Torment of the Ancient Gods

by Craig Robertson

  Toño, Sapale, and Daleria were remanded by the mind of Gáwar into a quasi-existence. They were not actually his victims yet. But the certainty of their fate made them technically his playthings already.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The shell that used to be Vorc sat in his office twiddling with his quill. He considered whether there was a way to tell for certain if Gáwar had taken his soul yet. He wondered what that actually meant. Could a soulless body continue to function, go about its daily business? And what would an archvillain like Gáwar do with someone else's soul? Seat it at the table and dine with it? Consume it? How could a non-corporeal essence be made to serve? Why couldn't it move on elsewhere of its own volition?

  Perhaps the witch sisters would know? Was it worth it to ask them? They were noxious and infuriating. Would knowing beforehand help ease Vorc's suffering in any way? Unlikely. So why bother, why suffer the fools? A dark thought assailed him then. He'd bargained away his mother's soul, the mother he'd been instrumental in killing. Would they be reunited as possessed property? If so, might not she be, er, less than enthralled to see Vorc again? Wow, she might take the opportunity to inflict whatever pain and suffering she could heap on top of that provided by the devil Gáwar. Vorc began to worry he was looking to experience a much poorer-quality afterlife than he'd fancied.

  A soft knock disturbed his pity party.

  “Come.”

  It was Veleffie, his latest unacceptable assistant. He was a demigod and cloud, like Dalfury had been. Vorc selected Veleffie for just those qualities in the hopes of even vaguely reconstituting the yeoman's service his lamented right hand had supplied for so long. In that aspect of life Vorc continued to be as displeased as he currently was with all other facets. His new aide was self-absorbed, superficial, and in possession of a less than stellar intellect. There was no room in Vorc's world for another such as himself. He needed his assistant to bring different qualities to the table, useful skills and abilities. Ah well, when one was on an unlucky streak one simply had to ride it out.

  “Yes, you lame-brained idiot,” welcomed Vorc.

  “And a pleasant good morning to you, sir.”

  “What do you darken my day to tell me?”

  “Did you want me to turn the lights up, lord?”

  “No. You would suck the illumination from any number of sources if you did.”

  “Ah, I shall take that as high praise.”

  “News?”

  “Yes, I bring news. More perhaps an update. No, I should not say that. An update implies you had some foreknowledge of the beginnings of the events. I bring …”

  “Death upon you if you do not tell me what you came to tell me.” Vorc was internally pleased. He was relieved to know he could still feel and express high passion. That had to count for something in terms of the soul-controversy raging in his addled brain.

  “Have you heard, I should begin by asking, of the disturbances in the mountains?”

  Vorc stared a while in utter disbelief at his worthless secretary. “What disturbance? What mountains? When?”

  “I presume then you have not.” Then the mullet head stood there, mute.

  “I shall count to two before I eradicate you from existence,” threatened Vorc.

  “Isn't it customary to allow a three-count, lord?”

  “Not in your case.”

  “In the mountains north of the Wenceslaus a mighty ruckus has been reported. It began yesterday, shortly after your new master departed.”

  Vorc lunged reflexively over his desk and tried to seize Veleffie by the throat. As a cloud, unfortunately, he did not have one to throttle. Vorc passed through the cloud and skidded to a rough landing on the far side of his aide.

  Vorc rolled to his back and propped up on his elbows. “Any confirmation as to the source?”

  “As of yet, alas, none. We do know the disturbance lasted only a few minutes and that the entire region was reduced to a lifeless wasteland.”

  “That'd be Gáwar's doing all right. No one else could be so careless.”

  “I've dispatched a posse of golems to inspect the site.”

  “When will they arrive?”

  “Shortly.”

  “Shortly? What does that mean?”

  “I sent dwarf golems, sir.”

  Vorc held out fingers to count on. “One, I sold my soul. Two, Dominion Splitter is dead on my watch. Three, Gáwar is loose somewhere. Four, you're a rectum's asshole's asshole. Five, I haven't slept in weeks. All that, and you make a stupid joke?”

  “No, lord.”

  “That wasn't a stupid joke?”

  “No. It was a stupid pun.”

  “Would you be so kind as to open the top drawer and pass me Fire of Justice?”

  “Ah, not likely, sir. No disrespect intended.”

  “Naturally.”

  “As to Gáwar's roaming free, at least to that point I can speak with some authority.”

  Seconds passed.

  “And?” asked a flagging Vorc.

  “Oh, sorry. I alerted you as to the fact that I could. I was in no way certain you cared to know his general location.”

  “And?”

  “Shortly after the disturbance Gáwar was seen to crawl into the Lower Chambers.”

  “Is this another lame attempt at humor?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “Why would the most evil and potent force in existence go to the Lower Chambers?”

  “To visit Tefnuf?”

  “To .. that's … wait. Sure, why not? She is an abomination. He's an abomination. Maybe they have a union or something. Ready my car. We will go there at once.”

  “W … we? Why is it …”

  “I might need something to throw at Gáwar. Car.”

  In a few minutes Vorc inched toward Tefnuf's quarters in the Lower Chambers. His assistant, in spite of all Vorc's ordering and cajoling, followed not too closely behind. As they neared the section, they began to hear indistinct yet unsettling noises. Their pace slowed accordingly. When they arrived at Tefnuf's front door, they leaned toward it to better hear. Still they could only make out sounds with poor tidings. Vorc pushed the door open slowly. Peering around the wood, he saw Tefnuf and Gáwar. Their backs were toward him. Though the racket was louder, it was still unclear what generated the sounds. Vorc glided forward.

  Tefnuf was in the process of rolling dice in her hands. She then cast them to the tabletop. Once they came to rest she yelped, “Hot damn.”

  “You cheated,” protested Gáwar.

  “I did not, you big baby. How could I even cheat? They're your …” She fell silent when she saw Vorc. “What the blazes are you two morons doing here?” she challenged.

  “What the blazes are you two morons doing?” parroted Vorc. He pointed at the dice on the table.

  “Are you calling Gáwar a moron?” roared the beast.

  Tefnuf slapped a hand on his back. “Easy, sport. Not in here, not again. You got a beef, take it outside. I cleaned up for nearly a month last time you lost your cool down here.”

  Gáwar's massive head drooped. “I said I was sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, sorry don't clean organ stains off the ceiling, now does it?”

  “I asked what you were doing,” demanded Vorc.

  “What's it look like, pus brain. We're playing fotoleft.”

  Vorc bobbed his head with each number he counted as he went past ten and off to twenty. Then he was able to speak. “We are in our darkest hour. Gáwar just took thousands of souls. He then destroyed the ecosystem of an otherwise pleasant region under my control. My new assistant is worse than all the others combined in their incompetence. And now you two play a board game?”

  “I couldn't find a deck of cards, wuss. Get over yourself while you're getting the hell out of here,” snapped Tefnuf.

  “No,” everyone present, including Vorc, was surprised to hear him shout.

  “No?” menaced Gáwar. He was good at menacing.

  “No. I want to
know what happened after you left my office.”

  “Why?” asked Gáwar.

  “Why? Are you as stupid as you look? I sold my immortal soul to you so you'd find and kill Jon Ryan. Is not it, I don't know, fairly obvious I'm curious as to what happened?”

  Tefnuf and Gáwar exchanged such a glance.

  “I brought the insignificant speck to me, killed him, and ate his remains.”

  Vorc looked momentarily surprised. “Ah.”

  “Isn't that what I said I'd do?”

  “I guess so, maybe not the eat the remains deal.”

  “I threw it in for effect.” The monster did his best to shrug.

  “Effect?”

  Gáwar bobbed his head. “Call me juvenile but I wanted to, you know, freak his friends out.”

  “His friends?”

  “You have another stroke and further lose the ability to communicate, jerk-off?” asked Tefnuf scornfully.

  “If he had friends, shouldn't you have reported to me that you killed and ate them too?”

  “Not necessarily.” Gáwar said that rather obtusely.

  “Not what?”

  “Wank-meister,” howled Tefnuf, “we got a game going here. Can you go die miserably alone and unlamented or something?”

  “You did kill his accomplices too, didn't you? Right?”

  “Not entirely.”

  “Not entirely? What type of evasion is that?”

  “A fairly good one?” Gáwar asked rhetorically.

  “It is never. What happened to his team?” demanded Vorc.

  “I let them think they escaped, but only temporarily.”

  “Temporarily? They escaped temporarily, or you think only temporarily?”

  “There's no need to be insulting,” replied a wounded Gáwar.

  “Oh yes there is. I sold my soul and you let them escape. No, wait. You didn't let them, did you? You failed.” Vorc began leaping in place. “Ooh, ooh. Deal's off. Deal's so off.” He began bumping the air with his hips. “I got my soul back. I got my soul back.”

  Gáwar turned and thundered, “Stop, slime. A deal with Gáwar is a deal for all eternity. Mock me and you will suffer more than the word suffering can possibl …”

  Gáwar drifted off when he noticed Vorc had his fingers in his ears.

  “Not listening to a deal breaker. Oh, sorry, I meant a god of only limited skills who can't even kill all the members of a conspiracy.”

  Gáwar began to vibrate. Then he began to shake violently. Then he started to calm down. The puke was right. Well, right in a sense.

  “Know this, Vorc. For the time being I have yet to completely fulfill my portion of our bargain. But, when I do payment will be collected in full. Do you understand, insect?”

  “If you complete your part. So far I hear a lot of big words and blustering, but I only see a failure.” Vorc pointed directly at Gáwar.

  The room was silent for many heartbeats.

  “For the love of Molly, can we get back to our game now?” whined Tefnuf.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “We have to go back now,” screamed an hysterical Sapale.

  Toño wrapped a hand over her command imperatives so she could not deploy them. He also tried to pull her into a soothing hug. “Easy, easy. We all …”

  She pushed Toño away violently. He staggered backward awkwardly.

  “No, we have to go back. We have to save my brood-mate.”

  “Sapale,” Toño pleaded as he approached her again. “He's gone. We all saw it. Gáwar crushed him. He … he ate the little pieces left. Sapale, Jon is dead.”

  “No. My mate is never dead.” She swung at Toño before he was close enough to hold on to her. “He always does something and he never dies.”

  Daleria had backed into a corner when she witnessed Sapale's fury. She inched forward. “I saw it too, Sapale. I loved him too, but Jon Ryan is gone. Gáwar left us nothing to save.”

  “No.” Sapale pointed an angry finger at them both. “If you're too scared and don't give a shit, get off my ship. I'll do it myself.”

  “Sapale,” Al spoke gently. “I've loved the captain for billions of years. Jon Ryan was my … my friend. But he's gone. If we return we will be killed also. His sacrifice will then mean nothing. We must go forward. We must save our universe. We cannot save our captain.”

  “Form One,” said Blessing. Though she could not know it, the promotion of Sapale to the first Form hit her like a gut punch. “I know you are upset. I would be too. I am, in fact. Form Jon was a great man, unique in my opinion. But to honor his memory we must go on.”

  “You're all a den of traitors and …”

  Sapale could not finish her curse. She collapsed into Toño's open arms. She wailed the cries of a woman who'd lost her mate, her north star, her only love. Her legs went limp and her arms dropped flacidly to her sides. They flopped when Toño lifted her and set her in a chair. He nuzzled her aside with a hip and slid in beside her. She could no longer resist. She melted into Toño's shoulder and she cried for what seemed to her like forever.

  “It's okay, my dear,” he soothed. “Let it out. We are all numb from our loss. You cry for all of us. Cry well and cry until you are finished, my child.”

  They rocked gently. Neither spoke for the better part of two hours. Daleria fetched a few pillows for them. She offered Toño some coffee that he refused with a quick shake of his head. Then she sat quietly by their side on the floor, stroking Sapale's knee. In time Sapale's wails turned to moans, and eventually those morphed into sobs that finally trailed off into a restless silence.

  “I'll miss him forever,” Sapale said meekly.

  “We all shall,” agreed Toño.

  “And when I see him behind Davdiad's sacred veils, I'll give him such a slap to the face for dying on me.”

  “He will welcome it, I am certain,” replied Toño with a smile she couldn't see.

  “Then I'll think about forgiving him.”

  “No need to rush into such a thing,” responded Toño. “Make him earn it.”

  She giggled briefly. “Oh, he will. I promise you that.”

  He hugged her more tightly.

  “We’d better get busy,” Sapale said after a few quiet moments. “We need to contact Azsuram and let them know what's up and see how bad it is in this universe.”

  “Yes, we should. I'll have the Als contact …”

  “No,” she said, standing. “I'll do it. These are my people, my friends. I need to be the one.” She wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks.

  “Fine. I'll prepare a detailed summary for the Als to forward when you're ready.”

  “Thank you, Toño.” She started to turn. “Thank you for everything.”

  “I did nothing. You are family. We are family. There is nothing involved in helping family, nothing more than pleasure.”

  She kissed the back of his hand and stepped over to the comm-link.

  “May I help?” Daleria asked softly.

  “Yes,” replied Sapale. “Sit by me.” She patted the edge of her chair.

  Daleria slid in. She rested a hand on Sapale's forearm but was otherwise invisible.

  Twenty minutes later Sapale had transmitted the update on everything they'd learned about the ancient gods. She also contacted Prime Minister Genter-ban-tol at the Joint Council for Interplanetary Defense and Cooperation headquarters. They arranged to meet later that day with the full council. Though Sapale's mind had not thawed, she was glad it was able to perform some simple tasks. There was nothing she detested more than being useless.

  Blessing landed near the JCIDC building. The three remaining crew members walked the short distance to the council chambers. The Als were tasked with exchanging all the information they had on the Cleinoids while uploading a record of all events that occurred since they left the home universe.

  Genter-ban-tol met the party in the hallway outside the meeting room. As a Bezathy, he could not physically greet them with ease. He was a big snail. Nonetheless,
he lowered his eyestalks as he spoke. “Brood's-mate of Jon Ryan, I am crushed to learn of your loss. If there is anything I or the council can do, you need only speak the words.”

  “Thank you, Genter,” Sapale responded. “As always you are kind, and your understanding gives me great comfort in my turmoil.” She was paraphrasing a traditional Bezathy response to an offer of condolence.

  “If you are ready, we may begin. If you need a moment or two in order to compose yourself, please know that is appropriate and agreeable,” he replied, angling his head downward.

  “No. I'm ready. We're ready. Making empty gestures to the dead will not defeat our enemy.”

  “Then follow me,” the prime minister responded.

  When everyone was seated, or whatever, Genter-ban-tol spoke formally. “My fellow council members, as many of you already know, we begin today's session with profoundly sad news. Jon Ryan, our savior on more occasions than can accurately be recalled, has been killed defending our realm. I move we observe a squeal of sorrow for a great man.” That was also a Bezathy custom, the squeal. The snail-beings made the sound by forcing tiny bubbles through a tight muscular flap, much like a balloon produces when the stem is pinched and air escapes. Those so inclined participated.

  “Sapale and her crew bring us disturbing news concerning our enemies. A full summary and complete transcript has been forwarded to each one of us. To capsulize the information, our foes are powerful beyond our wildest nightmares and more ruthless than our minds can conceive of. We are in dire peril. Survival seems unlikely and will cost us beyond dearly if we do somehow achieve it.”

  “We've fought formidable enemies before,” protested the Fillilly representative. He/she was a species born separately but that lived their entire adult lives conjoined. Monogamy was guaranteed by proximity. Fel-Trop (from FelToñous and Tropacia, their singlet names) was a typical-appearing Fillilly with two humanoid bodies crudely fused along the thorax. The irregularity of the union was in fact a thing of individual pride, like a personal fingerprint or family coat of arms. When given lemons, the Fillilly made them into their form of lemonade.