by Pam Uphoff
He turned to Trill. "Have we still got the extra potions?"
Trill shrugged off her shoulder bag. Shoved it toward him. "Careful, who knows what's broken in there."
Something was sloshing about. Warric reached carefully, and pulled out the control potion. Tilted a broken shard to read the label. The add-a-power-gene potion. Everything else looked intact . . . he dipped his hands in the wine at the bottom. Ran them across his scalp. Best he could do, right now.
Then he uncorked the control spell bottle and topped off his water pistol.
The stampeding priests finally cleared the narrow space, leaving several stunned and probably trampled as well. With them out of the way, the guards advanced in a disciplined, experienced formation.
Traces' aim swung to the side door as it opened, but it was Marius sticking a cautious head out.
"Marius! We're going to need a shield across the gap there." Warric hustled up. "I've caught too much spray to work magic. So if the guards get within stun range, take them out."
Cactus shrugged off her sprayer. "We need to switch to the control spell."
Warric handed it over and walked up to the shield he could suddenly dimly sense.
"Wall to the right, burning building to the left. Guess we'll go straight ahead."
A chuckle from his dad. "Indeed." The old general eyed the wide open sweep of the courtyard.
Beyond the near guards, three gods were prancing about, kicking and stomping a large red mass. The Exalted hadn't gotten very far.
Further back, priests were gathering. Notcher's organizing them. Damn. Probably half of them still have magic, dammit.
His dad was eyeing the main gates, closed, with lots of guards in front of them. "I really ought to let the king and the parliament know there's a . . . hmm, a revolt among the priests. Several dangerous gods have gotten loose, and I believe that both the Exalted and the leader of the revolt have been killed."
"Notcher. Temple Priest Notcher is staging a coup, and used the major gods to kill the Exalted, but the gods have gotten loose. And other priests are resisting Notcher."
His dad grinned. "That will work, but . . ." He looked worriedly at Warric.
"This is just an illusion, now. I can turn it off and . . . and . . . then exile myself."
Trill grinned. "To Disco. I'll bet Q would love to have an astronomy team that reported to her, not to those . . . not to a single embassy."
Warric nodded. "Do you guys know her?"
"She's the head of their science and exploration division. We see her regularly. She's both nice and smart and we're among the people who are glad you saved her." Marius slapped his shoulder. "So, is it time for all of us to leave?"
"We haven't done anything to, or with, the little gods." Warric eyed the officer of the guards, who seemed to be lining up a massed crossbow barrage. He reached for power. Felt it flow sluggishly in. Concentrated. Small cross-section. Tiny cross-section.
Push! The officer dropped, a tiny spot of blood on his temple.
"Fire!"
Some enterprising underling snapped the order and the bolts zipped across the pavement, bounced and shattered on the shield.
Warric stepped out . . . behind them the God of Storms turned away from the bloody mess on the pavement. The guards broke and ran for the main gates.
"Right. Let's head for the women's quarters, and the side door." Warric eased out of the space and looked both directions. "We can hold onto a way to get out of here, and decide what to do next."
He trotted . . . dropped to a more cautious walk . . . The guard's quarters were empty. He spotted men retreating across the lawns, red robes waving their arms and pointing.
Some at them and some at the little gods quarters.
His dad swept a look around. "Tell me what's what."
Warric pointed. "Kitchen to the right, priests' homes in the middle, initiates'
quarters in the corner. Down the left side, the Little Gods quarters', the family quarters'—the young little gods and their mothers—then the women's quarters from this corner and along this wall. Guards quarters, right behind us.
"The women's quarters have a side door through the outer wall."
General Menchuro nodded. "So they've cut us off from the kitchen, and they're trying to keep control—or bring into play—the little gods."
Marius grinned. "The kitchen is good—we came in that way and dumped magic potions on a lot of food."
"Umm . . . guys?" Trill backed up closer.
The major gods were following them.
***
Warric walked up to them. The God of Storms, the Joker, and the Drunk.
The God of the Arts, like a pale marble statue. Gluttony, massively fat; the God of the Oceans, with flipper-like hands and the dead eyes of a shark.
"Are you sane enough to be allies, not a random danger?"
An uneasy shift through the little cluster of gods.
"I have potions to remove the power of the priests. You've seen that. I have the secret of the Chain." Warric reached, and banished his illusion. "I know people who can reverse what has been done to you. I'm using an illusion of the monster they made me into."
The gods leaned toward him.
"This is the only chance you'll ever have to return to normal, or to as normal as you are capable of. The priests deserve everything we're about to do to them. But when we are done, it has to stop.
"We are not going to kill children. Not even the young priest candidates. I have a potion to remove the power genes. We will use them.
"We are not going to rape the women in the women's quarters, nor the mothers of the little gods." Warric eyed them all. "When we're done, we must try to be . . . normal."
The gods exchanged uneasy looks. Nods.
"My main concern is that the one phrase I have to unlock the Chain might not work on every Chain spell. So we need some of the senior priests alive."
Glares, hot flares of power to his inner eye . . . but not from all of them.
Warric nodded. "But the surviving priests must have no power. So they can't hook any of us, can't control any of us. I have potions to control the guards. So don't kill guards that aren't attacking us."
Nods.
The God of the Arts stepped up, held out empty—bloodstained—hands. Moved them . . .
"And some of you got hit with the power removing spell."
Trill edged up and handed him an unbroken bottle of the power genes potion.
Warric took a swig and held it out to the other god. "This will put them back. Our power genes, not the priests' vampire type."
Arts took the bottle. Sipped, took a larger swallow. Drunk, Gluttony, and Oceans all crowded up and took a drink.
"Right. So let's see about freeing the little gods, too." Warric turned back to the others, looking on wide-eyed.
"Warric, how many gods are there?" Trace backed cautiously away.
"Nineteen major gods, including me. We took out Fear. So with these six, well, we could be facing up to eleven major gods still under the priests' control."
His dad nodded. "So we need to keep targeting the priests. But getting the little gods away from them is important too. The more magic we can take away from them, the better our odds."
Warric nodded. "Trill? Cactus? Can you take Dad through the women's quarters and out the side door? Dad . . . if you can convince the king and the parliament to hold all their soldiers outside the walls until, umm, those dangerous gods are under control?"
"Right. Because they'd probably back the priests." The old man stiffened. "Dammit boy . . . keep everyone alive."
They both looked at Trill and Cactus. Received firm negatives.
Warric eyed them. "Will you follow orders? We need to protect our line of retreat. I want you two to block all the ways into the women's quarters except that one." He pointed at the door closest to the back corner. "And the side door once Dad's out. We don't want imperial troops attacking from the rear."
The girls
scowled. Trill nodded first, then Cactus.
"Good. Go."
Cactus handed Marius the sticks.
His dad hugged Trill, Marius, and Trace, and then startled Cactus by hugging her.
He looked back at Warric, glanced at all of the gods. "And if it all goes to hell, you run for it and take everyone with you that you can, and I'll work over the government and see about getting anyone captured out as well."
Warric watched him walk away, then turned back. "Right. Now, let's show the priests how dangerous a free god can be."
The family quarters of the Small Gods first.
There was the noise of a scuffle beyond the gate. The unlocked gate. Warric drew his sword as Trace opened the gate quietly. Two priests were wrestling with two dwarves and two women. The dwarves, the boys, looked to be in their early teens.
"Let go woman! They're old enough!" One of the priests punched at one of the women, thrown off balance as the boy he held shoved back against him.
The other priest tossed a glance over his shoulder to see who was interrupting them . . . his eyes widened and Warric swung. The priest's head spun off in a fountain of blood.
A thunk to his left—Trace stood over the other priest, club in hand.
"Are these the only priests here?" Warric asked the women as they backed away.
Nods. Terrified gazes on him. Sorry, not going to turn off the illusion every time I turn around.
"Good. You need to block the gate, keep it closed, keep yourselves and your children safe." Warric glanced at the priests' bodies. "Let's drag them out of here. And . . . Take that one's robe."
Warric grabbed the head, and one of the arms, Marius grabbed the other arm of the headless corpse and they dragged it out. Trace followed, cussing a bit under his breath about chubby priests, as he dragged his victim out by the feet.
"What do you want the robe for?"
"In case one of us needs to imitate a priest." Warric tossed the head in bushes, and they rolled the body tidily out of the way.
The other gods eyed Trace's priest and started grinning. Glutton searched him, found a knife and sliced his throat.
Trace swallowed.
Warric thumped his shoulder. "Those two? They were rough on the little gods. Suck too much power out of them, and they die. They didn't care, and even in the brief time I was here they killed two each."
"Gods Arbol . . . maybe I should find something else to swear by."
The gods tossed the body into the bushes, then turned to eye the priests, organizing across the park.
Warric made a rough count and winced. "I don't think we can get away with waiting until they have dinner. Damn, they're bringing out the Little Gods . . . It's too far . . . Once we're within a hundred feet they'll be trying to hook us."
Marius frowned across the park. "Warric? How about a mounted charge?" He held out the sticks.
Warric grabbed them and opened them. "Jabberwocky? I need to get across to the priests to spray them so quickly they don't have time to hook me."
The big pinto looked across the parkland and nodded. :: Let's go. ::
Trace grinned. "You guys take the sprayers, I'll just hit people."
Speed laid her ears back and the gods shied away. Cactus and Trill's horses eyed the odd effects. But let Arts and Joker mount.
Sprayer wand in his left hand, sword in his right. Warric sheathed the sword long enough to haul the bridle off Jabberwocky and mount. "Just go straight through them. I need to spray as many of the red robes and gods as possible, as quickly as possible."
Warric pulled up physical and mental shields and charged.
His little band followed.
Warric aimed at the deepest concentration of dark red robes he could see.
A senior priest stepped out from the disorganized crowd. The God of Swamps followed him . . . stepped out in front of him and threw the first spell.
The Push spell hit. Warric slid in the saddle, Jabber staggered, laid his ears back and leaped forward.
Control the gods! The Chain must rust and turn to dust!
Swamp jerked back in shock, hand going to his neck.
Warric could see him pulling power from the air, mad eyes still locked on Warric.
Still hooked and controlled!
Jabber swerved and rammed the god as Warric swung and decapitated the senior priest.
A scream and burst of power, but they were past and hitting the confused rabble of priests who'd never fought, guards who weren't organized. Warric pointed the sprayer to the side and squeezed the trigger. Chopped everything on his right until he burst through the crowd and swung around to look at the battle field.
Marius was off to his right, Trace to his left was having problems . . . Jabber turned and charged for him. Spray and chop.
Guards surrounded Trace, hitting at his shields . . . A black behemoth plowed through the guards, tossing them right and left. Speed clearly saw no reason to need a rider in order to join the battle. She kicked, sending guards flying, struck out with her forefeet, knocked guards flat and crushed them as she ran past.
Trace followed in her wake, bashing anyone within reach.
Warric leaned and Jabberwocky swerved, passed Trace going the other way, then swung back for another pass.
The stallion threw up his head and screamed in rage, muscles bunching, back humping for a buck . . . Warric threw his mental shield out as far as he could and looked for the God of Hate. Large, scale covered, sharp teeth . . . there he was.
Jabberwocky snorted, relaxed a little. :: Bad God! ::
"Very bad. Strong enough to throw out a field effect."
:: Can you? ::
:: Unfortunately. :: Warric spotted him and they charged. A line of pikes. The guards were finally getting organized. Warric formed his physical shield into a wedge and they hit the line at full speed.
He threw the Anti-Chain spell, and took aim at the Senior Priest. Jabber stumbled, his swing barely grazed the priest. He kicked out of his stirrups as he felt the horse going down, threw himself out of danger as the big animal tumbled. Sprayed, a weak stream at the nearest red robes, then dropped the wand and pulled his knife, determined to take as many red robes down as he could.
He could feel the hatred of that god. Everyone around him turned and attacked the nearest person. Friend, foe, priest, it mattered not at all.
Even the priests pulled their knives. A few attacked with bare hands. The guards could have mowed them down but they were too busy fighting each other.
"He's mine!" An initiate leaped on the Senior Priest and stabbed him. All the priests mobbed them.
Warric ran, trying to get out of the area of influence. Mine is fifty feet . . . He flinched back at the hook spells flying . . . felt one grabbing him, spun and lashed out in panic. Magically.
A loop of superheated plasma . . . an explosion of vaporized flesh, the screams of those far enough away to have survived . . . momentarily. Men fled, clothes on fire.
The hatred was gone.
Warric sobbed and clamped down his power. I am as likely to harm my friends as kill my enemies.
The baying of dogs, a brassy horn . . . The God of Hunters was out there somewhere. Warric turned toward the sound and trotted across the circle of burned ground all around him to hunt him down.
Felt woozy and . . . wasn't everything beautiful, and that priest, he loved . . . He pulled power and strengthened his mental shield. The God of Love. Weak, but definitely distracting.
He threw up an unnoticeable spell, shrugged off the backpack sprayer and started pumping up the pressure. What's in here? Remove power and . . . does this one also have the control spell? If we can take the power away from enough of them, we could actually win the battle.
A crackle of lightning. The God of Storms was in the fight—hopefully still on their side. Galloping hooves, the God of the Arts was still mounted, hammer and chisel in hand. His magic was weak, but his arms were not. If the horse didn't get them, he did.
Or m
aybe we can win a straight up fight, if we can free more gods.
He shrugged back into the sprayer and headed back to the battle.
Two priests were working together, with their gods. Love and Peace.
They weren't much use in a battle by themselves, but their priests were pulling power from them and they knew how to use it. A solid shield around them. Circular. Eight foot high. They realize we've run out of arrows.
The guards were taking positions in an arc around the shield . . .
Warric bit his lip. There was a breeze behind him. He slipped in between the guards before they completed their perimeter. Raised the wand, tried a kinetic spell, just a little updraft . . . squeezed the trigger. The spray made it over.
The shield started fading. The priests frowned, one stepped up and slapped Love. Who started grinning. His hands flashed out to the priest's neck . . .
Peace turned to his priest . . . who bolted in terror.
Oh yes, karma has arrived.
Ghostly hounds ran past and through the troops, fading as they reached the end of the God of Hunter's influence.
And Warric's unnoticeable spell wasn't strong enough to fool that god.
But the Joker galloped in from the far side . . . hauling his reins . . .
The Hunter controls dogs and horses!
The horse bucked, the Joker sprawled off his back, landing flat and not moving. The horse shied away . . . froze and stood trembling as priests closed in.
Warric spotted the Hunter and his priest, both looking the other way. He ghosted up and sprayed the priest.
The Hunter spun. One hand snapped out and grabbed the neck of his priest, but his eyes were focused on Warric.
"Are you sane? Will you fight with us?"
A maddened gleam in the wolfish eyes, and his hand tightened. Cartilage and bone crunched. He dropped the priest and leaped at Warric.
Sidestep spin slash. The Hunter was fast, fast enough to grab his sword arm and start to squeeze.
Warric sliced mentally . . . flinched away from the blood.
Chaos. A few officers trying to rally the guards. Red and yellow robes running . . . toward the gods they still had . . . toward the Little Gods.
