99 Gods: Betrayer

by Randall Farmer

She cursed under her breath as she examined them. The black robes, upside-down crosses, and pentacles were a dead giveaway. “Satanists, ma’am,” Willie said, muttering behind her.

  “Go away,” she said, to the crowd. “I’m not the one you seek.” She had spent the entire 16th and early 17th century opposing the existence of such nonsense as high church propaganda. To her disgust, real Satanists had appeared in the 20th century. At least they hadn’t promulgated the old notions of Satanists as women who cursed animals, stopped cows from giving milk, caused impotence and sterility in men, rode at night on broomsticks or drank blood. Among many if not most, their inverted beliefs were merely a protest against Christianity, but given human nature, some had become true believers.

  The leader of the group got up to his knees. “You’re named Satan. This we know.”

  “I’m not the enemy of the God of the Christian and Islamic religions,” Satan said. “The name was given to me by a magician who wished to cloak the fact that it was he, not I, who dabbled in magic.”

  “Yet the 99 Gods exist, so why not a Satan made flesh?”

  Satan rolled her eyes. “You betray your own beliefs, Satanist: each person is his own redeemer and responsible for his own life.” How could she not study the religion linked to her name? She knew all their arguments.

  “Our dreams revealed to us that you are tens of thousands of years old, Satan,” the kneeling man said. “Of course you are not the Christian and Islamic Satan. We always knew such constructs were lies. No, great one, you are the goal which we all seek, an individual of power so potent that you became immortal. You are nature made flesh. Guide us, Satan, so we can join you. That is all we ask.”

  “Look at me,” Satan said.

  The room did as she asked.

  “Do I appear to you to be a paragon of human flesh?” The modern Satanists sought fleshly paragon-hood as their ultimate goal. “My body is ancient, I’m in constant pain, and there are no lusts in my indulgences. I pray to God. I consider the seven deadly sins as something to avoid because of experience, not because of scripture, and I certainly don’t practice them with joy.”

  Their leader flinched at her words, as the modern Satanists considered indulgence, not abstinence, proper. Nor did they pray or acknowledge God in any fashion.

  “If anything, I’m a Wiccan,” Satan said, knowing that the Wiccans were the antithesis of the self-centered Satanists of this era. “The harm you do to others does return upon you thrice.” Her strong faith in the karmic rule of three served as the source of her power, which she enforced with her tricks.

  “Satan instructs,” the heavily tattooed man at the leader’s left said. “This was promised.”

  Satan’s stomach clenched in sudden fear. Promised? “How did you get in here?” Satan asked.

  “Dreams and magic rituals revealed your existence,” the leader said. Dreams. Dammit! “I learned of the 666 chosen disciples, and that I was one. We are here to rescue you from the foul clutches of Dubuque. We forced our way in when we were large enough in numbers to do so. Dubuque’s powerless fools fled from our true power.”

  Dubuque set this up, Satan realized. Dubuque’s army of Supported could have stopped these idiots cold; they could have flayed the flesh from their bones or turned them into Dubuque worshippers.

  Her skin crawled to be near these people. Despite what their leader said, they already worshipped her as a God. What minor power she had over her surroundings could be undone by such worship, negating the chaos and randomness she caused by her very presence.

  Exactly what Dubuque wanted.

  “By being here you do Dubuque’s work,” she said. “He sent you those dreams. He led you to this.”

  “Impossible,” the leader said. “Dubuque is nothing to us; he is the idea of ‘Saint’ made flesh by the dreams of the Christians. Does not the fact we were able to fight through to you, to rescue you, prove that?”

  “Dubuque let you in,” Satan said.

  “Satan instructs,” the heavily tattooed man said again. “If you wish, we will follow you as you seek to destroy Dubuque and his minions in just vengeance.”

  “Vengeance?” Satan said. “Is that what you think this is all about?”

  “If a man smites you on one cheek, smite him back,” the leader said. A quote. Save me, Satan thought.

  “Fools. The only true vengeance is outliving your enemies,” Satan said. “Violence pollutes the soul. Trust me, I’ve lived long enough to learn this.”

  “Satan instructs, we must listen,” the heavily tattooed man said.

  Satan turned away and hobbled back into her tent without another word. Willie followed.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Dubuque’s won,” Satan said. “There’s no way I can win any arguments with those people.” And she had thought she could win any peaceful confrontation. Well, learn something new every day. Damn these Gods!

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning we have to leave,” Satan said. “We’ll let these fools ‘rescue us’, then once outside, we’ll vanish from under their noses.”

  If she came back to bedevil Dubuque, he would sic these damned worshippers on her again.

  “If worship bothers you, why will escaping these Satanists mean anything?” Willie said. “Let me help. I’m sure I’m powerful enough to stop the lot of them in their tracks.” He rubbed his hands together. “Or worse.”

  “You’re listening to those voices again,” Satan said. “No, it’s only the proximity of their worship that matters. I’m not a God. In modern terms, I’m a Telepath, and the reach of my vulnerability is as limited in range as the reach of my tricks. Damn that Dubuque for figuring this out.”

  She would have to think. Dubuque might have chased her away, but she hadn’t lost the war. Dubuque might be too canny for her to harm directly, but perhaps some of his followers weren’t.

  It happened after the sons of men had multiplied in those days, that daughters were born to them, elegant and beautiful.

  And when the angels, the sons of heaven, beheld them, they became enamored of them, saying to each other, Come, let us select for ourselves wives from the progeny of men, and let us beget children.

  Then their leader Samyaza said to them; I fear that you may perhaps be indisposed to the performance of this enterprise;

  And that I alone shall suffer for so grievous a crime.

  But they answered him and said; We all swear;

  And bind ourselves by mutual execrations, that we will not change our intention, but execute our projected undertaking.

  Then they swore all together, and all bound themselves by mutual execrations.

  -- The Book of Enoch 7, 1:6

  “It is congratulations we wish to convey.”

  24. (War)

  “Talk to me,” War said. Her false-Dubuque projection had claimed the head of the meeting room table in the Omni Hotel, Freedom’s normal spot. Freedom didn’t complain and took another spot. There hadn’t been much talking among them since Dana, in an official act as Regent of Atlanta, had withdrawn her support from the siege of Dubuque.

  Freedom and Change looked over to Dana’s projection. “I’ve already said all I want to say on the subject,” Dana said. She looked beaten up, nightmare-ridden and worn. War hadn’t been keeping close track of Dana; something had happened, something bad, and she had no idea what.

  “Tell me, then, why I should continue to help you with the Seven Suits and training up the Kid God,” War said. She amped up her false-Dubuque charisma, a mean trick but not an attack as all three could defend against it, and because War’s charisma couldn’t come close to what a real Dubuque projection could do. “Our informal alliance is based on Integrity, or was. I help you, you help me.” She tapped her fingers together, Dubuque style. “The alliance isn’t based on ‘I help you, you give up on me’.”

  “You should withdraw from the Dubuque fight yourself,” Dana said. Despite her physical and psychological shakiness, her projection’s
strength today shocked War. Right now, backed by Dana’s moral indignation, she matched the Mission power of any Territorial God projection War had ever seen.

  Worse, the two analysis tracks in War’s mind couldn’t come up with any explanation other than the usual ‘Dana is an anomaly’ answer. Annoying.

  War slapped her palms on the table and half rose from her seat, angry and looming. “Dubuque is our main enemy!”

  The irony of wearing Dubuque’s form didn’t escape her.

  “And when Dubuque forced Satan to leave his headquarters, you lost the fight. Morally.”

  “Pardon me for interrupting here,” Change said. “But I’m not sure I understand the moral question in play. Why didn’t you withdraw when Portland’s people attacked Satan?”

  War collapsed back into her seat. Her bluster and Mission weren’t providing her the least advantage. She tapped her foot in impatience as the table grew silent while Dana thought through her response.

  “I argued against trying to force Satan’s hand,” Dana said, after corralling her thoughts. “I got overruled. Everyone knew better. Portland certainly did, and I suspect Dubuque’s expulsion of Satan was exactly what Portland wanted.” Dana clenched her fists, radiating table pounding anger. Instead of pounding the table, though, she let her willpower flow through her, carrying away her anger. “Portland made a mistake, thinking she can win this contest by force. War, I’m not going after you on this, understand. You’re supposed to be the one urging us to use force. That’s your job, your Mission. It’s Portland’s responsibility, as our leader, to decide whether or not to use force. She’s the one who messed up by not listening to me.”

  Mollified a little, War gave Dana a tiny nod.

  “That still doesn’t answer my question,” Change said. “Let me get this straight: Portland sent in a squad of Supported to give an ultimatum to Satan, right?”

  Dana and War nodded.

  “Then it gets all confused in my mind. Somehow, it turned into an attack on Satan. Why? Did Dubuque mess with their heads or something?”

  “Satan herself triggered the attack,” War said. “Something in her defenses enraged the Supported going to confront her and they snapped.”

  “We found no evidence of mind control in the post-mortem, just an incredible amount of post-attack confusion,” Dana said. “They snapped simply because they weren’t morally strong enough to cope with being in Satan’s presence.”

  “In your opinion, not mine or Portland’s.”

  “In my opinion, which convinced Boise,” Dana said, raising an eyebrow at War.

  “Boise’s still with us, unlike you.”

  Change cleared his throat. Freedom squirmed. They had heard the original of this argument and didn’t want another rehashing.

  Dana sighed, and then continued. “I argued that since Satan was doing our job by bedeviling Dubuque we were morally wrong to demand she formally declare which side she was on. Yes, her presence messed up some of our side’s attacks. Furthermore, even after our negotiators attacked her, Satan continued to bedevil Dubuque. But the damage was done. Our attack on Satan weakened our joint cause and gave Dubuque the moral authority to remove Satan. If we had left Satan alone, Dubuque’s trick with the Satanists would have backfired on him instead. Thus, her leaving is our fault. When Satan left, I couldn’t continue supporting the fight against Dubuque in good conscience.”

  “You’re implying Satan has the Mission strength of a leading Territorial God, Dana,” Change said. “She can’t be working on that level.”

  “I’m afraid she is,” Dana said.

  Change looked over at War. “What’s your opinion of Satan’s Mission strength?”

  “Dana is correct,” War said. Her comment earned War a nod of acceptance from Dana.

  Dana’s withdrawal bothered War more than she was willing to let on. Although Dana, as a mere Regent, didn’t have the resources to physically influence the fight, her symbolic presence counted for a lot. Of course, with the 99 Gods and their Missions, symbolism often counted for nearly as much as physical reality. Unfortunately, experience had shown Dana rarely wrong on moral and ethical decisions.

  War pushed the point of her own withdrawal from the fight against the Seven Suits in an attempt to find out if there were other reasons behind Dana’s abandonment of the Dubuque fight. She had the bad feeling they were seriously screwed if not.

  “However, none of this deals with my question,” War said. “Tell me why I should keep helping the three of you?”

  “Well, for one thing, because we’re making progress,” Freedom said. “It’s pretty clear now that Ecologist” a Practical God “is being forced to work for the Suits as a captive. We’ve also uncovered two different episodes where they’ve taken both sides in corporate board fights, siccing their own supporters against each other as a way to destabilize a company. We couldn’t have found out any of this without your help protecting us from the Suits’ goon squads.”

  “Guys, that isn’t what War is getting at,” Dana said. “Look, War. I know you think I stabbed you in the back on this. However, I wasn’t protesting your decision, but Portland’s. At the level you’re working at, the military stuff, my withdrawal doesn’t matter in the slightest. Furthermore, you know my workload. I mean, ever since the Kid God discovered the internet…”

  Ahh. “You’re saying you’re overwhelmed, couldn’t afford any more exposure, and the moral hits were weakening your work with the Kid God?” War said.

  “I guess so,” Dana said, wiggling her fingers in the air.

  “Good enough for me,” War said, equivocating. “Having dealt with the Kid God myself, I quite understand.” She had the responsibility to train Bob the Kid God to defend himself, despite his disdain for standard God battle tricks. If Dana had other reasons for her pullout, then she could discount the moral issues and remain allies with Dana.

  Dana frowned and didn’t respond to this bit of obvious foolery. Neither did Change or Freedom. Outside of battle issues, War wasn’t known for her intellectual acumen, an illusion War fostered with no hesitation. False stupidity came in handy in situations like this.

  Despite their differences, War wanted to remain Dana’s ally.

  “Joanie, your group is the real decoy today,” War said. The God-powered lanterns cast a dim light on the besieger’s makeshift encampment, and the attackers in the central clearing sipped coffee and wiped sleep from their eyes. Joanie, captain of Boise’s Supported combatants, nodded. “Today, it’s ‘three groups as decoys to draw away defenders, leaving an open spot for a fourth group’ again. This time, though, the fourth group is also a decoy, appearing to be double strength, but in reality only a quarter strength. The real power group will be the second group, at triple strength. To start with, though, it’ll portray itself as weak.”

  The various companies of Supported, and one squad of Telepaths, nodded. Probes by Dubuque’s defenders sporadically lit the pre-dawn darkness, making sure Portland’s army still held the siege.

  War passed out the detailed rosters of who was to go where and when, hiding deep her frantic fears. She had discussed her fears with Portland, Boise, Orlando and Montreal last night, and only Portland still held out hope they could win the siege, of the opinion the method Dubuque used to chase Satan away from the fight showed weakness, not strength.

  And Portland was the boss.

  The attackers split up into their respective attack groups, heads down in little clumps, reviewing the attack plans and talking through last minute details. A couple of Supported created God-powered flashlights. Boise, now here at the Dubuque siege in person, began to create the illusions to make Joanie’s group appear to be stronger than it was. None of the Territorial Gods would participate directly in the attack; they had all learned their lesson from the Miami vs Atlanta fight. They provided indirect support, and there were always two of the Territorial Gods on hand for this support. In addition, they also had an ever-changing roster of Ideological and Practical
Gods who participated directly in the siege, not that their direct participation put them in danger of a God vs God fight. Save for War, whose ideology was war, none of the individual Ideologicals and Practicals had enough combat strength to pull a Miami or physically threaten Dubuque in any way. Instead, they provided intelligence, both real and metaphorical, and the raw power of one to three Supported.

  Portland had drafted Lorenzi and his Magicians to help as well. Today War had uses for them. Normally they stayed back as reserves, as the conflict here and elsewhere had shown the magicians much better suited for short bursts of strength rather than sustained battle. Slowly but surely both sides learned the various operational tactics of this new variety of conflict.

  War called Alt over; at his instructions, Walter was busy covering the triple strength group with telepathic illusions. She layered her own divine illusions on top. They took off into the air, doing a standard ground-hugging approach toward Dubuque’s besieged headquarters, where her triple strength group relieved a group of Portland Supported who were on watch, maintaining the siege in this quadrant.

  “There’s been a change overnight,” Lorenzi said, as their group settled into position, behind abandoned cars and a hastily constructed pile of garbage dumpsters, waiting for the other groups to assemble.

  War nodded. The defending force field shimmered a translucent blue, almost invisible to all but Godly senses, 70 feet smaller in radius since yesterday. Inside the shell, clumps of barely hidden defenders lurked in the building’s shadows and on the roof. “Uh huh. They’ve pulled back their outer perimeter.” Unexpected. Had Dubuque suffered defections? Packed in tight, his Supported would only interfere with each other.

  “Were there any reports last night of any surrenders or people fleeing?” Lorenzi said. Despite everyone’s impassioned pleas, he and his magicians all rode broomsticks. Boise felt the same way as War about the magicians’ choice and made personally sure nobody could take pictures of the broomsticks.

  If they could have avoided using the magicians, War would have gladly seen them off, but they needed the magicians’ power. If only the magicians had the slightest bit of sense about public relations…