Three (The Godslayer Cycle Book 3)

by Ron Glick

  As much as Farius' energy bristled for release, he forced himself to slow his pace, walking down the steps at as casual a manner as he could manage. He needed to be recognized, and a large blur was not something easily identified.

  As the man reached the base of the stairs, a voice met him. “Who ya bringin' with?”

  Farius bit back his growl as best he could. “Just drop the glimmer,” he snapped. “Do it now!”

  “Farius, we can't--”

  The man felt his rage rise and he knew from experience that his eyes now glowed red. His reputation long preceded Farius' joining the Conclave, and there were few - even among the demi-Gods - who dared oppose him when his eyes began to blaze.

  Whoever was standing guard clearly knew this as well, for the next moment a section of the wall ahead vanished, showing a concealed doorway. Normally, this would be secured behind a solid, iron-bound door, but on this day, it had been opened preemptively - with the person responsible plainly hidden from view.

  “Go on ahead,” came a voice from behind the opened door.

  Farius wasted no time dwelling on what cowards the Conclave had posted to guard their sanctum. Instead, he rushed forward, carrying the trembling form of his female companion. Once he had found a place of isolation for Tanath and her forthcoming transformation, then he would raise issue with the Conclave's hierarchy about their choice in defenders for their boundary.

  It was not acceptable with what was coming. They could not have weaklings guarding the gate, after all - not with the coming war on the Gods...

  Chapter 16

  “Why is everything happening all at once?”

  The question was a simple one, but Avery knew it would not be a simple answer. Just as he knew that even though he sat alone on vigil, waiting yet another night for the return of the missing Three, that it would be answered.

  Six days had passed since the death of Nathaniel Goodsmith. In that entire time, he had not made any effort to actually speak to Hamil - at least not about anything of any significance. He was not a child, after all. He had no intention of pretending that the disguised God was not still around, or to act impetuously by refusing to speak to him altogether. But it had been a significant betrayal to find out that the person he had thought was only committed to writing his history had actually been playing him for a fool for close to a year.

  Of course, there was more to it than Hamil's true identity being exposed. Avery had started calling himself a God as a ruse, a way to get the people of Scollhaven to listen to him. It had been an impulse - a defensive act. When the old woman had seen his brand, she had called him out, sought to turn the town upon him for being an outcast, a heretic. He had not planned to pronounce himself a God - it had just been what came out of his mouth. And once said, he could not very well take it back.

  Since leaving Scollhaven, Avery had continued to profess himself the God of Vengeance to any who would listen. With Hamil and Viola at his side, even when was temporarily shorn of One, he still had others who would speak for him. And of course, overcoming Two and regaining the first of the Nine had only cemented his claim to the title.

  But it had all been a lark. Deep down, Avery saw the claim for what it was. It was a scam, a confidence game that he used the power of the swords to manipulate others into believing in. But at the end of the day, it was not real. None of it had ever been real. Avery knew that.

  And so too had Hamil.

  All along, Hamil had known Avery was no God. And yet the disguised God of Mischief had shored up Avery's claim, playing with Avery and everyone else around him. All along, the one person he had trusted more than anyone - if truth be told, even moreso than the love of his life, Viola - had been the real confidence man, the true faker. He had completely fooled Avery. And being fooled on such an immense scale was more than humbling - it was emasculating.

  Now the man who had called himself a God was ready to talk. Ready for the answers he had been avoiding now for nearly a week. Before anything else could happen, Avery needed to know precisely what the real game was. And no one would know that better than Ankor.

  As expected, Hamil appeared behind Avery within mere moments. The man could not have said how he knew that the God would sense the question was directed to him, but the deity had known precisely that. And he had come in response without hesitation.

  “There are things even Gods do not know,” the faux scribe began. “Gods may be more powerful, and we certainly control more of the universe than mortals do - but in spite of our own self-serving scriptures, we are not all powerful. There are forces in the universe that are greater than we are, some of which we even fear. But one thing that is inescapable for mortal and deity alike is Fate. Fate holds us all to certain degrees.”

  “That is not really an answer,” said Avery.

  Hamil sighed. “I know, but it is the foundation for one.” Hamil walked over and took a seat beside his companion. “Would it surprise you terribly to know that Gods have philosophies that are as equally mysterious to us as they are to mortals? Well, we do. Our philosophies, of course, are grander. Cosmic even. Where men think of where they fit into the world, we theorize on where we fit between worlds.”

  The man was about to object, but Hamil bowed his head, waving his hand to dismiss the topic. “My apologies. That would take us away from your question. Let me just say that we have considered the very question you have asked, though on a considerably grander scale than what you are presently able to perceive. Gods live a much greater lifespan than mortals - even long-lived races like elves and dwarves pale before the age of a deity. And so we see things over eons like you see them over years. And still, even with all that time on our side, the answer is still at best one of philosophical debate.”

  Avery thought on that a moment. “So what do you think the answer is?”

  “I cannot say as I have a belief, per se,” confessed the God. “But if I were to lean towards one viewpoint over another...”

  Hamil turned visibly to look in the direction of Bracken's hut. Early morning was just beginning to lighten the sky, but the glow from the ever present firepit could still be seen in the distance, if not the actual pit itself.

  Avery's mind briefly touched upon how few of the pilgrims that the town now possessed. When he had first arrived in Oaken Wood, there would have been no clear line of sight to the camp for all the tents and lean-tos built up in every free space available. But now that the pilgrims had fled - most to the old Goodsmith estate, if the information could be relied upon - the streets were largely vacant. It amazed the would-be-God how a little fear of the unknown could drive the masses out of town when all reason and common sense had failed before.

  “There are those who believe,” continued Hamil at last, “that Fate deliberately draws events together into points of significance. Call them cruxes, or crossed threads of destiny or whatever else you like. The terms are irrelevant while the underlying principle is the same. Things which are terribly important tend to cluster around single points in time. As a mortal, I am sure you have witnessed how a single day can be filled with one conflict after another while for weeks before and after, there is nothing significant at all happening?”

  When Avery nodded, the disguised God continued. “Now imagine something similar in a much larger context. Empires can last for centuries, yet one incident or sequence of events can lead to the complete downfall of that empire in a relatively short period of time - days, perhaps weeks. Deities have been watching such diversity flare up time and again without any purpose other than the understanding that change was inevitable. But change is rarely slow. When it does happen, it almost always escalates quickly so that it is sudden and abrupt.”

  Hamil waved his hand in front of him, encompassing the street where Three had appeared and vanished just as quickly. “Goodsmith was here, you were here and the girl was here. What are the odds that all three would have happened at precisely the same moment in time? It boggles even the mind of a God to consider
how impossible those odds are. And yet, the girl did not appear until you had entered Oaken Wood. She could have appeared weeks ago, or weeks into the future after you had been here for a considerable amount of time. Instead, you all converged at exactly the same point in time, on the exact same day you came to this town.”

  “Which was why I asked my question to begin with,” prompted Avery. “I realize that the coincidence is beyond belief. Which was the reason I asked you why. Why is it that all of this happened at once? There has to be an answer.”

  Hamil laughed. “If there is, it is beyond the understanding of the Gods. The best I can tell you is that Fate is a very real and fluid thing. Fate does not speak to us - not even to deities. But make no mistake - there is something beyond us that does appear to control things like this. We call it Fate because we have no better name for it. It is real, however. There are just too many cosmically impossible coincidences in existence for there not to be. It is a force that seems to possess a mind of its own, yet it does not communicate nor respond to the wishes of any of us. No one understands its purpose, and none that we are aware of can influence it in any way. It simply exists as a force of nature, and we must all move along the path it sets for us.”

  Now Avery chuckled. “As a child, I was raised to believe that the Gods were responsible for such things. To hear you confess that they are not...”

  “Yes, I imagine it must feel wrong to you. Gods have always claimed responsibility for good fortune that appears to favor our faithful. Fate - or whatever force it is we call Fate - has certainly never stepped up to challenge us on it. And there are certainly many things we deities have manipulated in favor of our fellowships, so it is not entirely a falsehood. But everything? No. There is a great deal in the universe that happens in spite of us. We just take advantage of the chance events that make us look good at the end of the day, and blame the bad ones on whatever scapegoat we can direct it towards at the time.”

  “So what you're saying is that Gods are pretenders?”

  Hamil grinned. “Something of which you are mastering well on your own, I might add.”

  Avery's jaw set. “Yes, and there's that.” He would have said more, but Hamil's hand came to rest on his shoulder, causing him to hesitate. It was incredibly odd at how genuine the affectation felt to him, even knowing what he did of this being's true purpose.

  “I know how it must appear,” interjected Hamil into the silence. “And I will confess, at the outset, it was very much like what it appears. I stumbled upon a mortal pretending to be a God and I thought to myself, 'Oh, isn't this the greatest practical joke there ever was?' I am the god of Mischief, after all. It was in my nature to revel in chaos like this, and so I decided to help bolster your claim.

  “You may think this was me making a fool of you, but rest assured, it was precisely the opposite. That sword of yours - the one I cannot see no matter how much divine power I exert - it was so much more than just a magic sword. It was created to be equal to... No, greater than the Gods themselves. It was made to kill Gods like myself. And the only way something could do that was to have evolved into a power beyond that of the Gods themselves.”

  Hamil paused, visibly reflecting on how to set his thoughts to words. “I cannot say if the Pantheon knew what they were doing when they made these swords. You say that the swords have spoken to you, and to be honest, I cannot refute that. Nor do I doubt it. I do not believe the Old Gods knew what they were creating when they made these swords, and I believe they have grown into something far more than they were ever intended to be.”

  Avery perked up at this. “You know for a fact that it was the Old Gods who made the Nine?”

  “Oh yes,” nodded Hamil emphatically. “Malik and Charith, Gods of War and Death. They made them and Dariel threw them into the mortal realm.”

  “Why?”

  “As an act of revenge, of course. My brethren had won the war. The Pantheon were dying, and they wanted one last chance at taking their vengeance out upon us.”

  Avery reached over his shoulder and drew his sword free. In the light of the morning sun rising over the trees, the untarnished sheen of the blade sparkled brilliantly, the dark runic imagery etched into the blade standing out in contrast to the bright silver. “I wish you could see the sword,” the man suggested. “I have always wondered what language was written on the blade.”

  “There are words on the steel?” asked Hamil, shock evident in his words.

  The two companions looked at each other. After a moment, they both burst into laughter, the strange oddness of the moment striking a chord of humor in man and deity alike.

  After a few moments, Avery fell into serious reflection. “Do you find it strange to sit so closely to a weapon that could actually kill you? You being someone who has never before had to fear dying?”

  “Oh, Gods fear dying, Avery. We fear it very much. Just not with the same sense of urgency that mortals do. Eventually, when my brethren and I are much, much older, we will each feel the compulsive need to start killing each other. It is difficult to explain how that works, but there is a point where Gods feel the need to progenerate, to create children. And we become insanely dominant, trying to make sure that only our own children are born. It might take centuries, but in the end, the ambition is to have only one mother and one father. Only then can the next generation of Gods be born.”

  Avery found himself aghast with what he had just been told. “Are you not all brothers and sisters?”

  “Oh yes. But it is how it is done with our kind.”

  “So... You kill all your brothers so you can have children with whatever sister manages to survive as well?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  Avery let out a low whistle. “Well, that would be something to worry about, I suppose.”

  “Not immediately, but eventually, yes.”

  “Wait,” said Avery, clasping the sword's hilt tightly. “You said One was somehow changing me into a God. Is that what is going to happen to me? Will I have to start worrying about some mad need to kill other Gods so I can have children with some Goddess?”

  “To be quite honest,” responded Hamil soberly, “I would say you have already begun doing exactly that. Deities must mature, grow considerably more powerful than any of the New Order are right now before we begin to possess enough power to begin slaying our kin. You have already killed a God, and you are still more mortal than deity. From where I sit, that does not bode well for me in the long run.”

  “So why are you still here?” asked Avery bluntly. “You say it is because you gave your word, but that can't be it entirely. You're a God. You're the God of Mischief. If there's anyone--”

  “There are three laws that no God may break,” interrupted Hamil. “They are known as the Rules of Divinity. And most important of all of these is that we are bound by our word. Without the natural compulsion for that, no God could ever be held to the covenants between mortals and the divine, and we could never gain the devotion we need to grow. I gave my word to serve you as a God, and though I could not have foreseen it at the time, I trapped myself by making such a pledge. Once you began to absorb divine energy, you began to evolve yourself - and by the nature of my oath, I find myself now completely unable to break my bond.”

  Avery was ready to debate the issue further, but Hamil continued. “Think of it like breathing. You feel a compulsive need to draw breath. You cannot help yourself. You may stop yourself for a short time, act against your nature, but not for long. Eventually you will draw breath, even if you have to lose consciousness and let your body's own nature take over and breathe for you. This is how it is to be a God - we must keep our word, because to do otherwise would overpower us and force us to do it whether we wished to or not. And as unpleasant as it is for you to not draw a breath, you must understand that it is considerably more hurtful to a God to go against such a primal aspect of our existence. I could no more violate the Rules of Divinity than you could gain the power to... burst
into flames...”

  Hamil appeared suddenly distracted, then alarmed. His features shifted away from his mortal appearance and in an instant, he was in his true shape. As Ankor, he commanded, “Vanish. Now!”

  Avery's response was more an instinctive need for self-preservation than obedience, shocked by the sudden ferocity of the God's words. Even faster than it had taken Ankor to assume his true face, Avery had called upon One to make him invisible. As soon as he had acted, however, he felt an immediate sense of frustration at having acted without thinking - until the reason for the God's warning became apparent.

  No sooner had Avery vanished from sight, than two other beings appeared out of the air in front of where he sat. He knew that One's magic would mask him from their perceptions, but it was still incredibly hard to find himself so close to two entirely new deities.

  “Sisters!” called Ankor, his arms going wide in welcome. Avery was caught off guard at how quickly the God's mannerisms had changed, going from the serious, reflective personality he knew so well to this childish, mocking one. “You know, I was just thinking about how much I longed for a tryst! And no sooner do I think this, than two of my loveliest sisters appear to answer my whims! Surely, I must consider renaming myself the God of Wish Fulfillment!”

  “We do not have time for your games, Ankor,” said the darker of the pair. “Enuchek has told me of your plots and schemes. Where is your pet Godslayer?”

  “My pet?” laughed Ankor. “Oh, if Enuchek told you I had a pet, she is playing her own game--”

  “I did not tell her that,” spoke up the other Goddess, looking offended that the darker Goddess would have accused her of such a thing.

  “No. She told me that you manipulated our brothers to face off against two Godslayers,” amended the dark Goddess. “And the only way you could have done that was if at least one of those mortals were at your beck and call.”

  The dark Goddess took a step forward menacingly. “And so I ask again: where is your pet, Trickster?”