Duty Calls: The Reluctant War God Book 1

by Bill D. Allen

  “I don’t know if that’s true or not. It might make no difference whatsoever.” I shuddered, remembering the scene I’d witnessed through Yond’s eyes. Jegu possessed raw power of a sort I’d only sensed at the faint edges of creation. What were the limits of such power? How did it come about.

  I shared my thoughts. “The question I have is where did Jegu come from?”

  “Who knows?” Yond answered, throwing his hands up. “There are things out there none of us understand. Dad says he doesn’t know. None of us know anything about it.”

  I studied him carefully. He was a shifty one, my brother, but I could always read him better than he liked. He wasn’t telling me something. I could sense it. “Tell me the rest.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, but he didn’t meet my eye.

  “You have never been a good liar, Yond. Intrigue doesn’t suit you. You’re leaving out how this creature came to be. There is some deception here. I can sense it. You know something even if father and the rest don’t.”

  “What does it matter? You saw the truth of the danger. Is your cowardice still ruling your actions?”

  I looked him in the eye and I gave him a piece of my stare. From the way he flinched, I knew I still had the mojo. “It matters to me because I don’t trust you. You’ve never done a decent thing in your thousands of years of life. Where did this cursed thing come from?”

  Yond swore and pounded the table. Lightning struck the roof and shattered a portion of it. People screamed and ran for cover. A rush of wind blew through the inn and extinguished the lanterns.

  In a moment it was over. The inn was empty except for the two of us. My brother and I sat directly under where the bolt had struck. Rain now fell upon us through the rafters. He rose tall and revealed his divinity to all looked upon him. The only light in the room now came from Yond’s fiery halo and his glowing eyes as he loomed over me.

  “Why should it matter to you? Don’t you want to protect the mortals? You forsook your godhead for them. You couldn’t even do your duty as a war god because you didn’t like seeing them kill each other. The world is out of control and you can’t be bothered to do anything about it!” His voice echoed as if a mountain were speaking.

  Humpf. Wasn’t impressed. However, I was getting wet from the new hole in the roof and cold from the draft, and more than that, I think someone stepped on my lyre.

  “The only thing out of control right now, is you. I will do what I can, short of brandishing the weapons of my office, but not because you threatened, insulted or inspired me. I will do it to save the souls of the mortals. But first, let me tell you a few simple facts that may be helpful to you in the future.” I stood up and faced him nose to nose.

  To those in the room, I suppose it looked comical. A scruffy bard standing up to a being of obviously divine power. It got funnier when I wasn’t the one who blinked.

  “One,” I said, counting off on my fingers. “I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you and I will never like you. You’ve never made any secret of your disdain for me as well, and your envy of my power as war god. You’re a dangerous, spoiled child who likes to play with fire.

  “Two—I am not one of you. I was once a part of your vicious breed, but I opted out a long time ago. I made my choice and I’m sticking to it. The best thing that could ever happen to this universe is if you all just go away.

  “And three—Don’t ever threaten me. Never forget I can kick your ass any day of the week. Your little joy buzzer tricks don’t impress me. The difference between us is I choose not to abuse my power by using it to dominate others.”

  He stood there on the verge of saying something, but the look in my eye made the words balk at being spoken and he had to swallow them like bitter medicine—nasty, but healthier than the alternative.

  “Now get out of here before I decide to demonstrate my last point.”

  Yond, shaking with anger, stood and backed away from the table. His eyes were arcing with blue fire. “You’ll regret this.”

  “Hit the road, punk.”

  A massive lightning bolt struck where Yond was standing and he disappeared in the flash of light.

  I sighed. Took a sip of rain-diluted ale and looked around the empty inn. So much for this gig. I was sure word of tonight’s events would spread as quickly as a whore’s legs on payday.

  I bent to pick up the remnants of my lyre. Using a bit of the immortal flame burning within me, I wove the threads of power around the instrument and bound the shattered pieces together again, making it whole. I plucked the strings experimentally. It sounded different. It had lost a bit of the mellowness I’d loved about it.

  Things were always like that. Never quite the same once shattered.

  CHAPTER TWO

  INTERLUDE:

  IN THE HALL OF PANDRON

  Citadel, the palace of Pandron, King of the Gods, existed in the Golden Realm, a place far away from the multiple realities of mortal man. In the center of Citadel was the great round hall where Pandron held audiences with his court of deities. He rested on his golden throne wearing white robes. A glowing crown of living fire floated over his head.

  Yond stood before his father’s throne, his hair still wet from the rainstorm at the Inn. His blazing eyes were lowered and he was still shaking with rage.

  Pandron spoke. “I take it the visit didn’t go well.”

  “ A waste of time. He’s a fool,” said Yond.

  Pandron nodded. “Perhaps. Did he allow you to show him the vision of Jegu?”

  “Yes, but if anything it must have frightened him. He refused to involve himself in our fight. He told me to tell you to keep him out of our family drama.”

  Pandron laughed. “Indeed?”

  “Father? You consider it funny? It is disrespectful and he demeans us all by his attitude.”

  “Your ego is too easily bruised, Yond, you can’t see past your outrage to perceive the truth. I know Kaltron better than he knows himself. The seed has been planted. This is his fight too, whether he wants it to be or not. His devotion to the mortals will ensure that. Eventually, he’ll come around.”

  “I’m glad you’re so confident in our cowardly warlord. I’m not convinced.”

  “He just needs a mild push in the right direction,”Pandron said. “I‘ll send someone else to speak with him—someone he won’t lock horns with. Perhaps persuasion from a former lover would be best.”

  Pandron gestured toward the giant domed ceiling decorated with a representation of A star-strewn night sky. A small, winged creature left its perch in an alcove high up along the circumference. It had the outward appearance of a raven, but the intellect that shown in its eyes left no doubt this was a magical beast. It swooped down to land on Pandron’s outstretched arm.

  Pandron whispered into the raven’s ear and then raised his arm and the raven took flight. It circled the room once, make a loud caw, and then shout upward and flew out the open oculus in the ceiling, but not before it left Yond a parking gift. A large white load of bird droppings fell on his shoulder and as Yond cursed, the raven cawed again, sounding like laughter.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I collected my belongings and left the Inn. I knew I’d never be back. After that performance, things wouldn’t be the same with the locals. Entering the stable beside the inn, I approached my steed, a simple donkey that stood chewing a bit of grain.

  “No point laying low anymore,” I said. “I need to get some coffee.”

  A light of intellect shone in the eyes of the animal. He shook his small gray head and a shudder passed through his body. His coat quickly turned black, and he grew in stature until he was no longer in the form of a donkey, but that of a powerful black stallion with hooves of silver and a flowing mane of gold. He neighed his laughter and stamped the straw strewn floor reveling in the joy of his power unmasked.

  I wished that I could feel that same raw pleasure, but unlike Blackflame, my power came with too high a price. Blackflame was his power. No separat
ion existed between his form and function.

  He was also part of me, an aspect of my godhood just as the Bright Sword whose true name I must not speak and the holy armor. The bloodthirsty sword, the impervious mail, their reveling and abuses always paid for by my guilt. Both were created by Heph, the craftsman of the gods and imbibed with power by the elemental forces.

  Blackflame was different. He was a creature created to serve the holder of the sword and armor, but he possessed a separate mind and spirit—he was no true slave or object. Simply loyal, true and joyful in his galloping. He was a great consolation and it sure beat walking.

  I mounted and together we shot forward into the night. I used the Aether Path, the highway of the gods. The road was always different, the route changing depending on the state of the universe at any given moment. I had only my instincts to guide me, but they were unfailing, and also part of my godhood.

  The realities changed around me as I progressed. A shortcut through a dark forest, turning into the mouth of a forgotten cave, discovering a hidden valley and beyond. Each reality existed alongside the other, separated by only a thin veil of perception. I traveled not in time, but in space and frequency. The wavelength of each reality closed off by curtains both gossamer thin, but impossible to break through unless you were of the blood of the drifters, the travelers, those races who walked through the realities at will due to their nature. The gods, my kin were only one of the travelers. The fae, demons, angels, all walked the path. There were also far more things unknown than will ever be known—unique creatures of chaos who formed spontaneously from the natural ebb and flow of probability.

  As we traveled, my clothing changed, as did Blackflame himself. He became a giant riding panther, then a midnight black Harley Davidson Road King. I dallied on that road a while as the rumble of the exhausts carried me past strange mesas and dimly seen roadhouses and shacks.

  For the time during which each metamorphosis took place I knew and understood those things belonging to that reality, and knew they were right and as they should be.

  I began the journey as Kaltron the Reluctant on a remarkable horse named Blackflame and ended as Carl the guitarist on a motorcycle in Memphis, but who can be sure? Perhaps I had traded destinies on the journey and entered a different version of myself without ever realizing it. A mortal man might have been driven mad, but I didn’t bother thinking much about it. What difference did it make? After all, I’m a god. What’s a god without strange paradoxes and unknowable mysteries?

  I parked Blackflame in motorcycle form on the corner in front of the Blue Note diner. I entered the restaurant and was greeted by the smell of coffee and waffle syrup. I took a stool at a free spot on the counter and turned the coffee cup in front of me right side up in anticipation.

  The old guy to the left of me reeked of residual cigarette smoke and he started hacking like he was trying to cough up a lung.

  I grimaced and looked around the room. Yeah, figured one would be hanging out here. I motioned to an angel of death who hovered in the corner chatting to a couple of hookers who were sharing an order of biscuits and gravy. I got his attention and the dark angel glanced my way. I pointed to my watch and aimed at thumb toward the lunger next to me.

  The angel gave me a helpless shrug, shook his head and mouthed “sorry” as best he could with what skin he had left over his skull. My table mate wouldn’t be going away any time soon so I’d best just get used to him.

  Lisa Harwood, my favorite waitress and personal mortal goddess of coffee appeared smiling. I watched as she bent over slightly to pour the dark liquid into my cup. I looked at the tattoos at the edge of her collar that rose up her neck and the ones that slipped past her wrist. She’d told me the manager made her wear long sleeve shirts to hide them, but really it just made people more curious about her ink.

  She caught me staring and winked. “You know what you want tonight? The usual?”

  I shook my head. “No. Nothing but the coffee. Not much of an appetite.”

  She paused for a moment, focusing on my face. “You look a little down tonight. Is something wrong?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Nothing serious. Just family troubles. I was minding my own business playing at a gig and my brother showed up out of the blue and with a mess of drama.”

  “You close with your family?”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “Cut my ties a long time ago. But they just can’t seem to leave me alone.”

  “Sorry, honey. Don’t worry. I had to do the same thing with my folks. Sometimes you gotta live your own life free from their pain. I have a sister in Atlanta and we keep in touch. She wasn’t able to get away and, well, it’s been hard on her. The best thing I ever did was get out of that mess.”

  She patted my arm, then left to see to her other customers.

  I appreciated her concern. She was a sweetheart. Maybe thirty. I guess she thought I was late thirties or early forties. It’s a comfortable age to portray. I could change it at will but don’t bother. I settled in a long time ago. Old enough to command respect from men, and silver fox kudos from women with daddy issues—but not too old to be irrelevant.

  I had no clue as to how old I truly was. Thousands of years certainly. It all blended together. Particularly because of my travels through so many veils of reality. Time passed at different speeds, civilization took different paths. All I really had was the eternal present. The rest didn’t matter.

  To think that Lisa would care about the feelings of the God of War was touching. Of course, she didn’t know my true nature. Just my tipping habits.

  I could see the pain in her. Obviously, she had some history. I’d been drinking coffee and eating egg sandwiches at the diner for almost a year. She was always a little bit of sunshine in spite of her Gothic fashion sense and dark eye makeup. She was even nice to the old hacking guy.

  I tried to help her here and there as I could. But she really needed to find someone in her life. Bad enough to have such a short span of time to live, worse to spend it alone.

  Funny. Seems like I was thinking more like a love god wanting to set her up with a partner. Then again, my bitch relation Nanaya, the so-called Goddess of Love always made sure her presents of love were no blessing. Worst than war in some ways. Personally, I always think of her as the Goddess of Lust and Regret. I told her so once. She took it as a compliment—then wanted to blow me.

  That always makes things awkward at family reunions.

  Across the dining room a man started shouting at the woman across the table from him. Lisa rushed over to try and calm things down. I could already see it wasn’t going to work.

  The man was sloppy drunk. His cheeks were flushed red and he was sweating. He was dressed in a drab sports coat and slacks. His shirt was open from the collar to the middle of this chest and his garish tie hung around his neck undone. He had the sad, bloated look of a former high school football player, gone to flab, making a living selling used cars or vacuum cleaners.

  He was pointing a fat, ringed finger at the woman at this table. Waving it in her face, inches from her nose.

  She was a working girl, but young, inexperienced, and she must have needed the money badly to put up with his lip. Some of the wenches I’d known in the past would have stabbed the jerk in the balls under the table by now.

  I stood up and followed Lisa. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “Sir, you’re going to have to settle down or you’ll have to leave,” Lisa said.

  The man smirked. “Oh really, what are you gonna do? Huh? I can talk to this little bitch any damn way I want to. I’m paying the bill. She can get the fuck out of here if she doesn’t like it. If she takes it, it ain’t none of your business cunt.”

  “Get out,” Lisa said. “Get out of here now before I call the police.”

  The man stood up, shakily and towered over Lisa. He opened his mouth to say something, but I never found out what. I was too busy throwing my right fist into his mouth and breaking three of his
teeth.

  I swooped in between Lisa and the car salesman and caught him before he fell. He was out like a light and drooling blood and saliva from his wounded mouth.

  “Nitey-nite, asshole,” I said.

  “Holy crap, Carl,” Lisa said. “What have you done? He’s going to press charges.”

  I sat him on the booth and dug into his pockets locating his wallet. I opened it and looked at the drivers license “Richard Hancock… you certainly have the right name. “ I started thumbing through the stack of bills.

  “Let’s see if we can figure up the tab. Steak and eggs for sleeping beauty here, plus a coffee, and we have pancakes for the lovely lady, and a soda, plus a hefty tip for the waitress. Oh, Honey, did you want a to-go box for that?”

  The girl, who had remained seated the entire time looked up at me with big eyes and nodded slowly.

  “Fine then, Lisa? Can you?” I said then handed her a wad of cash as a very hefty tip.

  “Sure, Carl.” She walked over to get the box from behind the counter.

  The remainder of the money I handed to the girl. “Services rendered and paid in full. Believe me, you earned it having to put up with this pig.”

  Lisa returned with the box and I carefully packed up the girl’s meal and handed it to her. “There you go, darlin’. Try to stay away from these guys. I can’t fix your life, but I can let you know there are lots of options. You just need to find them.”

  “Thank you,” she said. She put the money in her purse, took the box of pancakes from my hand and left the diner.

  I crammed the empty walled back into his pocket. He groaned, he was starting to come to.

  I looked at the other customers and tried to ignore the hissing laughter of the angel of death who had been immensely amused by the entire affair.