Lex Trent versus the Gods

by Alex Bell

  Lex knew how to get out on deck and he knew how to escape into the bowels of the ship to hide if need be. But he had not been inside all of the rooms. His natural explorer’s instinct had been somewhat curbed after opening an innocuous little door to find a rabid rabbit on the other side that almost roasted him with a blast of flame from its foaming mouth before lunging for his feet. The thing had chewed halfway through his boot before he managed to kick it off and slam the door shut. Lex had no idea what it was there for - it might have been a pet, a magical experiment gone wrong or the enchanter’s breakfast for all he knew - but he marked the door with a big X to make sure he didn’t go in there again and when Schmidt asked him where the scorch marks had come from, Lex told him that he had discovered a small dragon down below. It sounded better than rabid bunny rabbit.

  But the incident made him wary of opening any closed door too readily. Furthermore, he had a sneaking suspicion that some of the rooms sometimes changed size. Or moved. He was almost sure that he had been near the bottom of the ship the first time he encountered the ferocious, fire-breathing rabbit and yet, the next day, he saw the same door on the top floor just outside the bridge, the X he had drawn on it still there, undisturbed.

  Lex had since drawn X’s on several of the doors just on the basis of the strange sounds he had heard coming out of them. There had been a decided munching, crunching kind of sound from one and from another Lex was sure he had heard the rustle and tap of some many-legged creature walking about on the mirrored floor. So, in spite of his initial bravado, Lex had decided, after all, that he would sleep on the bridge with the lawyer that night. He wasn’t scared of the ship. Not at all. He just liked being able to see the sea going by and the only windows in the whole ship were on the bridge. The wall-to-wall mirrors everywhere else did not allow any portholes and that gave the ship a stifling, claustrophobic air, especially considering the ease with which one could get lost.

  Bessa had said that the ship read the mind of the key holder and so Lex had assumed that it was heading for Khestrii. His hope was confirmed when they began to catch sight of other enchanted boats the next day, heading in the same direction as them. The boats never strayed too close to each other and Lex could only assume that they could somehow sense each other and keep on separate courses.

  They arrived at the great metal harbour an hour before sunset. Lex had worried about this moment. Khestrii was the home of the enchanters and it would never do for them to see Lex and Schmidt getting off the ship - they would immediately suspect foul play for no enchanter would willingly allow his ship to be used by non-magical people. As it was, the ice storms let in by Mahara’s sun had driven the enchanters away from the harbour and, as they had no midnight markets here, the port was deserted. Besides which, the white fur coats that Lex had found effectively shielded them from any suspicious glances and, with the hoods pulled up over their heads, it was not obvious that they were not enchanters anyway. The only thing that gave them away was their height. Lex in particular was not tall enough for the coat and the end of it dragged in the snow in a most irritating way. He would just have to hope that if anyone did notice this they would assume that he was a lucky crone with a kind master who had graciously allowed her to wear one of the coats, although that in itself was unlikely.

  But although the ice storms worked in their favour in emptying the harbour, they did not make it very easy to disembark the boat. Their rather brutal departure from the docks at Gandylow had broken off the gangplank, so the only way to disembark the ship was to have it hover just over the docks and then climb down the ladder that ran down the side.

  Lex was agile and quick and had little trouble in making his way to the bottom of the frozen ladder. Schmidt, however, did not find it so painless. The ship was immensely tall and the ladder was at least five storeys high. Then there was the fact that the rungs were frozen solid, and cold metal, as Lex had found out when he tried to lick the ice from a frozen pole as a child, was painful to the touch and stuck to the skin if you weren’t careful.

  It took the lawyer an age to descend the ladder and his hands were trembling by the time he stepped onto the harbour, both with the cold and with the strain of having to navigate a frozen ladder down the side of a giant ship in the midst of an ice storm. He hadn’t complained, hadn’t voiced his fears at any time but, now that he was standing on the harbour, the sight of his trembling hands irritated Lex, reminding him of another old man and reawakening that terrible fear of being old and unable to control your body . . . or your tongue . . .

  ‘You took your time!’ Lex snapped. ‘We’re going to be late!’

  Old age . . . Lex was never growing old. He had made that promise to himself a long time ago, after he had seen what the years could do to a person . . . what they could take away from you. No - one way or another, Lex fully intended to leave this life before any such thing could happen to him. Notoriety was something to be worked towards when you fully intended to end your days in the hangman’s gallows.

  ‘Late for what?’ the old lawyer said, glaring at him.

  ‘We need to be at Mahara’s Tower before nightfall,’ Lex replied.

  ‘Why?’ Schmidt said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

  ‘Because that’s when they’re going to announce the Game,’ Lex smirked.

  He would have liked to be able to linger more over this delicious revelation, relishing Schmidt’s horror, but time prevented it. Still, to his immense satisfaction, Schmidt looked like someone had just kicked him in the gut. ‘Game?’ he croaked.

  ‘We’ve been chosen, sir,’ Lex said with his sweetest smile. ‘By Lady Luck herself. Come on, we need to get moving.’ And he turned away and strode off.

  Although Lex had never been to Khestrii before, he was familiar with the Black Tower of which Lady Luck had spoken, for it was a famous landmark on the Globe. It was said to have been created by Thaddeus, God of Illusion and the enchanters’ patron deity, for his poor sister Mahara after she declined immortality for the sake of her human lover. The couple had been rejected by Gods and humans alike for their sacrilegious union and had lived together in isolation in the tower Thaddeus had built for them - some said out of compassion and some said out of spite - a prison or a haven? At any rate, upon the eventual death of the couple, Thaddeus had sealed the tower and no one had been inside since.

  Even through the ice storm and the dimming light from the rapidly-setting sun, Lex could see it. Ice and frost had turned the tower’s tip white; icy fingers reaching halfway down its length before relinquishing their hold back to the black marble. Lex hardly noticed the buildings and streets as he strode towards the tower. The sun had almost set and they could not be late. There might be a penalty or something if they were.

  When he at last reached the towering turret, Schmidt wheezing along behind him, Lex was a little concerned that her Ladyship was not there to meet him. The Black Tower stood upon a huge, perfect circle of ice, with a black marble path leading straight to the door set at its base. Instinctively feeling that this was what he must do, Lex made his way across the black path, slipping and sliding where the marble had frozen over. Schmidt did not follow him, perhaps uncertain of his legs on such a treacherous surface, but stood watching at the edge of the ice circle. As Mahara’s dead sun disappeared over the edge of the horizon, Lex lifted the golden knocker and slammed it hard into the black marble door. The echoes rang back to them across the surface of the ice before they were plucked from the ground by the Gods and taken to the top room of Mahara’s Black Tower.

  Lex stared round in wonder, still buzzing with the exciting alien sensation of having been transported in such a way. In contrast to the tower’s exterior, the interior was made entirely of white marble. The Goddess of Luck looked most appropriate there in her white dress; her mass of blond hair piled up on top of her head, threaded with pearls.

  The top of the tower was an unusual shape, being formed of three circles placed in a triangle so that the outer walls were
curved and there was a triangular space in the centre, about ten feet across, beneath which there was no floor and you could see all the way down to the centre of the ice circle over two hundred feet below. The strangely curved walls around them reached above their heads to form a perfect point, confirming Lex’s impression that they were at the very top of the tower. And suspended directly above them was a large crystal ball, rather like a smaller version of the ones Lex had seen in the gaming stadiums.

  ‘Well done, Lex. I thought you weren’t going to make it in time for a minute there.’

  ‘By the skin of my teeth, as usual, my Lady,’ Lex said, bowing graciously.

  ‘L-Lex?’ came a voice from behind them. ‘Is that you?’ Lex froze at the sound of the familiar voice. He, Schmidt and the Goddess of Luck were standing in one of the three white circles. Others stood in the remaining two, although Lex had not yet had time to take them all in. But he knew that voice instantly, even though it had been more than a year since he’d heard it, for it was an exact copy of his own. Slowly, he turned round to face his twin brother.

  ‘Hello, Lucius.’

  Not a flicker of surprise or displeasure crossed Lex’s face although, at that moment, he felt both in equal measure. Lucius Trent stared at him across the length of the circular chamber and said nothing. He looked pale and a little sickly. Lex had always been the healthier of the two. Lucius’s brownish-blond hair was longer than Lex’s, reaching down almost to his chin and curling slightly at the ends. Even though Lex had only been with his brother for all of thirty seconds, he could already feel his lip curling in that old expression of contempt. He stifled the impulse quickly. He was disciplined now - he did not let his emotions show on his face any more . . . It was just that Lucius was so wet. In every sense of the word. So much so that Lex had often found it insulting that they shared the same genetic makeup.

  It would have been nice to say that Lex and Lucius had got on once. That the things that happened later were what drove the two of them apart. It would have been nice to say it, but it would have been untrue. Lex and Lucius may have been identical twins, but they were at opposite ends of the personality scale. And that was why they did not get on - and nor had they ever.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Lucius asked, looking miserable.

  ‘Getting ready to play the Game,’ Lex replied with an easy shrug. ‘Or should I say, getting ready to win it? What are you doing here?’

  ‘I was—’

  ‘Shut up, Trents. I’m going to announce the Game, now.’

  Lex looked at the speaker, who was standing beside Lucius, and his mouth fell open in shock, for it was Jezra - the God of Wit and Daring! Lex had, of course, seen him in paintings and statues, and he had glimpsed him from afar once in the Gods’ box at one of the stadiums, but he’d never seen him up close in real life before. His straight blond hair was shoulder length and he had a rather hawkish nose and very intelligent blue eyes set beneath fair eyebrows. He was wearing his customary pale blue high-necked jacket and stood with a kind of gangly grace. Although he was not good looking - for his nose was too long and his eyes too sharp - he was clever. He was conniving and scheming and shrewd and devious. He was, in fact, everything that Lex had ever tried to be. And to see him standing beside his useless brother put a bad taste in Lex’s mouth beyond all description.

  At Jezra’s words, everyone quickly dropped to one knee. Lex distinctly heard Schmidt’s knee click painfully as he knelt down stiffly. The Gods, in the main, were happy to leave people to themselves much of the time. But when they did appear - at the Games, at ceremonies or on special days of celebration - they did expect to be treated as deities and were not above throwing the odd lightning bolt to emphasise the importance of respect if need be.

  ‘As the current Gaming champion, it is my right to commence this Game and pick the first round.’

  As Jezra spoke, his image appeared inside the huge crystal ball suspended above them and Lex knew that it was being broadcast to all the other crystal balls in the stadiums in all the major cities throughout the Globe, including the Wither City. The stadiums tended to be informed of an imminent Game announcement at very short notice - sometimes half an hour or less.

  The last time there had been one, Lex had been on his way to work when excited people had started running to the stadiums, pushing and shoving in their eagerness to get there and not miss the start. Lex had longed to go with them and, indeed, had been sorely tempted for some moments to ditch work. But then he had realised that a lot of the younger clerks would be doing just that. If Lex dutifully turned up to the office on a day when many of the staff were skiving off, it could only make him look good. So he had dragged his feet to the dry old law firm, pasted the usual enthusiastic smile on his face and tried to look like he was enjoying sitting at the reception desk when everyone knew full well that there would be no clients that day. He had sat there and thought longingly of the hustle and bustle of the stadiums, the buttery smell of freshly roasted popcorn, the shouts of bookies and the replies of gamblers . . .

  He had no worries about getting a front-row seat this time, he thought with a surge of triumph. There was to be no mere observing with the other spectators, this time he was to be an actual player himself! As Jezra went on, Lex had to resist the urge to stuff his fist into his mouth so that he wouldn’t shriek with glee.

  ‘I, Jezra, God of Wit and Daring, and the current Gaming champion, hereby commence this Game between we three deities: the Judge, God of Emptiness, shall be using as his player the prophet known as Alistari.’

  Lex glanced at the opposite circle and saw the black-robed prophet standing beside the feared, nameless God known only as the Judge. A tall, imposing figure - he was dressed in grey, golden-edged robes and he wore a golden mask shaped with a human’s features. Of all the Gods, the Judge was the only one who refused to show his true face in the Lands Above. No one knew whether he took the mask off in the Lands Beneath, but one thing they did know was that even the other Gods seemed to be a little afraid of him. It was said that his face must be so hideous, so grotesque, so monstrous, that he didn’t want humans to see it. But in some ways that expressionless golden mask was even more terrifying. The gold lips did not move when the Judge spoke, and there was only the thinnest slit for the eyes to look out of. You couldn’t see them. Not unless you really stared, in which case you might have caught a faint glimpse of . . . something . . . behind that mask . . . But no one wanted to look the Judge in the face too closely for fear of what they might see.

  Stood beside the Judge in the circle was a black-robed, black-masked prophet, covered in black from his boots to the ends of his gloves and the hood drawn up over his face. The only parts of him that were visible were the blind whites of his eyes, staring out blankly from behind his mask, and the thin lines of his lips. Prophets always wore a lot of black, possibly because they didn’t like people looking at them when, being blind, they couldn’t look back.

  All blind people became prophets eventually, for their lack of sight was compensated by the advanced sense of precognition that allowed them to see where they would be a few seconds from now, almost like a bat sending back echoes to itself. Prophets were also dumb - their tongues were cut out at birth to stop them from blabbing all the secrets they knew about the future. For it is a well-known fact that children are incapable of keeping secrets, and ones like that can do a lot of damage. The prophets were then shipped off to an isolated town in the desert inhabited only by other prophets for it was felt that they belonged with their own kind. Technically there was nothing to stop the prophets from leaving once they grew up, but very few ever did. They disliked the ordinary human population - perhaps it had something to do with the whole cutting-out-the-tongues business. At any rate, they mostly kept themselves to themselves.

  At Jezra’s mention of his name, the prophet bowed stiffly. Lex could practically hear the thunderous applause from the stadiums even though the nearest one was many miles away.

&
nbsp; ‘I, Jezra, God of Wit and Daring, shall be using the farm boy, Lucius Trent,’ Jezra went on.

  Lex felt almost sick with envy. Of all the Gods, Jezra was the one that Lex had always admired the most - the one whose church he had been a member of before Lady Luck bribed him into hers. Jezra was the God of Wit and Adventure and Daring and Recklessness and yet he had chosen Lucius - Lucius - Lex’s vapid, spineless, gutless, wet, perpetually placid brother as his playing piece! Why? Why, why, why?

  At the mention of his name, Lucius glanced up from his kneeling position, saw his own frightened image staring back at him from the crystal ball and hurriedly ducked his head once again to stare in petrified fear at the floor. No thunderous applause for him, Lex thought with a gleam of satisfaction. Spectators could spot a loser a mile away.

  ‘And Lady Luck, Goddess of Fortune shall be using the thief, Lex Trent.’