Rage of the Ancient Gods

by Craig Robertson

  “You can't say no if I didn't even say what it was you're doing again!” My metaphorical blood pressure was skyrocketing.

  “Yes.”

  “Doc, can you do something about your defective toy calculator?”

  “No,” both the SOBs said in unison.

  “I am formally withdrawing my original question,” I shouted. “I no longer care or wish to know if you can see, ever saw, or still do see Casper.”

  “No,” replied Al.

  “No? Al, this is getting out of hand. No, I actually care about what I said I don't care about? Because believe me, I do not freaking care about your visual interactions with,” I held up sequential digits, “Casper, me, what I'm doing in the air in your direction, or if you can see the can of whoop ass coming your way in the immediate future.”

  “Jon, you should try and calm yourself,” soothed Toño. “This might be unhealthy for you somehow.”

  “No,” Al and I said as one.

  “No it might not be unhealthy or no, Al, you opine it is not unhealthy?” muttered a confused Toño.

  I have a new word for you morons,” menaced Sapale, which she followed with a quiet fight-growl. “Shut up. I know, that's two words, but if any of you halfwits says word one you’re going to have to start sitting down to pee. Do I make myself impossibly clear?”

  “Yes,” the three of us said as one and devoutly.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Vorc stood as close as was generally considered safe to Dominion Splitter. He was flanked by Felladonna on one side and Darduell, the trinket guy, on the other. They had stared into the slowly spinning dark vortex for several minutes.

  “Well, what do you think, Darduell?” asked Vorc, still looking forward.

  “About what, sire?”

  “The mechanical processes that translate rotation of tumblers into the movement of a slide bolt.”

  Darduell smiled, because Vorc had thrown that question directly into his wheelhouse. “It's a fascinating …”

  “The health of the vortex, you peabrain. Why would I summon you here to discuss locks?”

  “I don't rightly know. I'm … I'm fairly uncertain what my role is here, actually.”

  Vorc drew his hand back to slap the ninny upside his head.

  Felladonna gently arrested Vorc's motion and spoke. “We were hoping that as a man in possession of expertise in technical matters, you might be able to provide some insight into the state of health of DS.”

  “Ah,” he responded as he fidgeted nervously with his fob-watch chain. “And why is it you came to that flattering opinion that I might?”

  Vorc mumbled a few words even Felladonna couldn't make out.

  “Beg pardon, sire?”

  “The witch sister mentioned your name,” he said audibly.

  “Deca and Fest?” Darduell replied with obvious surprise. “One is reluctant to be thought of by those two, er, citizens. I have actually never met either lady.”

  “You are lucky, and neither is a lady. They are pond scum, wicked slime that eats away at any sound mind.”

  “You seem none the worse for wear, sire,” responded Darduell cheerily.

  “On the outside perhaps. On the inside, you are sadly mistaken. When my chief council comes from those bats, our kingdom and my brain are in a sorry state.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “Tragic, yes. Any positive modifier, no. Now, do you have any insight you can provide?” Vorc's fixation on the vortex never wavered.

  “Sadly, I'm certain I do not. I've never been this close to it before. It is an imposing sight to behold. Are you certain it does not work?”

  Vorc was stunned. The toad had a good point. Vorc assumed that the profound loss of pulsing electricity and intensity of rotation indicated DS was not functional. He did not, however, know that as a fact.

  “I'm glad I summoned you, locksmith. You have been of some assistance. You are about to be of even more.”

  As nervously as a shotgun groom, Darduell began to thank Vorc for the unsettling praise. He never actually had the chance to say word one. Vorc, physically much larger, bear-hugged Darduell, lifted him up, and cast him toward the center of DS. Kicking, screaming, and for some unfathomable reason apologizing, Darduell slipped from view into the mist. Three seconds later a red-green ooze began dripping from the bottom of DS.

  “I wonder if that's what's left of the idiot,” asked Vorc.

  “I can't say at this point, sir,” responded Felladonna respectfully.

  Then the mangled fob-watch chain clinked to the ground.

  “Now, however, I can state confidently it is, sir,” amended Felladonna.

  “Damn shame,” murmured Vorc.

  “About the lock and bauble god?”

  “Heavens no. The world’s a better place without him. No I was referring to the fact that we now know DS is not operative.” He paused a moment. “I wonder if there's anything we can do to help it heal?”

  “Yyyyyesssssssss,” hissed Dominion Splitter.

  Vorc nearly jumped out of his skin. He had no idea the infernal thing could speak. “Ah, you heard me?” he asked lamely.

  “Offfff cccccoooouuuurseeeee, ffffoooooool.”

  “Well I'll be damned,” whispered Vorc.

  “Iiiiiffff tthheeerrrreee iiiiiissssssss jjuusticcceeeeee.”

  “What can we do to help you heal?” pressed Vorc.

  “Tttwooooo ttthiiinnngggs. Onnnne, pppraaayyyyer. Twooooooo, eellleccttriccccccittttyyy. Lotttsssssss oooffff eelectriccccityyyy.”

  Vorc could easily arrange both. There were countless empty-headed Cleinoids who'd pray for just about anything. And he could get Public Works to pump as much electricity into DS as it could handle. “Consider it done, my friend.”

  “Neeeverrrrr mmyyyyyy ffriennddddd, lllooooosserrrr.”

  Vorc was so happy to have a proactive plan, he barely heard and completely compartmentalized the insult.

  Within a few hours a large generator was streaming AC current into DS's center. Along with the impressive contingent of guards there was a new and even larger group of worshipers, some of whom were volunteers. By the next morning DS was clearly on the mend. Sparks flew from his spiral arms and some of the dark gray wisps were definitely a lighter shade.

  For the first time in a long time, Vorc was pleased and confident. He greatly admired how he'd personally solved the vortex issue with only the perfunctory aid of others. That suggested his position as center seat was more secure than his informal polls had recently suggested.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  We met with Daleria for several successive evenings. Though pleasant, the sessions were fully unproductive. Aside from the snacks she brought, she could offer no significant help to our efforts to destroy DS. But then came the night she brought a huge pot of felnastop stew. If I thought the roasted version was sublime, the stew far surpassed anything similar I had ever eaten. It was thick, savory, just piquant enough, with complex ambrosial nuances and contrasting spices. It immediately went to the last-food-I'd-eat list if I knew I was dying tomorrow. The mess was absolutely silent—I could tell Sapale and Toño were experiencing the divinity of the culinary masterpiece.

  Once Daleria finished her serving, she sat back and gloated serenely. She knew the impact her dish was having on her new friends. I could tell between my wolfish bites that she was really enjoying her achievement. “I knew if you liked it roasted you’d die for the stew. It's an old family recipe of mine. Very hush-hush and all. If I ever wanted to get married, I'd serve it to my chosen victim.”

  A sentence like that was enough to get me to set my spoon down. “Cleinoids have families to have family recipes with? I haven't seen any evidence of familial interactions or unity.”

  “Maybe that's because you're not a Cleinoid,” she replied with a smirk. “Since we live forever, barring an unfortunate outside intervention, family life is less concentrated. Less intensity over a longer period equals the same amount of kinship as anywhere else. It's simple m
ath.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” commented Toño. “Too close a grouping over forever might shear family bonds.”

  “I don't think so with us Kaljaxians. Our family ties are ferociously held on to.”

  “I'm human. Toño knows about my family. He had to study it while deciding if I'd be a pilot candidate. My kin were so incompatible over generations that everyone brought an attorney to the family reunions. In fact we stopped having reunions because word spread among the legal community that the Ryans were too hard to work with, not worth it even if we overpaid them embarrassingly.”

  “Hmm,” throated Toño. “I don't recall such a detail.”

  “Hey, painful family secrets are closely guarded.”

  “I'd have loved to be a fly on the wall at one of those parties,” Sapale said with a wicked grin. “Good food and good entertainment.”

  “Nah,” I scoffed, “even bugs have stand …” I dropped my spoon. It missed the bowl and skidded across the deck.

  “What, Jon?” called out Toño, “Are you all right?”

  “Honey,” added Sapale, “can I help get you to bed?”

  I shook her off without looking over. “Nah, maybe later. For now I have a transfolding vortex to subtract from the universe.”

  “You developed a plan?” said Toño, rising in excitement.

  “I think I just did.”

  He plopped back down with a sad look on his face. “Is it a Jon Plan?”

  “You know what? I don't think it's that bad.”

  Toño stood again with a big smile. “How I've longed to hear those words.”

  “What is your plan?” asked Sapale.

  “I ask Doc one question and he responds, Yes, definitely and a lot.”

  Toño sat back down, more dejected than last time. The beaten man said with resignation, “What's your question?”

  “Can the listening bugs we distributed carry a load, however small, of neutral matter for oh say a minute?”

  His fallen face rumbled briefly. Then the right side of his lips grinned. Then he jumped to his feet and slapped his hands above his head. “Yes, by the Good Lord in Heaven, definitely and actually quite a lot.”

  “Anyone want to deal me in?” asked Casper, who of course appeared from nowhere.

  “As you may know we planted a gazillion tiny listening devices to see when and where we could intercept the shipment of neutral matter,” replied Sapale. “My husband of nothing more that moderate intelligence figured out that if we loaded them up with neutral matter, we could kill DS without anyone seeing the attack.”

  “Why did you feel the need to label his mind as merely moderate?” asked Daleria. “Personally I think it's a brilliant plan.”

  “Then you're in charge of his ever-oversizing ego. I've given all I can to that cause,” responded Sapale just before she shoveled a spoonful in her mouth.

  “So how long do you think it'll take to load the bugs?” I asked Toño.

  “Well, not too long. But it will be somewhat dangerous and extremely unpleasant.”

  “How so?”

  “If the neutral matter is exposed for more than seconds it will annihilate.”

  “And the unpleasant part?”

  “You know how we've all felt when exposed to it. In the time available I can't set up a safe way to perform the bonding without some level of direct exposure.”

  “Can't we do it, Form Three?” asked Stingray.

  “I suppose you could, couldn't you?”

  “Keep in mind we can't jeopardize our one and only ride out of here, Doc,” I mentioned.

  “I do not think there will be any risk to either Al or Blessing,” responded Toño.

  “Hey, Als, if you notice even one strange thing alert us at once. You got that?”

  “Yes, Pilot. I must report I have already noticed one strange thing.”

  “Very funny. Ha ha, Al. You noticed me, right?”

  “No, I noticed the power levels of DS have just returned to those present when the first wave of Cleinoids were able to depart.”

  “Then I'd say we're looking at an all-nighter.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  Vorc stood facing Dominion Splitter. To his back stood, flew, or slithered a most bizarre and sickening assembly not visibly smaller than the egress before. Figures that could only be dredged up from the depths of a forsaken hell held formation. Anticipation was so thick that the air was electrified. Sparks literally snapped and popped randomly. The wedge of ancient gods that flanked Vorc spread outward to infinity and never thinned. As far as my eye could see, denizens of the universe of hate, rapacious consumption, and endless antipathy abounded. All chomped at the bit to be freed, lost in a bloodlust for destruction, death, and debauchery.

  The time for the egress had come—again.

  Prime was back in their merciless reach.

  Vorc raised his arms high overhead. “Brothers and sisters, the time of our sanctification has arrived. Can you feel it?”

  The press of the concussive sound that came in response could have flattened an entire city.

  “Are you ready to be gods to the worthless and the undeserving? Are you set to level Armageddon on those whose only role in life is to suffer and to die so that we may find joy?”

  An even louder wave of sound struck Vorc's back so hard he nearly tumbled.

  “Then let it begin.” Spit rained from his lips as he howled. “The advanced reavers are already in Prime, as is Rage. The four remaining ranks of Cleinoids will follow, one at a time. Torment will depart first. Wrath second, and Fury third. Then … then all-consuming Horror will descend upon Prime, and their fate will be sealed. As is our tradition, I shall personally lead Horror. For this incursion I still plan on having Bethniak stand at my side. She will be the Right Hand of the Gods.”

  Mad hoots and cheers punished the atmosphere. Foul smoke rose from all manner of things burned by dragon fire or electric bolts fired in joyous lust. Mayhem was grading into chaos and everyone was enjoying the sense of rapture.

  Dominion Splitter swirled faster than the last egress. More and more powerful snaps of energy burst randomly from his spirals. He seemed to be repeating an incantation, but maybe he was just in ecstasy. He was, in his evil, malevolent way, magnificent.

  “Torment,” yelled Vorc at the top of his lungs, “queue up to my right. You will enter two by two. Move as quickly as possible while maintaining order. We will risk no harm to …”

  Vorc stopped speaking. He thought he noticed something and wanted to focus. Turning to Bethniak, he asked, “Does DS look … er … different to you?”

  “Than what, fuckburger?”

  “Than just a moment ago?”

  “Are you going more psycho on me? If you lose it now I'm taking command.”

  “No, look.” He pointed at the outer edge. “See, the last spiral, it's getting darker.”

  “You're freaking nuts, recycled cum.”

  Vorc waved Felladonna over. She approached slowly. The aide was terrified by the presence of Bethniak. “Yes, lord?”

  “Does the vortex look to be cooling and slowing as we speak?”

  “I … I don't know. Would you …”

  I shoved the sycophantic bitch out of the way and got right in Vorc's face. “Vorc, Dominion Splitter is dimming. Can't you see it?” I screamed in rage, making sure to pepper his face with saliva.

  “I thought so too. What should we do?”

  “You're asking me? I'm ready to go have the time of my life and you're screwing that up again. You tried to use DS too soon, you bastard.”

  “Used it too soon? No one's passed through. How's that overtaxing it?”

  “Well whatever. The damn thing’s about to flicker out.” I turned to the crowd and raised my arms. “Brothers and sisters. Quiet down. Silence.” When there was marginally less of a din I shouted again. “Dominion Splitter is dying. Vorc has an announcement.”

  Mine and all eyes present turned to Vorc. The silence was so immedia
te it nearly knocked me over.

  Vorc looked at me confused, then to the crowd with uncertainty. “Ah, it has come, or rather been brought to my … my attention that as we stand here Dominion Splitter might be, er, might be showing signs of being overtaxed.”

  He looked to me for support. What a moron. “DS is dying. It is dying for good, my friends. Any last words you have for it had better be said really quickly.”

  “Vorc,” an anonymous voice shouted, “is that true? Did you kill DS?”

  “I …,” he slammed his palms to his chest, “I did nothing.”

  “He's killed DS,” cursed another voice.

  “Why is DS dying?” yet another howled.

  “I … I don't … I do not know, citizens,” responded Vorc much too softly to be heard. He dropped to his knees in defeat. Excellent.

  One variable I hadn't counted on came into play. The damn vortex tried to finger me.

  “Jjjjoonnnn Rrryyyaannnnnn … heeeee diiidd thhiiissssssss.”

  Lucky break, the idiot vortex accused me by my actual name that no one knew. It was similar, but not so much that I couldn't spin the situation. I raised my arms again. “Dominion Splitter has identified the person responsible for his demise. As Vorc and I stand here, we heard it accuse Jon Ryan of orchestrating his death. Has anyone seen Jon Ryan? He must not escape.”

  A woman burst into the clear. She pointed in one direction and screamed, “I saw Jon Ryan. He's running that way. Stop him before he can take flight.”

  “What does he look like?” shouted a voice.

  “He’s like an elephant but with massive wings. Hurry, once he's airborne there's no stopping him.” With that she lowered her arm and charged away. A massive crowd surged behind her. Nice improvisation, Sapale!

  Doc, can you hurry up the rate of neutral matter insertion? I nearly got caught there, I said to him head-to-head.

  I'll increase the flux to the maximum. Best to step back.

  Got it.

  “In the interest of safety, please everybody step back a few paces. I've just been told the vortex might explode.”

  Worked like a charm. Let the screams, shoves, and trampling begin. What a bunch of me-firster babies. Within thirty seconds utter pandemonium had erupted and was not going to be denied its full course.