by Ron Glick
“That's a strange way to talk, Aaron,” said Viola. “I have been talking to people ever since Avery went beyond the wall. Why are these so different?”
“Because,” scowled the tall man, “we're the ones who know who and what Avery really is.”
Viola blinked in confusion. “I know what he is, as well. Everyone here,” she swung her arms wide top encompass all that were within range of her words, “know what he is. There are no secrets here, no hiding.”
“You tell people that Avery is a God,” said the priestess. “He is no God.”
Viola gasped at the blasphemy. “You might just as easily say that whomever you worship is no God. I have witnessed what Avery has done--”
The tall man drew a sword from his back, one that Viola immediately recognized. It was Avery's sword, what Avery called One. “Avery used the magic of this sword to convince you he was a God. But I took it from him, and I could not do such a thing if he were truly a God.”
Viola started in fear. “You're the Godslayer!” She fumbled backwards, trying to get her feet beneath her so she could retreat from the demon revealed before her. “I've told you of him,” said Viola, turning to her listeners, fumbling for balance as she looked around for support. “The one who hunts and kills Gods, the one Avery alone has managed to survive in battle against...”
The people seated upon the ground began to stir themselves, and others nearby began to murmur discontentedly. Oh, they knew who the Godslayer was, alright.
“Is that what he told you?” laughed the tall man. “I didn't try to kill Avery. I came for his sword, and he attacked me. I defended myself, and took the sword from him because he was stupid enough to believe his own lies.”
“And what reason would you have for taking a God's sword?” asked someone in the crowd behind the trio. Several voices sounded their agreement.
“Oh, for the love of all!” cursed the priestess. “He's not a God! He's just a man who got a little bit of magic and fooled a bunch of people! This is why the New Order forbids magic outside the faith – for this very reason! Because people go around pretending to be all powerful and terrorizing the common people who don't know any better!”
“So now we're stupid?” came another voice from the crowd, a woman's voice this time.
Aaron held up his hands, calling loudly, “Enough! Settle down! This is just a difference of opinion, no reason for all this.”
The murmurs in the crowd died down, but they did not vanish entirely.
“Look,” said the tall man. “We've gotten off on a bad foot here. Let's start again.” He held his hand to his chest while he re-sheathed One. “I am Nathaniel Goodsmith. My companions--” he motioned to the other two in his party, “are the Lady Brea and Bracken Hillsfire. We're no demons out of myth. We're just normal people who have to get these swords gathered to keep them away from people like Avery.”
“Why would you take a God's sword?” asked Viola herself. It was a question worthy of an answer.
The one called Nathaniel growled softly. “Look, he's not a God. I know he did some pretty impressive things when he had the sword--”
“And since,” interrupted the former barmaid. “You think taking his sword took his power? He's a God. His power is in him, not his weapon. I've seen him do amazing things. I have seen him do the impossible.”
“Like wha'?” grunted the short man, speaking for the first time. “Part yer legs sweeter'n someone who was no' callin' 'imself a God?”
Viola blushed. “I have seen him fell a tree with one blow. I have seen him master a power that attacked the very essence of his being. I have seen him enter the pillar of water that none beside him could do. But if that were not enough,” Viola paused a moment to give conviction to her words, “I have seen a man appear out of nowhere, recognize him for the God he is, and then vanish just as plainly. Why would a man capable of such power pay homage to a mere man, as you insist on calling my Lord?”
Viola turned and spit on the ground, a traditional method of warning. It was a challenge, daring the three strangers from crossing the boundary she had just set in the earth. “Know what you speak of before you spread your lies. You won't sway me, for I know what I have seen with my own eyes – things that none of you have.”
Nathaniel bowed his head, but his words remained a challenge. “I have greater strength from the magics of the sword, and from other things. I could do all the things you say, and we have all had beings who would look as men and women do both appear and vanish before us many times. The Old Gods are who they are, and they call me their Avatar, not Godslayer.
“My point here is that I can do everything you say, but I am no God. I am a man who has been given power to do things that even I do not understand.” The tall man spread his arms wide. “We are not trying to harm you with the truth. We are only trying to save you from the lies that Avery tells.”
Viola smiled mischievously. “Your words undo you, sir. You say you can do all that my Lord, Avery, could do? Yet you stand on this side of the water, and my Lord stands on the other.”
The short man named Bracken bellowed a laugh before trying to snort himself to silence. “She's gotcha there, Nate.” When the tall man turned a wicked glare at him, the bearded man threw up his hands in defeat. “Jus' sayin's, all.”
Nathaniel grimaced. “We came to you to find out more about how Avery managed to get through the wall. He doesn't have the sword any longer, so how did he manage it?”
Viola held her head high. “Because he's a God.”
“Nathan,” said the priestess, laying her hand upon the man's arm. “We aren't going to get anything from her. She's become a zealot. There's no way you will ever convince her that she is wrong. She could see this so-called God crucified right in front of her eyes, and she would still make an excuse as for why he was not really dead.”
Nathaniel looked down at his female companion. “You're sure of that?”
Brea nodded. “Imery's sight is still with me. I see the truth in who she is.”
The tall man made a visible effort of considering his next words before he spoke again. Turning back to Viola, he asked, “Would you at least show us where Avery went through the wall? Perhaps I can learn something there.”
“That is no secret,” said Avery's lover. “Anyone could tell you that, so I hardly do a disservice by showing you myself.”
Composing herself as best she could, Viola led the strangers towards the great wall of water. In truth, she had not wandered far from where she last had seen Avery. She had every belief that when he returned, he would come back where he had entered, and she had no desire to not be present when he did so.
As she walked, people came up to her, speaking softly of their faith and belief in her. They touched her clothes, her skin. They wished to be part of her in a way she had never known before – not because they desired her flesh, but instead because they wanted to be a part of the divinity she served. She felt herself glowing internally with the warmth of their love and acceptance, and she had longed to give back to them as much as she had received. Yet all she could do was bear witness of her faith and let Avery bask them in his own love upon his return.
She fell short of promising a great miracle to these people. Deep inside, she believed that Avery would not simply walk out of the wall as he had entered – she expected some magnificent display to accompany his return. Perhaps it would be the disappearance of the wall, or maybe something grander. All she knew for certain was that it would be worthy of his status as God.
In this, she envied Hamil. Because of his status as recorder of all the greatness of Avery, he had been permitted to accompany their God within. He would get to witness Avery's power and the miracles he would perform necessary to save the souls trapped within the great barrier. Viola did not want to feel envious of the little man, but she could not help the growing resentment she had for his privileged status.
In a short time, the group arrived at the watery barrier. Silently, Viola walk
ed up the edge of the water and placed her hand delicately upon its surface. “This is where Lord Avery entered,” she explained. “As you can see, he closed the way behind him so that no other could follow into danger until he had cleared the way.”
“Or p'rhaps the wall crashed down an' crushed 'im 'neath?” piped up Bracken.
Viola was about to retort, but the priestess spoke first. “Bracken, enough!”
The little man scowled, but said no more.
Nathaniel walked up beside Viola. “May I?” he asked. Catching his meaning, she stepped back and let him touch the wall himself where she had.
“There's no doubt that this is from one of the swords.” Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder at his companions. “It's too similar to the power I feel from One and First. In fact--” Nathaniel reached his other hand around his waist to lay his hand upon the sheath of the sword. “One feels it, too. I can't explain it, but the sword seems to... resonate isn't exactly right, but I can't think of a better word. If I didn't know better, I would swear that One was actually talking to the wall.”
“Bu' is th' wall talkin' back?” chuckled Bracken.
Nathaniel ignored the short man's mockery and returned his focus to the water. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “I think I can walk through it, so long as I have One with me.”
“How do you expect to do that?” asked Brea, walking up to the barrier herself. She slammed her palm firmly against the surface of the water. “I can see there is no weakness or break here, Nathan. There is no way through.”
Nathaniel took a purposeful breath before answering. “Recently, I had something explained to me. It doesn't matter who said it, only that they did. They told me about how magical effects formed around a person, something like a bubble. When I use One, I can feel that somewhat. I can feel this... area where the magic works around me. And I can also feel where the magic reaches out beyond that. But it's the area right around me that's important.
“So long as I am using the sword's magic, I don't think other magic – or at least not other swords' magic – can affect me. So if I draw One and activate its power, I believe I can pass through the wall, because the magic of Two won't be able to keep me out.”
Brea blinked in startlement. “You mean to try to go in there alone? If Avery has the other sword, you will be too evenly matched. You needed both Bracken and I to help you last time.”
“I'm sorry, but I don't see any other way,” answered Nathaniel. “And we don't have time to search for another way in. As you say, Avery could already have the other sword. Or he may not. But if we delay, it only increases the chances that he will.”
Brea was prepared to object, but it was Bracken who put his hand on her arm this time. “'E's right, lass,” he said softly. “Let 'im go. 'E needs t' do this.”
“But...” started Brea, looking back and forth between her two male companions. To Viola, the priestess looked ready to cry.
Nathaniel turned and placed both hands upon the priestesses shoulders, looking intently into her eyes. “I'll be back. I'm the Avatar, right? Prophecy won't let me die so soon.”
Brea bit her lip, but finally nodded her acceptance. She stepped back from the wall, giving her silent assent for Nathaniel to do whatever he intended to do.
Nathaniel gave a long, soulful look at Brea, but finally turned back to the wall, reaching behind him for the sword everyone called One. As the man drew the blade, he faded instantly from sight, the sword's power blinding his existence from their eyes.
At first, nothing seemed to happen, but in a moment, an area of the wall rippled and began to show an indentation. Within a heartbeat – or the time it took for a foot to fall – the indentation grew to slightly larger than the size of a man. It continued to grow for a moment, then just as quickly began to recede, as if some great invisible object were being swallowed by the substance of the wall. Before Viola could even exclaim in wonder, the affected area of the wall smoothed over, becoming as solid as it had been when Avery had used his own power upon the wall.
At least Avery's could make a larger passage, thought Viola admiringly.
“Still convinced Nathan can't do all your God can?” asked Brea quietly.
It seemed to Viola that the bite in her words were less to hurt Viola than to excise the priestess' own pain. For that, Viola could forgive the woman.
“Have you ever considered,” pondered Viola, “that maybe your Nathaniel is more God than he believes himself to be? Maybe it's these other people – these ones you want to call Gods – who are lying about what he really is.”
From the look of astonishment on the priestess' face, Viola could tell it was a thought the woman had never considered.
* * *
Dart was speechless. She had trouble even breathing, much less forming words from the air in her lungs. She reached over towards her companion and could feel the disbelief radiating off the Witness, as well.
This man was not the God. This man was nothing. There was barely any power in the little, weaselly man – certainly no more than some minor enchantment cast by the true God who stood behind him innocuously. And yet...
And yet both immortals had just seen – without any exertion of power on behalf of the God in the room or any other source of visible power – the man reform himself from a ravaged heap.
There had barely been any flesh left upon the bones, and those had been misshapen and twisted. Any resemblance to a living being had been completely obliterated, the form of the man reduced to an annihilated mass of dissociated meat and shattered skeletal fragments. There had been absolutely no doubt that Gravin had wiped this pretender from existence.
Yet within a heartbeat, that had all changed. The man rose up out of the pile of his own discarded body, whole and complete. There was barely a transition between the inanimate carnage and the form of the man who rose up to sit in a kneeling position. The man raised his head, and his face was completely restored. He took one breath, and then rose to stand erect in front of his assailant, nude for all the world to see, his clothes stripped from his body.
Yet the man took no notice. He only had eyes for Gravin. His arms rose from his side and his fists clenched out from his body.
His fists! Dart realized with alacrity that he now had both hands. Before he had fallen, he had had only one. His right hand had been severed at the wrist. Had it been a disguise, an intentionally displayed weakness to lure Gravin into a false sense of confidence or acceptance?
Dart could see the reasonableness of such a con – convince your future partner in a new deal that he is the stronger, concealing your own strength. She was, after all, a grifter herself. She preferred to present herself as an information broker, but how else was she going to obtain information if she did not pay confidence games? And more than once she had played a similar ploy upon a mark. Was that what this was then?
The female immortal had pegged the man as a confidence man when she first saw his presentation. He was a man with no power, trying to convince someone with power that they were equals. And yet, the man known as Avery had been the perceived weaker because he was maimed.
Gravin had not fallen for it. Gravin had lashed out and tried to destroy the man for the same reason Dart would have – because the man was a liar. He was no God. He had no power. He only wanted the power Gravin had.
And yet... And yet, here he stood, reformed in all his unmarked wholeness. No scars, no cuts, no frailties at all. Not even the formerly maimed appendage. If it had been a con, it had all been a con of the likes that not even Dart could have expected.
“You are going to regret that.” The rumbling sound from deep in Avery's chest bespoke a power that Dart could not perceive. This man was not a God, and yet he displayed power that only a God should possess.
Dart's eyes flashed to the God who had entered with Avery. She saw the look of disbelief there, as well, before almost instantly twisting into a perverted satisfaction. So the God had not known to expect this, but – in his own wor
ds – he was extremely happy that his fun had not been spoiled.
Gravin pulled his sword closer to his body, rekindling the power he had released when he had thought his victory assured. Once again the gale force winds rose in a torrent around his body, pulling the air and liquid from all areas of the room. From where it had splashed to the ground, it hovered, then circled in a typhoon of power around him.
However, Gravin's confidence was not in the assault as it had been previously. There was an inherent uncertainty in the way the cyclone circled him. It somehow lacked the ferocity it had before. And the insecurity that the man had inherited within the last moments manifested fully in the madman's words that followed.
“Yer dead!” screamed Gravin. “I killed ya! Yer dead!”
The man who called himself a God grinned ironically. “Do I look dead?”
Avery stepped forward. Gravin tried to send the winds against the naked man, but they seemed to have no discernible effect. Whereas before the water sliced his skin and bones like razors, they now parted and circled around his arms and legs. Dart was reminded of how a puppy ran in circles around his favorite child's leg. The twisting and turning power of the sword now seemed to embrace Avery rather than seek his destruction.
Then Avery raised his right hand, unclasping the fist, admiring the perfection that had been restored perhaps. As he did so, Dart could see some of the tempest gather in a tighter spiral around that hand.
The self-declared God raised his eyes and his smile became wicked. “You were offered the chance to stand with Gods, to be raised to our status and to walk above men. Yet in your pettiness, in your vanity, you tried to strike me down. We are not at all pleased with that.”
Gravin lashed out with the sword, stepping back as he did so, preventing any chance whatsoever of ever striking his opponent. “Yer dead!” repeated the terrified man. “Yer dead!”