As the Earthen Stag Walks (The Simulacrum Book 1)

by David Chesney

  “You want to use it, don’t you?” the god said, nodding toward the ring on Seelios’s hand.

  Seelios said nothing, feeling as if he was being toyed with.

  The God of Earth leaned forward in his seat and smiled. “My puppets told me of your use of the thing.” He gave another chuckle. “You use it like a child just learning the ways of the world, no understanding of its full purpose.”

  The god leaned back in his chair and rested his head on his hand, extending a finger along his cheek.

  “I’ll make a bargain with you. I’ll release you if you can show me that you can use the ring without lifting it to your eye. If not, I may just leave you here forever.”

  Seelios’s eyes flickered in distress. The thought of being imprisoned in the middle of the woods for eternity sounded like a nightmare. Even if someone found him, there’d be no way to get him out.

  He reined in his panic and tried to focus. If he heard the God of Earth right, there was a way to use the ring without actually having to take it off. Seelios felt the runic artifact’s pulse around his finger, as if it were eager to rise to the challenge. The last two artifacts he was able to activate resulted from near-death experiences, but he had no plan to do that again. His only chance of success with the ring was to shut out everything around him and clear his mind.

  Seelios closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. He heard nothing around him except the soft sounds of the forest. He felt his heart slow to the calming beat of the ring’s mana. He began to understand, like a sudden remembrance of a memory from a dream. The Alnerwick sun had given him a gift of knowledge he didn’t truly discern until now. The artifact wasn’t a tool; it was a reminder. It contained a memory of something that was already embedded within Seelios. With this, he used the familiar feeling of the ring as a guiding compass and searched his own self.

  It didn’t take long for him to find the familiar sensation of the ring’s power within himself. It was like rediscovering an emotion that had been long forgotten, much like how a smell could unlock a flood of latent memories.

  Inexplicable feelings of nostalgia came surging into his mind, even though he had no memory of doing this before. The connection he’d felt in the past when using the truth ring suddenly filled his whole body, enveloping him in a power that was previously limited to just the artifact. It surged through him, free and unrestrained.

  “Yes,” the God of Earth whispered.

  Seelios slowly opened his eyes to a world he had only seen through a tiny stone circle before. He could see everything around him with a deeper understanding of the life within. Each of the trees had flowing streams of light that ran through their trunks and fanned out among branches and leaves like fluorescent spiderwebs. He scanned his surroundings before he settled on the brimming silhouette of the God of Earth.

  Seelios was met with shock. He’d expected Gameus’s aura to be black as night, but instead the god was almost pure white except for a jagged, electric mass of yellow and black in his heart. Most auras he’d witnessed were gray and muddled, confused and full of doubt. But this one had such a sharp, colliding contrast. There was good in the god, yet something evil within his heart. He’d seen similar before, but only within people full of terror. Whatever Gameus feared, it looked to be driven by the growing blackness.

  Seelios looked at Gameus for a moment, taking in the nakedness of his soul. “You’re afraid of something, aren’t you?”

  Gameus’s face transitioned from one of mild awe to annoyance and rage. “You mean to tell me that with this kind of power, you choose to cower while those around you suffer and die?” The god’s voice boomed with a ferocity that shook surrounding branches and leaves, releasing flocks of birds into the sky.

  Seelios regarded the god in stunned silence. The outburst broke Seelios’s concentration and his vision of flowing light melted away into the muted colors of mortal eyes.

  The god stood from his throne and stepped forward, inches from Seelios’s face. “You’re pathetic. You disgrace all that the God of Light represents.”

  The stone surrounding Seelios cracked and shattered, falling to the ground in a pile of dusty rubble. Gameus shoved the teleportation totem into Seelios’s chest so hard it knocked the wind from him. Seelios stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the rock remains. He looked down at the artifact, his chest still aching.

  “If you follow the river you’ll reach Paloise in four days, even with that small horse of yours. There you can continue to hide while the world around you is devoured.” Gameus held a smoldering gaze on Seelios, then turned, and walked deeper into the forest. He stopped and said over his shoulder, “The disciple you were traveling with is still held captive by my pets in Alnerwick. He will die soon.”

  The earth began to rumble as the ground split apart beneath the god. Green light shone up from the fissure, and he disappeared between the cracks.

  14

  Seelios stood in the middle of the forest, stunned by the words of Gameus. While it was true Seelios had obvious power, it still didn’t feel like he’d be able to make a difference. Even if he managed to teleport back to Alnerwick, he had no idea how he would defeat the rock golem, a creature of stone impervious to blades. Anything short of a heavy siege weapon would be useless.

  The morning sun began to peer through overhead branches, bringing the forest to life around Seelios. Aside from the scattering of broken rocks, there was hardly a sign a threatening god had been there. The trees had returned to their normal positions, with a more vibrant green to them than before. Flowers bloomed all around, even the moss seemed to be sprouting with more life.

  The serenity of the forest was something he’d been missing since he left Fembleton. Seelios hadn’t known peace since Gameus’s first attack, constantly in fear of danger. But now that safety was only four days away, Seelios couldn’t help but think that maybe the God of Earth was right. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to be safe, to seek shelter and hide.

  Seelios made his way back to his camp where Acorn stood, patiently waiting for him.

  “I’m sorry, girl,” he said as he brushed her mane. “But I have to go, and you can’t come with me.”

  She nuzzled his arm and tugged at his sleeve with her mouth.

  “Paloise isn’t far from here. Follow the river, don’t stop for anything,” Seelios said. “Go. Sprint if you must. Just get there as safely as you can.”

  He pushed her head aside and backed away, but she trotted after him. She nuzzled his hand, pushing her nose underneath his palm.

  “Acorn,” Seelios whispered as he wrapped his arms around her neck in an embrace.

  He smelled the musty scent of her sweat, causing memories of Fembleton to come flooding back. He remembered the days of playing in Garrick’s fields and browsing through books of stories and legends in his library. Such simple times, where the greatest concern was whether or not they’d be caught sneaking around the forge while Ricker was out. Their greatest find was discovering Ricker’s secret cache of his finest weapons.

  Seelios’s eyes went wide with realization.

  He let go of Acorn and stepped away again, fiddling through his pockets, and pulled out the teleportation totem. He stared at it in his hand, still brimming with mana.

  He looked up at Acorn and said, “Wish me luck.”

  Seelios closed his eyes and focused on the one place he knew better than anything else in his life: home.

  Seelios almost landed on his feet when he saw the ground materialize beneath him. Despite his anticipation, the cobbled road rushed up at him with surprising speed and he hit it harder than he would’ve liked. The shock of the landing made his teeth hurt. He tried to tuck into a roll but only managed to flop to the ground on his back. It was still a significant improvement over his last teleportation attempt, managing to at least stay conscious.

  Bright light slowly faded and Seelios could begin to make out the shapes of buildings. Blurry lines sharpened and the familiar landscape of the market
square took form. But it wasn’t the happy place he once knew. Broken pieces of rock and debris were scattered everywhere. What once had been a bustling place of commerce was littered with houses and shops torn asunder. There were craters from where Gameus had unleashed a hail of boulders. He wondered where the golems had gone.

  Anger welled up within Seelios. Gameus called him a coward for not acting when the attack happened, but it was Gameus himself who should not have attacked in the first place. Just like how Gameus should not be holding a Disciple of Light hostage. Seelios wished he’d found the courage to say all this to the god while they were in the forest, but it didn’t matter, his actions would speak louder.

  He picked himself up and made his way through the ruins, toward the forge by the river. With most of the buildings razed to the ground, Seelios could see the Southern Mountains spanning in the distance beyond the sparkling water of Fembleton’s lake. His father was somewhere out there. Seelios only hoped that he was safe, wherever he might be.

  Seelios squeezed between the cobbler’s shop and a large piece of the tailor’s broken wall and saw the half standing forge. There was a gaping hole where the entire right side of the building should’ve been, as if a giant kicked it in and collapsed much of the structure in on itself.

  The inside of the forge was just as much a mess as the outside. The stone brick that made up the wall lay in heaps on the floor. Many of the tools and various items were missing from shelves and racks, likely buried under rubble or tangled with the wood debris of splintered scaffolding and broken furniture.

  Seelios stepped on the lip of the crumbling wall and placed a light foot on top of a sturdy pile of rubble. He carefully made his way down into the depths of the ruined forge by easing down their collapsed thatched roofing, trying his best not to turn an ankle on the loose debris. He climbed over the dust covered anvil and stepped around a fallen shelf of tools. The corner where the weapon’s cache lay had a small heap of stone bricks crumbled in front. His whole body strained as he gripped the stones with both hands and hefted them aside, surprised that he found the strength. They clacked and rolled, kicking dust back up into the air that sent him into the occasional coughing fit. When he was finished, his hands felt raw and his back stiff. Sweat covered his whole body and he felt soreness seizing his muscles.

  The loose stones next to the heavy shelf came up with ease and revealed the tracks in the floor. Seelios took a moment to catch his breath before gripping the massive piece of furniture. This time he didn’t have Garrick to help him. He braced his foot against the wall and pushed with all his might. The shelf screeched with an ear piercing pitch as the metal slid through unoiled ruts in the ground.

  Whether Seelios’s pulse was pounding from the physical labor or sheer adrenaline, he didn’t know. But when he looked into the darkness of the hidden room and saw glittering metal, he felt as if his heart were going to leap out of his chest. The cache was exactly how he’d remembered it in his youth. It was built like a small closet with shelves lining the sides and a wooden rack in the back. They held stacks of coins and a small box with various scrolls, notes, and maps. Seelios would’ve loved to browse his father’s private collection, but the lack of time and guilt of invading privacy made him decide against it.

  He turned his eyes to the weapons rack in the back. The selection was much smaller than he recalled, expecting to see at least a couple swords and some pieces to a suit of armor. The only item that remained was a single spear standing upright in the middle: the spear he came for.

  Seelios reached in and lifted the weapon with a single hand, surprised at its lightness. He carried it out and stepped into the light. Curling engravings swirled up the shining metal of the shaft with such beautiful elegance that, despite his father’s remarkable craftsmanship, made Seelios question if an even greater smith had forged it. The head of the spear rippled with waves of bronze and gold, the colored pattern of a metal so sharp that it could pierce a rock golem.

  Seelios made his careful trek out of the crumbling forge and stepped onto the dirt road. He hefted the spear in his hand, testing its balance in his palm. He switched from one arm to the other, feeling which he was more comfortable with. With a two handed grip he spread his stance, leaned forward, and stabbed at the air. Halfway through the motion his body went electric with pain and his limbs went limp. He barely clung to the spear as the tip dropped to the ground. The soreness had taken its toll and his back didn’t even retain the flexibility to perform a simple spear jab. He let the spear fall with a thud and massaged his muscles. The tenderness was so great he could barely stand the prodding of his own fingers. He was in no shape to fight off any enchanted rock creatures.

  Seelios gave a sigh as he pulled out the rejuvenation stone and looked at its shimmering yellow runes. “I haven’t even tried to fight yet and I already need to use this.”

  Strength returned to his muscles and his back relaxed as the mana left the stone and spread through his body. The runes’ shimmer lost a bit of their luster, but they still remained illuminated. Seelios would need to be smart about his use of the artifacts if he was going to survive his rescue mission.

  He picked the spear up and tried a few more practice maneuvers. His jabs, recovers, and parries came surprisingly natural to him once he’d given his muscles the needed energy.

  Satisfied with his performance, he pulled the teleportation totem and rejuvenation stone out of his pockets and tucked them into his tunic. He gave his torso a few turns and felt the runic artifacts shift around against his rib cage. He thought for a moment, then ran back into the forge. He dug through some of the debris near the door and uncovered an old traveler’s cloak that his father kept on a peg by the entrance. He tore a long shred of cloth from it and wrapped it around his mid-section several times, cinching the artifacts tight to his body.

  He stepped back outside and held the spear upright. There was no more time to waste, Seelios needed to go. He’d thought being a hero would be fun and exhilarating, but the only thing he felt was fear. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and felt the light envelop him as his feet left the ground.

  15

  When Seelios performed his teleportation to Alnerwick, he focused on the outer farm with all of his mental might. If he managed to materialize his body on the town’s perimeter, he could sneak into the square unnoticed, free Gregory, and flee with minimal conflict. Whether it was his nerves or novice experience with teleportation totem, his plan did not go as expected.

  The light faded as Seelios’s feet gracefully touched down onto hard earth. He was so excited with his landing that he barely noticed Gregory laying in front of him on the remains of a wooden deck. Seelios blinked down at the disciple who was covered in dirt, blood seeping from his mouth. Gregory’s eyes slowly opened and went wide as they followed the motion of something behind Seelios.

  Terror and realization dawned on Seelios and he dove aside in a desperate move to get out of harm’s way. A thunderous crash shook the ground as he slid across the ground. Dirt and rock peppered his back as debris rained all around him.

  He picked himself up and scrambled to grab his spear. He spun and readied the shining weapon with both hands. A rock golem lifted its massive, rune-covered fist out of a crater where Seelios had been moments before, and leered in his direction. The force of the golem’s impact shook the remains of a nearby building to the ground, causing a wall to fall down in a tumble of stone bricks.

  The rest of Alnerwick looked to be demolished just like Fembleton. The inn where Seelios and Gregory had stayed looked as if a massive tree fell atop it, pulverizing wood and stone into a sea of rubble. Surrounding buildings were seemingly annihilated in similar fashion, to the point where most of them were unrecognizable. The golem must’ve been hard at work while Seelios was away, leveling everything within sight.

  Lurking about the ruins of buildings were several clay men of poor, yet disturbing, imitation to Seelios, Gregory, and other people he didn’t recognize. Their
faces were warped and grotesque, giving haunting visions of disfigurement. Others had near nothing on their face, staring out with a pair of eyes on a blank oval of clay. They remained in the distance behind fallen walls, watching.

  “Why are you here?” Gregory said. The sound of his voice seemed to strain for a yell, but only managed out a raspy whisper. “I told you to run.”

  The golem stomped toward Seelios with green, glowing eyes that stared at him with menace.

  “I came to rescue you.” Seelios backed away as he kept his eyes fixed on the hulking rock monster. The enormous thing had arms that far out-ranged his spear. He questioned whether this was a rescue mission or a suicide.

  He planted his feet and forced himself to remember what he was there for. He was done being the victim, a spectator to destruction. All along he had the ability to do something but was too afraid to do it. He looked down at the head of the spear and remembered what his father said about orichalcum. If it was truly the metal of the gods, the golem wouldn’t stand a chance.

  The distance between Seelios and the golem was closed in three strides of the towering giant. Seelios crouched down like a coiled viper, spear leveled at the wide stone torso. The golem took another step and lifted its arm up to reveal a mile-wide opening. Seelios saw the opportunity and lunged forward. The golem brought its arm down so fast it was nearly a blur. It’s palm collided into Seelios with a force that made his jaw go numb.

  He saw sky and earth as he cartwheeled through the air. He landed on hard dirt, rolling for several feet before skidding to a stop, face down. Stars danced around his eyes and he tasted blood in his mouth. He tried to use the rejuvenation stone tucked into his tunic, but his mind couldn’t latch onto it. He reached to his chest and the motion sent searing pain across his shoulder that radiated up his neck. He used the fingers of his other hand to grope across his chest and felt nothing but the teleportation totem. When he lifted his head he saw the rejuvenation stone glimmering in the dust a few feet away.