Vrin: Ten Mortal Gods

by John Michael Hileman

  "I will go to live in Ethral, with the Keeper of Light, the Maker of Love" He gazed up at the sky.

  I sat nodding my head. Okay, one more. "And what purpose do you think the god of reason serves?"

  "Without you the path is broken. Why would there be a path without reason?"

  “So I am the reason for the way to Ethral. Good!" I chuckled, more at my own foolishness than for the sake of easing the boy's fears. "Go tell the others that victory is inevitable. Kric' tu cannot hide the path from me, because I am the reason it is there."

  His face lit up as he stood and bowed. "Thank you, Sam' Dejal, thank you!" Without fully raising his head, he gave a sly knowing look, then turned and bolted off.

  Boys in charge of boys, I thought. We're in trouble!

  The exchange with the young soldier left me no closer to a solution. Where were these people getting their emotional responses? Were they part of a dream scape we were feeding them subconsciously, or was Humphrey right? Was this place actually a spiritual realm somewhere between the physical world and Ethral? Since we were being artificially stimulated to dream in level four sleep, could it be we were seeing this world for the first time with our conscious minds? I was not inclined to believe in Humphrey's teachings but the evidence was beginning to weigh in his favor. First of all, I could come up with no scientific reason for the existence of such a complex and diverse people, and second, Humphrey was removed from the equation. If this was deliberate there had to be a reason-- and I was determined to find it.

  I sat and watched the sun dip below the jagged teeth of the snow-topped mountains, which loomed in the distance like shadowy observers. The wind tossed my hair around in its chilly fingers as I looked toward the battlefield. The dancing shadows gave subtle movement to the eerie landscape. Lights from the opposing camp pierced the night. It was time to go; it was darkest in the short space between sun and first moon.

  The web lit up as I searched for my first target. There, a large rock off to the right of the battlefield; I followed a thread to it. A clump of shrubs a short distance away provided my next hiding place. Once there I had a clear view of the camp. More tents had been erected and a bunker had been built around the entire encampment. I continued on into a small wooded area just outside the town and hid behind a large tree. To get through the town unnoticed, I fashioned a thick brown woolen robe to cover every portion of my armored body, then stripped the armor away from my head and face. Earlier I had changed the program so my modifications would no longer effect the troops. The robe did a good job of covering my armor and tucked wings, but what to do with my eyes? I created a mirror, it floated in the air in front of me then fell gently into my hands. I superimposed my will on the two glowing steel orbs, but the glowing was persistent. I focused harder but they continued to resist. I tried pulling at their threads. I could easily change their shape, but the glow remained. I dissolved the mirror and created another dark band of cloth. Under the shadow of the hood it would go unnoticed, and I would be able to walk about freely without the pretense of a blind man.

  I poked my head around the tree trunk and examined the stone wall between me and the entrance to the city. The main gate would be formidable for a mortal but for a god, it was a piece of cake. The web ignited as my mind pushed out into the network of strands. I still found it amazing that I was so instinctively in tune with these tiny blue lines. By touching a thread, I could tell how far it traveled. With concentration, I could see the exact make up of the entire collective. It was overwhelming to comprehend. Many threads led into the city, but I needed to find one that ended somewhere discrete. I followed a number of threads with my mind's eye and found one that would work; it led into a deserted alleyway just beyond the wall. The alleyway led to the main street. Perfect.

  In a crackle of blue energy I materialized in the empty alley; there were no windows in either building, so my passage went undetected. Even stepping out onto the sidewalk no one noticed me; they were preoccupied with the war effort. Soldiers were everywhere, many of the townspeople were preparing supplies. I kept to the shadows. These people didn't appear to have the motivation and dedication of my troops. Their actions were mechanical. I was sure they pushed forward out of the fear of punishment. Several times I noticed citizens eying the soldiers with suspicious glances. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but there was deception in their eyes. A man caught my attention. Cautiously he looked over his shoulder, then entered a small building. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but I recognized him; Fyousa, from the event cell, the one who wanted to stand up and fight. If I had an ally in this town, he was it.

  The door was locked, so I peeled away the texture and looked at its innards. Three bars held the door in place. I shortened the bars until they no longer held, opened the door, and stepped inside. The dusky room looked like it had once been a bakery, but was now nothing more than a hollowed out hull, at which even a rat would turn up his nose. A lone candle burned on a nearby table. I grabbed it and moved across the room to an open door. A set of stairs lead downward, voices and flickering lights came from below. I stopped and listened.

  “Armadon’s forces are holding ground. We have to act now.” That was Fyousa’s voice.

  “My men are ready,” came another.

  A female voice joined in. “There are some who will drop out because of Kric’ tu. The men fear him more than Rath.”

  “We will have to take the losses. If we do not act now, darkness may very well win.”

  I threw caution to the wind and made my way down into the cellar, and was greeted with the tips of swords. “Perhaps I can be of service,” I said, removing the hood and blindfold.

  The swords dropped.

  “Which are you?” Fyousa stepped forward into the light of the candles.

  “I am Sam’ Dejal.”

  A voice spoke from behind the small group. “Ahh, Mr. Tardin, the god of enigma.” The group parted to reveal another man whose face I recognized from the event cell.

  “I hope you have a point,” I said sharply.

  “Oh, I do, Mr. Tardin. If any other god had dropped into our midst, I would have been suspicious, but you, I welcome. See, we have had enough of gods. But you, you are not a god at all.” He stepped towards me. “You are just a man caught in very unusual circumstances.” The light flickered in his eyebrows, causing shadows to dance on his face. “Those are your words, are they not?”

  It took me a second, but then I remembered. I had said those words to Thana. “Yes,” I said, feeling exposed, “those are my words.” Where was he going with this?

  “Your words have traveled far and you do not understand the impact they have had on my people. In your ignorance you brought first confusion and then enlightenment. You see, when the gods came, they brought with them the promise of peace and prosperity, but promise after promise was broken, and my people were left to consider the implications of the inconsistency. We hoped for a divine plan, but there wasn't one. We did not know that men, not gods, had brought the promises. We didn’t want to believe it, but then in the midst of our greatest confusion, there appeared a ray of hope, a spark of truth. ‘I am not a god!’” He turned to the others in proclamation. “‘I am but a man caught in very unusual circumstances.’ That statement, along with Humphrey’s death, provided our people with the hope we needed to stand up against our aggressors. The gods we feared, were not gods at all. They were mortal, and they could die.

  “And now we are graced with the presence of the god who would be a man. If there is one among you who speaks the truth, it is you. If there is one we can trust, that would also be you. We are no longer bitter at The Ten, since the war has clarified matters. As the sides are drawn, it is becoming clearer that the Marathil was correct about one thing; in the end, it is a matter of light versus darkness. We thought the gods had turned on us but we were wrong. Evil has a way with confusion, with hiding the truth. But we have seen the seed of its way and have chosen to align ourselves with Armadon and the f
orces of Ethral. It is not clear to us yet who The Ten really are. But one thing is certain, gods or no gods, we need your help in fighting the darkness threatening to take our world.” He turned toward me and stretched out his hand. “So, Mr. Tardin, I welcome you, to the resistance.”

  CHAPTER 13

  PUPPETS OF THE VOID

  001001011001110

  What could I possibly say to follow that? I was thoroughly impressed with the man. He was old, but his charisma and intellect gave him a youthful quality which enhanced his powerful appearance.

  I took his hand, and said nothing.

  He continued. “SCAR was created to stop the influence of your kind on our world, but as you know, things have changed. The picture has become broader and we now consider your arrival here a blessing. We would like to offer our support to your cause, if you will have us.”

  “We can use all the help we can get,” I said. “Your words are true, I am no god, and as far as I’ve seen, none of The Ten are. Our powers are limited. Your support will be a tremendous help, but I should caution you, many of our men still believe in the message of your holy Marathil. Their belief in us has carried them this far. Although you are closer to the truth than they are, I would appreciate it if you would exercise a bit of restraint. The fact we are vulnerable could be a motivator, but if they find out our cause is a lie, it would be detrimental.”

  “I agree. Faith has a way with some.”

  “Good. Then let’s get to work.”

  The man bowed slightly. “This way. We were discussing the deployment of our troops.”

  Crates and barrels littered the moist stone floor of the dank, musty cellar. In the far corner, barrels had been chopped in half to make seats and crates were set as tables. He led me through the murky, half-lit room to several maps scattered about on various surfaces. I had to strain my eyes in the dim candlelight to see the map of Pagnia on the crate between us. “Are you opposed to my using my magic?” I asked.

  “No. Since the death of Humphrey and the reappearance of Kric’ tu, Thana now understands the need for the gods to use their power. It is no longer a simple matter of interference. Force must be fought with equal force, and I of all people would not be opposed to magic, for you see, I am a wizard.”

  “Then I will shed some light on this little meeting,” I said, trying to appear unaffected by his statement. A wizard? I looked at the old man with his ruby red robe and thick white beard. He did indeed look like a wizard. But again I was at a loss. How did magic fit into the scenario of this world? Apparently my perception of Vrin would have to continue to fluctuate as new facts became available. These thoughts filtered through my mind as I worked to create a simple wooden table and several large candles. The room lit up and I had my first clear look at the faces gathered around. “There that’s better,” I said, looking across at my new acquaintance. “I’m sorry,” I said, realizing he had not told me his name, “what do I call you?”

  “My apologies, Mr. Tardin. I am Arganis.”

  “Are you the leader of these people?”

  “I am only their leader because they choose to follow me.”

  “You are modest,” I said, looking down at the map. “So, where are your troops?”

  “There are some in Rath's attack force. They have been ordered to fight defensively only. Then there is Kaprisha’s group. She has them concealed in this patch of woods off to the left of the battle area. And Fyousa has some men in the castle, maybe a few in town as well. Right now we have a messenger on his way to inform Armadon of our intentions.

  “You’ve been doing your homework. Are your people ready to fight?”

  “Some have been shaken by Kric’ tu’s arrival; they fear him more than The Ten.” He shook his head slowly. “If there is a genuine deity in Vrin, it is Kric’ tu. I curse the day my family released him from the pit.”

  “Your family?”

  “Yes, I am a direct descendant of Alganah.”

  “Fascinating. I have many questions I’d like to ask you. But I will wait until the troops are deployed.”

  “I will trade you, answer for answer,” he said with a smirk.

  “Agreed.”

  That made sense. According to the historical record, Alganah had exercised some form of magical talent when he opened the gateway to chaos, or whatever it was he had opened. If this man was truly a descendant of Alganah, he would most likely have inherited some sort of supernatural ability. If he were able to exercise that kind of influence on this world, his power could be comparable to ours. Fascinating! Before me stood a man who represented a link between these people and my own. --Yet, he was just a simulation. --Or was he? He had called me an enigma. But the term best suited him.

  I brought myself back to the matter at hand. Lorna needed the support these people offered. “First things first,” I said. “Your messenger will not find Armadon at the outpost. Lorna, the tenth, is holding our position while we tend to other matters.”

  “Other matters?”

  “The battle is just a distraction, a distraction that must be held, but the real war is taking place elsewhere. I cannot tell you more in the face of so many unknowns. Let me contact Lorna.”

  “Yes. Tell her my troops will respond to the password faith. They will change sides immediately upon hearing that word.”

  “Does the messenger know this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Got it. Hold on.”

  I tipped my head to the side. “Lorna? How goes the battle?”

  “It’s still quiet here. Too quiet. Have you reached your destination?”

  “No, I’ve met with a pleasant snag. I’m here now with SCAR. Are you familiar with them?”

  “Nope.”

  “I won’t go into detail right now, but I’ll say this. You can trust them. A messenger is on his way now and he will tell you the password to use is ‘faith’. He will explain their position. Let him into the outpost.”

  “Yessir.”

  “They will provide extra troops.”

  “Good, we can use them.”

  “They may be able to help me gain access to Rath's castle.”

  “Great.”

  “All right, that’s it for now. Good luck, Lorna, and thanks again.”

  “Sure. You take care of yourself.”

  I pushed her energy from my mind and refocused on Arganis. “She will allow your messenger into the outpost.”

  “Thank you.” He stood to address his group. “You know what you need to do, men. May the Maker of Light be with you.”

  They filtered out of the room with hopeful enthusiasm. I rose to stand beside Arganis. His face was thoughtful. I could tell he cared deeply for his people. When the last person left, I turned to my silent host. “I will need entrance to the castle. If you are indeed a wizard, perhaps you can help.”

  “I will do what I can.”

  “I would also like to know more about your abilities so I may better understand my enemy.”

  “You are puzzled. Have you no wizards where you come from?”

  “I don't think so. Well-- only in storybooks. That’s what bothers me, you are an inconsistency in the scheme of this place. Vrin is based on scientific fact taken from my world, yet you defy the very principles that make up my universe. It would be very useful to know how, and why, you are able to possess magical abilities.”

  “It's simple.” He chuckled. “I draw from a source outside the realm of the physical world.”

  “Outside of Vrin?” I said, astonished.

  “Beyond the cognosphere lies the void.”

  “You mean-- space?”

  He furrowed his brows. “Space-?”

  “Never mind, it would take too long to explain.”

  He gave me an examining look, then continued. “Vrin floats in energy. There is a point on this planet where a channel exists, a pillar into the sky called The Circle of Ghosts. A vortex there leads into the energy pool.” He leveled his eyes at me. “All who have entered The Circl
e have died horrible deaths for the energy is unlike anything in Vrin. I call it energy, others call it magic. My ancestors learned to tap into this magic. Hundreds of years ago, Nor’ Trull built a cabin next to The Circle and each day he would go and sit at the edge. He found that the vibrations from his voice would cause things to happen, and that each vibration had a different effect. He cataloged the effects in a book that was passed down through the generations. His son learned from him, as I learned from my father.

  “Interesting. Is there a reason it’s called The Circle of Ghosts?”

  “Yes. It is a portal to a place called Dantra. It is believed a race of people live within the energy. Some say they are the ghosts of our ancestors waiting to be released to Ethral, but from what my family has gathered, they do not originate from our world. We think they are an ancient race of spiritual beings. In the many years of communicating with them, my ancestors have learned a great number of things. They used this information to attain their goals, but ultimately, it was our undoing. When Alganah called on Kric’ tu, the god of power, to save our royal family from being ousted, what he unleashed was not what anyone expected. And before he could send it back, it escaped into Vrin.”

  “They were expecting a benevolent spirit?”

  “Yes. They had no way of knowing that evil existed in the void. All the spirits that had come before were loving spirits of light.”

  “Do you need to be at The Circle of Ghosts to use the magic?”

  “No, but it is stronger there. Energy seeps from The Circle and filters into the air. It dissipates as it moves father away from its source, but it can still be very potent.”

  “What types of things can you do? Would you be willing to give a demonstration?”

  “Yes. But then it is my turn to ask you some questions.” He gave a crooked smile.

  “That sounds fair.”

  He stood and walked to the center of the room, then repositioned toward me. With eyes shut, his hands began to caress the air methodically. They swayed about in gentle arching movements, punctuated by gestures resembling an exaggerated form of sign language. He began a deep resonating vocal hum.