Two (The Godslayer Cycle Book 2)

by Ron Glick

  “There is something I am missing here,” mumbled Avery to himself. Something about the wall called to him, like they were alike. He assumed it had something to do with the power of the sword behind this manifestation mimicking the energies that had been inside his own. One had left some of its power behind in him, and he was certain that it was this kinship that he felt when he reached out to the wall of water.

  By the same consideration, this affinity also made Avery feel that he should be able to merge with it. Each time he reached out to touch the fluid surface, he was surprised to find his hand stopped by the barrier. Instinctively, he felt that he should be able to command the energy of the sword to let him pass, but each time his hand was stopped the same as each time before.

  “And even if I could dispel the magic holding this wall in place,” said Avery more directly to Aaron, “where would the water go? It would come crashing down upon the town and killing everyone inside. I must proceed carefully, for once I make my move, it must be one that will be effective without being destructive. I will not get another chance.”

  That was what Avery was counting on to buy him time – that these people would accept his need for time to properly examine the threat before dealing with it. This belief gave him the time to try to reason out the puzzle, and the people awaiting his action could not be expected to pressure him, since they would not want to sacrifice the victims held inside the town.

  Word had spread quite quickly among the temporary encampment once Avery had permitted the commander to be taken for medical aid. A God had come to save the people of Levitz, who – despite all that had been said by the most learned amongst them – were actually still very much alive inside the great watery pillar. Some had taken to following him around like Aaron, but most had eventually lost interest, tiring of the constant glare and oppression of the wall as Avery moved along its base examining every facet. Now, Aaron alone accompanied him besides his own retinue, though Avery would have been even happier if the soldier would drift off, as well.

  The former heretic glanced up the side of the wall again, trying to gauge its height. If only he could fly, he was certain he could have entered from the air. There had been light shining from the interior, which suggested that at least the pinnacle was open to the air. It certainly was not open to anywhere from the ground, and Aaron had confirmed that efforts to tunnel under the wall had been disastrous, as the weight of the massive wall crushed any effort to do so. The soldier had also verified that boats had circled the structure from the seaside and confirmed that even that route was completely sealed.

  Avery motioned for Hamil to walk with him away from the wall, signaling Aaron to stay with Viola. Once the two had moved a sufficient distance to guarantee their words would not reach the soldier, Avery asked, “You always have unique insights. I don't know where you get your ideas, most of the time, but I cannot argue with their honesty. So I am asking you now – what is it you see when you look at this wall?”

  “My Lord?” fumbled the scribe.

  “No, don't deny it, Hamil. I know you don't see the water.” Hamil made to protest, but Avery silenced him with a stern glare. “You see something else. I don't know why, and right now, I don't care. But you see something, and I need the view you alone seem to possess here. Do me the honor of seeing this for me as only you can.”

  Hamil's face twisted with indecision, but finally he sighed in resignation. “No. I don't see what you see. I don't see anything, in fact. Just one big area of nothing. Just like back in the crater. I couldn't see anything then, either. But something knocked you down. And Viola certainly could see whatever it was, because she retrieved a piece of it.”

  “Like the crater?”

  “Well, not exactly like the crater. There, it was more like I couldn't look at whatever was there, that my eyes could not focus. Here, it just doesn't exist. There's just a massive... emptiness.”

  “What happens when you touch the wall then? Or what we all see as the wall?”

  “I... I don't know,” answered the scribe sheepishly. “To tell the truth, I have feared to try.”

  Avery fell silent for a moment, contemplating what to say next. “I know you're not a simple scribe, Hamil,” he admitted at last. “I didn't for a very long time, but in our time together, the clues were kind of hard to miss. Martin's reaction to you was the first sign, but after that, they became easier to see. I don't know who or what you really are, but you've never given me reason to doubt your loyalty. If that continues, you have no fear of my asking, either. You are faithful, and that is all I ask.”

  Hamil stared blankly at the man who would be his God, plainly shocked by the revelation. Denial and admission battled for dominion within him, and Avery could only guess at which might prove stronger. But he did not intend to give either side the chance to prevail at this moment.

  “Nothing needs to change for now, Hamil,” offered Avery. “Well, one thing must – you cannot keep things like this from me anymore. If you see something, feel something, that is different than how I or Viola or anyone else sees or feels something, you have to let me know as soon as humanly possible. I need you as a resource, not a distraction. Not now, not ever. Can we agree to that much?”

  Avery extended his hand to the scribe. Hamil studied it, his eyes panicked like it might transform into a serpent at any moment. Finally, with slow resignation, Hamil reached up and took Avery's hand in his own.

  “We have an accord,” he said softly.

  Despite the strange manner in which Hamil had accepted the terms of their truce, Avery still felt better about the fact that they had come to agreement to work together rather than against each other's interests. The young man was certainly a mystery, but so long as Avery could trust him to share his unique perceptions and to keep no more secrets, he could rest easy in knowing he had gained one more advantage that he needed to convince others of his divinity.

  “Now, I think I might have an idea,” said Avery. “You say that this... manifestation, that you can't see it. But you also said it is similar to what you could not see where the fire had fallen to earth. Is it possible there is more a connection between the two than we originally thought? Could there be another piece similar to what was in the crater here in this town? Could that be why you can't see the wall?”

  Hamil visibly considered this idea before responding. “I don't believe so, no. It is alike in some ways, but not alike in others. Which to me suggests it is not the same cause, though the effect is similar. It blocks what I can see.”

  “Hmm. So...” Avery suddenly snapped his fingers. “Wait, I think I have another idea. What would happen if we used the material from the crater?”

  “I don't know if I understand,” admitted Hamil.

  “It's simple. Think about it for a moment. When we were in the crater, whatever was there was so powerful that it felt like it was tearing me apart. But what if it wasn't me it was tearing apart, at all? What if it was affecting my power? It didn't have an effect on Viola, because she was able to walk right up to it and take a piece. The only thing different between her and I would have been my divine power.”

  “Yes, I see,” agreed Hamil. “Whatever was in the crater – whatever Viola has now – dispels divine power. Or maybe just magical energies, since that is all divine powers really are, a specific kind of magic.”

  “And if that substance had that effect on me, would it not also have an effect on the energy binding the water in place?”

  “Yes, yes!” exclaimed the scribe excitedly. But his excitement quickly dimmed. “But it could banish the entire wall, and drown the people inside, just like you predicted. It's too powerful.”

  “You forget,” said Avery. “This isn't what we faced before. Viola is only carrying a very small piece of it. It should not have as great an effect as before. And because it is small, we can take it away from the wall and test it at a distance before we use it directly.”

  “But how would we do that if we're not near the wall?�
�

  “Simple,” answered the self-declared God of Vengeance. “We'll test it on me first.”

  * * *

  “He's some kind of vampire,” said Dart.

  “He's a what?” exclaimed the Witness. Dart had never expected to be able to startle the implacable calm of her fellow demi-God, but she had, all the same.

  “It's the only explanation,” Dart explained, locking away her momentary sense of satisfaction. “The sword may be the source, but the effect is the same. He is draining life energy and getting more powerful with each sacrifice.”

  “Vampires are mythical,” responded the Witness, his calm restored. “This is very real.”

  “Whether vampires are real or not is a discussion for another time. But you can't argue that he is getting stronger each time he takes a life with this power he has.”

  “No,” sighed the Witness. “No, I cannot.”

  By Dart's estimation, nearly two weeks had passed since Gravin had begun his slow, systematic slaughter of Levitz. Two weeks of torture, terror and anxiety the likes of which Dart had never experienced.

  Dart was a survivor by nature. Regardless of circumstances, no matter who would be lost, under normal circumstances she would long ago have fled. She had tried more than once to use her power to leave, but found the talent strangely blocked. She had never before been unable to move from place to place at will – not since the skill had first manifested in her as a teenager so many centuries ago – and that power had defined her ever since. She had traveled the world, never allowing herself to be tied down. She flittered from place to place, as ethereal as the power itself – unreal, ungrounded, untraceable.

  Now she lived in a perpetual state of panic. She had not been in any one place this long in centuries. She made a practice of never staying in one place more than three days. She had stayed five for an especially pleasant distraction in a brothel once, but that had been the one exception in four centuries' worth of traveling, popping in and out of one place before instantly materializing somewhere else.

  Now she was grounded. Now the world around her was very, very real, and she had no exit. If Gravin chose to turn on the Witness or her, there was nothing she could do to escape.

  Of the original tavern patrons, only four survived – The Witness, Dart herself and the last two mortals to not be killed through Gravin's twisted challenge. The Witness had been deliberately spared so that he could watch what was being done, to in effect record the rise to power of this malignant horror of a man. Dart had fallen under the Witness' cloak of protection, as well, since she was clearly his companion. Gravin was very keen on impressing the Witness – he had made that abundantly clear – and there seemed to be a silent understanding that the Witness' goodwill would be lost if Dart were harmed.

  As for the last two, they had been deputized by Gravin in exchange for their lives. They have been directed to go out into the community and bring back sacrifices for Gravin's amusement. If they each brought back three souls a day, they could live for another themselves. So far, neither had failed to meet his quota.

  And, of course, with each new death, the radiance of sheer power emanating from Gravin increased.

  Most demi-Gods could sense each other by the power they each emanated. Different powers manifested in different ways, but one thing consistent amongst demi-Gods was the presence of power. As such, Dart could recognize any demi-God who came within her line of sight. The power of their talents was visible to her eyes, and hers to theirs. Some demi-Gods were so powerful that she did not have to see them to know they were about though – some just emitted a presence from a distance. Those kinds, Dart had made a practice of never letting it come to the point where she could see their power – she would always run the other way.

  With Gravin, it was similar, yet not. There was a power emanating from him – and it was a presence she could feel, but not one she could see. Like the powerful immortals, Gravin's presence alone radiated power – a power that became more and more potent with each new life he took – but her talent to see the energy of a fellow demi-God showed her nothing. Whatever power the man controlled, it was foreign to Dart. And that alone would have terrified her, if the fact that she was unable to escape were not already so oppressive.

  “I am becoming... concerned,” admitted the Witness.

  “Oh?” chirped Dart. “Now you're concerned? What, you weren't before?”

  “Must you always be so aggressive?” murmured the Witness under his breath. Louder, he said, “Not like I am now. The more paths he eliminates, the fewer I am seeing moving around us. I would expect that at some point, even if he were to kill the entire town, that he would open up this prison he has created to carry his torture elsewhere. But that would allow other paths to enter my sight, to give room for the changes his continued existence caused.”

  “There aren't any, are there?” asked Dart softly. She knew where this was going.

  “No, there are not. I don't see any new paths entering. Not one.”

  Dart let silence hang between them for a moment before asking, “We're going to die here, aren't we?”

  The Witness turned his strange eyes on his companion. Odd, thought Dart, that I never before noticed his eyes were golden...

  “I still see paths, which means there are still possible futures. I am just not seeing new ones crossing them.”

  “But does that mean we are going to die?” Dart asked again.

  “It means, I believe he intends to kill himself, and to take us all with him. I believe that he will eventually bring the wall of water down on us all. You and I might survive that, I don't know. But it means that eventually, everyone else will die.”

  “Have ya seen tha', then?” came Gravin's voice from behind the pair.

  Dart jumped, but the Witness remained poised and unmoved. He knew the bastard was coming! The least he could have done is warn me!

  “No,” responded the Witness. “I do not see you killing yourself. As I have said, your killing people has made it impossible for me to keep track of all the new paths you create.”

  “There're a lot less folks 'round now,” responded Gravin. “At some point, it has ta start gettin' easier. How many more would ya say I need ta kill 'fore ya can catch up?”

  A flash of anger passed across the Witness' face before he could suppress it. “I would not want to even consider something like that.”

  “So there's limits, then?” asked Gravin. “Ya has a point ya won' cross?”

  The hairs on the back of Dart's neck rose sharply. There was something else going on here, something that she had not considered. Do these two share a past?

  Gravin crouched in front of the Witness, staring up into the immortal's suddenly blank face. Apparently, the Witness had caught the reference, as well.

  “Din' think ta ask how I knew who ya was, didja? Ya don' 'member me, I'd wager. I was na the one ya came ta watch when I saw ya.”

  “Your path is closed to me while you are bound to that.” The Witness nodded his head toward where the sword was embedded in the floor.

  “Does ya 'member Purtsy? Town down the coast inta Welshire? Oh, woulda been thirteen years gone now?”

  “Of course,” responded the Witness.

  “An' who was ya there ta watch?”

  Awareness dawned in the Witness' eyes. “You are that Gravin.”

  “Aye,” said their captor. “Tha' one. Ya came ta watch my sister, dincha?”

  “Not exactly. I came to witness the conception of your nephew.”

  “Ya came to watch my sister be raped by 'er own sire!” Gravin's features twisted in revulsion. “Ya came ta watch, and tha's all ya did! Ya coulda saved my ma, ya coulda saved my sister--”

  “I only witness, Gravin,” interrupted the immortal man. “I never interfere.”

  “Well, now yer gonna watch aplenty. An' yer gonna know tha' the only reason I'm doin' what I'm doin' is 'cause I wanted ya ta watch. I wanted ya to know tha' no' a single life woulda been taken
if you had no' been here. This is all 'cause o' ya bein' here, 'cause ya jus' had ta watch.”

  Gravin stood up with a sneer on his face at the sound of one of his men returning. “Well, I'm givin' ya somethin' ta watch now, ain't I?”

  The embittered man turned to see his assistant bring in a child, a girl of no more than ten. She kicked and screamed, and the sounds of a woman's wails outside told the tale of whose child was being sacrificed.

  “'Ad ta break 'er legs 'fore I could get the runt free,” laughed the man nervously. “She can count as my next 'un, sure?”

  Gravin did not utter a word as he stormed across the room and grabbed the child by her hair. With a great lurch, he pulled the girl off the ground and flung her bodily in the Witness' direction. The child landed forcefully at Dart's feet, the air knocked from her lungs.

  Dart began to reach down to pull the child up, but the Witness gripped her arm hard. She began to protest, but one look at his eyes told her how much danger they were both in at the moment and she relented without comment.

  Gravin had recrossed the room and once again lifted the child into the air, by the nape of her neck this time. “Tell me, Witness – does she 'ave a future? Do ya see 'er growin' up ta 'ave children o' her own?” When the immortal did not respond, Gravin shook the child brutally. “Does she?!” he demanded.

  The Witness took a deep breath, then nodded silently. He saw her future. But he must also have known what his admission would cost him.

  “Yer wrong,” said Gravin. Without warning, the skin of the girls neck bulged horribly, bloating like an overripe fruit. In an instant, her neck had filled with fluid and her face puffed and bulged. Her panicked eyes pleaded with the two people rooted before her, incomprehension and confusion masking what must have been incredible pain. Then the child's body could no longer contain what was being done to her, and her neck ruptured outward, splaying her blood and tissue all over Dart and her companion.

  “Yer wrong,” repeated Gravin, casting the body aside.

  The monster was about to say more, when his head suddenly jerked to the side, his eyes focused on something unseen. “Wha's that?”