Consciousness returned slowly to Kyran. That was a weird dream, he thought, disconcerted. It had been so vivid. The mugging, the woman Sara, his ill-conceived rescue attempt, falling off the bridge. He wondered what had–
Raised voices interrupted his thoughts. Kyran opened his eyes and… speechless, could only stare. It had not been a dream, or if it had, he was still in it. He remained disembodied. He was dead. It was the only explanation. Despair and rage engulfed him. His life had been cut short just when he had been on the cusp of something better. For all the hardship of his daily life, it had contained joy and pleasure too. He would never again see Terry and old man Jonas, who had plucked him from the streets and given him a home. Remorse gripped him as well, for not being able to save Sara and perhaps even contributing to her demise. If only he had ignored her screams, or if he had not startled her attackers, or if he had somehow anchored himself, they both might still be alive.
Rationally he understood the futility of such regrets. Time marched ever onwards. There were no do overs in life but his guilt at his own ineptness plagued him. Wise to the ways of despair, he shook himself free from his dark musings and dragged his mind back to the here and now. He looked around anew at the floor and walls.
Floor and walls, he thought, bewildered. He was no longer under the bridge. Vaguely he recalled being pulled elsewhere by… some alien force. If his recollection was to be trusted, he was no longer on earth, or even within the Sol system, but somewhere far, far away. This does not look like heaven or hell or even purgatory, he thought morosely.
He was in a large chamber with marble walls and floors. The room was bare and had neither doors nor windows. What room doesn’t have doors and windows? he wondered. A prison, he answered himself gloomily. There was no apparent light source, yet he could see well enough. Next to him was Sara, still grasping his hands. She gazed fearfully at the far end of the chamber.
Kyran turned and followed her gaze. At the end of the chamber, on a raised dais stood two… entities. He did not know how else to describe them. While both were humanoid, there was something not quite right about them. It’s their size, Kyran realised. Both figures were over six metres tall, more than three times Kyran’s own height. One of the figures was female and strikingly beautiful, but in an otherworldly fashion. Her eyes, while wide and round, slanted distinctly upwards. Her ears were long, narrowed to a point and peaked out from beneath long, snow-white hair. Her body was lithe, willowy, and fully concealed by flowing white robes. She looks almost elven, Kyran thought disbelievingly.
The other figure was no less disturbing. He could have passed as a human male and had all the typical features you would expect from one, except for his skin, which had a metallic bronze sheen to it. On closer inspection, Kyran noticed that his face was strangely devoid of any expression, as if he had no facial muscles. He was dressed in dark nondescript clothes with a heavy black cloak around his shoulders.
“I repeat Overseer, this is simply not possible!” thundered the woman. Her voice reverberated in his mind. Kyran trembled uncontrollably as his very being shook with her ire. Her voice, he realised, had emanated from within his mind – telepathically.
“And yet Divine Iyra, it is self-evidently so,” said the Overseer seemingly unperturbed, in a toneless, mechanical voice.
Divine? Overseer? What are these beings and where am I? wondered Kyran.
Iyra stared at the two spirits before her and said waspishly, “Of course! There are two spirits here, but why did I not sense him before?” She fell silent, and her face grew thoughtful as she contemplated this.
Sensing an opportunity to rectify his ignorance, Kyran attempted to voice a question but found that he could not. He tried to force the words out of his mouth – to no effect. He tried again, this time attempting to project the words as the entities in front of him appeared to be doing – again to no effect. It appears I am only here to listen.
Iyra continued her musings. She appeared in no rush. The Overseer remained still and waited patiently upon her. Finally she said, “There is only one possibility that may explain these circumstances but the probability is so infinitesimally small as to be non-existent, yet it must be considered.” Sighing, she slowly closed her eyes. She held this pose for a few seconds, then opened them with a frown. “It appears I was correct.” Turing to the Overseer, she asked, “Tell me Overseer, does he possess the divine spark?”
The Overseer turned slowly to face Kyran and stared fixedly into his eyes. Kyran tried to escape his probing gaze but found himself unable to move or even close his eyes. “You are of course aware, Divine Iyra, that the Rules forbid me from revealing the inner nature of a being to others, but considering this moment’s exceptional circumstances, and seeing as how you have already guessed this aspect of his nature, the limited discretion I am permitted allows me to confirm your guess. You are correct. He has no divine spark.” Divine spark? thought Kyran perplexedly. He was at a complete loss as to what was going on. Frighteningly, he also appeared to be at the mercy of these beings, and was neither able to move or speak in his defence.
Iyra nodded thoughtfully, “That explains it then.” She frowned and stared hard and probingly into Kyran’s eyes. “He was likely in physical contact with the candidate when the summoning began.” She looked down at their still intertwined hands, “Their spirits remain connected as well. That explains how he safely navigated the portal.” She shook her head ruefully and staring directly at Kyran said, “Even I, little human, can barely fathom the chain of events that brought you here. What should I make of you, I wonder?” She stared expectedly at Kyran, who could only look back mutely.
Finally, she turned back to the Overseer. “So, Overseer, what now? This is unprecedented. What do the Rules dictate?” she asked, somewhat bitterly.
The Overseer replied slowly, “You are correct Divine Iyra, this is a unique occurrence within the history of the Game. The God Council must be convened and the aberrant spirit presented.”
Iyra’s mouth twisted sourly, in dislike but obvious acceptance of the Overseer’s conclusion. “So be it.” Looking at Sara, she said, “The candidate shall remain here.” Turning to Kyran she added, “Good luck little human, I fear you shall need it.”
The God Council
In the beginning, there were no Gods. But over the eons, as divine essence was unconsciously channelled by billions of divine sparks into a common set of beliefs, entities that exemplified these beliefs formed. Over time they evolved and became self-aware. Today, we call them Gods. It has been theorised (though not proven) that to survive each God requires a continuous supply of divine essence. The Gods, understandably, have remained silent on this subject – from the writings of Archmage Telthamos, from the world of Zoti.
Kyran’s thoughts were a jumbled mess. He tried to make sense of what he had heard. Sara was obviously the candidate, and he the ‘aberrant spirit’, but what was the divine spark, the game and the rules? And equally important, what were Iyra and the Overseer? Certainly not human. Iyra in particular had a disturbingly forceful presence, almost as if she really were divine… was she a god? No, that did not make any sense, she-
Kyran was interrupted from further speculation as he was abruptly wrenched elsewhere. The transition was instantaneous. He found himself in a dome-shaped hall that had, as its focal point, an enormous round table surrounded by twelve crystal thrones. The chamber was completely utilitarian, free of any embellishments, and the table was constructed from the same marble as the room itself.
Kyran and the Overseer were in the centre of the room, on top of the table. Enthroned around them were eleven giant entities, one of whom was Iyra. One seat stood vacant. Surrounded, and with the Overseer standing guard besides him, Kyran felt himself, a prisoner presented for judgement – for what crime he knew not. Only the cuffs are missing, he thought darkly, then this picture would be complete.
“Overseer, why have you called us to council?” The speaker was a large entity that look
ed to be some sort of humanoid lizard. He was covered in scarlet scales and had taloned hands. His eyes were yellow orbs with slitted black pupils. His nose and mouth merged into a snout filled with razor teeth. His voice, when he spoke, came out a sibilant hiss. He was dressed in plate armour, with the hilt of a sword protruding over his shoulders. This gets stranger and stranger, thought Kyran. First an elf and automaton, now some sort of lizardman? Kyran stopped trying to make sense of it all. Clearly none of this fit his worldview. He would observe for now and figure out the rest later. If there is a later, he thought morbidly.
“Divine Balkar, I have convened the council to determine how to deal with an aberrant spirit that has entered Myelad.”
Balkar fixed Kyran with his draconian gaze. “This one?” he asked.
Before the Overseer could respond another voice interrupted, oozing boredom, “Destroy him and be done with it.”
This speaker was equally fascinating and disturbing. Her features were similar to Iyra's, but had a malevolent undertone. Her hair was dark and lustrous. Her lips were blood-red, and her skin, winter grey. She possessed a seductive, deadly grace and was dressed to match in polished black leather.
“The rules forbid me from harming any spirit Divine Succera,” said the Overseer, as tonelessly as ever.
“Bah! Get Kharmadon to do it then,” she said. Kyran did not like the direction the conversation was taking. Destroy him? What did she mean, was he not dead already?
“As you are aware Divine Succera, the rules preclude the gods from doing so either,” said the Overseer, with just a hint of exasperation. Kyran exhaled in relief on hearing this. Dead or not, he preferred not to be ‘destroyed’.
“I am more curious as to how this spirit managed to enter Myelad in the first place,” said another. Kyran dearly liked to know exactly that as well. He had done nothing but try to save a young woman – albeit somewhat disastrously.
“Divine Iyra was summoning a candidate when –” the Overseer began, but was interrupted once more.
“Iyra! This is her fault then, make her pay the penalty!” This, from an ugly green-skinned monster with beady eyes and protruding horns. He was covered with an assortment of mismatched armour and yellow spittle sprayed liberally as he spoke.
“Divine Xetil, there is no penalty –”
Once again, the Overseer was interrupted. “Hold your tongue Xetil, you old goat. I am not to blame here,” declared Iyra.
“Enough!” shouted a gigantic figure who thus far, had been brooding silently. Even seated, he towered over the others. He had wild brown hair, shaggy eyebrows, gleaming fangs, and a nose squashed flat. A fur cloak was draped over his burly shoulders. “Be silent, and let the Overseer present the case.”
And for a wonder the other gods complied until, “Of course magnificent Kharmadon, your word is our command.” This was said with a flourish and a bow from a short, rotund, genially smiling god with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Peace Lok. Never mind his manner, Kharmadon is correct. Let us hear out the Overseer,” said an elderly god with silvery hair and flowing beard. He leaned forward in anticipation and firmly clutched his gnarly wooden staff for support.
Kyran had followed this exchange in dumbstruck wonder. He had been expecting a council of beings similar in stature to Iyra, but this… this more resembled squabbling children than a council of self-proclaimed gods. While each of the entities, taken on their own, presented a forceful and commanding presence, together they appeared somewhat lesser. But whatever these beings were and wherever he was, his fate seemed to be in their hands.
“Thank you, Divine Weeran. Let me begin again. Divine Iyra was summoning a candidate when this spirit,” he said pointing towards Kyran, “intervened, undetected, and was pulled with the candidate into Myelad.”
“Undetected?” asked Weeran sharply. “How is that possible?”
“He has no divine spark,” responded the Overseer simply. At this the gods sat up and focused their attention on Kyran. He tried to stand fast but could not help but wilt in the face of their concentrated attention. Again, the mention of a ‘divine spark’. What is it? And why is it of such significance to these beings?
“Are you certain of this? After all there is no record of such a spirit before,” asked a catlike goddess swishing her tail lazily about. She had short golden fur and was clothed in a forest green tunic and leggings. Her fangs gleamed and her eyes shone emerald.
“I am certain Auriel,” replied Iyra, “I have confirmed it and so can you. Simply close your eyes and try to sense the human’s spirit.”
The gods did as asked. Most appeared unhappy with the results. The god Lok however was intrigued, and climbed onto the table for a closer look at Kyran. “Remarkable,” he said, circling Kyran in fascination. Kyran nervously tried to edge away from the mischievous god but once again found himself unable to move.
Ignoring the antics of Lok, a scarred and tattooed dwarven warrior god grunted, “Of greater import, did this spirit know what he was doing? Did he knowingly intervene in the summoning?”
“It is my assessment Divine Turon, that this spirit’s intervention was accidental. There is no indication that this spirit understood the consequence of his actions,” replied the Overseer.
“I agree,” said Iyra. Me too, added Kyran silently.
“How then are we to proceed Overseer?” asked Kharmadon.
“All free spirits that enter Myelad must be given the Choice. The rules are explicit on this. It is the only course of action allowed. What is in the hands of the council to determine is the nature of the choice presented,” said the Overseer.
“Meaning?” queried Lok, breaking off his inspection of Kyran.
“Other than Divine Iyra, who already has a candidate, there are two other Divines with openings for a new champion: Zarayla and Xetil. The rules permit for the choice to be given on their behalf.”
“No,” refused Xetil immediately. Despite the threat of destruction and even without knowing what being a ‘champion’ entailed, he could not help but be relieved that the repulsive Xetil had rejected him.
The Overseer turned to Zarayla awaiting her response. She resembled the lizard-like Balkar, except her scales were blue and her demeanour appeared gentler in nature. She was dressed in a threadbare hermit’s robe. She hesitated before responding. She looked a more palatable choice to Kyran, he felt he could live with being her champion. She asked cautiously, “Overseer, is the Pledge possible without the divine spark?”
“No, it is not Divine.”
Zarayla looked sorrowfully at Kyran and said, “Then regretfully, I must decline as well.” Uh oh, thought Kyran, worriedly. What does this mean for me now?
“So noted. There remains only one option then. This spirit will be given the choice to enter Myelad as a free agent,” said the Overseer.
“A free agent,” thundered Kharmadon, “What is that?!”
“The spirit, if he chooses to enter Myelad, will do so without a pledge of loyalty to any Divine.” The Gods were dumbstruck.
“Do the rules not preclude that?” asked an elaborately garbed blonde goddess with piercing blue eyes. Her face was covered with arcane symbols, her fingers with glittering rings, and large metal hoops dangled from each ear. She wore a hooded royal blue cloak filled with shimmering stars and in her hands, she held a slim, sapphire tipped wand that she idly played with as she spoke.
“No Divine Misteria, the rules only require a choice to be given. The rules do not forbid a spirit from entering Myelad as other than a champion.” The gods looked disturbed at this pronouncement and silence descended as they pondered this.
“The Overseer’s reading of the rules is correct,” affirmed Balkar, “the spirit must be given the choice.”
This choice, whatever it is, appears to be important, thought Kyran, and crucial to my continued existence. It had not escaped his notice that these 'gods' were not all-powerful and for all that they railed and sputtered, seemed to be constrain
ed by the 'rules'.
“The game has been played for eons, why have there be no free agents before this?” asked Auriel.
The Gods fell silent thinking on this. Eventually Weeran conjectured, “Myelad is completely sealed from the rest of the cosmos with one notable exception. This of course being the ritual of summoning, the governing rules of which are extremely specific. The ritual can only be performed to summon a candidate, and this only when one of our champions has perished. The rules preclude us from knowingly summoning more than one spirit, or presenting any other choice except the Champion’s Choice. The present situation has only arisen because this spirit has no divine spark, which meant Iyra did not detect his interference, and because he was in direct contact with the candidate during the summoning ritual. The odds of such a sequence of events occurring, even once, let alone twice are astronomical. This is not an event that could be foreseen, nor is it one likely to occur again.”
Kyran followed this with some difficulty. So, Sara was summoned here as Iyra’s candidate champion. He was an undesirable, a stowaway. But what are champions, and why do the gods need them?
“Nonetheless I mislike this entirely,” said Succera, “It has the flavour of one of Eld’s convoluted plots.” Eld, wondered Kyran, who is Eld? None of the gods had been addressed as Eld, nor did Succera appear to direct her comment at any one of them.
“I see no cause for concern,” stated Zarayla, “regardless of whether the spirit chooses to enter Myelad or not, without our champions’ abilities, he will merely be one more mortal – the same as any other on Myelad.”
“That is incorrect Divine,” said the Overseer, “the rules dictate that all free spirits entering the Game must do so as Players and on an equal footing with each other. Therefore, the spirit will be given the Player’s Mark.” The gods were disturbed anew at this and fell silent again.
Kyran found himself taking a liking to the Overseer. He looked determined to give Kyran a fair shake. Of course, a fair shake at what, I have no idea. And why is he called ‘Overseer’? Who or what does he oversee? The gods? The game? Hmm… For all his apparent subservience to the gods, perhaps the Overseer was more powerful than he seemed.
Crota Page 2