by Pam Uphoff
"Three Major Gods, and then the Little Gods got loose. If Notcher hadn't been knocked unconscious, right at the start, it would have been a much quieter coup." I wonder which Minister Major Tomsen reports to?
"Once the God of the Sun killed Senior priest Gunther and freed the God of Hate, the situation got badly out of control, as everyone attacked everyone else. Then the God of Storms . . . "
"Gods Arbol! The two strongest Gods?"
"Yes. They stood at the head of the courtroom, so they were the first used to try to regain control of the God of the Sun . . . "
"From the name I gather he could burn things?"
"Yes. He's young. We had not realized the extent of his reach. Further than the God of Storms' was."
"Was."
"The God of Storms has died. As have the Gods of Hate, Fear, Drunks and Gluttony."
"Five Gods! You lost . . . "
"Yes. And we badly damaged the Sun God, getting him under control. I doubt he'll ever be of use again. But we still have twelve, and over two hundred Little Gods. We stand ready to aid the Empire at need." Warric stared straight ahead. "Yesterday was . . . a horrible day. Notcher did not intend this. I don't know if we'll even be able to convict him of murdering the Exalted."
"Wait, Notcher killed . . . Why?"
"If it was because of anything but raw ambition and a desire for more power, I doubt we'll ever know. He's raving now. It may be that he did not hook the God of the Sun. It could well be that the God hooked and controlled him."
"That's the God that escaped. I . . . had understood that Notcher hadn't recaptured him."
A well informed officer . . . must have connections in the church.
"That was what Notcher—and all of his companions—swore. But the God of the Sun walked into the main court and started killing while Notcher was right there, close to the Exalted." Warric fell silent as he walked through the main doors of the Council Hall. Everyone there turned and stared. Several people disappeared through various doorways. Was that Farester? Someone from the House of Wisdom, in any case. Shaved head and black robes.
A naturally bald old man in a suit hustled out of a side passage. "The Ministers would like to speak to someone about the occurrences here and in the Temple."
Warric inclined his head. "And I am here to speak of them."
They fell for it. They were all ambitious men, and advancement in the government was not uncommonly associated with sudden unexpected deaths. And they demanded observers to the trials.
Warric nodded permission. "We are still collecting eyewitness statements and analyzing them. The trial will be in three weeks, unless that coincides with a coronation."
More ambitious and untrusting looks around the chamber.
The chairman banged a gavel. "We will send an observer. Now. We will send Lord Menchuro, since he saw the start of the disaster himself."
Another Minister cleared his throat. "And we'll send some runners and messengers."
Warric inclined his head. "I am certain that this will meet with the Exalted's approval. He wishes to avoid the adversarial relationship his predecessor considered unavoidable.
"I will convey your words to the Exalted."
Outside again, he found his father waiting for him. With Farester and Jack hovering.
A dozen sycophants wanting to push themselves or a specific superior forward crowded . . . as close as they dared.
"Let me make a list . . . " Warric glanced at Herby who scrambled out a notebook and pen and started writing. Warric caught his father's eye and gave him a discreet thumbs up.
Epilog
Colonists
Xen looked at the sweating ambassador, the terrified priests.
And behind them, more priests coming through from Arbolia. With their families. And cattle, wagons, sheep . . .
Inso snorted. "The plaza was going to fill up if we don't send them somewhere. Quickly."
Xen stopped enjoying the ambassador's panic and thought about the man's escape plan. "The maze? It's well known . . . but it will be easier for you if I just open up a gate directly to a nice Empty World. Normal predators, plenty of animals to hunt . . . " Xen backed away to the nearest open arch and sat. Kept his voice low. "Watch my back Inso."
He settled and looked deeply into the blue . . . found a cone, but where to put it . . .
:: Here. This one is much nicer than they deserve. :: Q's mental voice, of course. And she had a second cone ready to complete the gate.
Xen opened his eyes and rolled away from the arch, now full of a glowing sparkling whirlpool.
"You just scared the shit out of a nice ten point buck over there." Inso grinned and stepped out of the way of the personnel from the Arbolian Embassy.
A stampede.
They said they were fleeing the vindictive appointees of the new Emperor and Exalted. Xen rather suspected it had something to do with the sudden change in their abilities. Not that they didn’t give plenty of people cause to feel vindictive! Including one well trained in spell development.
And a very nice spell that is. Just five DNA base pair swaps and you've got a mage gene instead of an Arbolian vampire priest gene. The only time I've ever heard of a spider spell like that was when the Arbolians were poking around the Crossroads with that nasty God of Death of theirs. So it's home grown and not a transdimensional attack.
I don't think I'll mention this genetic sabotage. Don't want to give anyone any ideas.
Xen sent a subtle spell out to clear it off all the Arbolians as they hustled through. No traps on it. So if it gets loose it'll be easily containable. Except that it came from Arbolia, with that former Temple Priest Notcher, so it's already loose over there.
Couldn't happen to a nastier bunch of people.
He eyed the gate from Arbolia. "Refugees" were still pouring through. Men, women, and children, all in fancy clothing that probably meant that they were going to have a rough adjustment to the wilderness. Some guards and servants, all carrying as much as they could. Some wagons.
Not a well planned colonization. More of a complete rout, the losers fleeing retribution.
I wonder what happened over there? Xen tromped hard on his curiosity. None of my business. It's outside of my self-imposed limits. I can help the people escape whatever is back there . . . and . . . just keep my nose out of it.
Going to drive me crazy, but in the end it'll be a power play by this Exalted. Possibly their new Emperor. But so long as they keep it at home . . .
Excerpt From An Upcoming Release
Cannibal World
Pam Uphoff
Chapter One
19 June 2051 (Summer 1401 px)
Pittsburg, PA
There was a ragged line across the sky, not unlike a bank of clouds coming up from the southeast, but blue. A blue sky edged against another blue sky.
And against the lower blue sky, a horizon of skyscrapers like a forest, vast and unending. And below that the huge vehicles they had started calling dump trucks because of their profile, although the top was entirely closed and hadn't been seen to dump, or indeed, open at all.
And below the dump trucks, mere tanks, and behind the tanks infantry in black and white plastic armor.
Whoever they were, and however they'd gotten here, they looked like they intended to stay.
Ben Goldman lowered his glasses and with his naked eye could see that the Army units that had been rushed here were hopelessly outclassed, and so far, out numbered. He picked up his mike. It was time to start evacuating everyone.
Probably just an empty gesture. Anyone who hadn't already picked up and left wasn't going to leave because of a polite knock on the door, and he didn't think they had time for that, in any case.
He leaned back and looked down the enclosed ladder. "Jeff? Put your pretty face on and go talk to the News people. The Army is slow getting here, so as a precaution, we're asking everyone east of the Monongahela and south of the Allegheny to leave right now."
"Hesus, Ben.
The bridges are packed already."
"Well, suggest they head north or south, whichever is closest, and cross the river in Dyson or Middleplain."
He spun as something moved in his peripheral vision. A guardian. One of the elite soldiers of the Army. He wobbled in semi-controlled flight mode, swooping close and grabbing one of the pipes that enclosed his tower.
She, rather.
Face plate up, she was pale and sweating. "They have reached the river to the south and are moving on the parklane bridge, evacuate to the north, we will try to hold routes open. And you had better move yourselves."
"Jeff? Got that?"
"Yeah, I'm afraid so."
The guardian let go and dropped toward the ground, grabbing bars as she went, and landing with an ungraceful thump.
Ben hustled down the ladder and started retracting the tower.
Glancing over he saw the Newsie with camera aimed at the guardian talking non-stop. ". . . grim scene in the highlands with everyone evacuating to the north as these attackers, whoever they are, have closed off all escape to the south. This is Melody Smithers . . . "
Ben looked around. No sign of her transport. He reached out and touched her shoulder. "You need a lift?" His glance included the guardian. She was leaning against the truck. A hole in the armor, mid torso, left side. "Do you need a medic?"
"Full blown hospital, actually. But I'll start with the ride." She stepped into the rear, where there was room to accommodate her gear. The Guardian's armor was cutting edge light and strong, but even folded, the wings took up space.
The newsie jumped in front with Jeff and they turned north. Once out of their parking lot, they were in traffic.
Ben turned to immediate concerns. "Can I help you?"
"No, the suit has stopped the bleeding. At this point, I'm better off not disturbing that."
"All right. Let me know if there's anything I can do."
The parked cars weren't helping, and Ben picked up the mike and triggered the bull horn. "All parked cars are confiscated by the Police Department. Any citizens who can get them open and started are authorized to use them to leave the city. Please take all the passengers you can stuff in."
The faces of the pedestrians looked around in astonishment, and a few started moving toward the parked cars. Ben dialed in headquarters and passed on that recommendation, along with all buses leaving the east side, load up with free riders.
Melody was recording it all – probably broadcasting it as well, as the parked cars started moving and they shifted forward a few blocks.
Ben called in more requests for traffic signal preemption and radio announcements, all roads open to the north, no one to travel south, east-west traveling vehicles to turn north at the first intersections, no, you can't go home for your family – families, don't wait for anyone, get out right now. They inched forward, and after an excruciatingly slow five miles, pulled over to take another look.
The view from the tower showed the monsterous dump trucks even closer, and the tanks frighteningly close.
A rattle on the outside of his tower was not the guardian he'd expected, but a young man in an odd grayish suit climbing the outside. "Sorry, I need a good view." His head jerked around at an explosive whoosh and he flung up a hand.
Ben turned toward the whoosh and swore he could see the shell spinning toward him, slowing, slowing . . . and falling out of the air.
"Well, I think they've noticed you."
Ben jerked back around toward the young man.
"I'll try and slow them, so more of your people can escape." He made a slicing motion toward the nearest tank, then scowled. "Unfortunately all my weapons are dangerously close range. I'll see what I can do." He rattled down the outside and Ben hustled on the inside. He hit the switch to lower the tower and suggested they move as soon as possible.
"Who was that?" Jeff manhandled them over a curb and sidewalk. The traffic was making a steady five miles an hour. At the first cross street, Jeff started cussing, and Ben looked out the small side window to see a tank crunching over cars.
"Beats me, but right now I'd accept help from a green Martian if it was offered."
The man in grey darted out and made his slicing motions again. The tank shed tracks, the barrel of its main gun clanged to the ground, and as the hatches popped and men appeared, they disappeared in gory pools.
One slumped limply, and the grey man ran up and dragged him from the tank, and down the line of cars. "Do you need someone for questioning?" The motorists started shifting as if to run them both down. Ben leaped out and grabbed the limp soldier. The grey man dodged back toward the tank, toward the tank behind it . . .
"Christ!" Ben heaved the soldier into the back of the truck. "Jeff, I'm going to be out on foot, calling in open and closed roads. Relay them, in case HQ isn't picking me up."
Jeff's protest was broken off by cursing as something blew up behind the first tank.
It was another tank, blocking the east west road with flaming debris, but leaving most of the north-south open. Ben followed the grey man up an alley and over another block. "Who are you?" His huffing didn't augur well for a prolonged foot patrol.
"I'm sort of an explorer, and sort of a dimension cop. Wasn't prepared for anything like this, though."
"Umm, you keep waving your hands and trashing tanks, and I won't even think about calling you insane, all right?"
"Works for me." The young man flashed white teeth over his shoulder. "I'm Xen Wolfson."
What I'm Reading . . .
. . . and recommending. I won't mention the bad ones.
But if you're in the mood to Nuke Earth try Mackey Chandler's April. Warning, kickass teen heroine.
Funny stuff? The Chronicles of Luna City by Celia Hays and Jeanne Hayden. Who are also a good source for Westerns.
Umm, Westerns. Peter Grant has taken a break from SF and brought out Brings the Lightning. Rumor has it there will be sequels.
Like some mythology in your Urban Fantasy? Cedar Sanderson's Vulcan's Kittens mixes and matches from all over the world.
Now, I'm going to have to warn you. This thing stole my every open minute of time for days. And it's just the first in the series. And it's a cliffhanger ending. Definitely weird. And I'll admit that by the end I was skipping lots of over blown descriptions. But dang! Grabbed me and made me read it every free minute of the day and too much of the night. Somewhither by John C. Wright. If you're lucky, by the time you read this and are tempted, the second book will be out!
About the Author
I was born and raised in California, and have lived more than half my life, now, in Texas.
Wonderful place. I caught almost the first bachelor I met here, and we’re coming up on our thirty-seventh anniversary.
My degree's in Geology. After working for an oil company for almost ten years as a geophysicist, I “retired” to raise children. As they grew, I added oil painting, sculpting and throwing clay, breeding horses, volunteering in libraries and for the Boy Scouts, and treasurer for a friend’s political campaign. Sometime in those busy years, I turned a love of science fiction into a part time job reading slush (Mom? Someone is paying you to read??!!)
I've always written, published a few short stories. But now that the kids have flown the nest, I'm calling writing a full time job.
Directorate School was my seventeenth novel, and first in a spin-off series. I've also issued four collections of novellas and short stories, and published other short stories separately.
I've got two new books in the Wine of the Gods Universe under way, and another novella in The Directorate series. And then a third "Zoey Ivers" book in the Doors series. So I may manage to squeeze in a few more titles before the end of the year.
I need to find the time to get more books out in print, out to Kobo, Sony, B&N . . . I need to find the time to invent a time machine . . .
Email [email protected] to join the mailing list for notifications of new releases
Other Books b
y Pam Uphoff
Wine of the Gods Series:
Outcasts and Gods
Exiles and Gods (Three Novellas)
The Black Goats
Explorers
Spy Wars
One Alone
Comet Fall
A Taste of Wine (Seven Tales)
Dark Lady
Growing Up Magic (Four Novellas)
Young Warriors
God of Assassins
Heirs of Crown and Spear
The Fiend
Empire of the One
Warriors of the One
Dancer
Earth gate
Mages at Large
Art Theft
Triplets
Sea Wolves
Bad Karma
Dark Side of the Moon
Cascades
Olympian
Embassy
Rael
On the Run
The Directorate Series
Directorate School
A Tale of Three Interns
The Lawyers of Mars
Fancy Free
Writing as Zoey Ivers
YA Cyberpunk Adventures:
The Barton Street Gym
Chicago
Fantasy:
Demi God
