Garrick’s distressed face slowly withdrew as he thought about the memory. A small smile crossed over his face. “Gods, that was ages ago. I was about your age now, and you were . . . six years old? We built that shoddy craft in my barn where your father wouldn’t see.”
Seelios nodded with a smile. “We were so excited to test it that we took it straight to the river, not even bothering to carry it to the lake. What were we thinking?”
They both chuckled over the thought.
Garrick continued. “Dropped it right into the water, sure it would sink. But it stayed afloat.” His smile faded as he recalled what happened after. “Gods, you were so excited. You wanted to see if it could hold you. I was wary of the idea, but you said I could keep the boat from drifting downriver.”
Seelios nodded. “I remember.”
“I didn’t want to. I thought it unsafe, but you begged until I relented. When you jumped in, the jolt of your weight took the boat clear out of my hands. The surge of the river carried you so fast that I couldn’t catch you. I watched as you sped away, screaming.” Garrick furrowed his brow and looked down. “No matter how fast I ran, the river was faster.”
“I was on that boat for the span of nearly four days until you and my father found me. You never gave up looking for me. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. I’d nearly given up on my own life, helpless and afraid, but then the river came to that clearing where you stood. That boat would’ve been shredded in the rapids if you weren’t there to rescue me.” Seelios swallowed hard as a lump formed in his throat. “You’re like a brother to me, Garrick. And if you keep drinking, I’ll lose you.”
Garrick drew a heavy breath and looked up as if he were struggling to fight back tears. “I have no choice. I’d rather drink myself into an early grave than endure the pain I’m going through.”
A loud knock startled them.
Garrick wiped his eyes, then looked toward the source of the sound. “Are you expecting someone?”
Seelios looked to the door with nerves fluttering in his stomach, then glanced at the short sword that still lay on the work table.
Another knock came. Seelios had almost drawn the weapon when Garrick got up and stood at the window.
Garrick gawked. “There’s a wizard at your door!”
Seelios looked at him, confused. Compelled to see for himself, he walked over to the other window. A figure wearing a long white robe stood outside their door with the hood drawn up. Seelios’s eyes went wide as he recognized the golden sun emblazoned across the figure’s chest. In Garrick’s defense, he wasn’t that far from the truth. It appeared to be one of the legendary Disciples of Light, a group of humans imbued with the power of Ophanim, God of Light. A disciple had never been to Fembleton, there was never reason to. The man could have been an imposter.
Another knock came, even louder. An old man’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. “I come looking for Ricker Strongheart. I bring news most urgent from Paloise.”
“What do we do?” Seelios asked Garrick in a hushed whisper. “My father said any stranger who came looking for him could be dangerous.”
Garrick shrugged. “It’s just an old man.”
“I may be elderly, but I can still hear,” the old man said. “Such disrespect. There’s no use cowering behind your walls.”
Seelios and Garrick stood in silence, trading frantic, silent gestures with each other. Garrick reached for the latch, but Seelios flailed his arms wildly, telling his friend not to open it.
“If you don’t come out, I’ll let myself in,” the old man said. “But, I assure you my way is much messier.”
Seelios saw a light build at the bottom of the threshold and shine through the cracks around the frame. An odd sensation of familiarity came over him.
Despite his dad’s warning of danger, Seelios ran to the door and yanked it open, revealing the robed man with a ball of glowing light in his hand.
“Most wise. You’ve saved your door’s fate from becoming flaming wreckage,” the old man said. He pulled his hand back into his sleeve and the light faded. His eyes shone with silver radiance, just like Ricker. On the road behind him were six armored soldiers mounted on horses, patiently waiting in small formation. A wolf’s head was painted onto their towering shields, the sigil of Paloise.
Garrick did a double take, looking from the old man, to Seelios, then back again. He had a look of wordless confusion, just as Seelios did. Up until that moment, Seelios thought he and his father were the only ones with eyes of silver.
“Take me to Ricker, immediately. I must speak with him at once,” the old man said.
“Ricker isn’t here,” Seelios said. He took a large swallow, nervous about giving too much information.
“I see.” The old man narrowed his eyes, then widened them. “Forgive me. In my haste, I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Gregory, herald of Ophanim and Disciple of Light.” He extended his hand.
Seelios grabbed Gregory’s hand and shook. “Seelios, smith’s apprentice.”
Gregory looked down and frowned. “Come now, boy. A proper handshake has a firm grip behind it.”
Seelios tried to squeeze harder but doubted it was strong enough to satisfy. “This is my friend, Garrick.”
“A pleasure,” Gregory said as he took Garrick’s hand, looking at him with a smile that slowly dropped away. Something that almost looked like intense concern glimmered in the disciple’s eye.
Garrick dropped his hand and disappeared back into the forge, leaving them in silence. Gregory stroked his beard, deep in thought as he watched Garrick’s retreating back. “Interesting. Well, I’ll be off then. I suppose I’ll find Ricker on the road to Gorynn.”
Seelios was taken aback. He didn’t mention anything about where his father had gone. He tried to think if it was possible for disciples to read minds, but didn’t recall anything of the sort. Then again, the power of the gods wasn’t something to be trifled with.
“Is there something you’d like me to pass on to the smith when he returns?” Seelios called after Gregory as he walked to his pack-laden horse by the group of soldiers.
The disciple paused for a moment, then turned. “This is a message I best deliver myself; however, if by chance I don’t find him on the road, tell him that the gate has been destroyed.”
Seelios felt confused. “Is this a gate in Paloise?”
Gregory climbed onto his horse. “He’ll know.”
4
Seelios and Garrick continued the day cleaning the forge, exchanging few words. They swept and re-swept the entire floor of the workshop, followed by heavy scrubbing until there was nothing left but the bare stone foundation. The only visible spots were scorch marks of accidents years passed, most from Seelios.
Fiddling with the stone ring on his finger, he wondered how his father knew he’d used it in the tavern. If he saw from the window, surely he would’ve stepped into the tavern sooner. Still, if Ricker was away, it would be impossible to know if Seelios used it again.
Seelios turned to Garrick and broke the many hours of silence. “If you really think this ring will help you, we can try again.”
Garrick pulled his head out of the furnace, soot all over his face. He thought for a moment and waved a hand at Seelios. “Wouldn’t change anything.” He reached back into the furnace with a brush. “I already know what it would reveal.”
Seelios looked down at the ring. Garrick might have been sure, but Seelios wasn’t.
The runes had nearly appeared again when shouts came from outside. Seelios and Garrick exchanged curious glances and raced around the work table to reach a window. Fembleton’s middle-aged tailor was running toward the forge, calling out in a flurry of panic.
“Mr. Wallman, what is it?” Seelios said as he ran outside.
The tailor pointed frantically. “My boat; seize it before its lost!”
Seelios turned to the lake and saw an unmanned fishing boat floating downriver. Throughout his childhoo
d he often played by the water, occasionally catching the errant rope or fishing spear dropped by someone in the lake, but an entire boat was unheard of. He looked upriver and, for the first time in his life, saw the rusty bars of the bridge gate raised.
“I’ve got it,” Seelios said as he ran into the forge. He grabbed a large push broom caked with ash.
Garrick followed. “You can’t possibly think to grab that boat with that.”
Seelios looked out the window and saw it was drawing near. “Tell your future sons and daughters of this tale of courage.” He ran past Garrick with a smile.
“Seelios, don’t be a fool.” Garrick spun and chased after him.
The current of the river was surprisingly strong when Seelios stepped into the bank. Cold water lapped up around his calves and drenched the cuffs of his pants. He held the push broom out like a spear as he watched the boat like a cat ready to pounce.
Garrick splashed into the water. “You’ll drown yourself, don’t—”
The push broom hooked the inside of the boat with a thunk and scraped along the gunwale. The thought of saving Mr. Wallman’s boat was exhilarating, Seelios had never been a hero before. The enthrallment, however, distracted him just enough to forget to brace himself in the soft silt of the river. The broom caught the pointed aft and pulled so hard that he lost a boot. He became airborne for a moment, then crashed into the water face first, fast in tow while holding onto the broom handle.
Intermittent yells came from the shore as Seelios struggled to keep his head above water. His muscles tensed from the shocking cold and his hands began to slip. Something grabbed him around the ankle and pulled, tossing him back into the shallows of the river. He picked himself up and stood on legs shaking in the rushing current. Garrick was wrestling the boat to shore just a little further down river.
“Gods be good, boy.” The tailor said, chest heaving from his sprint. “Get out of the water, will you? Before you get yourself killed.” He held out a hand.
Seelios took hold of the tailor and pulled himself onto the muddy bank.
“A brave thing you did back there, but damn foolish. Damn foolish indeed. What would your father have said?” the tailor asked.
Seelios wrung his clothes and watched Garrick drag the boat ashore. “I just thought I could save it.”
“Be a bit of time before I can get this up to the docks,” Garrick called out.
“Don’t trouble yourself. You lads have done enough,” Mr. Wallman said. “That damned innkeep must’ve left the bridge gate open. He’ll rue the day he thought he could steal my boat and get away with it.”
Garrick scoffed as he walked up to them. “That gate’s been rusted shut for ages, one man couldn’t have lifted that thing. That withering old bastard barely has enough meat on his bones to carry his own weight.”
Seelios looked to the bridge again, rusty tines raised like a claw from the lake.
“Seelios, I must ask one more thing of you. May I leave this boat here? It will only be until tomorrow once I’ve fetched the men to return it to the lake.”
Seelios nodded. “Of course, but we could—”
“No, lad. This is a cause of my carelessness, letting Cassius borrow my boat. I thought he was just using it to fish the lake, not escape town.”
Seelios and Garrick said their goodbyes to the tailor and walked back into the forge to finish their work. It wasn’t long after they resumed their chores that the shaking came. At first, Seelios thought Garrick was moving the anvil across the floor, but the ground became so violent that it felt as if the Southern Mountains were crumbling to pieces.
Seelios could barely stay on his feet as he stumbled out the front door and onto the dirt road. The shriveled stalks of wheat were swaying to something more than just the blowing breeze. Trees danced to unheard music. Acorn lifted her head from a patch of grass and looked toward the lake.
Garrick stumbled out. “What in gods is happening?”
Seelios saw villagers rushing out of shops and homes near the village square, looking around with confusion. Shouts came as the vibrating earth grew in ferocity, and a humming filled the air.
The water of the lake swelled up over the tops of the buildings, sending a rippling wave that crawled towards town, growing larger as it approached. Before anyone had any time to react, the wave crested like an ominous blue wall, casting a great shadow over Fembleton, and crashed into stone and wood, ripping through homes and shops. Water gushed between the buildings and over the cobblestone of the square.
Seelios and Garrick instinctively backed away as the wave splashed toward them, but by the time it reached the forge it had lost much of its strength. Acorn whinnied and pawed her hoofs in the air as water rushed over the ground like a shallow flood. The force of the retreating water caught Seelios off guard, and he stumbled to the ground with a splash. Garrick rushed over and helped him up. Seelios’s clothes sagged off his limbs for a second time that day as he tried to wring them dry. The mud and dirt would take many washes to get out, if they came out at all.
A towering column of jagged stone stood in the lake, resembling an enormous fist that had punched out of the earth. It stood so tall that it cast a shadow that nearly spanned all the way to the shore. Sounds of grinding rock echoed over the water as stone fingers slowly opened and flexed in the air, cascading water down the length of the arm. Trees and bushes sprouted between the jointed plates of rock that covered the stony limb, as if it had once been a part of the very mountains themselves.
The turbulent waters of the lake swelled again as a face rose out of the water, like a giant man waking from his slumber deep underground. Its forehead and cheeks were smooth as worn granite except where cracks appeared in place of wrinkles. Thick green moss hung down from its head and chin in place of hair. Its eyes were brilliant diamonds that sparkled in the sun.
The stone figure rose out of the water, revealing an enormous torso of sharp rock and shimmering minerals. Water broke over its shoulders like the falls of a mountain spring. It stood upright and cast its diamond gaze toward the village.
“Gods help us all,” Garrick whispered behind Seelios.
Seelios watched the stone giant with fascination glistening in his eyes. “I think that is one of the gods. If my gut were true, the God of Earth.”
Garrick turned to Seelios with a look of disbelief. “How do you find yourself excited at a time like this? That foul thing just razed half the village!”
Flocks of birds rose out of the surrounding woods and flew to the crown of the god’s head, circling it like the peak of a majestic mountain. Deer, rabbits, foxes, and other woodland animals came running out from Fembleton’s forests and skittered toward the edge of the lake to gaze up at the earthly figure. Even Acorn sprinted to join the other animals, followed by other horses that broke out of their stables, some pulling carts and wagons from the market square.
If Seelios had any doubts of which god it was before, he was sure of it now. The God of Earth commanded all forest animals and creatures to his will, except for those that are in devoted service to other gods. Even domesticated horses bent to the god’s presence.
The ground shuddered beneath them as the towering stone god strode toward the town, sending waves that lapped up against the broken debris of wrecked homes. Villagers in the square screamed, running around in the chaos of shaking earth and flooding water as the colossal giant approached. Many ran to the stables only to find their horses gone and resorted to fleeing on foot.
“Seelios, we need to leave,” Garrick urged as he watched the god slowly make his way across the lake.
Seelios’s excitement grew as he continued to watch the massive figure. “What is a god doing in Fembleton?” Seelios said, ignoring Garrick.
Garrick regarded Seelios with an annoyed look. “What does it matter? We’re in danger.”
Seelios looked at the destruction of the market square, pools of water trembling on the cobblestone. Some people lay injured on the ground, some stru
ggling to swim back to shore after being pulled into the lake from the wave’s retreat. It was unlike a god to destroy so carelessly.
“But still . . . there’s something happening here. I wish to know what,” Seelios said.
The baker’s shop crunched under an enormous foot in an explosion of rock and timber as the god stepped out from the lake, bringing half of the neighboring shop to ruins with it. The towering figure looked down at the people scurrying away from him. Woodland animals scampered around the god’s feet in a wide circle, splashing in the puddles of water like a litter of excited puppies.
The granite lips of the face cracked open to reveal a dark chasm inside. “Ricker,” the god said with a deep, booming voice. Seelios’s heart skipped at the sound of his father’s name.
The stone figure’s diamond gaze swept back and forth over the town, searching. “If you don’t reveal yourself, I’ll destroy this entire village.”
Another foot came down and crushed a house beside the lake. People ran, screaming, while one tried to crawl away without any use of his legs.
“Don’t think that you can hide from your responsibilities forever,” the God of Earth boomed. “I know you’re here. Your presence is no longer a secret. I can feel you.”
Seelios’s eyes widened. His mind went to the ring his father gave him. Such a powerful relic couldn’t have been in his possession by chance. Somehow, Ricker was connected to the gods.
Out of the corner of his eye, Seelios noticed someone standing in the shriveled wheat field. He recognized the figure as the cloaked man from the tavern, the same who saw him use the ring. Seelios called out to him, but he fled toward the lake in his stiff-legged gait. The hood of the man’s cloak flew back and revealed a head that was missing the entire right side of the skull, as if he were born without it. It suddenly made sense why he chose to hide part of his face in the tavern.
The God of Earth looked down as the half-faced man arrived at the base of his foot and turned to point a finger at Seelios. The god’s diamond eyes narrowed into slits and searched until they locked onto Seelios.
As the Earthen Stag Walks (The Simulacrum Book 1) Page 4