Divine Assistance

by L. G. Estrella

  “Hear me,” Death said. “Skaliros is no longer your patron god.” Cries of lamentation rang out. They wanted to know what they had done to displease the gods and how they could avert the doom they were certain was about to befall them. Death’s heart was moved. Even now, they believed that Skaliros had only meant well for them. The other god was not worthy of their faith. “This is indeed a punishment, but not for you. You have done nothing wrong. It is Skaliros who is being punished, for he has misused your faith in him. From this day forward, you will have a new patron god. He will care for you as Skaliros should have.” He waited until the crowd’s cries of surprise had quietened. “I have something else to say. You know who I am. I am Death, one of the Greater Gods to whom even gods like Skaliros must bow. What I say now, I say with the full authority of my rank and office.

  “There are to be no more offerings until this famine is over and order is restored. Let all farmers return to their lands and let all conflicts be brought to an end. The gods themselves will see to it that peace is restored. Any offerings of food that have already been given are to be distributed to those in need. Any offerings of wealth are to be returned to their owners or used to purchase food.” Death turned on his heel and vanished through a door made of darkness. “That is all. Prepare to meet your new patron god.”

  A moment later, Altius appeared amidst a cloud of light and flame. He scratched the back of his head and fidgeted nervously. “Uh… hi.”

  Sun Strike

  There were few gods as obviously important as Day. As his name suggested, he was in charge of ensuring that the mortal world experienced daytime. He had a counterpart – a goddess named Night – who was tasked with bringing nightfall at regular intervals. Like most gods, Day’s powers were great enough to handle his duties with relative ease, but that had not stopped him from siring a son. The young god’s powers were much like his although he had a long way to go before they could approach Day’s in strength. However, his son would make a fine backup for Day until other duties – perhaps even another world – could be found for him. In the meantime, he could also take over whenever Day needed a holiday. Honestly, he’d been looking forward to a holiday for ages since he hadn’t taken one in thousands of years. Mortals had an alarming tendency to panic and assume that the apocalypse was at hand whenever seemingly endless night descended over the world.

  Solos – Day’s son – was young for a god. As such, he had the appearance of a mortal boy of about twelve. On this particular day, his father had decided to rest. Everyone enjoyed the chance to sleep the day away, and it had been millennia since Day had been allowed that particular privilege. Of course, he had carefully instructed Solos on what he would have to do now that the young god was old and powerful enough to take his father’s place, at least for a day. Solos himself couldn’t have been happier. At last, he had a chance to prove his worth. His father was held in high esteem by all of the other gods, and Solos wanted nothing more than to show his father that he was a worthy and dutiful son.

  In ages past, Day had brought light to the mortal world by floating above it and using his divine might to create a star of sorts to fill the world with radiance. Due to some unpleasantness in the past – he may or may not have accidentally scorched part of the mortal world into a desert and almost wiped out humanity when he had a violent sneezing fit and nearly crashed into the mortal world – he no longer did that. Instead, the twin gods of invention, smithing, artifice, and about a billion other things – Wisdom and Knowledge – had worked together to create the sun.

  They had created the sun by taking some of the embers left from when the Flame of Creation had scorched the Endless Darkness into ash. These embers had been slowly cooling for countless aeons, gradually losing their radiance and heat. However, the twin gods were exceptionally cunning and brilliant. They had forged the embers into special divine metals and used those metals to create a gigantic machine that flew above the mortal world. Most importantly of all, the sun made it very easy to regulate the amount of heat and light it produced, reducing the chances of a repeat of Day’s earlier mistake. Day, of course, was grateful for the assistance although he didn’t understand exactly how the machine worked. Few could fully understand Wisdom and Knowledge’s inventions, save for the gods and spirits that served them. Even so, Day had grown adept in the sun’s use, and he had mastered its operation in the same way a swordsman could master a blade without knowing precisely how the blade was shaped and forged.

  Solos understood even less about the sun’s workings than his father, but he had listened carefully when the older god had explained how to use it. There was even a handy instruction manual in a drawer near the controls in case he needed help during the day. However, everything should be fine. All he had to do was stand at the heart of the machine and give it some of his divine power. The sun should do the rest, and its course over the mortal world had already been plotted out. As long as he didn’t touch anything, it should steer itself along the correct route and provide the correct amount of light and heat. All he needed to do was avoid changing any of the settings, and he’d be fine.

  How hard could that be? The young god smiled. It would be easy.

  The sun also explained why his father had become something of a stickybeak. It possessed a device that allowed its user to monitor virtually anything that took place below it. The device was a reflecting pool, and the sun’s reflecting pool was one of the most powerful of its kind. Today, Solos would take charge of the sun, and his father would finally get a chance to rest. If he did well enough, perhaps his father would even let him handle the sun for an entire week. That would certainly be quite a triumph.

  As Solos departed the divine realm – the glorious home of the gods that existed in a world completely separate from the mortal world – he took a moment to study the sun. It was a truly magnificent structure: a vast, tangled, sphere of various divine metals that had been arranged into intricate designs according to some divine geometry that only a few could comprehend. The majority of the sun was made up of metals that were similar in colour to bronze and gold although there were countless other metals present as well, each of them a different colour.

  Night was coming to an end, so Solos flew toward the sun and made his way to the chamber at the very heart of it. He took some time to familiarise himself with everything again, but he paused as he sensed the approach of another god. Was someone coming to attack the sun while his father was away? His father’s might was considerable, and the sun had incredibly powerful defences of its own. Indeed, Day’s light could sear the flesh of even another god, but Solos was not yet as strong as his father. It wasn’t uncommon for the gods to squabble amongst themselves, but for another god to attack him this openly – oh! His worry vanished as he recognised the slender figure that approached.

  “Nocta!” he cried. Nocta was his best friend and the daughter of Night. Solos’s body radiated light, much like his father’s, but Nocta’s was the opposite. She was like a living shadow, a moving patch of darkness blacker than the dead of night. Her eyes, a deep violent that shifted now and then to the silver of the moon, crinkled into a happy smile as she drifted over to him. “What are you doing here?”

  Nocta grinned. “My mother spoke to your father. They agreed it might be nice if you had a friend with you today.”

  “I don’t need anyone’s help,” Solos replied before his lips twitched up into a matching grin. “But it might get boring up here after a while. I don’t know how my father manages.” He beckoned her forward. In truth, he was glad to have her with him. It made him less nervous even if he’d never admit it. “Come here. I’ll explain what I have to do. Mind you, I’ve never done this on my own before, but my father gave me a good explanation and let me try a few things yesterday. There’s also supposed to be an instruction manual in that drawer over there.”

  Nocta eagerly followed him as he went about the control room and proudly explained what he knew of the various switches and displays that con
trolled the sun. It was a true wonder. The gods possessed arts, crafts, and sciences that mortals had yet to even dream of, but so many of them were content to rely solely on their divine might. For some of them it was unavoidable. There was no art, craft, or science that could do what Death had to. Yet the twin gods, Wisdom and Knowledge, were always tinkering, testing, and improving. Why, Solos had happily received some of the automata they’d built not long ago. They were incredible machines that were capable of independent thought. They could take orders and help with even complex tasks. Likewise, countless other gods had taken advantage of things like indoor plumbing that the twin gods and the gods they presided over had devised.

  At last, an alarm rang out. It was time. Solos put his hands on special panels and reached deep within himself for the divine energies that he had inherited from his father. There was a low hum, and Solos and Nocta both gave cries of wonder as the sun came to life. All around them, the sun’s coils of divine metal began to glow, spin, and twist, winding over, in, and around themselves in ways that seemed impossible. The sun grew brighter, and the hum of the chamber grew louder. Solos felt it – a firm tug on his power – and radiance spilled outward like waves across some endless shore or light from a lamp in the dead of night. This was the sun, the light of the mortal world, and he was its captain and master, at least for today. It was a good feeling.

  “It’s incredible,” Nocta whispered.

  Solos nodded slowly and stared into the brilliant light the sun emitted. His divine eyes were able to see so much more than a mortal’s. The sun did not simply give off light. It gave off myriad other energies, all of them specially chosen to help nourish the mortal world. “Yes.” His smile was almost too big to fit onto his face. “It is.”

  * * *

  As incredible as the sun was, Solos and Nocta were still young gods. Getting bored easily was something of a specialty for gods their age, and they were not exceptions to the rule. Thankfully, they had something else to keep them occupied.

  “Is it true that this reflecting pool can see anything under us?” Nocta asked. The reflecting pool was a circular pool of crystalline liquid perhaps twelve feet in diameter. It occupied a prominent position in the central chamber, and despite the sun’s steady movement through the skies of the mortal world, its surface had yet to stir even a little, remaining as smooth and pristine as ever. It was vaguely unnerving, and Solos could feel minute currents of divine energy flowing through it. “Do you think we can try it, or is it too difficult to use it while you’re powering the sun?”

  Solos shook his head. “No, it should be okay. I’ve gotten used to the drain, and the sun takes care of almost everything itself. All I have to do is provide the energy.” The drain was slightly higher than he’d expected, but his reserves were large enough to handle it. If he was forced to run it for several days without rest, he might be in trouble. However, powering the sun for a day or two should be fine. “We can try the reflecting pool if you want.” His brows furrowed as he peered at the pool intently. “But we’ve got to activate it first. My father said something about…”

  He walked over to the reflecting pool and held one hand over it. A pulse of his divine energy activated the device. The opaque, crystalline waters grew clear, and he found himself staring at –

  “What is that?” Nocta tilted her head to one side. “I can’t tell what we’re looking at.”

  Solos frowned. “Hmm… I just turned it on, so it’s not broken or anything.”

  And if it were broken, he’d be in so much trouble. What was he supposed to do next? His brows furrowed again. He couldn’t quite remember what his father had said earlier. “I think I have to tell it what I want to see.” He made a face. That was it, wasn’t it? His father had said something about controlling the reflecting pool, but was it with gestures alone or his mind? Maybe both options could work. He tried to think of something, but all he got was a dizzying array of seemingly random images. Well, that wasn’t good. It also made him feel like throwing up. He’d have to give gestures a try. He took a step back and gestured grandly. Nothing happened. He tried another gesture. Still nothing.

  “What are you doing?” Nocta giggled. “You look crazy.”

  “I’m trying to make it work,” he grumbled as he continued to flail about. “But my father is usually the one who uses it, and he kind of just… I don’t know… makes it work with his mind or something.”

  “You mean he can operate it using only his mind? I’m not surprised. Your father is a powerful god.” Nocta giggled again, and Solos glared. “But you’re not as powerful as he is, so I guess it makes sense that you’re trying to use gestures instead.” She made a gesture. “Try something like that. I’ve seen my mother use gestures a few times.” She laughed. “The moon has a reflecting pool too, but my mother isn’t as much of a stickybeak as your father.”

  “He’s not that bad,” Solos protested before conceding the point with a chuckle when Nocta simply gave him a flat stare.

  Day was a notorious stickybeak, which might have been why the three siblings – Mayhem, Mischief, and Rabble – were such frequent visitors to their home in the divine realm. Solos had even accompanied them on a few of their jaunts into the mortal world, and they’d all been incredibly fun. Sure, he’d gotten into trouble afterward, but those three knew exactly how to pull off a perfect prank. They also seemed to know all of the juiciest gossip.

  He copied Nocta’s gesture and gestured at the reflecting pool again. “Oh!” The image changed. A couple of minutes – and a dozen tries – later, he felt far more confident about his ability to control the reflecting pool. “What should we look at?”

  “How about we try looking at a mortal city first?” Nocta leaned over the reflecting pool. “It’ll let you practice controlling the reflecting pool more, and mortals are always doing something interesting in their cities.”

  “Good idea.” Solos nodded. “But which mortal city should we look at? There are so many of them.”

  * * *

  “He’s so cute!” Nocta cooed. “Look at how cuddly he is. Maybe we could go down there and grab him. I’m sure no one would mind. He doesn’t even have an owner.”

  Solos bit his lip. It was a very tempting idea, but he was supposed to be working now. He wanted to do as well as he possibly could, which meant he couldn’t leave – not even to pluck an unbelievably adorable kitten from a dirty alley in the mortal world. They’d been looking around a city with the reflecting pool when they’d spotted the kitten in the alley. Although the alley itself was an utterly deplorable place – the mortal world could be so dirty and grimy – the kitten himself was incredibly cute. “No. We need to stay up here.” He sighed. “But mortals are so lucky to have things like kittens around.”

  Nocta nodded grumpily. “I know! I asked my mother if I could have one, but she said I couldn’t because I’d feel really sad when it died. Even if I used my powers to help it live longer, it wouldn’t last more than a century or so, which isn’t long at all.” She sighed. “That’s the problem with mortal creatures. They die so quickly.”

  Solos made a sound of agreement. “That’s true. I wanted a dog, but my father said the same thing.” Apart from certain unique specimens that were blessed with special powers and divine longevity due to being the representatives of their species, mortal creatures were, well, mortal. Gifting them with divine energy could prolong their lifespans considerably, but they would still die in what seemed like a blink of a god’s eyes. In addition, only older, more experienced gods were allowed to share their energy with mortal creatures. A young god like Solos or Nocta could just as easily kill a mortal creature by accident since they were less skilled in regulating their power. “He said I should ask for a dragon or a hydra or maybe one of those hell hounds from the bad part of the afterlife because they live much longer, and they’re a lot harder to kill by accident.” He sagged. “But they’re not the same as a dog, and I want a dog – a mortal dog, only one that lives longer.”

>   Nocta folded her arms over her chest and pouted. “Dragons and hydras aren’t very cute. They’re all pointy and scaly. I don’t know much about hell hounds. What do they look like?”

  “They’re like giant dogs that are on fire. Some of them have more than one head too.”

  “They don’t sound very cute either.”

  “How about we look for something else?” Solos suggested. It wouldn’t do for Nocta to get too sad about not having a kitten. Some more gesturing took them to their next destination. He frowned. What was that mortal doing on top of that other mortal – oh! “Let’s move on!” he squawked as a blush formed on his cheeks. “We don’t need to see that.”

  Nocta gave him a teasing smile. “I don’t know, Solos. Maybe you’ll wish you’d watched a bit longer when you’re older –”

  “Moving on!” he practically screamed.

  The reflecting pool revealed a much less risqué sight on its next stop. They were peering into a marketplace full of mortals who were hustling and bustling about. There were also performers of different kinds, and Solos changed the view to give them a better look at everything.

  “Oh!” Nocta grabbed the sleeve of his tunic. “Look! That mortal is juggling swords!”

  He chuckled. Although both of them could easily juggle swords, it was mainly due to the strength, speed, reflexes, and durability their divine heritage granted them, which were far beyond those of a mortal. If one of them made a mistake, they’d be more likely to crush the swords in their hands than anything else. A mortal, however, could easily lose a finger or even a limb due to a small miscalculation, which made it much more impressive. Unlike mortals, the gods could also regenerate or recreate any limbs they happened to lose. A mortal who lost an arm would have to go the rest of their life without it.