Fogle Eric - Forge of the Gods 01 - The Last Knight (V1.0)

by 5kops

  He could not help but relive the moment. Fifteen years ago a prophet had told him the future; it had caused a redirection to his search.

  And it started with a single betrayal. There would be miracles unknown to man. He would see an angel. There would be civil war. His hand would bring down that which had been sought for so long. All the signs were there. After fifteen years the prophecy was about to fulfill itself.

  Now it was time. He had fallen from God's grace. He had witnessed a miracle given to a true champion of Starsgalt. There could be no doubt. The prophecy was about to be fulfilled.

  A single thought shined through all of his relived anguish. He could not help but to say it out loud: "After all of these years, I have finally found the source!"

  ****

  Var woke with a start. He had seen amazing things, possibilities, endless possibilities. He could not help but think that his life could have been so much better had he chosen to apply his many talents in different directions. So much loss, he thought. There has been a better way.

  Tears slid down his face as he pushed himself from the ground.

  He had remembered being struck with a rock. His right leg had been shattered . . . yet there were no wounds to be seen other than scraped palms and several cuts above his left eye. There could be little doubt that he had been privy to a miracle. He could no longer sustain the belief that the gods did not exist or that they simply did not care.

  Var studied his surroundings. He was still on the same perch when the miracle had begun. His crossbow sat on a ledge just under his position. Oddly enough, it was locked and loaded ready to fire into the heart of his mark. Considering that such a thing was impossible, he shivered.

  Where is that damn man? he wondered, trying to discern tracks. He re­membered seeing the young man in a prone position with scattered rocks surrounding him. He was sure he had fired his crossbow—and he was sure it would be a killing blow. But blood represented his mark's demise. There wasn't even any debris. It just didn't make sense.

  Biting his lower lip, Var made his way down the mountain. He had no idea what to do. For most of his life he had been a killer, cold hearted, and mechanical. More important, no one had ever escaped.

  He gave a frustrated sigh.

  Var couldn't take the chance that Arawnn had lived. He would have to go after him. Then he would find the warrior who performed an act of God. He had not decided if he would kill the man, but there was no doubt that his fate would forever be tied to the man who had changed history.

  Var walked off to find a room for the night. He told himself that he could not look back to see what might have been.

  Part III: To Become a Hero

  17

  21st Eternity (Eternal Timeline)

  THE ANGEL Gabriel marveled at the empty council chambers and the flawless order that was embodied in the massive law-bound building struc­ture . . . the perfection of the floor, the columns and spherical domes, and the power that it took to maintain it all.

  If only all things were so easy to comprehend, he mused, knowing that order was related to creation, and to the reality that was.

  However, contemplating reality was not why Gabriel had come. He had come on behalf of Starsgalt to meet with several powerful ambassadors of the various factions of Heaven—order-bound high seraphim, neutral ar-chon savants, and chaos-bound demon princes—to discuss the repercus­sions of growing older ... in the mortal sense. All were of the angelic hier­archy, yet all were vastly different. He knew such a meeting could prove disastrous should the heavenly population find out.

  It was not that the angelical race feared aging so much as its aftermath: non-existence. Long ago, the gods had come together to create time and marked it as one of the limitations of the mortal races. This was the prob­lem: angels could not realize the reality of dying, at least not in the mortal sense. In Heaven, angels could be slain but did not die. They simply ceased to exist.

  Only the gods knew exactly why this happened. It was a secret they had kept to themselves and something they could not reverse. Even after the Godsword War which had consumed millions within the Angelic Order, they had not given their angelic servants transcendent spirits. Instead, after an eternity of deliberation, they concluded that to allow the angelic race to transcend would make Heaven less than perfect. This gave rise to the belief between the gods that transcendence was a falsity, and that by doing so

  would destroy their omnipotence, the foundation of the universe. In short, the gods believed that the transcendence of a being who already resided in Heaven would give rise to the belief that there was something after one's life in Heaven.

  Though Gabriel did not know the gods' reasoning, he did know that he was young by angelical standards, an eternity old when the Godsword War had erupted.

  It was then that the gods discovered that angelical beings could not die, but only be winked out of existence upon being slain. This discovery led to the eventual conscription of the god's first creation: the Olthari.

  The memory brought back thoughts of Gabriel's past. He could still re­call the days when the Olthari, a race of immortals who were created by the gods, resided in Heaven. He had never questioned the fact that the Olthari race was shaped with the sole purpose of being mindless servants to the angelical race—infantry that could be wasted in war.

  But that is because I know my purpose, Gabriel thought. In fact, it made a lot of sense to the angel. The gods had created an alternative to angels' dying to make sure the angelic race didn't exterminate itself. It was the proper, or­derly, lawful way of things. Just as the Olthari were meant to follow angels, so were angels meant to serve the gods.

  "My purpose," he whispered out loud.

  After their creation, the Olthari had made up the majority of the gods' troops, and as such the gods threw their omnipotent power around with no regard to reality. In those days angels had watched impassively as the gods slaughtered the Olthari like fodder.

  Though he was incapable of mortal emotion, Gabriel had been brought to something like sadness at the aftermath. It seemed that most of the Olthari race had been destroyed in those wars, along with many angelic gen­erals.

  "Heaven nearly crumbled," Gabriel mused. "And the universe was nearly undone."

  In the waning moments of the war, he remembered that something un­expected had happened: the Olthari race was given sentient thought.

  Gabriel vaguely remembered the event—a moment of weakness when the gods had created sentient thought and gave it to the Olthari. The effect of this miracle allowed the gods' personal retainers to steal the coveted Godsword, remove it from the Eternal Timeline, and place it the one place no immortal could go: death.

  The gods are infallible, he assured himself, never doubting this history. He just didn't understand how the gods could make such a mistake—why give sentience to those you force to follow? He assumed they had their reasons, but by giving the Olthari sentient thought, the gods had also given the heavenly race the ability to transcend—not to Heaven, but some other place the gods had created for Olthari spirits.

  Gabriel had always thought such a thing was odd, given the circum­stances. For a moment he could feel an unknown presence, shimmering on the edges of what was real.

  It almost feels like an olthari, he thought.

  Gabriel shook his head, ruffling his angelic wings. He had not felt such a presence since the Olthari's banishment. If he had not been on such an im­portant mission from Starsgalt, he would have investigated such a random thought. However, time was running out.

  "I see Gabriel is once again in thought," said a high-pitched, melodic voice. "Did you ask us here to announce more dire news, or are we here to contemplate reality?"

  Though no gods deemed this meeting important enough to attend per­sonally, all sent their emissaries to discuss matters.

  Gabriel did his best to hide his irritation. He was not accustomed to be­ing addressed so informally, even though rank and title were of no use when
the gods met on neutral ground.

  "For a moment, I thought . . ." Gabriel paused as he turned his attention to the other twelve angels in the room. He couldn't help but notice the scornful faces of his brethren. Rather than suggesting such an impossible thing, he started the meeting. "For a moment I thought that some of you wouldn't show up."

  "I think the gods have no choice, Gabriel. They need us to have this meeting for them," Michael, the archon savant of Illuviel, said in a noncha­lant voice. "The last time they all met, you were out discovering something they did not know. None will take that chance again."

  "The Angel of Understanding is correct," said Raziel, the Archon of Punishment; agreeing with his neutral brother and causing a murmur to run through the council. It was not often that the first archon savant of Lahatiel agreed with anyone.

  "I asked for this council," announced Gabriel loudly, trying to calm his fellow angels, "to discuss another problem that we all face."

  "What problem?" asked Lokhivel, the Demon of War; by mortal stan­dards, the first demon Prince of Araziel.

  "Come, Lokhi," said Gabriel, turning to address the whole council, "let us not pretend that Heaven has not been afflicted with a terrible curse. We are here because the gods are no longer fully capable of omniscience." Gabriel let the words hang for a moment before he continued. "If I am correct, those of you who embrace chaos have it worse."

  Again Gabriel let his words sink in before continuing. "The search for the unknown source has revealed nothing . . . nor will it, I am afraid. It is time to come to the realization that the gods are dealing with something greater than the}'."

  "Blasphemer!" the council screamed.

  "Impossible!" murmured others, several shaking fists. Still others cried, "Gabriel is speaking blasphemy! The Angel of Mercy's mind has been cor­rupted!"

  "I am speaking the truth!" shouted Gabriel, slamming his hands onto a table made of pure order. The blow shook the foundations of the council chamber. "If something has the power to stop time, it is far greater than even the gods. And they know it!"

  "What would you have us do?" said Michael, his voice calm.

  "There is only one way," said Gabriel. "So far each of us has attempted to seek out the source individually, and each of us has failed—utterly, I might add. The only way to address this issue is to unite against our com­mon goal."

  Again the council erupted into chaos.

  "And who would lead us?" shouted Lokhi.

  "I suppose the God of Law and Order offers himself up!" shouted Mul-ciber, the Demon of Lies. "You all remember the last time we united!"

  "Silence!" shouted the Archon of Punishment, angrily pulling Lokhi by the arm. "We may have no choice," Raziel continued. "Tell them!"

  The Demon of War looked nervous, very unbecoming for a demon prince. With as much dignity as he could muster, he began, "The Dark Lord is systematically destroying entire worlds, searching for the source," said Lokhi, his eyes growing desirous of such destruction. "He has figured out a means to allow his corrupted armies into the Mortal Plane of existence."

  "And why is this bad? We all feed off the spirits of the faithful," said Caym, the first archon savant of Gabriel, better know as the Archon of Luck.

  "Because the gods have not come together to create anything for an eter­nity," finished Gabriel. "Illenthuul is harvesting every gods' faithful souls, and Heaven is not united to balance the equation. There must be creation for such destruction to take place. The dead are not making it to Lord Ra-ziel's realm. Even Lokhi understands this."

  "Do we know how he is doing it?" asked Vendal, high seraphim of Araqael, or the Angel of Love.

  "When Gabriel first showed me the information, I scoffed," said Mi­chael. "We have researched the information in a hundred different realities, and our view is blocked. Whatever Lord Illenthuul is doing, he is able to hide his actions from Heaven."

  "So what are we to do?" asked Caym.

  "There is no choice," said Gabriel. "Unless we stand together, none of us is strong enough to discover such information. That means each god will have to rely on each other . . ." Gabriel let his words trail off.

  The council broke into arguments, discussing all the possibilities.

  After several moments, Gabriel raised his hands for silence and nodded solemnly to Michael. "Continue, my brother."

  "For those of you who doubt the validity of this claim, I will tell of the end of all things," Michael said slowly. "Know this: that unless the source is found and we all can convince our lords to stand united, the Dark Lord will control the flow of all souls. We are all in danger of this. If Illenthuul suc­ceeds, he can destroy Heaven without ever collecting the Godsword. And if that happens we will cease to exist."

  18

  21st Eternity (Eternal Timeline)

  2009 A.D. (After Devoid) (Mortal Timeline)

  THE STENCH of dead bodies washed over Thurm Stormrage, a token of the limitless men, women, and children he had sacrificed in his holy cru­sade. The smell of the deceased was a constant reminder of his role in such a slaughter. His immortal soul was no longer able to escape the guilt.

  "I have become a murderer," Thurm whispered and the thought of the innumerable dead that overwhelmed his senses. Gritting he teeth, he place one foot after the other and forced himself to move forward, always for­ward. Some part of his goodness, or what was left it, refused to look back upon the carnage he had wrought.

  Without looking at the portal awaiting him, Thurm focused his gaze on the ground and stepped through towards the next dead world.

  It only took a moment before the olthari passed into and out of the nothingness, materializing in his next conquest. However, as his eyes cleared, an unexpected sight greeted him. He was shocked to see that in­stead of a mortal world, an alternate plane of existence stretched out before him, one he thought he would never see again.

  It made Thurm remember what he had once been, and he was wracked with terrible memories.

  Thurm was considered prehistoric among his people as the fifth of his divine race to be given life by the gods. They were to be the perfect ser­vants, created with no conscious thought; loyal, subservient, and sacrificial in the grand scheme of things.

  Thurm realized that such loyalty and subservience had been his race's downfall. How many times had he seen the mortal races betray each other, their beliefs, their ethical and godly devotions for their sinful nature? Yet their punishment was a pittance, a slap on the wrist, their souls redeemable. It frustrated him that mortals were treated like children, with infinite pa­tience and understanding to prepare them for servitude in the afterlife, while his own species had been shown no mercy.

  The Olthari had never been children of Heaven; rather they were treated like criminals, punished harshly and absolutely. Furthermore the gods had not given them the ability to think, binding them to meaningless existence. He realized now that the Olthari race had been slaves. The problem was that it had taken him several thousand mortal years, trapped outside of Heaven after his race had betrayed the gods, to realize such a fact.

  The slaves were never given a choice. His kind had never realized their loyalty was forced until the end, until they were banished from Heaven and given this wretched curse that had killed off their entire species.

  To think that I caused of all of this, he thought. Most of his kind did not un­derstand why they were being punished. And that was a great part of his guilt. Thurm understood why he was the last of his kind. He had been the first to be given sentient thought. Furthermore, he had made the choice to realize such a feat, to accept the gift, to accept what must be done to save Heaven.

  At the time, all those millennia ago, he had sacrificed his entire race based upon loyalty and what would set everything right. He now knew that he had been wrong.

  In the wretched Godsword War, a bloody civil war that had almost ripped Heaven asunder, the Olthari race had served as infantry. He still re­membered the screams, the terror. It had not been angels dyi
ng over Thal-lindaviel, the Godsword. It was bis race. They had been slaughtered by their gods so that their deities could claim the Godsword and rule Heaven.

  Then Starsgalt, in his omniscience, brought together a Great Conver­gence of Heaven. It was there that Thurm's god had convinced all of Heaven to call a treaty, one that put the Godsword in the hands of their servants, a completely neutral, subservient race who would act as guardians until one god could control such power.

  Thurm had been such a protectorate, one of twelve grand inquisitors to represent each god in Heaven. He and his served without question, unable to take sides. And for two eternities heaven was at peace.

  Eternity crawled by; no god could claim Thallindaviel.

  Then something unexpected happened. The Corrupted One, Illenthuul, who had been believed to have been winked out of existence and who cre­ated of the Godsword; the one who had demanded the essence of each god to forge the blade; had returned from the nothingness.

  The gods recognized the danger before them. If the Corrupted One was successful in conquering Heaven, he would destroy the gods and bind each to the Godsword.

  Heaven tried to react but it was too late.

  Illenthuul summoned those angels loyal to him and marshaled an army of dark, possessed creatures, unleashing the first real demons, the ferryll, upon existence. He then began to systematically conquer parts of Heaven so that he might retake the Godsword back to his personal plane of exis­tence, Hell.

  The Second Godsword War raged.

  Again the most lawful, benevolent gods of Heaven started to fight each other, trying to claim the Godsword before Illenthuul.

  After countless wars, stalemates, and loss of olthari lives, a damning miracle occurred—Heaven allowed their first-born children sentient thought.