by C G Gaudet
He sighs overly dramatically and hangs his head to the side. “It would have been as easy as snapping my fingers.” He attempts to demonstrate, but his fingers don’t make a sound. He tries again, still no luck. “As easy as breathing,” he corrects himself. “But there are rules in place for this game. Gods can’t touch the champions of other gods and obviously killing them is covered under that rule. Everything we do in this game must be through our champions, like you.”
This all seems too complicated to me and doesn’t entirely make sense. Probably because I’m sleep deprived and have had a long day at work. A job I must go back to tomorrow, because that’s what normal people do.
“You expect me to become your champion just because I happened to walk past you,” I say, “just so you can keep being a deity no one has ever heard of before?”
His smile hurts to look at as it makes my cheeks burn like I’ve eaten something too spicy.
“That and help me gather more followers so we can defeat other champions and not end up bloodied and dead in the street like Adoria’s caster.”
What pleasant imagery.
“If I say no?”
He shrugs, though his smile falters slightly. “You can choose to say no. After all, you’re a human and therefore in control of your own destiny. At least so long as Deshalie isn’t around to decide otherwise. She’s very particular about keeping up her role of Deity of Fate.”
Well, at least that’s a relief. It’s nice to know my life isn’t completely controlled by gods I have no interest in.
“Of course, now that you’ve been touched by my magic, you will become a target to the other champions who wish to knock me out of the running to be in the top thirty. An easy target, I might add, as without me nearby, your powers will dwindle to nothing more than your mean right hook.”
“Of course,” I repeat.
His smile grows expectantly as though he believes telling me I’ll likely die otherwise has won me over.
“I hate you and everything you stand for,” I tell him. “What do we do next?”
Chapter Five
Interrupted
Kesarre props his chin on his hand while lounging across my floor. It’s the sort of thoughtful pose you see on sculptures and water fountains.
“I suppose we could start by going after Lassier or Safferro,” he says, though he sounds unconvinced. “We might as well take out the last of the easy targets to get started.”
“That’s a pointless gesture and a waste of time.” The door to my room slams open and Willow barges in with dancing eyes that seem to see things not actually in the room. Kesarre and I stare at her as she continues as though she hasn’t just broken into my place. “If you waste time with those beneath you, then no one will care if you win or lose. You need to focus on the top thirty. There are at least fifteen who will never be knocked from their position of influence, assuming my guess as to who those gods are is correct, but the other fifteen are possible to overturn. Focus on the weaker fifteen, and you should be able to knock one of them out and take their place.”
She brushes a wild curl of brown hair out of her eye and gives us a triumphant look. A beat of silence follows, causing her face to turn an alarming shade of purple as realization appears to dawn on her as to what she’s just done.
The moment stretches longer.
I can see Kesarre is having fun making the girl uncomfortable, but I honestly don’t know what to say. Top thirty deities? How am I supposed to know who they are? Would Kesarre be able to point them out and take me to their champions? And if they’re in the top thirty, wouldn’t that make them strong? The whole point is not to die. I have no interest in picking a fight I have no ability to win.
“Er…I mean…”
“It’s a valid point,” Kesarre says, allowing Willow to take a breath, even if it is a ragged one. “Reaching high is much more productive than worrying about the ones who are already below. But you are wrong about one thing.”
Willow’s eyes twitch again as though she’s going over everything she said once more in her mind to see what she could have possibly been mistaken about. From her confused expression, she can’t think of a thing.
“No one’s position in the top thirty is decided,” he says. “Someone might be number one today and at the bottom tomorrow. It’s how the game works.”
“Oh.” Willow doesn’t look any more convinced than I feel, but she nods anyway. “Oh,” she says again.
“Though going directly for a top position from the bottom might be too much for even me,” Kesarre says with a wink. I don’t know why the move causes the tension to slip from my shoulders, but it does. I guess I’m a little relieved to know he won’t instantly throw me in over my head. “We’ll have to work our way up to fighting them.”
“You mean like training.” Willow nods her understanding. “Of course. That makes sense. The best way would be to develop skills outside of the view of the other gods while you are considered lowly enough that they might not pay attention to you, and then strike once your power is at a point to guarantee a win.”
“Interesting thought.” Kesarre gets up to wrap an arm around her shoulder and give her a smile that has Willow’s knees shaking. “Do you have an idea of how to go about getting stronger without directly attacking other gods’ champions?”
Standing next to her, it’s clear he’s something more than human. Willow’s cute in her own way. Her round face is likely attractive to some, and she keeps herself tidy with a simple brown dress and linen apron that has a heart cut into the chest with lace decorating the edges.
Next to Kesarre, she looks like she was the one who rolled in mud. The sight of the two of them next to each other makes me uncomfortable. If Willow looks pitiful, I can only imagine the pathetic wretch I must appear near him.
I wrap my arms around my pillow for comfort and breathe in a hint of mint. That’s new. I look up at Kesarre and could swear he smirks at me, though his attention remains on Willow.
Well, that was nice of him, I suppose. Though I’ll never admit as much out loud. He hasn’t done nearly enough to earn praise, especially since he’s apparently put my life at jeopardy by giving me powers I never asked for. No, he definitely doesn’t deserve so much as a ‘thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’
My head jerks up at the clear sound of Kesarre’s voice, though I can see he’s not moving his lips.
Did he just read my thoughts, and then answer back inside my mind?
‘I am a god,’ he mind-speaks to me. ‘We can do many impressive things.’
Amazing. He even sounds smug inside my head. Just like that arrogant smile on his…hold on. There’s a flash of red over Willow’s head, just like with the caster Gordon.
I focus on what I think I see, and the symbols show up clearly for me to somehow understand.
Willow – Champion of Kesarre
Level 1 Scholar
Abilities
Passive: Knowledge
Passive: Understands Languages
“You made her your champion?” I leap to my feet. “I thought I was your champion. You made me stab a person with my pillow and everything.”
“You’re jealous.” His eye light up so bright, I could close the curtain to the tiny window and there would be more than enough light to see everything in the room. “I knew you liked me all along.”
“Champion?” Willow says in a small voice Kesarre and I both ignore.
“I don’t like you,” I say, “I don’t even know you and I don’t want to.” I look around the room, desperately trying to find something to distract the conversation and see the door, which is nearly the only thing on that side of the room, so hard to miss really. “In fact, since you have a new champion, why don’t you two leave and go compete in these games you’re so eager to talk about. Leave me here to enjoy my solitude.”
Kesarre’s face is an inch from mine in the span of one of my thudding heartbeats. Without breaking eye contact with me, he leans in to press his
forehead to mine. Part of me panics and wants to fling myself away, but my stubborn nature prevails, and without blinking I remain face to face with the god.
He lingers there for only a second, and when I blink, I find him once again by Willow’s side. It makes me wonder if imagined the entire experience. Willow’s baffled expression is the only confirmation I have that it really did happen, along with a strange calm within myself I’ve never experienced before.
“I’m a god in a war with two hundred and twelve other gods all desperate to keep our powers,” Kesarre explains, even though whatever feeling of abandonment I might have felt before is already gone. “I’m going to need more than one champion. Besides, you’re my reaper, Jenny. I need you.”
I feel myself flush and I turn away to avoid his gaze. He doesn’t need to know how much it means to me to hear him, or anyone, say something so nice. Though if he’s listening to my thoughts, I guess he already knows.
The jerk knows exactly how to play me.
The thought brings out the biggest smile yet from the god as he straightens to his full height, bringing his head to brush against the ceiling nearly seven feet above. I’m sure he’s somehow a little taller than when I first met him on the road, but that doesn’t make sense. People don’t get taller over the course of a few minutes. Unless gods do?
“What’s a reaper?” I ask to get my mind off the strangeness of the man.
“Reaper,” Willow states. “A champion of the gods whose skills focus on quick damage and hidden strikes. Principle abilities are quick step, dash attack, shadow step and life or death.” She looks at me, as stunned as I at her. “How do I know that?”
Chapter Six
Committed
“You’re my scholar,” Kesarre says to Willow with a little too much pride in his voice. I thought I was the special one, hmm Kesarre? He doesn’t react to the accusation, which only makes me more annoyed. “You’re already clever, so I thought knowledge and languages would suit you for your first two abilities. Don’t worry, now that you understand the choices, I’ll let you choose your own from here on.
“Jenny, I gave you quick step and dash attack,” he says before I have a chance to think to ask. “They should give you the best chance to stay alive. Willow can help you chose your next ability once you reach level three if you like.”
Level three. I vaguely remember both Gordon the caster and Willow’s symbols mentioning something about them being level one. Likely I’m the same. I wonder what I have to do to get to higher levels, as getting more abilities does sound rather exciting.
“My scythe has a level too.” I concentrate on my pillow in hopes of seeing the letters appear above it once more, though thinking they likely wouldn’t because of its current shape.
Pillow of Kesarre – Epic item Level 1
Attack – 1
Defence – 2
Best used when lying down for naps or full rests. This item also has the light scent of mint to help lull the user to sleep.
Huh. I guess the magic level information is still there, even when it’s in this shape.
“Wait, I can attack with my pillow?”
“Never heard of a pillow fight?” Kesarre responds.
I haven’t. It seems a pointless use of such a gloriously soft and expensive item, but to each their own, I suppose.
“You’ve never once had fun in your entire life, have you?” Kesarre asks me out loud, even though he could have easily kept such an embarrassing and insulting thought to inside our minds, or better yet, to himself. I glance at Willow to see if she’s giving me a look of pity, but she’s moved to sit on my stool with her eyes flicking around as though she’s also reading invisible glowing symbols. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that changes. And you’ll learn more about your powers and weapon later. Right now, we should probably leave. The amount of energy I used to rebuild this place has attracted some attention, and we have about thirty seconds before the building explodes again.”
“Again?” Willow whispers.
I look around as though the attackers might be hiding in my tiny room somewhere, but as I glance around, the walls shift from cracked grey plaster and stone to a mix of brightly colored fabrics of every imaginable pattern. Surrounding us are carpets and tents and flags and open air. The sun shines bright and much higher than it should be currently.
“Wasn’t it evening a minute ago?” Willow asks as she rises from my stool that somehow made the transition with us.
I grab for the stool, a little afraid of it getting snatched up by some thief, but then look around at all the wonderous, much better built items around. We’re clearly not in Vassraly anymore and nowhere near my home. Whatever city we’re in clearly doesn’t have as much of a thief problem as home, or else they wouldn’t have so many items out for sale in the open like this. In comparison to some of the finely carved furniture I see in a tent only a few feet away, my stool looks like trash. A touch of embarrassment fills me, causing me to step away and leave the stool behind.
‘You better replace it with something better,’ I warn Kesarre.
He winks but doesn’t answer, which makes me think he’s going to do no such thing. Even so, I leave the stool alone. Whatever has happened to my life today, I know I don’t want to walk around a strange town with both a stool and a pillow. That would likely get too many odd looks.
“I figure we need to get you both better outfits for fighting.” Kesarre gestures to the surrounding merchant tables with every item imaginable, and some I’ve never even heard of before, laid out for sale. “And where better to find everything that you need than at Lostrian Bazaar? Much better than that waste pile of a town you two called home. Here we can find suitable outfits so you aren’t walking around embarrassing me with those rags any longer.”
“Anything else you want to insult us about?” I ask. “I’m sure you must have missed something in there, but I can’t imagine what.”
“You’re going to buy us new clothes?”
If Willow’s insulted, she hides it well behind her saucer eyes as she stares up at Kesarre as though he’s just offered her a throne of gold. Not that the prospect of wearing something besides a much darned dress doesn’t appeal to me, I just wasn’t sure awe was the right reaction to what he just said.
“Buy. Right.” He looks around at the crowd gathered between the tables, catching the eye of the nearest merchant who’s listening to our conversation with a skeptical expression. “I suppose one needs money to be able to purchase items, and I suppose neither of you have any.”
“Why don’t you just change our clothes as you did my pillow, if you find our outfits unpleasant?”
It seems so obvious to me I can’t believe he hasn’t thought of it himself. But, from the face he pulls, it seems he’s going to make up some excuse about it being too difficult for him or pretend to pass out again.
“It would only be an excuse if it wasn’t true,” Kesarre answers my thoughts out loud. “It was a small miracle I had enough energy to change your pillow, and as a lesser god, I’m only afforded those once every few decades. If you want me to give you epic gear to match your weapon, you will need to find me loyal followers who will grant me their energy.”
“So,” Willow’s shoulders drop, “no new clothes?”
At least he has the decency to wince at her disappointment. His eyes dart around the area as though looking for a distraction and once again lands on the merchant who’s now sneering at our god. Kesarre winces again before turning back to us.
“I think this is an excellent opportunity to test out your new powers,” he says too cheerfully. It’s the same tone I use when trying to sell an overly expensive candle to a customer I know doesn’t want the damned thing. “Find someone who needs your help and then give it to them. For a price of course. Once you get the money, you can purchase whatever you might like for the next leg of your journey.”
“That’s a terrible plan,” I say at the same time as Willow dutifully asks, “What
sort of service should we offer?”
“I’m sure you can think of something.” Kesarre pats Willow’s shoulder and gives her an alarmingly charming smile. “You are very clever.”
“You’re not going to help, are you?”
He turns to me with the same smile, but now that it’s directed at me, I can see through the charm to the uncomfortable twitch beneath.
“As a god, I’m forbidden from meddling in the affairs of mortals.”
“Is that why you meddled in our affairs to bring us here?”
“Good luck,” he says with a final pat to Willow’s shoulder. He doesn’t dare touch me since he can hear the stream of curse words and threats I’m throwing at him in my mind. If there were any pointy objects around beyond the scythe-pillow in my hands, I would stab him with it repeatedly. “I’ll see you both again soon. Bye.”
And he’s gone. Leaving us alone in an unfamiliar city with nothing but what we happen to be wearing and holding when he stole us away from our homes. I’m going to murder him the next time I see him, patron god or not.
“I can’t believe he trusted us to this task on our own.”
Willow’s still staring starry-eyed at the spot Kesarre vanished from.
“Gods.” The merchant spits on the ground next to him, instantly making me like him a whole lot more.
“Tell me about it.” I carefully watch his reaction to see if his dislike extends toward us for travelling with Kesarre and am pleased when he nods at me in solidarity.
“Meddling when you ain’t got no need for them and gone when you do.”
He spits again and I ignore the unpleasant globs on the dry dirt road as I cautiously approach his table. I have to be careful what I say. I don’t want the next one to land on me.
“I don’t suppose you could help us out?” I ask.
“You ain’t getting no free stuff from me, just ‘cause you traverse with one of his kind. Go find one of those priestly types if you’re looking for charity.”
“No, of course, we wouldn’t ask anything of the sort.” As I talk, Willow edges closer to me, keeping me between herself and the merchant as though she plans to use me as a shield against the spit. “I only hoped you might be able to guide us toward someone able to use our help for a small fee?”
