by Tam Chronin
He was so much kinder than Aral had expected. Baedrogan radiated warmth and compassion, opposite of what came to mind at the idea of death. She thought of her parents, and for the first time was comforted at the reminder of their fate. This god, this compassionate man beside her, had taken them. Even now, their souls were his. It could have been a much worse fate.
"Our creations go to your care when they die," Agruet said, eyes intense, voice low and full of emotion. "Even I don't know what will happen to us." His hands were in fists. "Aral, we need your help, and you may be the only one who can do this."
"To save your lives?" she guessed.
"No," he said. "To end them."
"Why?" Aral blinked. "How?"
"The how is the easy part," Agruet said. He batted that answer away with a flick of his hand. "The why, though... That is trickier to answer. There's a broad answer to that, but it wouldn't motivate you, only horrify you and paralyze you with fear. Unfortunately, I think you're intelligent enough to understand it if I did explain. I'm doing you a kindness by keeping it to myself. Instead, I'll share with you what your motivation will be."
"How would you know that?"
"I am the god of secrets. I know many things. You won't start a war over your life, or your brother's. It's a good catalyst, but that thought won't help you see things through. This wouldn't work if you were that sort of person, so, well done." He patted her on the head, and she ducked away. "There is a sickness of soul among the gods. All of us suffer this malady. It must be ended."
"What sort of malady?"
"I like her," Agruet turned to Baedrogan. "Don't you? So full of questions. It's like having a child. All that wonder and ignorance. Refreshing."
Baedrogan rolled his eyes. "Stop stalling. If you don't tell her, I will."
"That's no fun." Agruet frowned. "It's a malady of heart, and of mind. We're terminally bored. We've given our creations morals, and the free will to follow them or not as they decide, but we have none of that. At this rate, we'll destroy everything. This planet, each other, and perhaps all of reality."
"I doubt that," Baedrogan said.
"I said 'perhaps'. Of course, if you ask me, that's the best outcome if we maintain the status quo. We're touching on the bigger picture, however. Aral, mortals will suffer and die under our care. We are spoiled children, breaking our toys. Your brother's fate is merely a symptom of this disease. Gods don't care about the lives of their creations. We're amused by the suffering you have wrought. Our high priests and priestesses are usually among the vilest, most corrupt, and most power-hungry representatives of their species that could crawl their way through the filth to serve us, and it makes us laugh."
"I don't laugh," Baedrogan said with a pained expression. He stood, and turned his back on them.
"This will be easier if she can hate us all."
"Right. Sorry." Baedrogan turned his eyes on Aral once again. "If you found out that we, the lot of us, really do not care one way or the other if your brother died, how would that make you feel?" His expression was earnest, sincere, and as serious as the grave.
"Would it make you want revenge?" Agruet added.
"Of course!"
"Then seek it," Agruet said, voice intense. "It is the truth that we do not care."
Aral straightened, looked at them in confusion. The laces of her boots were as tight as they were going to get at this point. She was finished with getting dressed, but far from finished with this conversation.
"Why are you telling me this if you don't care? Why should I do what you want of me?"
Baedrogan shifted his balance from one foot to another and looked away. "I am more used to honesty than subterfuge. I'll explain. Aral, some gods are what you would consider decent. We don’t hurt others for the simple pleasure of seeing them suffer. In fact, I hate suffering. It is why I took on the mantle of death. Somewhere along the line, there must be an end." He paused and took a deep breath, then turned to look her directly in the eyes. "Others of us see no point in adhering to a morality we instilled in our creations. There is no one to hold us accountable, when we created morality simply to keep our creations in line. Well, some of us had other motivations. Watching them squirm as they were put in impossible situations trying to live up to our rules and codes. It amazes me that some of our creatures still try."
"We cannot be redeemed," Agruet said softly. "If there are no consequences for our own actions, why should we care? Why should we stop? It makes me wonder why we bothered creating this world to begin with. Don’t think that I’m coming to you from a righteous standpoint to condemn my entire family for doing whatever we wish. I’ll let Baedrogan have his illusion of justice and doing what’s right. I just know that you’ll agree with him, and you’ll do what I tell you because of it."
Aral had heard enough. "What sort of army will I need?"
"Mages are the most important," Baedrogan said. "You can't just concentrate on them, however. Your force will need to be big, because whatever you gather the other gods will at least double. Gaining numbers shouldn't be a problem, since your brother is the least of the victims of our brutality. Find some number of mages who are strong. Mages you can trust with not just your life, but with the fate of the world. The strongest mages will eventually need to know that you plan on killing the gods. You'll need them, because you can't do it on your own. As for the unwashed masses, well, they just need to be willing to die for the idea of a better world."
Aral nodded.
"We’ll tell you what you need to know as you need to know it," Agruet said. "For now, you need to hurry to Hodarian’s Bay. Raev Madri is waiting for you and Byrek."
Agruet leaned in uncomfortably close. "You want to do this. I can hear it, whispering in your ear. It’s the only way you’ll save your brother. It’s the only way you’ll save yourself. And, bonus, you get to do some real good for the world. Doesn’t that feel good?"
"I’d feel better if none of this were necessary," Aral said.
"So would we all," he said calmly, placing a hand on her shoulder, looking momentarily as if he had great respect for her and was looking at her as an equal. "The future awaits, such as it is."
The two gods disappeared and left Aral behind to mull over what they said and all the repercussions.
"Here. A letter."
Davri looked up from his book, startled to find the creased sheets of paper thrust inches from his face.
No envelope. No seal.
He looked at Deeg. Scowled.
"You've read it," he accused the dwarf.
"I've also let you know I've read it. Handing it to you loose isn't exactly subtle."
Davri had no reply to that. He grabbed the letter and skimmed over the opening. He didn't need to read it in depth. The underground darkness brought more visions than he was used to. He might as well call himself an oracle now instead of a mage.
Like his mother.
The letter recounted Aral's efforts, her mistake, her flight. The teleportation was remarkable to have confirmed, since Davri had doubted the truth of the vision he'd had about it. Conventional wisdom said mortals couldn't teleport. Her unconscious and weakened state indicated that it wasn't a viable method of travel, but it was possible. Dernad's miracle recreated in modern times.
What happened wasn't important to Davri.
It was a letter from Byrek. He lived for these interludes. For the final paragraphs...
"It feels empty and weak to say these words in a letter when I was never able to say them to your face. I live to see you once again. You became my light, my hope, my reason for being. No human has ever touched me this way before. Be safe. Be careful.
"Arlanz directed us to his cousin, Raev, in Hodaraian's Bay. Your grandfather agrees that this is a good plan. Your family and the Madri family must have been close indeed.
"I will write more when we arrive. I count the days until you are again by my side.
"Yours Evermore,
"Byrek Arsat"
&nb
sp; Davri's heart ached. For one moment he wanted to rush to meet them. It was foolish, he knew. The dwarves wouldn't let them leave so casually. Not yet.
Once they did leave, there would be more work to do. Allies to gather. Contacts to make. Stories to spread.
Davri snapped his book shut. "You read the personal parts, too. Not just the recounting of events."
"No other eyes fell upon it." Deeg's voice was calm, even. "We're still assessing your threat to our community, and our secrets."
Good reasons, but it still didn't sit well with Davri. Damn it, those things were meant for his eyes only. Shouldn't words of love be intimate, and not privy to prying eyes?
Deeg pulled a chair up to the table Davri sat at. He settled in and leaned close. "It's my job to know things, and to figure out how they serve our people. To me, it's irrelevant noise, and I'd have forgotten it quickly as something more important came along. It stands out to me now because you're an unknown, and because the name of Byrek Arsat is not unknown. He's a legend, even below the earth."
"Is that why you made a point to let me know that you'd seen it?"
"Yes." Deeg's eyes were intense, wide, and steady as he continued. "It means something that an elf like him, a mage like him, would be in love with you. Someone like him wouldn't say such things to a common brigand. You're a person of note, in your own right, or he wouldn't have given you a second look."
All true, or at least flattering enough that Davri accepted it. "He was my teacher, and mentor. I've been trying to seduce him for years, but he was too circumspect to risk abusing his position, or to seem to. Apparently absence has made his heart fonder of me."
"It happens sometimes." Deeg leaned back, thinking. "You do know that love between a human and an elf is always a tragic tale?"
"I know," Davri said, head bowed. "I love who I love. It can't be helped."
Silence passed between them for many moments.
Deeg cleared his throat and stood. "You have many things in your favor, human. I'm beginning to think our run in on the surface was an actual misunderstanding. However, before we turn you loose, I have some favors to ask. If you do them, you'd be a hero among our kind."
Just like the vision he'd had the night before. They would be easy tasks, but they would occupy him and Naran over the winter, at the very least.
It had to be done. He felt like a puppet on Agruet's strings, but he knew what had to be done.
"I wanted to show you," Raev said in a hushed tone. "We had this plant brought with the last caravan, and the leaves are spectacular."
Master Gethralo leaned in to take a closer look. "What a beautiful specimen. I’ve never seen such a perfect example of the golden shimmer in the leaves. How did they transport it without damage?"
Raev grinned. "My father discovered a new spell that held it in perfect state for the entire trip. I was worried about shock from a change in elevation and humidity, but they’d prepared for that before the spell was cast. It is already acclimated to this region. It was costly, but in a few months it will—"
Raev broke off as the door flew open and the bell rang. He glanced up to give a greeting, but the words froze in his mouth as he realized that these were the two he had been waiting for.
"Excuse me, sir. I must close the store for the afternoon. Something has just come up."
Master Gethralo looked at the newcomers in mild curiosity for a moment. "I’ll return in the morning. Zynth glows even brighter in early daylight." He was a good and loyal customer. One who knew when not to ask questions.
"Arlanz sent us," the human girl said softly, revealing a bit of confusion in her voice as he ushered them into the back room.
"I know," Raev said as he closed and locked even that door behind them. "That bastard of a god, Agruet, told me to expect you. He said I would know you when I saw you, and I certainly did."
The elf frowned, cocking his head to the side. "You’ve met him, then? That makes things a bit easier."
"I am Raev Madri. This is my shop, as you must know." He looked around, half expecting Agruet to appear and start making demands again, but it seemed this meeting was beneath the god. "You are welcome to stay here, as a favor to Agruet."
“I am Aral Tennival, and this is Master Byrek Arsat of the University Magica. Despite what you owe to our benefactor, I must warn you before you decide to take me in. I’ve been sentenced to death by a high priest." She raised her chin defiantly, daring Raev to pass judgment upon her.
That was, indeed, a wrinkle. Still, Anogrin was days away even by horseback. Raev considered the risk minimal. "You will find no love of those meddlers under this roof. It may be dangerous, but…I am curious to see how this great plan will unfold."
"Thank you," Aral said. She stepped forward, grasping his hands to emphasize her gratitude. "My life is in your hands."
"And I will do my best to keep you safe."
"Thank you," she repeated.
Their eyes met and held. Raev marveled at how clear her blue eyes were. They were like the sky at mid-day....
Byrek cleared his throat and the two of them stepped apart almost guiltily.
"I have rooms for you," Raev said. "They are underground, for privacy. I was expecting more people than just two, so you will have plenty of space."
Aral grinned. "That’s perfect. I’d like my brother and a friend of mine to join us as soon as possible."
Byrek finally spoke up. "Agruet has his reasons for every instruction he gives. Don't worry, the rooms will be filled in time."
"This is cause to not worry?"
"No," Byrek said. "But it's less cause to worry than the rest of what's to come."
"I'll show you to your rooms," Raev said, shoulders slouching a touch. He was afraid that the elf was right.
At least the girl was pretty, and she seemed to smile easily enough. He would not complain.
Raev showed them to the hidden passage behind and below his storage rooms. This additional area was formed and hidden by magic. It was as safe as he could make it.
Of course, with two such accomplished mages now under his roof, his meager precautions would probably be put to shame. Indeed, the two of them were already talking wards and illusions as he showed them around.
Chapter Nine –
Subterfuge and Sabotage
Davri climbed carefully, slowly, to the top of the hill.
It wasn’t steep or treacherous, though there were occasional rocky outcroppings. In fact, it was rather round and gently sloping, covered in spongy grass except for the occasional barren patches of rock. That was part of the problem, really. Gentle slopes and spongy grasses didn’t give a person much of a place to hide.
Naran crawled beside him. They were both well practiced at climbing this terrain silently, and the bed of spring grass made it much easier than any amount of snow had.
"That’s a good vantage," Davri pointed, keeping his voice to a hushed whisper.
Naran nodded, skittering over to the partial shelter of rocks. His sketch book was in a satchel that rested on is back, along with other drawing supplies. He sat, waiting. Davri was watching him, unmoving, laying in the grass and changing his cloak to blend in with the color of the grass around him. Only another mage would spot him, now.
Eventually they heard the clop of horse hooves upon the nearby road. The grinding creak and rumble of wheels joined the sound. A small procession of people traveled with them, skirting the hill. Children played, running up the slope until parents called them back.
Davri watched as Naran sprang into action, sketching furiously and glancing up and down several times to make sure he was right. They were not yet out of sight when he stopped and gave Davri a quick nod. He was done. They were free to descend, as soon as the caravan was gone. Davri slumped and closed his eyes, in weariness. They’d been doing this every day for months.
Naran slowly crept back to Davri’s side. "Greater Stonegore, this time, or I’m a drunk dwarf."
Davri chuckled slightly and
shook his head. "Don’t let our hosts hear you say that."
"Why not?" Naran tucked his sketchbook away and prepared for the slow climb back down the hill. "They say it all the time."
"It’s different when outsiders say it," Davri tried to explain. "Drunk is the greatest insult you can give a dwarf, you know. It’s saying they can’t handle their drink, and that’s an insult to their integrity and strength. So, when a dwarf says it, all they hear is the drunk part because it’s obvious that they’re dwarves. When you say it, you’re obviously not a dwarf, and things start to get touchy. Which part is the insult, since humans don’t see being drunk as all that insulting or unusual? Do you see what I mean?"
"Well, that’s not fair," Naran said, frowning. "There’s nothing wrong or insulting about being a dwarf, either. Just being a drunk dwarf. It goes against na—"
Davri clapped his hand over Naran’s mouth and pulled them both quickly back down to the ground. He covered them both with his cloak and they held perfectly still and silent for several minutes. Finally, Davri lifted his head slowly and looked around.
He’d heard something, like a rustle of leaves followed by the snap of a dry twig. He saw nothing, but he whispered a few words of magic to check the area.
A deer. It had just been a deer. The poor thing had probably been more spooked by the twig than he had been.
Davri released a slow breath in relief and they began their trek back to the tree where their dwarven friends would let them in. "The point is, while we’re their guests it’s not polite to use that phrase. It’s a little too insulting to people who are being so generous and helping us hide."
"Okay," Naran said, and the subject was dropped. They reached the tree line and the giant oak that protected and hid the entrance to the dwarven kingdom. The same one they'd set up camp beneath, months ago.
The roots of the giant tree shifted to reveal the small cave. They had to crawl to squeeze in, but as soon as the roots had returned to their place the back of the cave opened up and allowed them to enter.