man's voice from behind Avery. The would-be-God turned to look upon the graying man standing there, his face red and flustered. Around his neck hung a heavy chain, with a large circular symbol hanging from it. Avery recognized it as the holy symbol of Galentine, God of Honor. So, thought Avery, the magistrate is also in league with the local priest.

  “Is this how you would greet your God?” demanded Avery in a voice that seemed not entirely his own. “With violence and deceit?”

  The old man glowered. “You are no God of mine, nor God at all, for that matter,” cursed the priest. “One magic sword does not a God make. And your claims have wrecked havoc amongst the truly faithful of Scollhaven. I compel you by the word of Galentine to cease and desist, or suffer his wrath.”

  Avery grinned maliciously. “Do your best, old man,” he challenged. Inwardly, Avery was horrified at his own words. He needed to avoid the other Gods, not challenge their priests! How could he be acting in secret to marshal his power if he flaunted himself in front of real Gods and their followers?

  The priest took a step back and began an incantation. Words of power Avery could almost comprehend, though not quite, formed a magical force around the priest. In the space of a few seconds, the priest had finished and sent the force of his power directly against Avery. The energy, whatever its intent had been, never touched Avery though, as One moved to deflect it with ease.

  The priest's eyes grew wide when he saw Avery unfazed by the assault, but Avery only continued to grin. “My turn,” he sneered, and thrust forward with One, cleanly cutting beneath the priest's left collarbone, conveniently severing the chain, sending Galentine's symbol clattering to the ground.

  Unlike with the previous two, Avery felt a surge of power ebb along One's length and enter his body. The priest was a vessel of his God's magic, Avery realized, and One was actually drawing that power out of the man and into him! It was like nothing Avery had felt so far, and though it was over in moments, it had seemed an ecstatic eternity while it had been happening. Priests, it seemed, possessed only small amounts of energy. Oh, he would definitely nee
d to find himself some more of those!

  Avery withdrew One and sheathed it, knowing by now that blood from the fights had not stained the blade. The priest fell to his knees, his eyes staring vacantly in disbelief, clasping the gaping wound in his shoulder. Looking up at Avery, his mouth moved without words for several seconds before he could speak again. “What did you do?” he finally managed.

  “If you will not serve me,” replied Avery, “you will serve none.” The look of horror that filled the old man's face was strangely satisfying to the former heretic. Somehow, he knew what had been done to the man – he had severed the man's connection to the divine, probably forever. Whatever link the man had had to his God, and the power he drew through that connection, was now gone, snipped as cleanly as the barest thread. This man before him would never be a true priest ever again.

  He had once upon a time feared priests – now he saw them as the weak, impotents they truly were – impotents, though, with sparks of power which he now saw as means by which to increase his own strength exponentially.

  Avery turned to look upon the people gathering around. “I gave you the opportunity to judge men by mortal law, and this was my reward. I see now that it was a mistake.”

  Murmurs passed through the crowd and Avery paused to let the silence prevail again before continuing. “From this day forward, this man is no longer a symbol of law or faith. He is stripped of all authority, as are any who would answer to him. None shall mind his words or follow his directions.

  “Further, from this day forward, there is no longer mortal control over the law of this town. I am the power here, and my word shall be law absolute. Any that would challenge me shall share the fate of these men. I have spoken and I shall be obeyed. Do any question what I say?”

  Avery looked upon the faces of the crowd. None showed sign of raising objection. Several looked on with open adoration.

  Avery smiled wickedly. Oh, how good it felt to be a God!

  Chapter Thirteen

  The night, at least, had passed relatively peacefully. Nathaniel opened his eyes to a bright dawn that held all the promise of a mild autumn day. All at least seemed, from all outward appearances, to be right with the world. It was easy to believe, in this moment of peaceful serenity, that he was not a pawn in some grand celestial game. Yet he knew that moment of peace would not last.

  Yesterday, he had followed Brea home to settle things with Mari. His wife had been sleeping when he had first arrived, but the sound of his voice had roused her. He and Brea had had only a few minutes to discuss with Duncan about what had transpired while they were away before Mari was upon him with a zealous fervor. She had fallen all over herself thereafter trying to find ways to please him, from minor rubs and kisses to talk of grand gestures of preparing any one of a dozen different meals she knew Nathaniel liked. It was everything he could do to calm her enough to greet Geoffrey, who was feeling the prolonged inattention of the morning and demanded some snuggling and comfort of his own.

  After Mari had been convinced to avoid complicated meals for another time, they had all sat down to a simple meal of cold cuts and cheese on bread. Duncan had set into the food with a casual zest, though Brea was less inclined to eat such simple fair. However, she did manage to eat some, so as to not to offend Nathan.

  The whole while, Mari fairly bristled with a fervent restlessness, hyper-sensitive to any need, real or imagined, Nathaniel might have, even to the point of neglecting herself. Nathaniel found himself extremely self-conscious in front of their midday guests, but Mari seemed oblivious to anyone save him.

  Something had fundamentally changed in Mari, and it made Nathaniel not only embarrassed, but anxious, as well. Brea had told him a little of how she had perceived Mari's state of mind on their walk back to the cabin, and Duncan had had a few moments to fill him in further upon his arrival, but no amount of foreknowledge could have prepared him for the reality. After the meal, Brea had suggested that time and rest would eventually set Mari to right, but it would take Nathaniel's love and devotion to ease her towards recovery. If he chose to walk away out of resentment for the lies and deceit, the priestess was convinced that Mari would only fall further into madness.

  Nathaniel, of course, had no idea how much it had cost Brea to encourage him to remain with his wife.

  After speaking with Brea, Nathaniel decided that he needed time alone with Mari and that included time away from Geoffrey, who would only serve to distract them. And besides, Nathaniel could not be certain how much Mari could be trusted to care for their son in her current state of mind. He could not imagine his wife intentionally harming the child of her womb, but as willful and curious as their son was, simple neglect could lead to harm. Besides, at the moment she seemed completely oblivious to Geoffrey, and Nate could not focus on Mari and his son at the same time.

  Therefore, he had drafted a letter to Bracken and entrusted Geoffrey into Duncan's care to take him back to Oaken Wood for a few days. He knew Bracken would not object. He adored the lad and would spoil the boy terribly. To little Geoffrey, Bracken was “Unca D'orf”, since he could not manage the dwarf's true name. In spite of the potential slight, Bracken actually encouraged the nickname and was known to glare menacingly to anyone who would so much as smirk at the boy's pronunciation. Bracken was as close to family as Nathaniel had left – not counting Mari's family, whom Nathaiel had no intention of entrusting his child with at present – and if anyone could understand his need for solitude, it would be him.

  Nathaniel had done the best he could to explain what he had learned and how the revelation of her years of secrecy had affected Mari, yet intentionally withheld how he had come by the knowledge in the first place. Though surely Bracken would have tried to believe anything Nathaniel told him, somehow committing the details to written word seemed wrong. Whether he agreed with the Old Gods or no, it was still a secret that held dire implications if it were found out, especially where his own empowerment was concerned. He convinced himself that it was in everyone's best interest to share the details with the dwarf another time, when they could discuss the matter at length face to face.

  And besides, Duncan would be traveling back to town in company with the priestess, and he dreaded the potential complications if she somehow acquired the note to read herself.

  Shortly thereafter, Brea, Duncan and Geoffrey had taken their leave, the boy calling his goodbyes long after he was out of sight through the trees. Brea, for her own part, had given Nathaniel a strange, wistful look before leaving, then had turned and walked away without ever looking back. Whatever she was about, Nathaniel felt sure that she was not done with him yet.

  The rest of the day had consisted of Nathaniel doing his best to distract Mari from her endless designs to find ways to pleasure and comfort him, both physically and emotionally. Alone, she became exceptionally amorous, needing to have her hands upon every part of him and wanting his hands upon her. Nathaniel could not bring himself to succumb to her attentions, however, and spent a great deal of time letting her cuddle in his lap, talking endlessly of ways she intended to please him now that he had come home to her.

  The one thing she had meticulously avoided talking about though was her deceptions. Nathaniel had tried to steer the conversation there a couple of times, but she had avoided responding and would only launch into new efforts to seduce him. He eventually decided to let the issue rest, at least for the day.

  Toward dusk, she had fallen asleep in his arms, cradled up against his chest like a small child. She had seemed so innocent and guileless as she had lain there, completely oblivious to the ills of the world, much less the consequences of her own actions. She was beauty personified to Nathaniel, and his heart ached with love for her. But it ached as well with her betrayal.

  Tenderly, he had carried her to bed and settled in beside her. Nathaniel had lightly brushed a chestnut curl from her forehead with his finger, to which she had smiled in her sleep. He had lain there watching her breathe for hours before he himse
lf fell asleep, never having undressed.

  Sometime during the night, she had woken him with her needful petting and he finally succumbed to her needs. Their lovemaking was tender yet passionate, having some feel of the desperation of the night before, though far more intimate and attentive. It seemed Mari's carnal desires were without end and the two coupled for what seemed hours. Yet despite the intensity of their mating, Mari remained silent. It was a silence Nathaniel could not bring himself to break either, for he could not raise the subject that still remained at the forefront of his mind. Finally, she collapsed atop him in exhaustion and soon soon fell asleep again, without uttering a word.

  Twice more during the night she had woken Nathaniel for more lovemaking, but the latter times were much briefer. However, the couplings were no less intense than their first bout. There was a sense of desperation in Mari's actions by this point that had become achingly clear to her husband. Without a doubt, Mari intended to live up to her promises of devotion. Nathaniel had never known her to be so wild in bed, though, and could not help but wonder whether this boded well or ill for her mental well-being.

  Waking in the morning, he had found her curled with her head upon his groin, her hand warmly wrapped around his manhood as though she had intended to initiate yet another round, yet had fallen asleep in the middle of the effort. When he moved, her hand moved as well, causing his body to react. His own body's reaction woke Mari in turn, who returned to wakefulness with a soft moan.

  “My man is so wonderful,” she purred, kissing what her hand did not cover.

  Nathaniel allowed Mari to continue and the early morning was spent in yet another bout of romance. By the time they had finished, Nathaniel was keenly aware of the over powering scent of rut in the room and upon the sheets. It was definitely not a scent he was accustomed to, and yet Mari seemed oblivious of it altogether.

  In spite of this, Mari was at least aware of the sweaty locks that cascaded over her face enough to push them back with her hand. “I will draw us a bath to share, if you would care to continue this,” she suggested coyly. There was no mistaking the lust behind her words.