The Game of the Gods

by C G Gaudet

  Anger swells within me, pushing away my fears. I will make her remember me. She might be stronger, she might be armed, but I’m not going to let her forget this fight, especially if it's going to be my last as a champion.

  I start with a dash attack, attempting to punch her in that bland face of hers, but she moves faster. Her blade slides across my chest and she’s out of reach again within a blink.

  Damage - 2

  Health - 6

  I don’t think she’s even trying to kill me. She’s playing with me at this point. She doesn’t even see me as an opponent worthy of destroying. Like a cat with a mouse.

  My eyes slip past her for a quick second as a flash of lightning strikes above the illusion hiding the colosseum. She turns without worry I might take advantage of her lack of attention and laughs mirthlessly as another burst lights up the sky. I should go for her throat. Strangle her while her back is turned. Though that didn’t end well when I tried to fight against the knight.

  “Are you hoping your friends will save you?” She turns back to me and I realize I missed my chance. “Can’t do anything without them by your side? That’s adorable. A reaper who can’t fight.”

  She dips into a crouch and I instinctively know she’s done playing. I’m sure with her skills she can probably take me out with one well aimed attack.

  “You’re one to talk.” I throw the words at her, desperate for anything to make her so much as hesitate a moment longer. “Your goddess hands all of her champions their strength. None of you actually earn your levels. You’re just her puppets.”

  She hisses as she attacks, but this time I’m able to predict her movement. Her anger has made her hesitate just enough to give me the time to shadow walk to one of the nearby buildings. Since she’s already in the middle of an attack, she’s not able to block me. Now that I’m out of her reach, I’m able to keep one step ahead of her as she attempts to shadow walk to my side, always missing me by mere inches as she tries to catch up.

  “I’ve worked for this power,” she screams while I once again step out of her reach. “I’ve earned every attack, every health point, every bit of damage I am able to do. And what about you? Your god is nobody.” I use dash attack to mix things up a bit, making her stumble over her own feet as she expects me to shadow walk further away. “He’s a blip within the system. Barely a god at all. No one will mourn him when he’s wiped out of existence.”

  She must catch my glance in the direction of my next shadow walk, because she manages to get there before me. That moment the world sharpens into focus. Her blade is already in my shoulder.

  Damage - 4

  Health - 2

  I try to use quick step to get out of her reach, but she moves for a final block. My heel catches on a pipe attached to the building we’re within the shadows of, and I let myself fall. The drop breaks my movement and interrupts her attack. Her blade shimmers as she shifts its trajectory toward my heart.

  “Congratulations on making your god a little weaker.”

  I grab the pipe, ripping it from the building with all my strength. It’s the sort of pipe that guides rainwater away from the building and it detaches from the main duct leading up the side of the house easily, giving me a six foot long weapon only slightly thicker and quite a bit heavier than my scythe. I smash the metal down on her head, and she staggers from the surprise attack.

  Quick step has me on my feet in an instant, and I smash her again with the pole before she can twist to block me. The heavy metal slams against her hand, knocking one of her blades to the ground. She stumbles forward to try to grab it, clearly forgetting she has another blade in her other hand.

  “His name is Kesarre.” I knock the pole against the back of her head and she drops to her knees. “And I will never make him weak.”

  I hit her square in the spine, knocking her against the ground.

  “And my name is Jenny.” I lift the pole above my head to use the momentum to slam the thing through her back. “Try not to forget it in your next life.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Tripping Over the Finish Line

  Steel meets cobblestone with such force that the pole cracks under the pressure. I look around to every shadow in view to see where Heather moved to, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I lift my makeshift weapon out in front of me and wait for her inevitable attack. It doesn’t come.

  A few minutes pass as I labor to breathe through the pain coursing through my body. When she still doesn’t show up, I risk leaning over to grab her fallen blade, expecting that to be my fatal move. Still no attack.

  She ran away. I can’t believe I made her run.

  A shocked laugh pushes through my lips, making me sound more crazed than happy.

  A crack of thunder reminds me of the danger the others are in. I must hurry. I shadow walk my way to the foot of the statue, and stumble into the stone foot, using her big toe to catch myself before I fall on my face.

  I quickly take a couple of breaths to shove down the pain and steady myself. I crane my neck to try to see the top of the statue, but it’s impossible from this angle. It’s too large. Though I do notice a wide crack in the stone I’m sure wasn’t there a few hours ago. Freddie must have been right about how breaking the small version would also damage this one.

  Even with the crack wide enough for my entire body to fit within, the statue stands strong. It's the thickness of an entire building with solid stone all the way through. Even if I still had my scythe with no magic protecting the statue, I can't imagine I could bring this thing down. It's not possible.

  The others are counting on me. If they've managed to survive this long, and I need to assume they have, then they’re likely overwhelmed by the goddess' champions by now, if not the goddess herself. The only hope they have is if our gods come answer our prayers.

  With no other ideas coming to me, I reach inside the crack and smash Heather’s dagger down as far into the middle of the statue as I can.

  If I thought the insides might be softer than the outside, I was sorely mistaken. The blade shatters on impact causing my entire arm to shudder so hard I'm sure my bones are going to break the same as the blade.

  There's no way I can take out even a chip of this thing let alone bring it to the ground.

  I step back and rub my arm, ready to collapse on the ground from exhaustion and defeat. It would have been better if Heather had taken me out. The small bubble of hope I had from my partial victory makes this defeat all that much harder.

  “Hideous thing, isn't it?”

  I slowly look over to the speaker, my tired mind both recognising the voice and not quite knowing where I’ve heard it before. Jameson stands next to me wearing a set of fine robes of bright reds and blues with gold threads embroidered on the wide sleeves. There's not a single hair on his head out of place and he looks like he's had a long bath and perhaps even a bit of a rest while we were fighting for our lives. Though there are hints of darkness under his eyes to show he hasn't fully caught up on his sleep, so I suppose there’s that.

  “Where have you been?” I demand.

  He looks at me as though he’s shocked by my anger and can't understand why I might be annoyed at him.

  “Shopping,” he says as though it’s the only logical answer possible.

  He opens his robe slightly, revealing an even finer silk shirt beneath, as well as a slew of pockets and pouches sewn into the inside of his robe. Taking a large vial from one of the pouches, he carefully holds it away from his body as he steps closer to the crack of the statue. He pops out the cork from the top and is about to dump the contents onto the stone when he stops and turns to me.

  “You should take a few steps back.”

  He waits for me to oblige, which I do after only a second’s hesitation. If he's being cautious, I can only guess how dangerous this concoction must be.

  The liquid pours onto the raw stone of the statue and starts to bubble. The bubbles hiss and pop as Jameson moves several feet further bac
k than me. I follow, though I keep an eye on the place where the liquid was spilled, trying to figure out what he’s done.

  The bubbling turns to fizzing, and the stone melts into a dark liquid that pools into the crevasse of the toes. There it begins eating away at the base of the statue. As the stone melts, a screeching sound comes from high above.

  I look up in time to see the statue twist as though it’s come alive and is preparing an attack. But no, it's not living. The enormous statue, the height of six building stacked on top of each other, is falling. When I turn to ask Jameson if this is supposed to happen, he's already running away. Not even a warning to me, though maybe I should have known when he told me to step back.

  I race after him as best I can after all I’ve been through, but a hand falls from the sky, blocking the alley he just escaped through. I narrowly miss being crushed by the wrist and arm by forcing my way through an unlocked door into a dark building. As I raced through what appears to be an abandoned shop, I feel a strange sense of relief there’s no one inside to get crushed. What do I care if these people get hurt? This city is full of people who stole our money and tried to kill us. A small voice within me reminds me they were being manipulated and this shop could just as easily have been the candle shop while I was working. All I wanted to do was earn enough to buy a pillow and then Wham!

  A stone smashes into the building, punching a hole through the roof and crushing the wide display window into a gaping hole, which I use to launch myself into the street.

  It wouldn't have been fair if I was working in that building as it was flattened around me without any warning, just as it's not fair to the owner of this place or any of those caught up in this mess.

  I wonder if Kasarre will be able to fix any of the damage like he did with my home.

  I don't make it far out of the building before my path is blocked by the goddess’ head. It teeters on its side for a moment, the broken remains of its long hair keeping it from rolling on top of me. One side of its face has broken off from the impact while the single eye that remains stares directly at me, judging my very existence and finding me wanting. I turn to run in the opposite direction only to face the full, glowing figure of the goddess Olerra. She grabs me by my throat and lifts me from the ground.

  “What have you done?”

  She's not paying attention to me. If she was, I'm sure I'd already be dead. As it is, I can't breathe and I’m sure I’m going to die at any moment.

  The goddess stares at the ruins of her precious statue, her eyes twitching between the scattered pieces. I kick my feet trying to find a purchase, but there's nothing. My sight grows dark as I’m slowly choking to death.

  Damage – 1

  Health – 1

  “You think you can interfere in the affairs of gods?” She brings me up to her face as she peers at me with a disgusted look. “You are a mere mortal. Nothing. I am a goddess.”

  “A mortal…who destroyed…your statue.”

  No point in staying silent if she’s going to kill me either way. At least I can let her know she was out maneuvered by a bunch of low-level champions.

  “This is nothing. Everything you've done today is futile.” The goddess' laugh is high pitched with a touch of hysteria. “You've done me a favour. I've grown bored with this town. It’s time to move my true plan forward and end these games once and for all.”

  “You’ll never defeat the other gods,” I say. “They’ll stop you.”

  “You underestimate me,” she says. “Your mortal mind lacks the imagination, so allow me to show you what I’m capable of.”

  She brings me close to her eye where I see a version of herself that appears to be a moving illustration painted in gold. Another woman stands before her that looks both familiar and completely unknown to me. She has no face and is painted the same gold as Olerra, making it impossible to guess who she could be.

  The image in her eye shifts to show Olerra stabbing the other goddess through with a golden sword. The goddess falls and the scene shifts to show a man kneeling over the body of the fallen goddess. This one I recognize instantly, even with his face obscured in gold. Kessare gently strokes the face of the fallen goddess and I’m overwhelmed by sorrow. I try to reach out to touch Kessare and somehow comfort him, but the image is gone and I’m back to staring at Olerra.

  “Yes, I’ve killed before, and I’ll do it again,” Olerra says. “The best part is, once I’ve done the deed, no one remembers the god who died. They’re wiped from existence. Even their most devout followers forget them. If you don’t believe me, ask your deity. Not that he can remember any more than the others.”

  My eyes are full of tears and I scratch at the hand holding my throat, desperate to find a way to break free. How could she do this to Kesarre? How could she hurt my god in such a way?

  “I remember,” Kesarre says.

  His voice is thunder and fire and makes my body go cold. I watch as he gestures for the fabric at my belt and pulls it toward him. It forms into a scythe three times larger than when I wield it, and fits within his hand perfectly. In one swing, before Olerra has the chance to turn to face the god of balance, he cuts her through with the blade.

  She shudders for a moment, her mouth stretched in a strange smile, and then her top half slides to the side and starts to tumble, a bloody version of her statue.

  I’m still gripped in her hand as she falls, and I try to reach for Kessare. He’s my only hope for survival.

  He meets my gaze, and my body aches with the sadness I see in his eyes, but he makes no move to help.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jenny,’ echoes through my mind as the final lights flash before my eyes.

  Damage – 3

  Health – 0

  You have died.

  Epilogue

  I'm about to lock up the candle store for the night when the shop owner calls to me from the back room.

  “Will you be in tomorrow?” he says in a patronizing voice that makes me want to punch him in the face.

  Luckily, he can’t see me, so I’m free to roll my eyes without worry of getting fired. He's been saying the same thing for the two weeks since I woke up to find myself in my own bed, not sure if my dream of being a champion to a god was real or imagined.

  “Or are you going to take off for a few days and make up excuses about fighting gods again?”

  He chuckles to himself as I give a single “ha!” in response before walking out the door. I should never have said anything to him, but I had to explain why I didn’t have my uniform anymore since it was destroyed by Jameson, and it didn’t occur to me until too late that I should lie.

  The streets of Vassraly are the same as ever. Mundane people going about their mundane lives. Not a one of them aware of the games the gods are playing in other towns.

  I pass a small wagon with a merchant stopped to pedal his wares to a young couple. The woman stares at the carved wooden trinkets with fascination while the male stands a step back with his arms crossed, eyeing the items with a healthy dose of skepticism.

  “Each pendant has the blessing of the gods themselves within the grains,” I catch the merchant saying. “Wearing one will not only show off your dedication to your favorite deity but will imbue with you with the qualities they represent.”

  “Unlikely,” the man says while his partner gasps with excitement. “Half of these symbols aren't even real. Like this one.” He lifts a pendant slightly smaller than the palm of my hand and I catch sight of a carved scythe over a field of cotton. “What's this supposed to be? The god of the harvest’s symbol is a sickle over wheat, not whatever this is.”

  “That's the god of balance,” the merchant says without any sign of annoyance at the man’s dismissive tone. “Many don't recognise his symbol as he has no temples, but for those who wish to bring balance to their life, they would do well to pray to the god Kessare.”

  The man scoffs and tosses the pendant onto the cart unceremoniously. The moment it tumbles over the other pendants, kn
ocking them askew, the merchant scrambles to reorder his collection. The first sign he might be frustrated by the man.

  “How much?” I ask.

  The merchant’s face lights up as he sees me approach, though his hands don't stop fiddling with the pendants.

  “You're interested in an item of protection?” he asks. “Or perhaps the deity of love is your desire.”

  “Kessare’s pendant.”

  His eyes widen at my words, but his smile doesn't fade. He gives a quick glance to the couple as though to say “See? It is a real symbol and people are interested.”

  “Three coppers,” he says. “As you can see a bargain for the artistry itself, let alone the imbued energies-”

  “I'll take it,” I say before he can launch into his spiel.

  I hand him the coins, my entire day's wage, quickly before I question my sanity. I doubt any amount of magic has been placed in the pendant, and I could have carved such a primitive piece myself, but I feel the need to hold the symbol in my hand. As soon as I touch the wood, a sense of ease fills me.

  Kessare hasn't spoken to me since he killed the goddess, not that I expected anything different. He let me die.

  Yet, I’m not mad at him. Not even when I first woke up and realized what had happened. What I saw in the goddess’ eye and the sadness I felt from him told me there was something much bigger going on than my silly little life.

  As I walk away, I hear the woman ask for one of Kessare’s pendants and a small smile spreads across my face. I wonder if he got a little taller from that purchase.

  When I pass the spot where I first met Kessare, the pendant slips from my hand and lands with a plop onto the mud. I quickly pick it up and start to rub off the layer of filth when I notice a partially carved image in the back of the wood. It’s as though someone started to design a second image but forgot what they were doing part way through.