by Ron Glick
Whatever the Trickster was about, it was hidden - even from Enuchek. And if there was something powerful enough to be hidden from the Goddess of Mysteries, then it could only be seen as a threat - one which the Lesser Powers were being left in the dark about.
The most recent disturbance had been in a small community that bordered the Wildelands, the territory from which the New Order had originally advanced. It would have been far more disturbing if the incidents had all originated from this same locality, but the fact that the singular events had been progressively moving in that direction - and now with the discovery that one of the most recent incidents had manifested in the same community that Ankor's influence could be felt from...
It all left Enuchek disturbed. And being disturbed, it left the Goddess uncertain on how to address the problem. On one hand, Ankor's presence in this small town might be completely coincidental. And if that were the case, if she reported this infraction to the Lesser Powers, it could undo any real work the Trickster might be about. On the other hand though, if this was part of some underhanded scheme - something the God was so well known for - it could prove devastating. After all, if the God of Mischief were sincere in his plans to undo the Greater Powers, why would he keep this mystery from her eyes?
Logic suggested that at the very least she should summon Ankor and put him to the question. Yet there were disadvantages to this line of thought, as well. If he were genuinely dedicated to keeping this element secret, her letting him know of her discovery only gave him the opportunity to hide whatever he was doing better. And if she journeyed there herself, she placed herself at his mercy. There had been rumors amongst the Greater Powers that Ankor was behind the deaths of the three deceased Gods - and if the Trickster could be believed, he certainly had a hand in the deeds. Not directly perhaps - it was difficult to imagine that Ankor had the power to actually slay another God - yet he had admitted to being somehow behind the fall of Galentine and Kelvor.
What if the Trickster were more than just the lure to the trap, however? What if he was the trap?
Six days had passed since Enuchek had become aware of the convergence of this mysterious hidden mystery appearing within the community where Ankor's presence had been so persistent. In that time, she had sensed the disturbance in three other locations - but as was consistent in its manifestations, all of these other appearances felt out of time, not quite in sync with each other. Worse, if there were such a thing as a freshness for the flavor of these events, they all smelled older than the manifestation in the small town known as Oaken Wood.
And in all that time, Ankor had not left. It was like he was waiting...
“You are looking for a great pattern,” came a voice from the Goddess' side, “and so you miss the smaller patterns altogether.”
Enuchek should not have been startled - her divine awareness should have sensed another deity's manifestation before it occurred. Yet if any other Goddess could accomplish this, Enuchek was not surprised that it would be Belask. The visitor manifested herself as a dark skinned woman, her robes an ethereal non-substance that seemed to shed color rather than be an absence of any.
“I suppose it makes sense that you would be sensing the same disturbance as I have. What do you know of this?” asked the Goddess of Mystery.
The Goddess of the Unseen shrugged lightly. “Likely as little as you. Something unknown that is exposed then hidden again before it can be identified. Or, in my case, it leaves my realm of the unseen before even I can see it for what it is - likely because it is not something rooted in the normal path of time.
“Yet I can see you are searching for a larger pattern,” added the other Goddess. “You miss that these instances appear in pairs - disappearing from one place to appear in another. By looking for a great pattern, you miss the smaller ones.”
Enuchek had to acknowledge that the other Goddess had summed up the issue well. But also, how Belask had presented it raised a possibility in her mind. “Could this be Shadow Elves at work? Or perhaps some other cosmic power?”
“Unlikely. The Elves have moved across time without so much as a ripple for longer than any know. It hardly seems their forte to be so... sloppy now.” Belask stepped forward, turning her back slightly to her host. “As for someone even greater than the Elves, it would be even less likely for the same reason.”
“What do the Greater Powers suppose it is?”
The Goddess of the Unseen turned her head, the raising of her eyebrow the only evidence that she felt anything about what she had just heard. “What makes you believe the other Gods even care?”
Belask raised her hand, a ball of shadow swirling in the air just above her fingertips. “Ankor has been busy, but I do not believe he is actually behind any of this. He is more an opportunist than any real threat.”
Enuchek felt a sudden need for caution. Had Belask uncovered Ankor's rebellion?
“The other Gods focus on recent events entirely too much,” the visiting Goddess continued. “I had believed that settling the conflict over whether the Trickster had actually slain his betters would have removed him from the focus of the others. But of course, instead of seeing reason, too many became affronted by being proven wrong instead.”
“I... I do not follow,” confessed Enuchek.
Belask turned to face her host, clasping her hand closed and dispelling her small demonstration of power. “My apologies. You wouldn't be privy to the Greater Gods' debate. I sent Corus and Praelis after the truth regarding Ankor's involvement in the death of Galentine and Kelvor. Praelis confirmed that Ankor's memory cleared the Trickster of wrongdoing. But there were those so convinced of his guilt, that they have not completely abandoned the effort to hold Ankor accountable. Even when faced with incontestable facts, Galanor is still driving Orlicia and Anlar to rebel against the will of the others.”
“They move against Ankor?”
“Not yet,” said the visitor. “But I fear soon. They cannot accept that Ankor did not somehow fool the Goddess of Memory. So they seek to make war against the Trickster to remove his threat before he can slay more of them.”
“But Ankor did not kill the others? Any of them?”
Belask shrugged again. “Of Imery, none can say for certain - but there's no evidence suggesting Ankor was anywhere near that tragedy. But according to Praelis, Ankor did witness the fall of the other two. Two mortals possessing unknown and unseeable powers struck and slew the Gods.”
Enuchek hissed in a breath of air. “The Godslayer rumors are true?”
“Not as the old tale speaks, no. But there do appear to be mortals possessing the power, yes. If Praelis is speaking true, Ankor saw it with his own eyes.”
The Goddess of Mystery dwelled on this for a moment. “What does any of this have to do with me then, Belask? It is not exactly within your nature to speak for the sound of your voice alone.”
A wisp of a smile played across the other Goddess' face. “Of all the Gods, you and I are the closest aligned, Enuchek. Corus exists on the opposite side of things to myself, yet your dominion straddles the bridge between ours. This makes you the only other God who is sensitive enough to feel the incursion upon time as I have. For you, it must feel like a mystery that is in a perpetual sense of undiscovery, while for me, it feels as if it is fluttering back and forth between my own realm and yours.”
“With that logic, should not Corus also be feeling it?”
“Certainly,” agreed Belask. “And if he were not involved in the political infighting of the Greater Powers, he might even pay heed to it. But as it stands, no other is as disturbed by this aberration as you and I.”
“What are you suggesting?” laughed Enuchek. “An allegiance? Between Greater and Lesser Powers?”
“Precisely that,” agreed the dark Goddess. “I am well aware that your Lesser brethren feel disenchanted with how you are shunned by the Greaters, but you must know that I have ever held myself apart from my fellows on this. I still recall a time when we were all equals
, suckling on our mother's teats. I do not see the division the others do. You are my sister, Enuchek, and there is no better time to remind you of this than when a crisis looms over our shared dominions.”
The Goddess of Mystery leaned forward in her chair. “You would share confidences with me then? Swear to work with me and to share nothing of your discovery with anyone else without our mutual agreement?”
The other Goddess was plainly aware of what was being asked of her. “I give oath,” she said simply.
Enuchek sat back in satisfaction. She knew well enough she had Belask's word, but she still wished to hear the other Goddess make the capitulation. “You must say the words, Belask. Working beside Ankor has taught us all the disadvantage of relying on less.”
The Goddess of the Unseen's features grew darker. “I will keep your confidence and not speak of anything shared of what we embark upon without your leave. I so swear.”
The seated Goddess smiled. “Then let me inform you on what Ankor has actually been doing...”
* * *
Farius held the torch high overhead, spreading the light as far ahead as he could manage. He kept silent, listening for any odd sound that might cue him into an unwanted presence. So far, all he could hear were his companion's footsteps behind him, and so long as that was all he heard, he considered himself grateful.
These sub-tunnels were largely unused by the human residents of the city - quite frankly, few even knew there were passages down this far below Surenport - yet that did not mean they were unoccupied. There were many denizen races who sought out dark, damp caverns like these to live in. It did not matter if a cavern were natural or man-made - all that mattered was the moist and shadow. Have these conditions, and demi-human races and creatures of the dark would be drawn to it like a fly to sweetwater.
In sweeping the light ahead, the rogue leader accomplished two things: a caution for any dark-dweller who might wish to avoid someone of his kind, and - more importantly - an early warning for himself should he stumble across one that was not so amenable.
Lord Justin Surelake's forces were becoming more and more persistent in recent months about rooting out those they considered dissidents. Lord Justin had imposed long-standing rules against delvers - those who made a living out of exploring abandoned areas such as these in search of adventure - which was rather paradoxical considering Justin himself had earned his wealth and fame from that precise occupation, if the legends were true. And so simply being down below the street level now risked exposure to more than just the denizens.
And yet, there was more to it than that, and an ironic need because of it that required the Conclave to set up their operations here. The delving pursuits drew in people of all walks of life, but most predominantly attracted those who rebelled against law and order - one would have to be to live outside the rules of society as these questers did, after all. But this very kind of lawlessness disrupted the kingdom Lord Justin sought to maintain - and so outlawing these pursuits made a sort of logical sense.
But in recent months, Lord Justin's laws against the so-called adventurers had begun to incorporate anyone who gathered in pursuit of any kind of agenda that involved upsetting the status quo. There were many who blamed the merchant class in the city for this new outlook - people who could gain massive wealth through short adventures represented a genuine destabilizing force to the local economics. As did piracy, larceny and other forms of banditry - and anyone operating outside the acceptable trades had been cast in the same light as a disreputable bandit. Yet this alone was not enough - the merchants now seemed to be vocally standing against anyone who might bring in moneys through any method other than genuine labor or their own commercial entrepreneurship.
It had become something of a campaign of late to ferret out anyone who relied upon money that could not be traced to one of the two approved means of income. If one had money and it was not linked to commerce or a manual labor job, suspicions were cast about that they were earning their money illicitly. They might not have been actual pirates, delvers or anything else - but the fear and propaganda running through the capital was palpable. Farius had lived through a religious inquisition before, and to be honest, it did not look or feel much different than this madness that had predominated the citizenry here. This may not have begun with any of the churches as the last one had, but it had the same irrational zealousness that led to lynch mobs and burning innocent people in the street. It might not have reached that level yet, but Farius feared it was not too far away.
The consequence of all of this, of course, was that the Conclave had needed to move its meetings below ground. Immortals earned their moneys over their incredibly long lives - and any that had lived more than a handful of centuries had no need to work or engage in commerce to live comfortably. But this was the very profile that had drawn too much attention in the current court of public opinion.
Should an immortal be singled out for being too affluent, the cost of exposure could be potentially disastrous. Not only did it disrupt whatever stability the immortals might have made for themselves, but it also made them a target for divine reprisal. Demi-Gods were under constant threat from their parent deities, and mortals were taught to see them as abominations. All it took was one mortal praying to their God about a demi-God in their midst, and a deity could appear to slay the immortal without any forewarning.
Discovery was the one thing no demi-God could afford. But the Conclave had set up their base of operations in Surenport - and to relocate would be equally cataclysmic for the movement. How did one send out notice to the hundreds of immortals across the world who lived in secret that their clandestine organization had moved to another city?
So the Conclave had done the one thing they could do - they hid better. And in this case, it meant going deeper into the old city, the area that had been excavated hundreds of years ago and long-since abandoned for fear of flooding. In all honesty, Farius was not sure how these subterranean regions remained clear of water - this passage alone was over a hundred feet below sea level - but he was no architect and had no genuine interest in learning the how of it. And so he simply counted his blessings and accepted the good fortune that they did exist.
“How much further?” came Tanath's voice in a tight whisper.
“Child, if this is too tiring, you can always go back and hide under your blankets,” rebuked the man. “Real heroes don't need such luxuries.”
“Heroes?” laughed Tanath. “You and I? Think perhaps you have a bit of an over-inflated ego there, don't you?”
Farius stopped and turned to stare at his companion. She did seem more than a little agitated, her nails nervously scratching at her skin. “Are you unwell?”
The girl knotted her fingers into a fist, but still rubbed the surface of her skin. “Fine. How're you?”
“Girl, don't play at this,” scolded the older man. “Something is clearly wrong. Are you afraid of dark places?”
Tanath gritted her teeth and growled ominously. Finally though, she could not keep her fingers still and once again began to scratch at the skin under her shirt. “It's my power,” she confessed. “I'm getting close. I've never had to spawn in a sewer before, and I'd rather not do so now.”
Farius considered a moment. “How much time do you have?”
“Doesn't work like that. Just know it's soon. So. How much longer?”
The man looked ahead, calculating in his mind. Then, without warning, he reached over and physically picked Tanath up, throwing her over his shoulder without ceremony. “Not close enough, likely,” he said as he began to race along the passage.
Tanath initially protested, but the man's firm hold of her left no allowance for resistance. Soon, even she realized what he was doing and she stopped struggling, suffering through the indignity as best she could.
The tall man reached out around him, feeling for lifeforce to draw upon. He was a strong man, but his power had limits. Unless he found a soul to draw more strength from...
The further he moved, the more lives fell within the range of Farius' vampiric nature. And the more energy he drew, the stronger and faster he became. Within a few minutes, the man was racing through the dark passages at twice the rate of a normal man, and a few minutes later he had doubled even that speed.
To Farius, this was his true self - the part that lived to feast off of life itself. It was a part that he struggled with, the thirst. No matter how much he gorged on life energy, he always wanted more. And the drive to continuously feed his ravenous appetite could far too easily become all-consuming. When his thirst controlled him, he was no longer a man of reason - he was a senseless beast, one that never relented until he had consumed all there was to devour.
After a point, Farius ebbed off his feed. He had a livid fear of losing control, and it was not inconceivable that he would begin to feed off the girl he carried over his shoulder if he did.
Before he realized it, Farius arrived at the stairwell he knew would lead to the final obstacle to the Conclave's present stronghold. Whomever had constructed this part of the underground labyrinth had constructed two murder-holes - one to either side of the passage at the base of the stairs. Behind the holes were two small rooms where at least one guard would be posted, prepared to fire upon anyone who was not known.