Two (The Godslayer Cycle Book 2)

by Ron Glick

  Malik made a deep bow, even going so far as to lower his eyes. “You have my humblest apologies. I will endeavor to keep your mortal sense of urgency in mind in my future decisions.”

  Nathaniel turned away from the God and moved along in the direction he had indicated. “Whatever, Malik. So what was so important that it was urgent enough then, but still could wait ten... Sorry, nine days?”

  The man could hear the God's body shrug inside his leather gear. “I disagreed with Airek's choice to not share what we knew of the skyfall. You dismissed us before I could find a convenient way to circumvent his decision.”

  The hunter reached out to brush a damp leaf through his palm before letting it swing back into its natural path. “So you'll tell me what fell from the sky?”

  “Not precisely,” demurred Malik. “To be honest, none of us know. That was what Airek wanted to not talk about. There is something in the materials that fell from the sky that wards the divine.”

  Nathaniel stopped in his tracks and swung to face the God. “'Wards the divine'? Seriously?”

  Malik nodded. “Airek did not wish to speak of it, considering the power such a discovery would have over us. I disagreed, insisting it could be a powerful weapon for you should the New Order ever discover your involvement and seek to eliminate you. I was overruled.”

  “But you're telling me now anyways.”

  “Things have changed.”

  “So Airek changed his mind?”

  “No. His Leadership is not aware of this particular change yet.”

  Nathaniel let out an exasperated groan. “Isn't that the way it always is with you? What, am I now your confessor, to whom you confide all your sins? When did our roles reverse?”

  Malik smirked. “Hardly. You would never believe all that I keep secret from everyone, including you. But that is the way of all Gods, not just me.”

  The man could not argue with that. He knew of secrets that the Gods were not aware he knew, after all. Fearing his thoughts would betray him, he turned again to follow the blood trail. “So, to which one of you do I owe the knowledge of how to shape a bow, all of a sudden? I may have learned a great deal growing up, but not how to do that. Even without the proper tools, I was still able to put together a serviceable tool. Was that your part of the avatar matrix, like the swordsmanship?”

  “A longbow might have been, but not a hunting bow. For that, you can thank Lendus. He is the Lord of the Hunt.”

  Within a few steps, he came within sight of his prey – felled just as the God and Goddess of War and Peace had predicted.

  “So, fine. Tell me about this big change you've come to tell me about already,” said Nathaniel, drawing his knife to begin dressing the deer.

  “The Godlings know about the swords.”

  Nathaniel stopped short of gouging the blade into the beast's belly. “They what?”

  “Well, to be more precise, at least one of their ilk knows of them. Specifically, Ankor the Prankster.”

  “Ankor.” Nathaniel struggled with his memory, but could not recall that particular God. There were forty-eight of the blasted deities in the New Order, after all. How could he be expected to remember them all. “Which one is Ankor?”

  “He's their God of Mischief. More or less, he's Dariel's counterpart on their side.” When Nathaniel's blank look conveyed that he did not understand, Malik added, “One of Dariel's lesser dominions is over trickery. It goes in hand with Deception, and is the opposite of Truth. Mischief is just a malicious form of trickery.”

  “Not exactly,” countered Nathaniel.

  “More or less,” repeated Malik. “The New Order's dominions aren't perfectly translatable to us, after all. Dariel is just the closest sphere that mischief could fall under on our side.”

  “Fine, he's Dariel's opposite. Sort of.”

  Malik gave a curt nod. “And he knows about nine of the swords.”

  “You make it sound like you're pretty sure that only he knows.”

  “He says he is,” the God said. “And it makes sense that he would keep such to himself. One thing about mischief is that it is never directed where it can do the most good. It's in Ankor's nature to find ways to use the knowledge in a way that is disruptive. Telling his brethren that he knows about nine God-killing swords would be helpful, and therefore, I believe him when he says he has not told them.”

  “You've talked to him?”

  “Yes. He came to Charith and brokered a meeting with me. He knows that we created the swords, or at least deduced we had something to do with their making.”

  “And how did he learn about them?”

  “He's been less forthcoming with how he learned about them, but it is inescapable that he has. He also knows about you, or at least, he knows we have someone in our employ killing Gods. He reasoned that much out, as well. And he knows where you are heading to retrieve the second sword. He names it a town called Levitz, a small town along the coast, just south of the Fist by several leagues.”

  “You do realize I have no idea what 'the Fist' is, right?”

  “Of course you wouldn't,” grumbled the God under his breath, though Nathaniel heard him quite clearly. “It is a nautical landmark, a land bridge that reaches out to sea and at a distance is said to look like a man's fist at the end of his arm.” Malik shrugged. “Personally, I've never seen it. Looks like a big slab of rock to me.”

  “And that's where the sword is drawing me?”

  “Well, you're moving in that direction. Or at least, you have been since you left the mountain passes. I must assume Ankor is correct for no other reason than that. You know we cannot sense the swords save through you.”

  “Well, is there anything odd going on in Levitz? Avery was somehow affecting the people's worship in Scollhaven, so wouldn't something similar be happening there?”

  Malik shifted uncomfortably. “It is difficult to say. Charith had been watching Levitz since Ankor first uttered the town's name, though three days ago, the town simply... disappeared from our perceptions.”

  “Disappeared? Towns don't just disappear.”

  “This one did. Or at least, it seems to have. All that's left of the village now is a great void that none of us can enter.”

  “A void? What's that?”

  Malik sighed notably. “A place where nothing else exists. No air, no animals, nothing. Whatever took the town away seems to have left something behind – but neither Charith nor I can enter whatever it is.”

  Nathaniel turned again to his prey, driving the knife into the deer's stomach and pulling the blade laterally down the creature's abdomen, releasing the animal's innards. “And you're only telling me now?”

  “As I said, we did not wish to convey this information in front of Imery's servant.”

  “I don't know what Brea's deal is, or even if she's being honest about why she's still with us.” Nathaniel turned from his task and raised the bloodied knife towards the God to make his point. “But what I can tell you is that she is no longer a servant of Imery. Even if it were possible that Brea were still loyal to her Goddess, Imery is dead. There is absolutely no threat of alerting her deity to our affairs, because there's no longer a Goddess left to hear her prayers.”

  “You do realize that sooner or later, the New Order will by necessity need to fill Imery's position in their structure? Just as we are balanced by duality, so are they to a different degree. They have twenty-four higher powers and an equal number of lesser powers. By necessity, they will need to find a way to balance their structure again.

  “I do not know how they would replace a God in their ranks, but I am reminded that these deities came literally out of nowhere a handspan of centuries gone now, and none in the Pantheon saw them coming. Wherever they came from, what is to say they may not have another God they can draw upon to bolster their ranks? And once they have someone to assume Imery's duties, the new God or Goddess of Truth will receive the prayers of Imery's former faithful as if they were his or her own.

&n
bsp; “So again I remind you – you have a wolf in your flock, only awaiting the moment the New Order recovers from Imery's loss. And none – not even the members of the Pantheon – can foretell how soon that will be.” Malik ended his speech by folding his arms across his chest smugly.

  “I say again,” responded Nathaniel, “that I do not believe she is an immediate threat for that very reason. But even if what you say is true, how else would we know that the New Order had found a new God to replace Imery if we did not have one of her ilk close at hand?”

  Nathaniel stabbed the blade into the earth, and reached into the cavity of the deer to begin pulling free the intestines. “I seem to recall one of my mother's lessons growing up. 'Watch your enemies closely, and even closer when they appear defeated.' I believe that was one of your tenets, wasn't it?”

  “It is,” Malik grudgingly acknowledged.

  Nathaniel picked up the knife again, and began cutting away the tissue still clinging to the deer's inner cavity. “So if you were correct, and Brea were only biding her time until a new God of Truth was selected, having her close at hand where she could be watched closely would be better than not watching her, at all?”

  “It does not mean that you should share all your secrets with her,” protested Malik.

  “Perhaps not, but then – what secrets have you given me that matter? That the rocks that fell from the sky ward Gods? Surely the New Order would have discovered that on their own. The name of our destination? Brea would have discovered that eventually, too, since even if we evicted her from our company, I suspect she would have just followed us.”

  Nathaniel stood back from his work and wiped his brow. “Seems the only thing that might be of value is that you now have a turncoat God from the other camp meeting with you. I won't go so far as to say he's on your side, because I don't trust any of the New Order as far as I can throw one of them. That might be a choice bit of information to the New Order, to know they had a traitor in their midst. But from where I stand, it seems more of an advantage to let Brea know that than not.”

  Malik tilted his head comically. “In what way would that benefit us?”

  “Look at it this way.” The man held up one finger. “If I'm right and Brea is sincerely trying to make amends for what she did under Imery's service, then letting her know will only make her a stronger ally. She above all else would best know how to ward against one of the New Order Gods, having been a servant of one of them. She might also know more about Ankor that your faithful may not have known.”

  Nathaniel extended a second finger. “If you're right, Brea's true loyalty will be exposed, and the only thing you will lose will be one of the other side's players. Ankor owes no loyalty to you, and sooner or later, he will revert to form and betray you. It's like you said, mischief is not known for being helpful. Once he feels he is being more help to you than hindrance to his brethren, he will run back to them and leave you vulnerable. So if Brea exposes him before that happens, it minimizes your own risk. Then we would also have Brea close at hand to handle her betrayal as well, rather than finding a way to track her down later.”

  Snapping his hand down, Nathaniel stared a challenge at the God and Goddess of War and Peace. “By all means, tell me that I'm wrong.”

  Malik didn't say a word in response. He gave Nathaniel a stern glare – possibly resentful, possibly prideful – and then simply vanished.

  “The least he could have done,” Nathaniel groused, turning again to his kill, “was offer to help take the deer back to camp.”

  * * *

  Brea covered her ears. “Can you please stop? It wasn't that funny!”

  Bracken could not stop laughing. He had fallen backwards off the log he was sitting on, and continued to roll over and over on the ground, back and forth. And the whole time, his bellowing guffaws seemed more akin to the sound of rocks grating against each other than real laughter. Such was the humor of dwarves.

  Nathan had returned to camp with a large doe in toe, dragged behind him on a makeshift sled crafted in a diagonal pattern from a pair of branches and the string from his own bow, while the limb of the bow itself had been wedged under the weight of the animal. The weight of the animal had also worked to keep the bulk of its body on the raised area of the sled, giving the man the ability to pull it behind him without dragging it through the dirt.

  Even still, as ingenious as the contraption appeared, Brea could not imagine the amount of strength it would have taken one man to drag it through the woods more than a few feet. At a glance, the mechanics of it suggested two people would be needed, each to pull on a separate limb. And yet, Nathan had accomplished it on his own.

  Even more amazing was that Nathan had managed to fell anything so large with such a crude bow as what he had assembled yesterday. He had not demonstrated either the knowledge nor inclination to make a bow while traipsing through the mountains, but within a day of entering the lowland forests, he was quick to find a suitable tree and begin carving the weapon from a freshly downed sapling. It would likely have taken a considerably greater amount of time if he had not been assisted in cutting away the bulk of the wood by his magical swords, but even still, the feat was remarkable.

  Brea had known a bowyer growing up, and knew about the time and delicate work that went into crafting a bow – including the seasoning, polishing and tempering of the wood. Nathan had needed none of that, taking a fresh limb and somehow devising the construction of a bow that Brea had assumed would lack any real power.

  And yet he had returned with a deer – a broken shaft clearly visible protruding from the rib cage of the beast.

  Still, this was not the most astonishing thing that Nathan had brought back with him. He had also brought back information. He had told them about Malik's visit. He explained about the magical potential of the material that had fallen during the firestorm and the fear the Pantheon had of a new God of Truth being appointed by the New Order. Then he had told them about Ankor – at which point Bracken had lost all control of himself.

  “Lass, ya has no idea 'ow wrong ya are,” managed the dwarf, stopping in his rolling as he clutched his stomach, perhaps in an attempt to hold in his laughter. “No' only're the Gods shaftin' us, they's also doin' it t' each other!”

  Nathan's smile slyly crept across his features. “It is pretty funny.”

  “Not that funny,” Brea gestured at the dwarf, who had again resumed his rocking back and forth in mirth. Tears and snot were streaming from his eyes and nose, and he clearly cared not at all.

  The would-be-Avatar shrugged. “Maybe not that funny, but he's a dwarf. He finds different things funny than even I do. I haven't seen him laugh this hard since the time a mouse found its way into his mug one day. Most anyone else would have been sickened, but Bracken wouldn't stop laughing for hours. And then if you brought it up after he stopped, he would just start all over again.”

  Bracken sat up, wiping the back of his arm across his face, smearing mucus and tears alike. “Tha's 'cause it was a mouse in m' mug,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “A mouse in m' mug!” This only caused the dwarf to burst into a new fit of laughter, seeing humor apparently even in the explanation that made no sense to anyone else.

  Brea squeezed her thumb and forefinger over the bridge of her nose. “So if we can ignore our rowdy dwarf, are you saying they aren't going to help you if I'm still here? Isn't that a bit childish? I mean, didn't he just explain that he's working with one of my Gods? How can he have a problem with you riding with one of their faithful?”

  “I can't disagree with you,” said Nathan. “And he didn't stay long after I said something similar to him – that if he was so afraid of you, why was he trying to drive you away? His own tenet says to keep your enemy closer when you think they are defeated. I reminded him of that, and he didn't like it very much.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He didn't really,” admitted Nathan. “He just disappeared.”

  “Like I said, childish. If
we don't like his rules, he'll just take his toys and go home.”

  “I'm not entirely sure about that,” said Nathan. “I mean, it's too simple to just dismiss the Gods – especially Malik – as being immature or childish. But they are Gods. They aren't children, and they most certainly aren't this naive. I think he's trying to manipulate me in some way – and he's meeting with me when I am far enough away to make sure no one else grows wise of it.”

  “So he's lying to you?”

  “No, I don't think so. I think everything he said is true and reasonable. I just think he's presenting it in a context that will force me to make certain choices.”

  Nathan picked up a stick and drew a line in the dirt. “If I were going to walk along this road,” he explained, as he drew another lie branching from the first, “but you told me that I could find Geoffrey by taking this road, then you would expect me to take this second road.” He tapped the second line for emphasis. “But I wouldn't have taken this road if you hadn't given me a reason to. It probably would never have occurred to me to even look for my son there.”

  Brea studied the diagram thoughtfully. “So something in what he told you – though true – is meant to change your path. What do you think it was?”

  Nathan sighed heavily. “That's the golden question, isn't it? Does he expect us to go looking for where one of those fireballs fell? Is he expecting you to do something about Ankor? Or is it something even more subtle?”

  “Ya cannae trust a God, Nate,” offered Bracken, who was now sitting up, paying closer attention to the conversation. “Where'r he wan's ya ta go, ya gotta make sure ya don'. If'n this were the will o' the Gods – more'n one – 'e would no' keep comin' ta you on yer own. 'E's up ta somethin', there's no doubt.”

  “But which direction is he wanting us to go, Bracken?” asked Nathan in frustration.