by Pam Uphoff
"I know the house. If they aren't in the dungeons, I can find them faster than you could." She reached out and propped herself against the wall of the house, then staggered around the corner.
A low wall bordered the stairs down. Open to the front. No sign of a guard. Simon slipped forward and took a good look around. And froze, his attention riveted to the north.
He hadn't noticed the wall of tree trunks, the hasty forward fortifications of a town about to be attacked. At the top of the wall, on some sort of platform, three people. The God of War and the Goddess of Logic flanked a man who glowed nearly as brightly as they. This King Kelso, perhaps? Another figure joined them, glowing, handsome . . . the God of Love.
Below, far enough away from the barrier that they didn't have to crane their necks, five bright figures. Even at a distance Simon recognized the tiny figure of the Goddess of Mercy, the bulks of the Virtue and Vice twins, the taller, slimmer figures of the God of Peace and the God of Art. Other glowing figures were moving, forming up in an arc behind them. All the little gods. Scores of them. Perhaps a hundred, and more were scattered among the troops.
"You're outnumbered, whether you count Gods, Magicians or soldiers." Pax's clear voice carried unnaturally. "Why don't you three just go home and let us take care of these upstarts?"
"They aren't upstarts. They are people, and they have the right to build on any open, unclaimed land they want." Logic's voice was magically amplified as well. "Try to remember your roots, the precepts of the society that raised us."
Mercy laughed. "Oh, you mean their empty prattling about civil rights and freedom, while they called us sub-human and enslaved us?"
War's deep rumble rolled over the meadow. "They fell short of their ideals, but you? You have only your pride and desire for power."
Peace laughed. "Indeed, and you let your power spread and dilute. A few of us had more sense than that."
"Probably wise, although for all the wrong reasons. I thought I was spreading strength and courage, but it was only madness." The God of War took a step forward. "And so it ends."
The god glowed, blindingly bright as he lowered his shields. Simon could feel Mercy gathering power for a strike, but her gaze met Logic's cold watchfulness, and she shrank back a bit. And behind them, screams of pain and loss. Simon's eyes jerked to one near by. A little god, looking like Barry, but his stance and gear that of a War God. Some extra shine faded as Simon watched. The man fell to his knees, panting, now. Struggling back up to his feet. He looked almost awkward in his armor. His hands were clumsy as they patted his sword hilt, his face.
Simon wheezed as he realized what had happened. Whatever divine spark the little god had held was gone. And they never had any training in arms. They simply knew how to fight.
"And now they don't." River finished his thought for him.
They looked to the platform, where the God of War glowed so brightly he was painful to look upon. And dimmed as he raised his mental barriers again.
Mercy looked fearfully at the Old Wolf and suddenly clutched for all the power she could pull from all the Little Mercies around her. Women staggered, looking around suddenly baffled by their participation in this insanity. No lingering ties to the goddess, she'd never cultivated a following.
And that quickly, over half of Mercy's Little Gods were destroyed. As such. The remnants, the people without the overlay of power, backed away, through the puzzled, or perhaps horrified, ranks of Travelers, Lady Lucks and Gambling Men.
The witches and mages were pulling back too, away from the group of gods. Could Mercy drain them as well? Surely not. Whatever effect the collective subconscious had on them, there wasn't much Mercy in any of them. Simon heard sharp commands in a high voice, and the retreating witches wavered, stopped. Did he recognize Firefly's voice? Someone was rallying the witches, getting them back in line with Mercy.
"C'mon." River eyed the confusion out on the field, and scattered thinly through the army. She turned her back on it, and tottered down the steps. A quick look showed all the cells empty. The door at the far end yielded to a tiny spell. A thankfully normal basement lay on the far side. Shelves loaded with gleaming jars. Large crocks probably full of grain. Wooden barrels. Floor to ceiling wine racks, mostly full. And stairs leading up to a kitchen.
River paused and glanced down a hallway. Shook her head. "Staff. Hiding under their beds, like sensible people." She kept going, pausing to scan an ornate dining room, and then a huge reception hall before she turned and tackled a double height graceful curve of stairs.
Simon wrapped an arm around her and half carried her up. "I hope you have an escape route planned out. I really don't want to go travelling with Mercy, when she flees the battlefield."
"No kidding." River turned and headed down a back hallway. "The 'unimportant guest' rooms are back here. Hideous woman always put me up like a poor relative." She staggered, and Simon guided her to a bench.
"Sit a moment."
She slumped, and nodded at the cross hallway. "To the right. They're close."
Simon took a look. A row of closed doors. Magical locks. He closed his eyes and studied the twisting . . . he triggered it. Simple, for someone with the right training. Carefully eased the door open. And blinked at the tearful Heidi.
Heidi leaped up, "Let me go, please! Just don't hurt Mike, he didn't know they were Mercy's enemies."
"I'm trying to rescue Amused and Flattered." Simon interrupted. "Are they here?"
“Oh! Simon! It’s you!” She gulped and nodded. "Mercy's out to hurt everyone River knows."
Simon tried the next door—same lock. He hustled down the corridor, uncharming every lock. By the time he'd run out of locks, he had Mike and five witches pestering him with questions. Amused and Flattered abandoned him abruptly to smother River with hugs and tears.
"We need to get out of here." River struggled to her feet and headed for the front of the mansion.
Simon led the way, backtracking through cellar and dungeon. He edged up the stairs from the dungeon carefully. No guards in sight. He stepped out and spotted the parley still underway, across the camp.
Sudden movement, closer. A woman wearing the livery of Mercy's troops. The tall woman’s eyes gleamed oddly, her mouth moved, but made no sounds until she swallowed. Hoarse and rasping. “I didn’t believe in HIM. I believed in the Goddess, not some damned MALE! How can he have done this to me? I never worshipped, I was none of his. You called him to me, and that let him in, you bitch.” The sword in her hand was still sharp, her grip strong, and she had apparently had lessons, drilled for years . . .
"Mercy's Captain." River's voice was low, then she spoke more loudly. "Did Mercy get your family out of Miami? Is everyone safe?"
Simon could see that the words had no impact. The Captain was past all hope of talking her down.
He saw the madness in her eyes with sudden clarity, in the bright light that blossomed around the corner of the mansion.
Pain stabbed through his head, and he shielded as hard as he could. It wouldn’t be enough, even shorn of her touch of the God, the captain was still a much more powerful magician than Simon.
Except that she was clutching her head, too.
He realized what had just happened, and stepped out and looked. A brilliant streak of light, still lingered in the sky. A glowing line of yellow, orange, red; cooling. A hellish red dawn rose to the south east.
“No. No!” The big woman staggered out to stare, shaking her head in denial. “What have the Gods done?” Her head whipped back to River. “You! Who are you? What are you, who has done this?”
Then a roar, a rumbling. The ground heaved, threw Simon into the air and dumped him onto shivering pavement.
Red lit clouds like hell’s own thunderstorm rose to the south, a column of superheated air and vaporized stone.
And buildings and people who didn’t heed the gods’ warning.
Simon crawled hastily around the corner of the mansion. “Get down, get against the
wall.”
River melted down beside him and he rolled her up against the foundation, covered her body with his . . . Furnace hot air blew debris over the house, swirled around the corner and dropped leaves, twigs, sand . . . in the unprotected open area of the army camp, larger branches and stones hit unprotected targets, over turned wagons. Panicked horses thrashed and broke their picket lines, terrified soldiers covered their heads as they were flattened and rolled . . .
Behind the blast front the air was hot and dry, burned. The air had cooled too much to start fires, but the fires in the Army camp had been scattered, and hot coals were kindling flames in a hundred spots.
And in the dying light, Simon saw an army that believed their families dead, turn on their masters.
"Run!" River gasped, hauling herself to her feet. The others took heed and they ran for the back of the mansion, across the field without a thought of concealment. River started collapsing halfway. Simon grabbed her and hauled her across his shoulder and staggered on.
Through the brush, and into the forest. A waft of air. He glanced back. Mercy's mansion was gone, and as he watched, Edmund's disappeared as well.
No chance of those Gods standing up and taking what they've earned.
Simon sank down and eased River from his shoulder.
Out in the meadow, the soldiers milled about. Ugly in their grief. Starting to look at the barricade, and the only gods left to vent their rage upon. Starting to look at the Little Gods, even those drained and abandoned. The witches and mages bunched up and started moving west. The army was all clumped directly in front of the barricade, the magic users ought to be able to escape.
Amused and Flattered hovered. River reached for their hands. “There’s one more thing I need to do.” She closed her eyes.
Simon could feel her dragging weariness, and with no shields, hear her call across the chaos of the army camp.
:: Wolf! Can you hear me?::
:: River. Where are you? ::
:: West of the Army Camp. Can you tell them that most of Miami evacuated? North and Northwest roads. They should go find their families. ::
There was no answer, mentally.
But the god's voice rolled over the soldiers. "Miami was evacuated. You will find your families on the North Road and the Northwest Road. Go."
The army swayed, buzzed. Turned south and started moving. Some immediately. A few voices rose in commands, and the tattered tents started coming down, loose horses collected.
Supplies for the refugees. Yes. Dear gods, what are all those people going to eat, until they clear new fields plant and harvest?
"Each other, most likely."
Simon jerked around. The God of Peace rolled a crackling ball of power in between the fingers of his left hand. Simon eased away from River and stepped toward the god. Keep his attention on me. "You don't think the other cities will send food?"
A sarcastic snort. "You lot make me sick. Always thinking that scattered and chaotic individuals will somehow spontaneously act for the greater good." His eyes focused past Simon. "Go away, little wizard. I have a bone to pick with this witch."
River wavered to her feet, clutching a sapling for support. "Messed up your attempt to kill a hundred thousand of the enemy? Turned it into flattening your own city? Old Gods, I can only hope I was successful beyond belief in evacuating Miami, because it is my fault."
"You won't feel guilty for long." The god raised his hand.
Simon swallowed. Raised his voice, as if volume mattered. "God of War! I summon you!"
Pax spun and drew back his arm to throw.
Small cross-section.
Black on black, a huge rearing horse, a golden gleam of distant disaster on polished chain and plate mail. Uplifted sword.
Peace threw his fireball.
Simon's left hand extended, pointing. A needle of power zipped across the night. The fireball jumped, exploded.
A squeal of equine pain and a thud as a heavy weight hit the ground. Cursing, thank the Old Gods.
Simon blinked flash blinded eyes. The second squeal was angry; a gasp of fear, vegetation crunching under heavy hooves. The glow of Pax's magic disappeared.
Simon bent to help the God of War off the ground.
"Damn. I haven't been summoned like that for a couple of decades. Gotta remember to have the shields all up when it happens."
"Are you all right?" River's grasp on the sapling looked pretty tenuous.
Simon's head whipped from rising god to collapsing witch.
"A bit scorched around the edges. Umm, I think I'd best . . . " the half-seen form staggered over to River, and disappeared.
"Where'd River go?" Amused sidled up behind him.
"Wherever the god took her."
Flattered's voice spoke from the dark. "I know the god is supposed to come and fight, then return to wherever he was. But I didn't know he could take people with him."
"And I think he's left his horse behind." Amused sat down abruptly. "I'm not going anywhere until I can see what I'm stepping on."
That was the most sensible thing Simon had heard in a good while. He collapsed against a tree and closed his eyes.
A horse snorted in his face. He started awake, and blinked at Diana. "You don't look very ground tied." But rubbing his eyes, he could see that she'd managed to not break her reins, but her saddle was listing a bit. He pried himself off the ground and looked around. They were just a few trees inside the forest, the sun was just clearing the horizon. A couple dozen horses, Artemis included, were milling about. He pulled Diana's saddle off, and tied her up, walked around a big work horse, wasn't that one of Mike's mares? He grabbed Artemis's bridle. "At least you acted like a real horse and stepped on your reins." He led her over to Diana and unsaddled her, dug a halter out of her saddle bag. All nice and ordinary every day activities. He passed a rope to Mike, to catch his horses . . . "Why are there so many horses here?"
One of the Blondes, Rose, he thought, snickered and pointed. "I think your mares came to you. He made all the rest follow them."
Oh. Of course. How had he missed the black creature towering over the rest? The War Horse. Collecting mares like any other escaped stallion. Of course, it was mid winter, unlikely any of them were in season . . . Pity. The god didn't bring the stallion out very often, even Simon's mares, for all his bragging about them being double crosses, the nearest cross was three generations back.
Where had he put that fertility potion of his father's? Surely there were a few drops left . . .
He dug out his innocuous looking bit of metal from Artemis's saddle bag and opened it up. Food for people, grain for horses, and the little vial of potion. He added water and drizzled it over the mare's feed. What the heck, Mike and Heidi were going to need a classy team in the future . . .
It was midday before the last of the army pulled up stakes and headed south. Then Simon led his group across the meadow to the log barrier. He lost Mike and Heidi halfway, when they spotted their wagon, abandoned with a number of others, for lack of horses to pull them. The five witches exchanged uneasy looks and followed. Even Logic and War are going to be shunned after this.
The War Horse snorted in disgust, then turned his loose mares to follow Mike's pair. Diana and Artemis cast wistful looks back, but didn't protest too much.
A score of people huddled around a tiny fire. Big men, pretty women . . . shorn of the touch of godhood, they looked ordinary and frightened. One woman stood up, and took a few steps toward Simon.
"Please . . . if you know them, it wasn't our fault, we didn't want a war . . . We don't have anywhere to go, no families, and no home and . . . everyone blames us."
Simon nodded. "They won't blame you. They will understand."
One of the men rubbed shaking hands over his face. "I can't even remember how to hold a sword."
"So? You'll learn again. If that's what you want. If you'd rather learn farming, or weather making or anything that ever took your fancy, you can do that now. You are fr
ee of compulsions, now."
None of them looked over forty, a couple were teenagers.
"You'll be all right, now. I'll talk to War and Logic."
The Old Wolf met him at the gate. The god was looking his age, hair and beard white, skin a bit scorched.
"Don't look so appalled. I heal." The god looked amused, and waved in a man to take the mares.
The god glanced out toward the little encampment of former gods. "Kelso isn't keen on them staying here. I'll take them with me, when I return to Sahara. They are all powerful magic users. And untrained at it, which can be dangerous." His eyes crinkled. "I know just who to put in charge of training them."
Simon snorted and followed the Old Wolf to what was evidently a field hospital. Several wounded were on cots.
From here, he could see that the wall ran in an arc, both ends in the water of a fast flowing river, protecting a shallow ford.
"There were a few early skirmishes with scouts." The god sighed. "We tried to keep an open path of retreat to the north, With messengers ready to ride out and warn the town to evacuate. It's not in a defensible situation. They had enough people to overrun us, if they were too impatient to try a siege. And Mercy was too blood thirsty to take the time for that. Bloody arrogant woman."
Gisele, Goddess of Healing was bending over one man.
Simon suddenly recognized the Eldest of the Saharan Pyramid, sitting beside another patient. Kendra Star, the Old Wolf’s, well, sort-of-wife.
She looked up and smiled. "Simon! Look at you! It’s been, what, fifteen years?"
He stiffened as he recognized the form she was kneeling by. "River?"
Eyelids twitched, nearly opened.
"Oh, you know our little girl?"
"Your . . ."
She waved a hand dismissively. "Her mother practically abandoned her, so we raised her. I suppose she was nine or ten when you left, much too young for you to notice. Then when she was sixteen, her mother showed back up to claim her."
The Old Wolf chuckled. "River leaped at the chance. ‘I can be a spy!’ she said."
Kendra snorted. "So we had to let her go. Now, of course, Dear, since she’s known to be yours, my pyramid will claim her and you can go train a new spy." She glanced at Simon. "Or two. I dare say the University could use a well travelled professor."
