He would conjure illusions of mountains and laugh when Oridon tried to restore them to their rightful place. He would whisper in the ears of Possmar and pretend to be nature itself.
At first, the other gods tolerated Xune’s jokes. He was the youngest, they said, and he had inherited the least. Let him have his fun.
But over the centuries, Xune’s tricks became more malicious. He would make the seas boil and kill all the creatures who called them home. He would call upon thunderstorms to strike down anything with wings.
He was ruining the peace the other gods had created. He did not understand how his brothers and sisters enjoyed living such sterile lives. He craved disorder and chaos because that brought excitement.
One day, while strolling through the woods, he heard two of his brothers approaching. Quickly, he camouflaged himself in the trees. Their hushed voices told Xune they did not want to be heard, and thus, he was eager to eavesdrop.
They spoke of a secret meeting taking place that night. All the gods were invited—save for him.
Xune grew furious. Was he not, too, one of their kin? Did he not, also, deserve his rightful place among them?
He stalked his brothers to find out more. The meeting would take place at the peak of Allhur, the greatest mountain in the world. It was said that the peak reached so high that from the top, you could stretch out and touch the moon.
Xune had never been to Allhur. It was Oridon’s home. Even Xune respected such boundaries. But he would not sit back and watch while his brothers and sisters gathered without him.
He ran to the mountain before everybody else. He snuck past the watchful eye of Oridon and crouched low among the jagged rocks. He waited.
When night came, and the first gods began to arrive, Xune held his breath. He did not want to be discovered until everyone was there.
He waited until all the gods had gathered at the peak of the mountain. Just as he was about to rise from the shadows and make himself known, he heard his name spoken.
He froze, and listened.
Oridon was the orator. He spoke of how Xune’s tricks were becoming tiresome. He spoke of how Xune’s desires clashed with those of the other god’s. He spoke of how Xune did not belong.
Suddenly, Xune understood why he had not been invited. It was a trial against him. It was where judgment would be made.
Xune grew outraged. He leapt from his hiding spot and startled the gods.
“Oridon,” he screamed, “your treachery is unbound!” He spun on the others. “Possmar, I banish you. Leave this earth and never come back.
“Aerogan, I banish you. Leave this earth and never come back.
“Fellaira, I banish you. Leave this earth and never come back.”
And so he named all the gods in sequence, uttering the forbidden words that would strip them of their power. They were too shocked to act, or perhaps Xune was too quick.
He named all of them except Oridon, for he knew his power was weakest in his brother’s domain. If he tried the same trick on Oridon, the spell he cast on the others would break.
Oridon could restore them, too, so Xune knew he had to speak fast.
“Brother, you have forsaken me,” Xune said. “And inspired the hot pillar of my rage. But perhaps I was too rash. Claim me as your own again, and all of this can be undone.”
Oridon remained wary of Xune. He had fallen victim to too many of his brother’s tricks.
“I can undo what has been done,” he said. “So tell me, brother, what need have I of you?”
“You have the same need of me as you have of all your kin,” Xune answered. “I am not less.”
Oridon did not move. “Repent all you have done, and swear you will trouble us no more with your trickery. Only then will I welcome you back as my blood.”
Xune fell to his knees and swore. He confessed everything, from setting the plagues that ruined crops to causing tremors that tore the earth open. Oridon was so touched by the honesty that he clasped Xune by the shoulder and begged him to rise.
But Xune had one more trick up his sleeve. As soon as his brother touched him, a link was formed between the two gods. The link combined their individual power. Xune stretched out his hand and called for Oridon’s mighty hammer. It flew through the air, into his palm.
Oridon’s shock was immense. Never before have any of the gods wielded weapons of one of their kin. He tried to pull back to sever the connection, but found Xune’s fingers digging around his wrist.
“Oridon,” Xune spoke, “I banish you from this earth. Leave, and never come back.”
Oridon froze. Xune swung the hammer at his head, and shattered it into a thousand tiny fragments.
Then he rose, and laughed. The other gods remained frozen in their bodies, unable to move anything except their eyes. They stared at Xune and could not believe his madness.
But Xune did not care. He came up to the locked body of every god and swung Oridon’s hammer. One by one, he shattered all of them, until only his sister Fellaira was left.
She could not speak, but her eyes begged him to stop.
Xune raised the mighty hammer. He started the downward sweep that would destroy her.
But at the last moment, he caught a reflection of his rage glimmering in her pupils.
He shifted the blow. The hammer swept by her face and landed amongst the rocks. Xune embraced his sister and spoke. “Fellaira, I release you. Save me from what I have done. Fellaira, I free you. Come back to this earth. Fellaira, I submit to you. Punish me as you see fit.”
Fellaira was the wisest of the gods. When she was released from Xune’s spell, she did not address him. She gathered the fragments of her siblings and flung them into the sky.
Then she turned to Xune. “Your punishment is to remain alone on the earth you so craved. Your punishment is to walk the barren fields with no hope of seeing life again. Your punishment is to be left forever on this frozen rock, while we, your siblings, watch from the heavens and forever judge you for your sins.”
With that, she leapt into the sky, and disappeared beyond the dark face of the moon.
Xune stood and surveyed the land. The earth was his. He could finally do as he pleased.
He assumed the thought would bring him satisfaction, but it only carried sadness. With no witnesses to his pranks, why would he even bother?
Melancholy touched him as he walked down the mountain. But when he turned back to look upon Allhur one last time, he saw a sparkle of dust that Fellaira had forgotten.
He rushed to it, and saw that Fellaira had not forgotten it at all, but rather left it for him. He picked it up. It contained a tiny piece of every god who now watched him from above.
Xune was devious and cunning, so he formed a plot that would restore life to the earth. Out of the dust, he formed tiny standing figurines representing each of the twelve gods. He brought two—one male, and one female—to each corner of the earth, and whispered the words that would breathe new life into them.
Xune had created the world’s first humans.
His creations rose, but not very high. They were like the gods in appearance, but otherwise smaller, frailer, and weaker. They did not possess any of the powers Xune’s brothers and sisters once had.
He retreated to Allhur, where he remains to this day. And every night, it’s said that the sparkling stars in the sky are the remnants of his brothers and sisters, watching, judging, and looking down upon us.
Chapter Fifteen
“That’s what the stars are?” I asked. “Pieces of other gods?”
“So the legend goes,” the man replied. He had finished his drinks and just put more coins on the bar for the next round.
The bartender refilled both pitchers. The man picked them up, stood, and motioned to a far, empty corner. I followed him there. We settled down at a table not unlike this one.
He leaned back and kicked both feet up. He drank from one pitcher. I watched him. He drank from the other.
The anticipation was ki
lling me. Finally, I burst out, “Aren’t you going to do something?”
The man quirked an eyebrow at me. “I am.” He motioned to the drinks. “I’ve told a story, and now I am getting uproariously drunk.”
“Not that!” I hissed. “I mean about the—” I lowered my voice, “—Black Brotherhood.”
The man raised his shoulders in an elaborate shrug. “They’ll find me in due time.”
“So you’re just going to wait for them?” The incredulity was clear in my voice.
He motioned around the tavern. “Better wait in a place of my choosing than one of theirs, don’t you think?” He took another swig.
“But they’re coming to kill you,” I protested. “Aren’t you worried? Aren’t you going to prepare?”
“Prepare to die?” he humored me. “I don’t think any man alive wants to prepare for that.”
“Then what are you doing?”
He leaned forward. “You want the truth? I’m passing time. Not only do I have to watch for my own skin tonight, but I have to babysit you, too.”
I crossed my arms and stuck my chin out. “I’m not a baby.”
“You couldn’t swallow your drink.”
“I didn’t like it.”
He cocked his ear toward me. “What was that? All I could hear was wah, wah.”
I was growing incredibly frustrated. “Why are we here?” I asked.
“Come, Dagan. I’ve told you the answer to that three times.”
“I mean, why are we really here?” I corrected. “You’re not just going to wait for the Black Brotherhood to come and kill you!”
“Why not?”
I stood up. “I’m leaving. I—”
The man caught my arm. I had no idea how he moved so fast. One minute he was leaning back in his seat, the next, he was hovering over me like an angry deity.
“Not a good idea, kid,” he said. His eyes darted to the barkeeper. “You see him? He knows you came in with me. He looks like the type ready to divulge information, especially given a little…” He twisted my arm enough for pain to shoot up the limb, “…forceful persuasion.”
He let me go. “So sit down. You know our coach was followed, yes?”
“It was?”
“Of course it was,” he snapped. “Stupid boy. Why did you think I hired the largest one and took the main road? If I had intentions to disappear, that is not how I would have done it.”
“So why didn’t you?” I asked. Then it dawned on me. “Wait. You’re looking for a fight!”
“And finally, Dagan proves he’s not an idiot,” the man announced. “Congratulations. Have a drink. On me.” He pushed his across the table.
He was mocking me. But suddenly, I had a new respect for him. He knew the Black Brotherhood was coming, and did not cower and hide.
He’d been right: We took the most ostentatious means of transportation possible to Lamore’s Tavern. He was making it easy for the assassins to find him.
The question was: Why?
“Who are you?” I whispered.
The man laughed. “Finally, you’re asking the right questions. But your curiosity is misguided. Who I am does not matter. A man can change names the way a serpent sheds skins. What I can do, however…” he trailed off and peered into his drink, “…that is the important question.”
“So, what can you do?”
A knowing smile played on his lips. “Would you like a demonstration?”
I had a feeling we were playing a dangerous game. Despite that, I nodded.
“Stand up, then, Dagan. Walk over to that wall.”
I did. I walked to the wall closest to us and turned around. “Now what?”
“Now… catch this apple!”
He produced an apple from the inside of his coat and tossed it to me. It arced high through the air. I cupped my hands out to catch it…
And never got the chance. A knife whizzed through the air and split the apple in two. The blade sunk into the plank behind me, a hair’s breadth above my head.
I could feel the vibration of the quivering metal against my skull.
The two pieces of the apple fell to the floor. I looked at them in wonder, and then looked back at the man. I didn’t dare move my head for fear of being cut.
He had his face hidden behind the pitcher he was busy downing.
I ducked down and ran to him. “That was amazing! How did you do that? That was—”
“Nuh-uh,” he stopped me. He pointed to the wall. “My knife, please.”
I hurried back to it and gripped the hilt. I turned back without thinking, pulled—
And ended up flat on my ass when the blade didn’t give.
The man laughed. “Come on, Dagan! I know you’ve got more strength in those arms than that!”
I scowled as my face turned bright red. I stood up, wrapped both hands around the hilt, and pulled again.
It didn’t budge.
I gritted my teeth and tried once more. I put one foot against the wall as leverage and used it to push. My whole body strained as I tried desperately to yank the knife out of the wood.
It was no use. The blade was stuck as solidly as if it had been forced in with a hammer.
“Trouble?” the man asked over my back, surprising me. I looked up to find him standing beside me. “My turn.”
He put his thumb and forefinger on the blade and gave the most delicate of tugs.
It came out as if the wood were merely butter.
My jaw hung open as I trailed the man back to the table. His coat swished around him as he sat down.
He noticed me staring. “Impressed?”
I spoke so quickly I stumbled over the words. “How did you do that? How did you get the knife in your hand so quickly? How did you throw it so fast? How did you know I wouldn’t move?”
“I didn’t,” he replied solemnly. “You can never know something with absolute certainty. But I’ve been watching you since we met. You did not seem like the kind to jump.”
I remembered the raven I’d killed. “But if I had—”
“Then I’d be explaining to the barkeeper right now why there’s a dead kid lying on the floor of his tavern.” The man laughed. “But I thought you had more guts than that. I’m pleased to see that I was right.”
I didn’t know whether to be affronted or satisfied with the compliment. I decided on the middle ground, going for indifferent.
“How’d you get it out of the wood?” I asked. “Are you really that much stronger than me, or was that—”
“—a trick?” He finished. “What do you think, Dagan?”
“I don’t think you’re that much stronger than me.”
The man grinned. “Self-assured as always. I like that. You’re right. I’m the only one who could have removed the blade from the wall.” He laughed again. “Unless they took to the beam with an axe.”
“How?” I asked. “Was it… magic?”
“After a fashion, I suppose.”
I looked at him again in awe. The man knew magic. Real magic.
“If you’re thinking of asking me to teach you, the answer is no,” he said.
My face fell.
“At least, not yet,” he corrected gently. “There are many levels of training you have to go through before you can be trusted with learning the elemental seals.”
“The elemental seals?” I asked. “What are those?”
“A method of binding earth, air, fire, and water. All the material you see around you consists of those four building blocks. From that apple—“ He gestured behind me. “—to this wood.” He rapped his knuckles against the table.
“And you know all that?” I asked, struck with disbelief at my luck in finding him.
“Oh, no,” the man chuckled. “Magic was locked away from this world many generations ago. It was too dangerous for humans to meddle with.”
I frowned at him, confused. “Then what did you do?”
“Magic is not something concrete, Dagan,” the man answ
ered. “It is not like a pile of firewood or a herd of cows. It cannot simply be picked up and stuck in a shack. Some of it always seeps out.”
“And you can use that…?”
“Yes. I know how to channel what little traces of it remain. It is not instant, as it would have been before. Each of us carries a small reservoir on our person. It is something we are all born with. Most people do not realize they have it. Even in the days when wild magic roamed free, only a select few would sense they had the capacity to capture it and unleash it to do their bidding.
“Now, it is much harder. It requires the utmost control of your mind. It requires immense concentration and willpower. It requires otherworldly persistence. But, if you can manage that,” the man sat back, “you have the potential to become a God amongst men.”
“Is that what you are?” I asked, my voice hushed.
He barked a laugh. “Hardly. But I do have more tricks up here,” he tapped his head, “than most men discover in a lifetime.”
“You’ll teach me?” I asked, eager to learn. “You will, won’t you? You wouldn’t have told me all that if you didn’t mean to.”
“My, but you’re a tenacious little brat,” he said. He leaned across the table and ruffled my hair. “And I like your enthusiasm.” His eyes glimmered. “Tell you what. If both of us survive the night, then I promise, I will teach you what I know.”
Chapter Sixteen
I spent the rest of the day watching the man get more and more drunk.
In truth, his casual nonchalance made me uneasy. I saw what he could do: throw a knife. But, he’d done that when he was still sober. He said the Black Brotherhood was coming for him, but it was obvious that he did not see them as much of a threat.
It was either that, or he was insanely brave. Or stupid.
The thought seemed ironic. Those were the two qualities he’d identified in me earlier.
An hour after midnight, things became interesting.
I had been watching the tavern fill up with patrons as the evening progressed. The rundown bar was apparently a favorite spot of both nobility and peasants. You could distinguish each from the cut of his cloth. I had never seen the two types of people mingling together as freely as they did here.
A Thirst for Vengeance (The Ashes Saga, Volume 1) Page 9