The Forsaken God: The Realms Book Five: (An Epic LitRPG Series)

by C. M. Carney

  Bart stopped his ascent and then slid back down the rope. He stared at Errat with suspicious eyes, but then nodded vigorously. “Okay, Errat. Tea for three it is.” The Seeker took several seconds and used several precarious handholds to reach Errat. Each lurching motion of the naked man’s lanky limbs seemed destined to send him plunging to the bottom of the tower, but soon he was face to face with Errat.

  Bart held his left hand up and it became immaterial. He reached through the bars and moved to grip Errat’s forearm in greeting. His arm phased inside Errat’s and both men closed their eyes. A moment later, Errat’s eyes snapped open.

  “Thank you friend Bart.”

  “You are welcome. I will await you at the top, with tea, and perhaps biscuits.” Without another word, Bart pulled himself up the rope and disappeared in the gloom. When the Seeker and his girth were gone from sight, Lex turned to Errat.

  “What in the hell just happened?”

  39

  Images from a hundred past lives exploded through Gryph’s mind as Aluran siphoned his soul. He was a small girl kneeling in the reeds by a river. He was the cackling mad Stone King, wearing the Iron Crown. He was a young Ossyrion, bent over laughing, a hand on Morrigan’s shoulder, the Dread God’s eyes filled not with anger or hatred, but with warmth and joy. We were happy, Gryph thought. Morrigan was happy. Gryph tried to focus on the image, but it drifted away like a wisp of smoke from a summer bonfire.

  “How did you fall so far?” Gryph asked. “What made you turn to the darkness?”

  Morrigan ceased feeding, perhaps sensing the thoughts flowing through Gryph’s mind. The tearing in his soul ceased and Morrigan turned Gryph to face him, forcing his eyes open. “Do you truly remember so little? Have you forgotten why I do this?”

  “I remember enough,” Gryph spat. “I remember you consumed the souls of our brothers and sisters, that you desired all the power for yourself. I know that you care for nothing in the Realms, only yourself. I also remember how you once were. You used to laugh and live in joy. What changed? How did you become … this?”

  “How dare you judge me,” Aluran said, his voice harder than stone and sharper than a razor. “Your mind is clouded, but you will remember.” Aluran grabbed Gryph’s head with his free hand and tendrils of Thought Magic burrowed into his mind. Aluran pushed understanding into Gryph, illuminating a deep, dark hole that Gryph had not known was there.

  His mind flashed and he stood on the bridge of a ship racing through space into orbit around a lonely planet. Ahead of them, filling their entire field of vision was a massive star. The light of the star was not the pleasant yellow of Korynn’s sun, but a roiling mass of red and orange. On its surface a pinprick of shadow appeared and expanded. Tendrils of dark energy snapped from the growing shadow and lashed across the surface of the sun. Soon the entire star was trussed by the dark tendrils and then, they contracted, tearing at the sun’s chromosphere, pulling it into the growing dark spot.

  “What are they doing?” a fear tinged voice said to his left. Gryph recognized the voice and turned to see Casserius, the golden god from his Reverie. If fear had taken ahold of him, then the situation was dire beyond words.

  “They are siphoning the power of the star,” Cerrunos said, stepping up next to Gryph and tapping at a control panel in front of him. He shielded his eyes with his forearm as the sun flared and then looked at Gryph, panic in his eyes.

  “To what end?” the wiry man known as Obekai said. Gryph noted he was not as spastic or jittery as he had been in Gryph’s Reverie. “What could they possibly need that much power for?”

  “They are mad,” said another voice. Gryph turned to see a short, dark-haired woman whose name he knew to be Asheara. “They will destroy their own sun.” A gentle but powerful hand gripped her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

  Gryph turned to see the hand belonged to Morrigan. He looked younger and despite the obvious tension that hung around them all, his eyes lacked the ever-present darkness both Morrigan and Aluran had borne every time Gryph had encountered the man. Morrigan leaned down and gave the woman a gentle kiss on her brow.

  “We will never discern the logic of the Prime,” his own voice, Ossyrion’s voice said. “They are xenophobes, alien zealots, who cannot abide the existence of other sentients in the Realms. They will not cease until all life is dead or Prime.”

  “Unless we stop them,” Morrigan said, meeting Ossyrion’s gaze with fierceness and solidarity. “Together.”

  “But, to destroy their own sun,” said a woman Gryph recognized from his Reverie as Dymeria, but without the horns or her magma colored staff, she looked normal, human. Gryph gazed at the group gathered around him, thirteen people, plus himself, that had yet to become gods.

  But these are the Old Gods, and I know them all. Names paired with faces, stories with voices and memories of all of them filled him in a rush. He remembered the joy he’d felt when Morrigan, his best friend since their earliest days, had confessed his love for Asheara.

  A wave of shock and regret and pain flowed over Gryph and he suddenly felt light, like he was adrift in a dream he could not control.

  “We were heroes,” Aluran said, stepping next to Gryph, who had somehow pulled from Ossyrion’s body to watch what was to come. “None of us wished to become gods, not even me.” He gazed up at the quickly darkening sun, and Gryph looked with him, surprised that the brightness did not hurt his eyes. “But it was the only way.”

  The sun imploded, creating a massive rift in space. Ahead of them, now visible for the lack of blinding sunlight, was another ship, massive, spherical, malevolent. Gryph knew this to be the Prime, but before he could process the size of the ship, it flew into the rift and disappeared.

  “They’re torn a hole in space-time,” Cerrunos said in shock.

  “Where have they gone?” Morrigan asked.

  “I do not know,” Cerrunos said, and fell silent, the only sound the hum of their ship.

  “Follow them,” Ossyrion ordered and Cerrunos tapped at the controls. The ship flashed through space and entered the rift. A moment later the singularity closed, leaving a dark, lonely world to die in the cold of space.

  Their ship emerged into an altogether different place, a vast endless sea of gray proto-matter, constantly shifting between low and high energetic states. It was a vast expanse of nothingness and everything. This was the primal Aether. The uncontrolled power of creation lashed at their ship, but the shields held. They were designed to withstand incredible strain, but how long would they last?

  Ahead of them, both close and somehow far, the Prime sphere hovered in the vast sea of nothingness and waited. What are they waiting for? What madness addled their minds? Why destroy their own sun to power this journey and then just wait?

  Gryph cast a sideways glance at Aluran, but the High God did not return his gaze. Time passed oddly and Gryph had no idea how long they waited, when the Aether began to churn and roil. The building blocks of reality began to push their way upwards from the frothing silver everything.

  Gryph gaped in awe as he witnessed the birth of a universe. “This is the beginning of the Realms, the moment of creation.”

  “Yes. This is the first incursion of conscious thought into the Aether. The Source is thinking the Realms into being.”

  “You are a believer in the Source?”

  “You think me so arrogant that I will discount the proof of my own eyes?”

  Gryph said nothing. He just watched.

  Nebulae burst from the Aether and coalesced into stars and planets and a dozen other things that Gryph had no words to describe. Strands of light eased down from the dull gray nothingness and dragged the stellar bodies into a complex array. Gryph’s mind had trouble finding the words to describe the experience.

  Light blazed and an ever-shifting fractal shape, lowered itself from the haze. It launched more strands of destiny in all directions, creating all that was in this universe. Gryph’s jaw hung open as long-buried memo
ries clawed to the surface of his mind.

  “The Source.”

  “Yes,” Aluran said simply and then pointed.

  The Prime sphere fired a beam of energy into the center of the Source and it spasmed and shuddered, pulsing and retracting in ways that Gryph’s mind failed to process. Ossyrion ordered their own ship to action, and they sliced forward silent as a knife.

  “Do we not have weapons?” Gryph asked, hoping Ossyrion and his friends stopped the horrid abomination they were witnessing.

  “None that can stop the Prime,” Aluran said. “At least not yet.”

  The beam pulsed, and the Source ruptured and then imploded into thirteen motes of light and power. Gryph’s heart felt like it would rupture inside him. I have just witnessed the murder of God, he realized. A sadness unlike anything he’d ever experienced squeezed him as the truth of what he’d just witnessed threatened to consume him.

  A slap brought him back. “I did not remind you of this for you to collapse, but to understand. Watch.”

  Gryph turned back to the murder scene in front of him and realization hit him. The motes of light and energy drifting in the primal soup were the Prime Godheads. The divine artifact melded to his soul was a part of the Source, a bit of the corpse of God.

  As understanding come to Gryph, the Prime moved in to collect the nascent Godheads that would soon bear their name. Beams of darkness exploded from thirteen spots along the surface of the sphere, each one enveloping and dragging one of the Prime Godheads into its dark bulk.

  On Ossyrion’s order their own ship sped forward, zipping towards the sphere, its true size clear for the first time. The fourteen people aboard each fed their prodigious mana stores into crystalline globes that had risen from the decks in front of them. That mana went to power the mystical shields that not only protected their ship but also their fragile, still mortal bodies.

  Their ship speared into the side of the Prime sphere, spewing a geyser of flame and water into space. A moment later their ship came to a jarring halt, and the doors opened. Fourteen men and women activated rings similar, but much more powerful than Gryph’s own Ring of Air Shield and swam through the vast ocean inside the Prime ship.

  The perspective shifted, and he was standing on a dry platform hovering at the center of a globe of air. They looked to be at the center of the sphere. Illurryth and arboleth bodies lay scattered about them, some splattered like day old seafood tossed on a dock, others floating lazily in the ocean above and around them.

  At the center of the platform, Ossyrion stood, his hand gentle on Morrigan’s trembling shoulder. Clutched in Morrigan's arms was the bloody, broken body of Asheara. Of the fourteen heroes who’d defeated the Prime this day, only thirteen had survived.

  Gryph’s heart broke as he felt her loss again, for he now remembered this moment. Asheara had been the best of them, and she had died so they could live. One by one the others all walked to them, each placing a hand on Asheara’s head to say goodbye.

  All but Morrigan, for he could not, would not say goodbye. Ever.

  Cerrunos walked forth bearing what looked to be a small nebulae cloud containing thirteen proto-stars. The others turned to him and one by one, each of them took one of the Prime Godheads. They returned to their ship, Morrigan bearing the body of their fallen sister, his eternal love.

  The vision ended abruptly, and Gryph stood facing Aluran once more.

  “We saved the Realms,” Gryph said in awe and respect.

  “We did, but I was the only one to lose everything.” He turned to look over Gryph’s shoulder towards the Archive. “But now that I have found Cerrunos, I will change it all, and she will live again.”

  In an instant Gryph remembered it all. To bring back his beloved, Morrigan had sought to unlock the power of his Prime Godhead. Morrigan bore the Godhead of Soul. Unlike the other twelve Godheads, his was not fully functional, not yet awakened for souls did not exist when the Godheads had burst into existence. The Source had made the Realms as an engine to create mortal souls, but the Prime had murdered the Source before these souls had been born. The Godhead of Soul lacked its full power. Eons would pass before the Realms had created life, and millennia longer still before that life generated souls.

  On that day, Morrigan turned towards darkness. He cast aside his friends, his family and eventually his humanity in his quest to find Asheara’s soul and give her life once more. But his Godhead’s power over the soul was dormant and Morrigan failed to find her. Despite the adversity, he refused to give up his quest, damn all the consequences.

  He dedicated himself to the study of the soul, and then, in a boy named Simon he found his answers. But, to achieve the power he required he was forced to torture and murder Simon and then he turned to the power of consumed souls.

  For love, he had lost everything that made him worthy of love.

  When he’d finally found Asheara’s soul and brought her back, she could not abide what he had become. Morrigan terrified her, for in his quest to bring her back he had destroyed himself. In horror, she killed herself and Morrigan brought her back again and again, and each time she ended her life.

  Gryph looked at Aluran. “She will never accept you. No matter how many times you bring her back.”

  The High God grinned, freeing Morrigan and letting him burn through the veneer of falsity that was Aluran. “I’m not going to bring her back. I will take the power of creation as my own and make the Realms anew, make her and I anew. And I will destroy everything and everyone who gets in my way.”

  Gryph’s eyes widened and ice ran down his spine. The plan was utter madness, but he knew, on looking into Morrigan’s eyes, that if he gained the knowledge Cerrunos bore, then he would accomplish his task. The Dread God would never stop until his mission was complete.

  Morrigan raised his finger again and a spike of silver light exploded into Gryph’s skull. “Goodbye brother, I promise to remember you always.”

  More images from half-remembered lives rushed through him, memories siphoned away by the High God’s fell magic. Gryph tried to move, but the Soul Magic bands cinched tighter with each movement and grew stronger with each passing second, their strength fed by the power of his own fading soul.

  A mewling growl filled Gryph’s ears. Some ancient memory saying its final goodbye as Aluran fed, perhaps. But then the feeding stopped, and the soul bands loosened. Gryph fell to the ground, pain and confusion battling against his senses.

  The growls increased in frequency and came from all directions. He forced his gummed over eyes to open and saw a half dozen lithe shadows move around him. Aluran was backing up, both hands blazing with mana.

  Several whip snap sounds filled his ears and Aluran grunted in exertion, raising a shield about himself and sending a flashing knife of silver energy with his other. Gryph recognized the spell Soul Bolt, for he used it himself. Through the fog blanketing his mind, a realization came to Gryph.

  We are under attack.

  Gryph forced himself to his knees and his eyes cleared enough for him to see what had come for them. A half dozen bandersnatch were flicking their tail quills at the retreating High God, attempting to circle around him. Gryph crawled backwards trying to put distance between himself and the pack. They seemed to ignore him. What was happening? It was unlikely that the panther-like beasts had not seen him.

  It is more likely that they do not consider you a threat, the voice of the Colonel said.

  Gryph’s pride scowled at the voice from deep within, but Gryph was no fool. If he could sneak away while these two enemies battled, he would do so. His back hit the earthen bank of the dry stream bed. Just as he was about to turn and climb up the incline a large shadow fell over him.

  Gryph looked up to find a huge bandersnatch, a beast his Analyze tagged as an alpha, lurching over him. The cat gazed on him with odd intelligence. It jumped down on light feet, despite weighing at least a ton. The cat turned its back to the battle and padded close to Gryph, its dual tails moving behi
nd it like a pair of quill laden serpents.

  The alpha moved closer and Gryph raised his hand to cast Soul Bolt. The cat pushed his arm aside with a dish plate sized paw, spending no more effort than Gryph would have swatting away a fly. The cat leaned in close and sniffed him. It then pulled back and stared at him.

  The alpha cocked its head to the side, like a man considering an important decision. There was intelligence behind those eyes, something that was far more than animal. It considered him for several long seconds, as the sounds of the battle waged around them.

  It backed away and then like a whirlwind its bulk spun and roared at Aluran. A pair of bandersnatch bodies lay bleeding at Aluran’s feet, but he also bled from several wounds. The alpha’s roar drew the High God’s attention and the hate and anger in his eyes sent an involuntary shiver through Gryph.

  The man is beyond all redemption, Gryph realized. He pulled himself up, using a few dangling roots as an aid as the alpha coordinated its pack for a final assault. Tails flicked and quills flew. Aluran moved like a blur, deflecting and dodging the missiles.

  Finally, the alpha joined the fray, its twin tails flicking quills far quicker than its smaller underlings. Aluran’s speed increased, no doubt because of some activated perk, and he deflected the barrage. Gryph tried to stand, but his knees buckled under him. Apparently having one’s soul partially drained, combined with his many injuries, demanded a toll. He felt weaker than he had after fighting off a bout of the flu.

  Aluran lashed out with his dual handed sword, slicing straight for the alpha’s face, but the cat dodged backwards, keeping the High God’s complete attention. That was when Gryph saw another bandersnatch behind Aluran, one that had been lying in wait until the right moment came.

  The hidden bandersnatch flicked its tail, and a quill surged towards Aluran. Too late the High God realized the trap and turned just enough to see the quill sink into his neck. With a last yell of defiance, Aluran disappeared in a flash and a puff of oily smoke.