Two (The Godslayer Cycle Book 2)

by Ron Glick

  Avery felt a chill wind blow off the coast, raising goose pimples on his skin. He had not realized he was sweating, but the air reminded him. As cool as the night was – with the fast approach of autumn – there was no reason for him to be sweating other than from fear. Not only was Avery expected to somehow confront this new God, to defeat him and take the source of his Godly might, he was also expected to find some way through that?

  * * *

  “To be honest, I have no idea what it is,” said Avery.

  Avery had returned to the camp the night before, and attempted to get what sleep he could through the rest of the night. It had been a fitful night though, images of the enigmatic barricade filling his mind's eye each time he closed his real ones.

  What could such a wall be made of? Consistently, this thought above all others fluttered around Avery's mind. After all, if he did not even know what the fortification was constructed of, how could he be expected to penetrate it?

  The man had said nothing to his companions upon waking, either. How could he possibly describe what he had seen? And if he could not provide at least a description, how could he have presented his discovery?

  As the party discussed waiting until they reached Levitz to break their fast, Avery passed from one idea to the next on what to say when they crested the hill together. The most prevalent thought was to cast some kind of vague aspersion onto the New Order's Gods, to hide his ignorance behind the imagined machinations of some other deity. He almost immediately discarded the idea if calling the manifestation the work of a brother God, one who was also sired by the Old Gods. There was, after all, very little chance that this new wielder would have adopted the same story as Avery, and a contradiction at this juncture could be disastrous.

  But upon seeing the structure in daylight, any plans or ideas fled from Avery's mind like so much chaff. As astonishing as the mile-high barricade had appeared under the dim light of the night sky, it was exponential more magnificent in the light of day.

  The great wall surrounding Levitz was entirely made of water. In fact, it appeared to be nothing more than a massive pillar of water sitting on the coast, the traders road running up to its base like it approached some grand tourist attraction. Had Avery not seen the light filtering from its apex during the night, there would have been no way to know that it was anything else.

  “All I can tell you for certain is that it is more and less than it appears,” amended Avery, fumbling for some control over the situation. He needed to gain some kind of upper hand here. There had just been too many instances of his not knowing something during their travels. It was vital that he gain some advantage here and now, before they went to confront whatever dangers lurked within the actual town below.

  “What do you mean, My Lord?” asked Hamil, eyeing his God dubiously. “What is it you see?”

  Avery looked down at his scribe curiously. “That's an odd question,” he mused.

  Hamil flinched, averting his eyes. “You say it is more and less than it appears,” mumbled the scribe. “I do not understand how it could be anything else than what we see...”

  “I must agree with Hamil, Avery,” said Viola. “It looks like nothing more than a lot of water, even if the fact that it is standing straight up like that makes it more than a little scary. But how can it be more and yet less than that?”

  Hamil blinked. “Water?” He cast his gaze down the road towards where Levitz should be. As if catching himself in a tell, he quickly added, “Yes, lots of water. That's all I can see, too.”

  Avery smiled. He could not have planned a better opening for the presentation of knowledge he had gleaned from his nightly inspection.

  “It is not a solid column of water,” Avery pronounced. “It is actually just a great wall of water, with the town of Levitz sheltered in its core.”

  “What?” exclaimed Hamil, straining his neck and squinting his eyes, apparently trying to detect some sign of what Avery saw.

  “You witness the power of a God, Hamil,” explained Avery. “He has raised the ocean's waters to build a great wall around the town. In spite of how this appears, you are actually looking at a great act of defense, not destruction. Rest assured, Levitz is still within that great tower of water, and so is the object of our quest.”

  Hamil's eyes darted back and forth between Avery, Viola and the massive column below. His disbelief was plainly visible on his face, but he wisely remained silent about it.

  “Have faith, Hamil,” said Avery, reaching out his hand to grab the scribe's shoulder. “All will be revealed soon enough.”

  If only I felt as confident as I sounded, thought the former heretic.

  With nothing left to be gained from spying from on high, Avery led his companions down along the road towards where Levitz should have been visible along the shore. The tower of water became more and more imposing the closer they came. Avery felt a peculiar sense of vertigo as he approached, the sheer magnitude of the structure imposing upon his sense of equilibrium.

  If that wall were to suddenly collapse...

  As they approached the base of the towering funnel, the trio discovered that they were not the only ones who had come upon the massive structure. Not immediately evident against the gargantuan structure, a shanty town of sorts had been erected along the edges of the road approaching the tower. Livestock, wagons and tents had formed up to form a sort of column, funneling anyone who approached the city towards a common point. Avery had hoped for the chance to wander around the base of the aqueous construct, but he now determined that any passage along its base would be effectively blocked by the gathering.

  There was a visible line of organization around the boundary of this odd accumulation, as well. Clearly, there was some order being imposed upon those who chose to gather, and that spoke to Avery of some kind of military presence.

  The former heretic did not have long to wait for his suspicions to be confirmed, either. Within minutes of entering the borders of the shanty town, two horses sped up the road to greet them. Their riders wore the purple standards of Justin Surelake upon their breast, marking them as marshals of the kingdom.

  “Hold and name yourselves,” called the older of the men. His brush-handled mustache gave him an almost comical appearance, but his manner instantly dispelled the illusion.

  “I am honored to announce--” started Hamil instantly, but Avery silenced him with a quick motion.

  “We are travelers only,” supplied the would-be-God. “”What is this about, commander?” Avery felt his own voice crack with nervousness, but he maintained his air of command. There was no room for visible deception now, not with armed militia. His experience wandering as a heretic had instilled a natural fear of anyone who possessed any kind of authority in him, but once again he was being forced out of his area of comfort by the necessity to reach the wall unmolested.

  “Devil's work,” answered the second man.

  The older man cast a glare back at his companion. “We know nothing other than the town known as Levitz has been apparently taken from us by some act of power beyond our kin. We know not whether it is godly or devilish in origin. These people here are those who sought to reach the town, but now have nowhere left to go.”

  Avery saw his opening. “The town is not lost, commander. Not yet.”

  The older man stiffened in his saddle. “Oh, you're one of those, are you? You had best turn your steeds back where you came from then, for the guard will not allow you to prey off the hopes of these poor people. There is no market here for your kind of grifting, villain.”

  Avery held up his hand. “You mistake me,” he said as his heart sank.

  The heretic in Avery should have foreseen this – wherever tragedy struck, there were always soothsayers, mystics and outright charlatans drawn to the site of disaster. Conmen would prey off the wishes of the survivors, offer them the chance to speak to their departed loved ones, or even offer some kind of restoration to what they had lost. All the survivors needed to do was
believe – and, of course, pay those who would deliver their blessings to the grievers. As a heretic, Avery had more than once traveled with such fakers, who often were the only souls alive who would ever show compassion for his plight.

  The promises were never delivered upon, or if they were – such as promises to speak with the recently deceased – it was with such vagueness, that there really was nothing gained from the experience. There were those who insisted that those who ran this particular kind of grift were simply offering closure for the survivors, but regardless the rationality, few authorities gladly suffered their kind. And it was plain that the military were policing their kind from the ranks surrounding Levitz.

  “I am not seeking to offer any kindness to these people, other than to see to the town's release,” supplied Avery. “It is my belief that Levitz is still safely preserved behind this unnatural... thing,” he waved randomly towards the wall of water visible at the end of the road, “and it is my intention to enter and free the town from the one who holds it.”

  The commander leaned forward in his seat, resting his weight upon the pommel. “Oh, so you're just some kind of champion then? And, of course, you'll need someone's help in order to do all this, right?” The man spit on the ground at Avery's feet. “I warn you one last time, villain. Leave now, and you can do so alive.”

  Avery felt his ire rising, the aggravation overcoming his caution. “Call me a villain again, and you will be the one who answers for it.” Avery dismounted from his horse. “But if you choose to challenge me, do so with honor.” With forced calm, he casually walked up to the commander's mount. “Stand before me and call me a villain again.”

  The old man laughed and drew his sword, leveling it in front of Avery. “Last chance, boy.”

  Avery was not sure where the idea came from, but he acted upon it without hesitation. He sidestepped the sword and thrust his fist straight at the neck of the horse. Fear flared in the animal's eyes at the unexpected approach, but this was only momentary as the pain of Avery's blow impacted upon its mind. The beast tried to scream, but it only gurgled and spat blood as it reared back and to the side. Before the old commander could leap free, the beast fell, crushing him beneath it.

  The horse kicked feebly as the glaze in its eyes faded. In moments, the beast was dead, and the only movement its body made was in response to the panicked efforts of the commander to try to free himself.

  Avery walked casually over to the man, picking up the man's sword from where it had fallen as he did so. In moments, he had the blade leveled at the old man's throat just as the commander had had his leveled at Avery's own.

  “Perhaps I could cut you free? Surely, you aren't in need of that leg anymore?”

  “Mercy,” cried the commander, tears leaking down his face.

  Avery glanced up at the other mounted man, whose own horse had shied back and away from where its companion had fallen. “Would you also call me villain?”

  “You have assaulted a lord commander,” managed the other man, fumbling at trying to free his own sword while calming his mount. “The penalty--”

  “Your 'lord commander' threatened me. I acted in self defense.” Avery twitched the sword against the commander's throat. No blood was drawn, but the message was well received.

  “It is my fault, sir,” blubbered the old man. Whatever fortitude he had once had was now gone, his dignity sacrificed in name of his own survival. “Aaron, stand down. I provoked this. They are free to go.”

  The one identified as Aaron cast a doubtful look at his commander, but after a moment, released his grip upon his hilt, using both hands to secure the reign of his horse. “As you command,” he grunted, clearly dissatisfied with the order, yet bound by years of military service to follow orders. “Now please, sir,” pleaded the old man, reaching up towards Avery. “Mercy.”

  Avery thrust the sword into the earth with his hand, then reached down and under the fallen beast. With the assistance of his maimed arm, he positioned himself beneath the horse and hefted it upwards. His strength was not sufficient to throw the beast aside as had been his intent, but he was still able to move it sufficiently to allow Hamil to pull the man from beneath.

  The commander's leg was broken – perhaps shattered beyond reasonable expectation of ever walking properly again. But his gratitude for the rescue was unmistakable in his manner.

  Aaron looked on with a suddenly pale complexion. “That... that is not possible. No man could have done that.” Clearly, the blow felling the horse had not registered for the young soldier, but the lifting of the beast had made an impression.

  Hamil leered. Glancing to Avery for permission, he smiled even broader when his lord granted his permission with a nod. “May I present My Lord, Avery, the one true God of Vengeance.”

  Chapter 16

  The wall was not what it appeared to be. Well, not exactly, at any rate. It was made of water – or what looked to be water. It had the visible properties of water – it flowed, ebbed, and basically kept in constant motion. But it was not wet. Not in the least. One could put their hand on the cool surface of the wall and there would be not the slightest amount of residual dampness when they pulled away. Whatever held the substance of the wall intact, it completely contained the liquid so that no amount of its mass was capable of being drawn away.

  Still, the fluidity of the wall was inescapable. It was thick enough that nothing could be seen beyond the water. It genuinely looked like it was one solid column of water. If Avery had not seen the illumination from its core, he would have thought much the same.

  Yet Avery knew – behind this very thick aquatic wall was the real goal, the town of Levitz. Of course, there was no way to be certain how many were left alive within, but there was no escaping that someone was there. Otherwise, there would have been no one to create the illumination he had seen.

  Not for the first time, Avery rested his hand on the wall and pressed inward. The surface was not exactly solid – it had a sponge-like quality to it, the immediate surface pliable enough for him to push his hand into the surface somewhat. Not enough, though. Even with his supplemented strength, he could not push his palm more than partway in. He could not submerge his hand into the liquid of the wall, and if he could not even get his hand in, how could he get the rest of himself past the barrier?

  “Have you mastered the cause yet?” asked Aaron. The young soldier had become something of a shadow. Perhaps he had not been converted to be the would-be-God's faithful, but he had witnessed a miracle by his estimation, and it was enough to compel the young man to follow Avery around like a lost pup.

  “Not yet,” answered Avery thoughtfully. “There is no doubt in my mind that it is the work of a fellow God, and not that of a demon, though. That much I can confirm.”

  Of course, Avery could do no such thing. He did not really know where the swords came from – only what he had presumed, that they were lost swords of the fallen Old Gods. Martin had spoken of the Old Gods creating the Nine, as he called the swords. He also said he had traveled back in time at Avery's own bequest though, which meant he likely was only conveying information Avery's future self had believed to be true. But since he had no actual confirmation that these swords were godly in nature, he really had no way to properly declare with any finality that they were not, in fact, demonic in nature instead.

  However, he needed everyone to think himself a God, and that his sword, One, was an inheritance from his deceased parents, Malik and Charith. And if he permitted belief that the swords were in any way demonic, it would destroy the foundation of belief he had fostered. If he were a God, then the wielder of the second sword must also be cast as godly, as well. Otherwise, his deception would be undone.

  “But if that's so, why not simply undo the other God's magic and free the town?” asked Aaron. “What one God creates, another can undo, right? It's all the same kind of power, isn't it?

  “One God may not challenge the power of another without dire consequences,” answered
Hamil. “You would know this if you were a spiritual man, sir.”

  “How... How did you know that I was faithless?” asked Aaron.

  Avery turned at that. The faithless were not unheard of, but they were not plentiful, either. Or, at least if they were, they were not well known. The largest portion of society ascribed to belief in one God or another, but there were still clusters of people who held to no faith, at all. Every man had the right to choose, of course, but the New Order especially had always been extreme in their dealings with men who would not proclaim for one God or another. Consequently, few faithless ever openly declared themselves for fear of persecution.

  Hamil shrugged. “It was a reasonable assumption,” quipped the scribe. “You witnessed a great miracle by a God, and yet – though you accompany us and clearly show adoration for his power – you have not once asked to follow him.”

  Aaron blanched. “I was raised to believe that men were meant to be free. Just because I do not pledge to a God does not mean that I lack respect for their power nor disbelieve their existence.”

  Hamil laughed. “Now that would be foolish, what with a God standing right in front of you.”

  “Enough, Hamil,” said Viola. The lady sat on the grass some feet removed from the area of the wall which Avery was inspecting. The wall had a disconcerting effect of magnifying the heat and humidity in its vicinity, and her strength had been overcome by it. She had taken to finding a place to rest each time they had moved to a different place in the wall.

  Avery cast his glance down the remaining length of the wall to where the waves crashed against the shore. But not against the wall itself, Avery noted. For all intents and purposes, it seemed that what water moved towards the wall simply flowed upward into it rather than breaking against its surface. Like to like, Avery mused.