One (The Godslayer Cycle Book 1)

by Ron Glick

  “How is that possible?” asked the Goddess, truly intrigued.

  “Obviously, it is not. There is no divine child of these Pantheon Gods, nor any others. This God is an imposter. But his use of our own symbol negates the possibility that he is one of the Pantheon in disguise.”

  Imery considered that. “A demiGod then?”

  Kelvor shook his head. “No. There is more you must hear. Prepare yourself, for this is truly unsettling.”

  “Go on,” Imery ventured cautiously.

  “This imposter has the ability to... sever the ties between mortal and divine.”

  Imery scrunched her brow. “I do not understand.”

  “It is something unheard of before, yet it is true nonetheless. I received a visit from Galentine requesting my service. He is convinced that this Avery is one of our own in disguise, and using this disguise to somehow sever the link between God and man.”

  Imery gasped as what Kelvor said sank in. “That's not possible.”

  “It seems that it is.”

  “You actually believe this?”

  “I am uncertain, if truth be told. It seems Galentine had a shrine in Scollhaven. And his priest there doubled as the town's magistrate. The priest apparently had a confrontation with Avery, who somehow stripped him of his divine magics and severed his tie to the divine. No God will ever again be able to accept worship from that mortal, according to Galentine.”

  “What you say is not possible, Kelvor. Even if depriving another of the New Order worship were not forbidden by covenant, no divine power exists that can take away the bond shared between a mortal and his God.”

  “And yet this one has,” Kelvor replied smoothly.

  Imery thought for a moment. “Did you inform Galentine of our earlier suspicions involving Scollhaven?”

  “No. I made a pact with you not to discuss that with anyone else, and I have honored my word. I do believe under the circumstances though that Galentine may prove a worthy ally in this affair.”

  Imery had to agree. “It seems he has been more directly affected than either of us. I would consent to sharing our knowledge with him, so long as he keeps it from the others.”

  “He will,” Kelvor confirmed. “He recognizes the value of silence for the time being.

  “On that note, however, there is another God involved. Ankor is in Scollhaven.”

  Imery flushed. “Is that upstart behind this somehow...?”

  Kelvor smirked. “I am speaking with him now, and I assure you, though he finds the whole affair comical, he has no more power than he ever has. I am convinced that the Prankster is not the imposter.”

  “Then why is he so conveniently in Scollhaven?”

  “Ankor insists he was drawn there by – in his own words – his 'chaos sense'.”

  “Chaos sense?”

  Kelvor sighed. “My very response. Ankor claims to have a 'finely tuned extraordinary sense for chaos wherever it is happening in the world'. It is one of his jests, for certain, yet nevertheless he is there. He insists that he is having a grand time watching the citizens stand in line waiting their turn to be branded like cattle with the heresy symbol. In fact, he thinks it looks like such fun, that he might stand in line for a turn himself.”

  “What does he know of this 'Avery'?”

  Kelvor sighed. “Less than we would like. In the Prankster's words, 'He is small and runtish, not at all good looking enough to attract the attention he is getting, a rather embarrassing specimen of Godhood.' Apparently, after watching him from a distance for awhile, Ankor became much more fascinated with the mortals' self-mutilations and has been there watching them ever since.”

  Imery sighed. “The Prankster has ever been worthless. Why should this time be any different?”

  “I could barely tolerate the meeting myself, and I was only associating with the form he maintains in the celestial realm. One knows that his appearances in the mortal realm are even more gaudy to look at than the ones he portrays here.”

  Imery shook her head. “Ankor insists the shock value with mortals is greater by the degree of bright and glittery objects one wears.”

  Kelvor nodded in agreement, then inclined his head towards Imery. “You mentioned that you had news of your own?”

  “Yes, though in comparison, it pales. I received a visit from Elevan just a short while ago.”

  “And what did the Goddess of Death have to offer the Goddess of Truth?”

  “It seems Zantel has made a grievance against me. He went to Elevan to support it.”

  “I have heard nothing of this.” It always irritated Kelvor when other Gods attempted to usurp his station. “But I must confess that I do not see a connection to our current affair.”

  “It seems a recently deceased faithful of Zantel's is moaning of being stolen from the arms of her beloved by myself!”

  Kelvor raised a curious eyebrow. “You slew a mortal? Or had one of your faithful do so?”

  “You know I am forbidden to take a mortal's life directly, Kelvor,” Imery admonished. “No God can without breaking covenant.”

  “No God could sever the ties between mortal and divine, either,” said Kelvor. “Until now.”

  “One is a limitation upon goodhood, the other a limitation of power. The former cannot be breached without sacrificing the worship provided us by covenant with the mortals. The latter could be with power greater than we presently understand. I am beginning to see that this does not directly violate the precept that we may not deprive worship to another God. Technically, the worship is still intact – it is the connection that has been deprived, and there is no prohibition against that.”

  Kelvor nodded. “I concede. I had not thought of it from that perspective. However, this still does not answer as to how this relates to our present affair.”

  “It seems the deceased was the betrothed of one Nathaniel Goodsmith.”

  “Not a coincidence, I assume,” Kelvor said, leaning forward now in interest.

  “No. But apparently she was beset upon by raiders claiming loyalty to me. From her account, it was a grisly demise.”

  “And none of your faithful committed the act, I presume?”

  “No. I have searched and found no sign of this assault within my sphere.”

  “More imposters, then. Someone aiming at Goodsmith?”

  “That would appear to be the case. I pled my innocence of the atrocity to Elevan, and she will take it back to Zantel. However, someone was motivated to try to harm Goodsmith, and from all appearances, vented their rage upon his wife in his stead. Worse, whomever did this committed the act in my name. Which suggests they wanted Goodsmith to lay blame for the attack upon me.”

  “The beliefs of one mortal hardly matter,” Kelvor offered. “Even one as mysterious as this Goodsmith.”

  “Kelvor, since you have shared your information, I have searched for this Avery myself and find him as equally absent as if I were searching for Goodsmith. Either they are two forms of the same being, or we have two opponents that we cannot sense. And at least one of them can strip a mortal of divine potential! And you think this is hardly a matter to be concerned with?”

  Kelvor relented. “Put that way, it does appear more ominous.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Avery thought he looked grand. He was seated upon a horse that was surely of finely groomed stock. The stallion was certainly the finest horse he had ever had the privilege to be upon. The great coal beast twitched beneath him, and he could feel the muscles of the equine, anxious to be set loose, frustrated by the time it was taking, by the people-slow pace the man upon his back set. The horse had seen the open road ahead, knew he was intended to run free, and now that he was so close to what he craved, this man atop him wanted to wait.

  “Easy, boy,” calmed Avery, as he patted the stallion's neck. “I know you want to run. We'll let you loose to do so soon.” The horse snorted and bobbed his head, as though he understood. However, the tautness of its great frame did not lessen.r />
  The citizens of Scollhaven had, of course, been crushed at Avery's decision to take leave. He had created a story of a great quest he was destined to undertake, to seek out the one who called himself Godslayer, one who fancied himself capable of slaying those gifted with divinity. Mixing his own fears into the tale, he told his faithful that he had come to the mortal realm to crush this upstart, but he had been overwhelmed by the love of his faithful, and so had lingered longer than he should have. Yet now the time had come for him to depart, and to leave his faithful to the lives they had lived before his coming. His announcement was made over breakfast, and no sooner had the meal ended with his blessings, than immediately he had been beset upon with last minute gifts, charities and requests for carnal blessings.

  Of the gifts, he accepted all he thought he could carry, but had to refuse many simply for the practicality of trying to carry all that the town had to offer would have required a caravan. And Avery wished to depart relatively unnoticed by anyone beyond the town borders. At least for the present, until he could determine whether the Godslayer might be about. Charities were easier, once he had accumulated enough gifts, he simply began giving out what he had received once something better came along.

  The blessings were the most daunting, since blessings from Avery had come to mean bedding the women of the town. It was through their blessings that others in proximity would receive their own, after all. Yet with the whole of the town wishing to have a final blessing before he parted, it simply was not practical. He agreed to two especially lovely ladies for a frolic, and was careful to choose two he knew to not be attached. “Through these two, I give special blessing – for any who lie with these will share in my blessing, as though they had lain with me themselves,” he had said. He thought it a marvelous solution to an otherwise impossible problem. The thought occurred to him only later that he may well have turned the two into unpaid prostitutes for the rest of their days. After all, who were they to defy a God's will that the blessing imparted to them should be withheld from any that asked, man or woman?

  And of course, every citizen of the town had pleaded to accompany Avery in his trek. What greater devotion could the people have given him than to dedicate themselves to him, and what better way for that than in his direct service? They saw it as a pilgrimage of faith, and most would certainly have followed him en masse had Avery not specifically forbidden it. Avery had wanted to be unnoticed after leaving, and a troupe of faithful cluttering at his heels would not permit that.

  “Stay and grow prosperous,” he had told the gathered citizens as he moved to guide the two women he had selected one last time up the stairs, “so that I might one day return again to take pleasure in your bounty.” The townsfolk had grudgingly accepted this, and as their Lord moved away to impart his final blessing, they had set about preparing for his departure. In saying these words, Avery had effectively declined each request. All, that is, save the one he had already consented to.

  Hamil had dedicated himself to be Avery's scribe, to write the Gospel of Avery. Though Avery had not yet read what the young scribe had already written, the devotion shown in dedicating himself to such a project was undeniable. He alone could say that his form of worship could not continue outside the presence of his God, for it was his calling to chronicle his God's rise in glory. How could he be expected to chronicle his Lord's exploits if he did not accompany him on his journey, he had pleaded. Try as he might, Avery could think of no plausible alternative to give to Hamil to convince him to continue his epic tome while staying behind in Scollhaven. After all, had thought Avery, what God did not have his own scripture? And he certainly could not write his own...

  When at last Avery had finished bedding the two young women, both of whom had been over anxious to take as much of him into themselves before he departed, it was slightly later than midday. He had originally hoped to be on the road by that time, but there was little that could be done for it. At least he would be away from the town before nightfall, and that, in the end, was the greater objective. His spirits were high as he walked out of the Leaping Lizard for a final time, and they grew even higher when he laid eyes upon what the townfolk had prepared for him in tribute.

  Standing outside the inn was a crowd that had to consist of every man, woman and child in the small town. And in front of them were five horses, three with full tack and the other two laden with supplies that the other three could not have carried comfortably with riders. Viola and Hamil were already standing beside their own mounts, as they had to have been informed that Avery was on his way out (surely they would not have waited hours standing in the sun for him?). Also, upon approaching the great, dark beast that was clearly intended to be his own mount, he was informed by Mansel that his saddlebags contained all the coin the town could spare. Inspecting the offering, Avery discovered two full packs filled to brimming with coin upon his own horse. In fact, it was the only thing within the packs, his remaining provisions clearly dispensed amongst the other horses. A smaller horse would have been overweighted by the sheer weight of the metals, and Avery was certain that even though the stallion still stood regal, that his own added weight would soon cripple him. Avery had never seen so much wealth in all his days.

  With what he hoped had been received as graciousness rather than ingratitude, Avery unfastened one of the bags and handed it to Mansel. “You should not so deprive yourselves for the sake of your God,” he had said. “Divide this evenly amongst those who gave it.” He had well more than enough to live off of if the other bag were a mere half of what he guessed from its weight. Mansel had bowed graciously, and swore to be just in his disposition of his Lord's charity.

  With an air of spectacle, Avery had mounted his great steed and urged Viola and Hamil to join him. As he had settled himself into the saddle, the crowd of spectators around him fell ominously silent.

  Now, as he sat high above the heads of his faithful, he knew he was expected to make a speech, that he owed it to these people, something long and full of promises. Yet Avery was anxious to be on his way, and he was already setting out later than he had originally hoped. Therefore, he kept his departing speech short.

  “Bless you all. May you all know greatness in your days ahead. Stay true to me, and I will return to you once my quest is done!”

  Avery had felt his explanation of seeking out a Godslayer had been a bit vague, but the townspeople had not asked for clarification, and for that, Avery was grateful. And just as they had taken him at his word without question, so too did they accept the brief farewell that he provided them with joy and rapture.

  Avery did not wait for further response from the townsfolk, though. As he finished his speech, he could already see the longing and complete surrender in the eyes surrounding him, tears falling freely from many, and he could not stay without breaking down himself. As impossible a notion as it seemed, Avery had become attached to these people, and it brought him close onto tears to leave them behind. And this he could not bear his faithful to witness.

  And so he rode, looking back along the trail only once the last remnants of Scollhaven were passing out of sight. He almost felt that he was leaving behind his home of years rather than one of only a few days. The town had certainly endeared itself to him within a short span of time. What had begun as a quest of vengeance and revenge against the wrongs perpetuated against him had changed into a mission of divinity. He had gone from being the most reviled person in existence to the most cherished and adored. And he could not have foreseen the level of contentment he now felt those few short days ago when he had only sought to inflict pain and misery upon the town's citizens.

  He certainly remembered those thoughts he had had that night he had first come into town with One upon his back. He had been so bitter and angry then, resentful of all he had suffered as an outcast. He had planned to terrorize the people of this small town, to act as a ghost in the night, giving to them some small measure of the fear he had been forced to suffer under for so long. He had
even had plans to change the name of the town to better idolize his new-found self-importance. He had come with plans of ruling through fear, and had surrendered instead a leadership given freely through love and conviction.

  So much had changed in him in only a few days. He had blundered and exposed himself too early, yet in the process had earned the citizens' respect rather than fear. He had been accepted as a God without making sacrifices nor exerting excesses of power. They had come to him on their own. And, in turn, he had come to love them, as well.

  This then was what it must really feel like to be a God. Not to have people follow you for fear of what harm you could cause them, but out of reverence for all the blessings you could bestow. A pang of guilt filled him as he thought of all he had taken from these simple people. And he had left them with empty commitments that he as yet had no way to fulfill.

  Avery knew that if One truly was his key to Godhood, he would have to one day return. Once he was secure in his power, he could repay them their kindness. These people would truly be the most blessed of his faithful, for they had been the first.

  Avery looked to where Viola rode at his side. The crisp autumn day had turned her cheeks a rosy red, which only highlighted her beauty. She saw him looking and returned his smile with heartfelt love and devotion. If it were possible, he would have to find a way to grant Godhood to her, as well. He could not imagine immortality without her by his side.

  With visions of an eternity of bliss in his mind and One strapped securely to his back, Avery rode forth to face his destiny with complete confidence that his glorious future had already been written.

  * * *

  The tall man spoke. “I believe they be no common bandits.”