Nightlord: Shadows

by Garon Whited

  When I say “gods,” I don’t mean omnipotent beings. These Things, whatever they are, do not meet my standards as “gods.” Maybe I’m wrong; maybe they are what passes for gods, kind of like ancient aliens might have been mistaken for gods by primitive humans back in the dawn of the race. To me, a god would not need humans; as far as I can see, these beings do. They’re like parasites—well, symbiotes, in the case of the more helpful sorts—on the sapient races. So when I say “gods,” I’m referring to the things that claim to be gods.

  My adversary turned to face them, but didn’t turn his back on me. He stepped to the side so he could see all three of us. His comment to the other two was rude, if not outright offensive. Ssthich seemed annoyed; the Hunter ignored the comment and replied.

  “You can’t do this here,” the Hunter said, patiently. “You know the rules.”

  “Don’t you lecture me on the law!”

  “Then start paying attention to it,” Ssthich said. “He’s here. He is as protected as you are.” Ssthich grinned and took his spear into both hands. His smile was much more frightening than mine. “Unless your attack on our fellow was a sign that you choose to surrender that protection?”

  Others of the gods stepped up, apparently backing up the Hunter and Ssthich. One was manlike in form, but had a right hand made of shining steel and a left eye that matched. Another was a dark-cloaked, hooded figure with gaunt, almost skeletal hands. A third was a beautiful, brown-skinned woman wreathed in green and gold.

  My adversary’s heavy eyebrows descended like thunderclouds and he grumbled.

  “He assaulted one of us first!” he declared. “This lower creature wounded the Mother of Flame!”

  The Hunter glanced at Ssthich. Ssthich shrugged. The Hunter looked troubled. A slim, female finger tapped him on the shoulder and he stepped aside. A lady in a long gown moved up.

  “It seems I am needed once again,” she observed. Several of the gods threw up their hands in disgust and turned away. “Where is the Mother of Flame?” she asked.

  “She’s not here,” muttered the big guy. He seemed to be calmer and maybe a little resentful. The crowd continued to break up, losing interest as the odds of a fight continued to diminish.

  “I am sure we all would like to see these wounds,” said the lady. “Father Sky, will you please ask her to attend us?”

  His mouth worked behind his beard and I swear I heard his teeth grind. His gaze swept over the gods standing against him and the ones that continued to watch us. These spectators didn’t seem the types to be interested in a fight. They seemed more… hmm. Hungry? No, that’s not it. Anticipating? Eager? No, I’m not sure what the word is. They looked, to me, as though they were waiting for Father Sky to make a mistake. “Predatory” might be the right word.

  “Yes,” he agreed, tersely. He stalked away and spectators parted for him. It was a good stalk; it took him right out of the building.

  The lady came up to me and took my arm. She was maybe an inch shorter than I and was dressed in a long, shimmering gown of off-white color. Her belt was gold with inset pearls. Her hair was long and dark, elaborately braided and wound around her head. Her eyebrows were oddly angled, sharply upswept as they approached her temples, and her ears reminded me of elf-ears, just not quite so long.

  Most of the others drifted away, the excitement over. The Hunter and Ssthich looked at me, then at the lady.

  “I imagine,” the Hunter said, “that Ssthich would like to talk to him, too. I know I do.” Ssthich nodded, great, shark-like head still grinning. I wondered if he ever stopped grinning. All those teeth…

  “I understand,” she said, “but he may not survive here for long.”

  The two of them frowned—Ssthich still showing teeth, I noticed—and the Hunter agreed.

  “All right. If he continues, we’ll talk to him later.”

  “Agreed.”

  The two of them moved off to mingle. Everyone acted as though this was perfectly normal, or at least no longer interesting enough to be worthy of attention. I think the only thing that bothered me especially was being steered, arm in arm with a pretty lady, while naked as a newborn. I opened my mouth to say something, but she shushed me.

  “Yes, that can be arranged. I am Reason, and we have met before. Yes, I am, although, perhaps, not anymore; that remains to be seen.”

  I did not ask my questions. They were, in order, Can I get something to wear?, followed by Who are you?, with a final, You’re the goddess I dreamed about, the one I got handed off to?

  “Could you at least let me ask my questions, first?” I asked.

  She smiled at me and waited.

  “Ah,” I said. “Irony. Thanks.”

  “You are welcome,” she replied, and took my arm, apparently completely at ease. We walked together.

  “If you’re Reason, are you really a goddess, or are you an anthropomorphic personification?”

  “Is there a difference?” she asked.

  “Maybe. That’s why I asked.”

  “Do you believe that everything can be explained?”

  “Of course.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked. “Could not there be inexplicable things that obey no rules?”

  “I—” I began, then stopped. How do I know everything can be explained? How can I know that everything can be understood? Well, it seems axiomatic. If it exists, it can be examined, and the rules for it determined. It seems right and necessary that if it exists, it can be known. How do I know that?

  If I treat science and logic like a religion, I would have to say that I believe I can come up with the answers. Why? Because it works, at least up to now. On the other hand, there was probably a point in any religion where someone examined the entrails, made the sacrifice, prayed the prayer, and it seemed to work for them, too.

  Ah. I have faith in the scientific method and the power of Reason.

  “I can’t prove a negative,” I admitted. “I haven’t come across anything unknowable.”

  “Yes, it is a paradox, isn’t it?” She smiled, apparently amused. “At least, an apparent paradox, and I’m told it is very amusing.”

  “I don’t think it’s funny,” I admitted, as she continued to walk with me, steering me outside.

  “That is because you do not understand why it is not really a paradox. Devotion is where the gods get their power. If there were no such faith in Reason, then people would not work so hard to puzzle out the mysteries that occur all around them. That faith gives me the power to inspire them, rather than appear as a goddess and give them answers. They have to discover the answers for themselves, and the answers change as they know more about the fundamentals of their world. So, technically, yes, I am an anthropomorphic personification, but one ascended to godhood by the power of mortals’ belief.”

  “Then why did you keep changing form in my dream?” I asked.

  “At one point, your people knew the world was flat. Then they knew it was surrounded by crystal spheres. Then they knew that the speed of light made interstellar travel impractical. Then they knew they were the only life in the universe. Then they knew—”

  “Okay, I get it, I get it,” I agreed. “As we learn more, our understanding changes.”

  “You are quick,” she said, sounding pleased.

  “Only on alternate Thursdays. So, about the clothes?”

  “In there,” she said, as we arrived at my pool. I looked at her questioningly and she simply smiled at me without saying anything. Well, I asked to ask my questions, didn’t I?

  “‘Ah’, again,” I said. “Right. How does this get me dressed?”

  “How do you see this?” she asked, indicating the pool.

  “How do I see it?”

  “You are not equipped to comprehend this plane as it truly is.” She paused for a moment, obviously thinking. “At least, I don’t think you are; you can only be in one place at a time. Since you cannot see it objectively, I must understand your subjective perception. Describe it
, please.”

  So I did.

  “Interesting. Well, within your reference frame, think of the water as your… reservoir… of power.”

  “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

  “Probably not; humor is not my forte,” Reason admitted. “So, the water is power. Step into your power and think of yourself suitably dressed.”

  So I did. And I was. I was wearing my old suit of armor, the one I stood vigil over and then wore on the trip north with Raeth and Bouger. There was even a shield on my back and a sash around my waist. Why, I even had Firebrand at my hip!

  I drew it instantly and recognized it as a replica. It burst into flame as I drew it, but there was no life in the metal. It was just a long, sharp piece of steel. It was a very good replica, exact in every detail, but it wasn’t the real thing.

  Disappointed, I put it away. I paused for another drink from the fountain and heard Reason gasp. I looked up at her, curious, and she shook her head in a gesture of No, no—never mind me. I finished my drink and stepped out of the water again. My feet were again dry, I noticed.

  “Okay, so this pool is a representation of power. Apparently, my power. But I still don’t understand.”

  “Truly? How can you not?”

  “I’m sure it’ll come to me,” I said. “I have the gift of Reason.” She cocked her head and squinted at me.

  “You aren’t as funny as you think you are,” she told me.

  “I’m hilarious,” I countered. “It’s just that my sense of humor isn’t reasonable.” She actually winced at that.

  “Do you want me to smite you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then please stop the unutterably awful puns.”

  “If I can say them, they aren’t un—” I began, but stopped myself, lest she smite me. “Okay, maybe they’re not unutterable, but I accept that they are unreasonable. I’ll try. I can’t promise better than that.”

  “Try hard,” she advised. “But, really, why should I just tell you? Is it not the way of the gods to make you work for your answers?”

  “Rather annoyingly so,” I agreed. “On the other hand, at my current address they have a habit of directly addressing their followers. Even better, I’m actually here and able to ask you directly. Surely that counts for something? That’s—pardon me—Reasonable. Isn’t it?”

  “That’s quite a good point,” she agreed. “Very well, the gift of Reason, because you have worshiped me, in your fashion, in your worlds. You are, for the moment, a god.”

  We looked at each other for about ten seconds.

  “You’re going to have to go through it with me, I’m afraid,” I told her. “I’m not going to accept a preposterous conclusion without seeing the proof.”

  “I know. Would it help to know that you are god-like, temporarily, rather than an actual god?”

  “Yeah, probably, but not all that much. What happened?”

  “Do you want a reassuring answer, or a true one?” she asked, Reasonably. “I can give you either one. I am quite good with both rationalization and with truth.”

  “You raise good questions,” I told her.

  “You could say it’s what I do,” she admitted.

  “Let’s try the truth. You can comfort me after I panic.”

  “It started with Ssthich’s people. They revere you as their God of Fire—a niche I certainly wouldn’t have thought possible, given that they live underwater, but you seem to have managed it.” I started to ask a question, but she held up a hand. “Please, let me get through the explanation before you start asking questions. Your time here may be rather limited.”

  I started to ask why it was limited, but realized the dilemma that would cause. I shut up and looked attentive.

  “Worship and devotion alone will not make you a god,” she continued, “but their unrealized efforts on your behalf laid quite a lot of groundwork. There are numerous cults under the mountains, as well, and they add more power to that worship. Add in the fact that the humans in your cities already regarded you as a Hero and King, which bordered on worship to begin with, along with their cults…” She shook her head.

  “Other gods have started with less,” she observed. “All this built up quite a lot of devotional energy that you simply did not know was there. Nor could you have used it even if you knew of it; you were, fundamentally, still mortal, at least insofar as the difference between gods and men are concerned. Your quasi-dead state is merely a form of physical immortality, not promotion to the ranks of the true immortals.

  “Still, their belief—for lack of quick way to accurately describe it—moved power from lower energy-state realities to this, a high energy-state reality, in such a way as to be designated specifically for you. The water is tuned to your personality and will harm anyone else who dares to touch it.

  “Then you spent decades in that Sphere of Ascension—a stupid thing to do, considering that it nearly killed you every day. You flirted with destruction every evening and survived only because you recuperated completely every night. This trained your… hmm.” She paused, looking thoughtful.

  “Technically, I suppose we must still call it a ‘soul,’ at least for now,” she decided. I didn’t like that a bit. If I don’t have a soul—or, if I had a soul and something that passed for a goddess was unsure what it had become while I wasn’t watching—then what was it?

  “This trained your soul,” she continued, “to greater and greater strength while your cults spread, both on land and under it, as well as through the seas.

  “Even so, all of this did nothing you could notice. The energy mortal belief pumps up to this high energy-state plane of existence would have remained unavailable to you indefinitely because you had no access to it, no way to reach it. But you, in your arrogance and stupidity, attacked the Mother of Flame and ate a portion of her.”

  Reason paused, frowning.

  “You continue to defy me, even as you revere me. How many times should you have been destroyed? I stopped keeping track. Consuming even a tiny portion of that goddess should have caused you to burn to ashes like a scrap of dry leaf in a furnace. Any other of your kind would have withered to dust merely by coming under her gaze. Yet, you survived not only her touch, but actually consuming a portion of her, somehow. Worse, you metabolized it. You digested it.” She continued to frown. It didn’t look as though it was her usual expression.

  “I did have a sort-of infusion a long time ago,” I pointed out. “There was an incident with an area of high energy, as well as a lot of association with Tamara, a priestess to Sparky.”

  “Yes, that could have helped to build up your—Sparky?”

  “I call her that.”

  Reason pressed her lips together in a tight line and her expression was of a person trying very hard not to laugh. It looked odd on her face, as though she didn’t laugh all that much. She turned away and got a grip on herself before turning back.

  “Yes. Of course. That sort of incident may have… ah… acted as a sort of immunization, perhaps. More important to you, I suspect that when the Mother of Flame opened a channel through her servant on that plane, some portion of that power devoted to you must have flowed to you through the opening. I have cautioned others on this matter before. An unrestricted portal between realms is a dangerous thing.

  “Still, since you were first a God of Fire to the sea-people, that may be what kept you from being destroyed instantly by her power. That delay probably allowed a faint whiff of your own power to enable you to metabolize what you took from her.

  “Now that you have done so, you possess a godlike capability; you can sense the power given by those who are devoted to you—I should imagine it will be very similar to your existing abilities. A wizard or magician can sense magical energies; a nightlord can sense the various types of living energy; a god can detect and use the power provided by devotees. While the first two are relatively simple things, capable of minor tricks in worlds where the magical potential is high, that last
one is capable of rewriting pieces of… well, ‘reality,’ at least as you currently understand it.” She gestured toward the pool again.

  “The fountain is the power flowing from your followers, whether they are formal members of your religion or not. That is the embodiment of their belief. That pool is the reserve of power they have provided over the years. The other pools you see are the powers of the other gods. While you are here, you can use that power for almost any purpose. You can also reach your power from other worlds, having some portion of it now within you with which to reach this plane.”

  She smiled.

  “Now you may ask questions.”

  “Right,” I said. “Do I have to be a god?”

  “Have to be? No. Perhaps more important, you are not a god. You are merely god-like, as I said, and even that is temporary.”

  “Hmm. What am I doing here?”

  “This is the realm of the gods. You came here when your soul grew too powerful to be contained in its physical vessel. Now that you exist as… as an energy form, your perceptions are now in alignment with this energy-state, so you perceive and act here.”

  “Hold it. My body is still back there?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Can I go back?”

  “Certainly,” she agreed. “An avatar can be created, but it is immensely draining. Reaching into a lower-energy plane does that. Normally, one simply operates through oracles or priests. Divine manifestations within one of the lesser worlds are remarkably wasteful.”

  “No, I don’t mean that,” I countered. “I want to go back to re-occupy my regular flesh.”

  “It cannot hold you. At least, not as you are.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I assured her. “Moving on… you mentioned something about being god-like ‘for the moment.’ There have been other references to a time limit. Could you elaborate on that?”

  “It is unlikely that you can sustain yourself in this form. You are a physical being transplanted from a low-order universe of matter to a higher-order universe of energy—yes, you think you know something about matter and energy and how they relate. You do, when you are in lower-order planes. The rules vary somewhat between those planes, but most are broadly similar.