Plane of the Godless

by Peter Hartz

  “I don’t know. I was contacted anonymously.” That, at least, was to be expected.

  “What was the end planned for her? For them?”

  Michelle’s hands tightened their grip in Allison’s and Dave’s hands. It was one thing to know she’d been harmed by these men. But hearing this somewhat calm, resigned recitation of everything, here and now, was almost like being assaulted again. Inside, a part of her was screaming over and over, ‘I am not an animal to be butchered!’, as tears started to run down her face. She turned away and buried her face behind Dave’s shoulder as his emotions burned slowly inside.

  Allison suddenly reached her hand up and wiped at his face, and he realized that he was also crying. Giltreas felt the emotion coming from the three humans, and reached out to place his near hand on Dave’s other shoulder. Dave turned back as Jack started to speak again.

  “We were supposed to leave her body in the woods behind her cottage, and then take care of David and Allison. It was supposed to look like David raped and killed the two women (to totally destroy his reputation), and then killed himself. The plan was for it to take several days to find them. By then, my employer would have accomplished whatever he set out to do.”

  “Is this what you are normally called on to do? To slaughter your fellow humans like so many mindless food animals?” The question came out harshly from the normally serene young queen, and it impacted in Jack’s mind like an explosion.

  Jack blinked harshly as the question washed over him, and his situation began to hammer at his sanity again. He started to hyperventilate, and the color washed away from his face. His mind started to spin as his thoughts raced through his brain, and the room washed out as his vision tunneled. He lowered his head slightly as he tried to spread his arms to catch his rapidly disappearing balance, but his hands were secured together in front of him. His mouth opened as if to speak, but it was his internal voice that screamed in sudden wordless agony into the silence in his mind as the last vestiges of sanity finally began to leave him.

  The guards, not knowing his intentions, braced themselves at his sudden movement, not remembering which had tried to attack their queen the last time they were here, not that it mattered to them. All they knew was that these humans had proven themselves to be violent animals, and had killed one human and threatened to kill two others.

  Jack felt his consciousness begin to leave him, when he felt a presence, and a gentle, musical voice spoke softly to him. “Calm yourself, mortal child.”

  He looked up suddenly, and there was a new person standing in the throne room. She looked to be young, with pure brown hair, and was dressed in a simple brown robe. Her skin was flawless and smooth, a light brown color, and her eyes looked on him with some mixture of concern and sadness, as if he was lost at sea and floating further from shore. Then he noticed that the queen had stood from her throne, with a shocked look upon her face.

  He looked on the new woman again, and she seemed to glow as if lit from within with a pure white light that seemed to brighten the colors of everything it touched. When he looked into her eyes, he seemed to be staring into the infinite depths of ageless space, and he shuddered, turning his face away from that perfect countenance, even as his mind seemed to try to both pull him closer to her and turn him away at the same time.

  She looked back at him, and murmured something too softly for most people to hear, but Michelle heard it, and looked at the goddess standing in the throne room before them in shocked, open-mouthed silence. The recitation of her intended fate had swept into her mind like a rising tide that would not be denied, sweeping aside the walls she had erected inside to protect herself from the thoughts about what had happened, and the profound changes she had undergone in the moments when Giltreas had first healed, then resurrected, her. She stared inside herself and accepted at last that she was no longer just Michelle Wilhelm. She was more, she realized. So amazingly, incredibly more.

  She embraced everything at last, accepting that she was no longer the same, that she had died and been brought back to life somehow, and she was changed, both inside and out. The acceptance banished all doubts, all fears, all concerns, about her new self at last. With that complete acceptance, her human form began to glow, just as the goddess before her she had never met did in the throne room where she was tending to the crumbling man that had so calmly tried to explain her intended fate at his hands. And as the glow grew, a gentle hum began to emanate from her; a soft, soothing, caressing sound that eased the minds of those good people around her.

  The Goddess seemed to notice Michelle at that moment, and turned her head to look at her. Her eyes grew wide in surprise as she saw the human woman that had seemed so different in front of her, and she inclined her head in respect, a gentle smile gracing her flawless lips. A nod, as if realizing what she had been seeing all along, was directed at Michelle. Then she turned back to the slowly disintegrating human man in front of her.

  “You have done some terrible things in your life, and yet, I sense inside you a deep well of remorse and guilt. I also see that you are despairing of having a chance to set things right, or at least have a chance at making amends. I commend your change of character, Jack David Mitchell. But you must pay penance for the harm you have caused before you find release from your burden.” The incredible voice of the woman seemed to be both just above a whisper and just below a roar at the same time, and everyone who heard it perceived it differently. Some would remember it like the sounds of a gentle brook; others like a gentle rain. Still others would liken it to the sounds of waves on a lakeshore in evening, or perhaps the feeling of a warm gentle summer breeze on their features.

  A whirlwind of emotions washed over Jack, and as he stared in awe at the being in front of him, the dam inside holding his emotions deep inside since his teen years burst, and he collapsed at last to the hard stone floor, weeping. Every bit of emotional pain he had experienced, and equally that he had caused, suddenly came over him, overwhelming his conscious mind, and it retreated from consciousness as he convulsed in psychological pain and suffering, curling into a ball and wishing he was dead.

  The woman in white bent over him, caressed his brow, and said, “Sleep, child. I will come for you soon, and we will talk.” The words were gentle and sad as she said them. Instantly he ceased moving, and seemed to breathe deeper as sleep overtook him, and peace came over him once more as he subconsciously curled up on the floor in the fetal position.

  She straightened, and turned to look at Michelle. “Welcome among us, Newest Sister.” Then she turned and bowed to Delara, who was still standing, in both surprise and respect.

  “Your Majesty, I apologize for interrupting your proceedings. I am Hestia, Goddess of Hearth and Home. I was called by the wailing of this tortured soul. While he has much to answer for, if he passes the trials ahead of him, he will be My Servant, and will learn to heal where he has harmed in the past. He will sleep now for some few days. He will awaken to his new reality, and I shall return when he does.”

  The three remaining men in the room had shrank back from the incredible presence of the Goddess when she had suddenly appeared in their midst. Aaron turned his head away with a snarl, the blackness and evil in his mind automatically recognizing and reacting to, and rejecting, the goodness of the Goddess’s presence. The other two backed away, in awe of her countenance, and in fear. She turned suddenly on them, and they flinched.

  “This black-hearted one, he is lost beyond hope. Do with him as you will, or leave him to me, and I will end his mortal existence. One such as he should not be allowed to continue this life. He must go back to the House Between Worlds, and from there, to the Land of the Dead, in the hope that he can atone in his next life for the evil he has spread in this one.”

  “These other two companions in that foul endeavor show some remorse, but have not proven themselves to be deserving of whatever foul fate awaits that evil one. They may work as slaves as punishment until such time as they have proven they dese
rve to be free once more.”

  “Goddess Hestia, I shall do as you say.” The queen was relieved to be able to have divine guidance to help sort out this situation, motioning to the guards to take the three men away. Some healers were called, who lifted Jack onto a litter, and carried him off. They did not, Michelle noticed, untie his hands or unshackle his feet.

  The Goddess then turned, and looked at Giltreas. “Your Patron has wondered what has become of you.” She smiled. “Do not judge him too harshly, child. He is but a piece of the larger whole at play here.”

  “Do not speak for me, Sister. I am well capable enough to do so myself.” An arrogant voice, proud and aloof, filled the throne room. A new presence suddenly was there in front of them all, and this time, Giltreas took a step forward, fell to his knees, and bowed his head to the floor.

  The male form in front of them was human from the neck down, but had the head of a dog. In his right hand, he held a staff of gold and silver, with a single blue jewel set at the top. There was a long sword in a sheath at his left hip, as well. He was tall, possibly eight feet or more, and his posture conveyed arrogance aplenty. He wore what Dave, Michelle, and Allison recognized as an ancient Egyptian loincloth, and a robe of some fabric that seemed to be golden in color, and his skin was a deep bronze.

  “Where have you been, dog? I have not sensed you these past weeks. I wouldn’t think it possible for you to slip your leash, and yet, it appears you have. What trouble have you stirred up that I must now undo?” The contempt of the newcomer bit like a lash, and with the final word of the newcomer’s demand, he struck the floor with the foot of his staff, making a sound that thudded through the ears and the chest like the concussion of an explosion.

  Giltreas suddenly looked up in confusion. “My Lord? I have consulted you as you have taught me at every turn. I have followed your internal guidance at every action and turn. I have only acted – “

  “Shut up, you cur. I must now undo everything you have done, starting with these humans you have aligned yourself with.” He looked up at Dave, Michelle, and Allison with disgust, but Dave was not sure if it was directed at them personally. Still, he shuddered inside. Who was this? Why did the form seem so familiar? There was something tugging at the back of his mind, something –

  “Stuff it, Anubis. That is your name, right? You certainly are a pompous ass, aren’t you?” Dave looked at Michelle in shock as she stepped forward a few paces, standing in a pose that conveyed contempt and a challenge, her hands on her hips.

  Anubis also seemed shocked. “No one speaks to the God Anubis that way. You will repent and beg my forgiveness.” He loomed over Michelle, and raised the staff as if to hit her.

  She just stood there, a look of profound loathing and contempt on her incredibly beautiful features. He swung the staff back, then tried to swing it forward to strike the human woman down, and frowned as it would not move. He turned to glare at the woman in brown, and bared his teeth at her.

  “You dare to interfere, Hestia? Know your place, Sister. I have the right to demand respect from mortals!” His tone lashed out at the mortals in the room, and the sounds of his anger was like a volcano erupting against their senses. Most everyone in earshot instinctively stepped back

  Hestia glared at him, and spoke, her anger somehow still a part of her gentle countenance. “You would do well to know the focus of your ire, brother. That is no mortal facing you. Are you so blinded by arrogance that you would strike out at a Sister? She named you correctly, ‘you pompous ass.’”

  He turned back to Michelle, and really looked at her this time, and his eyes widened at what he saw, and the anger dissolved somewhat. Then he turned to Giltreas, and spoke again, anger once again on his face. “What have you done?”

  Giltreas was silent with shock at the harsh disapproval of his Patron, unable to find the words to reply. He had followed direction as he always had, listening to the guidance through the Je’Tanna Na that Anubis had always used to speak with him in the past. The staff swept down at an arc and then across, like the swing of a cricket player’s bat, impacting from Giltreas’ shoulder down to his hip, and throwing him across the room into the stone wall as if he were a child’s toy.

  Anubis strode towards Giltreas’ fallen form, intent on administering more punishment on his erstwhile tool, when Giltreas looked up, a harsh light in his eyes as he healed the injuries from the impact and hitting the wall with a stray thought.

  Giltreas had always believed in doing what was just. He had always served Anubis to the best of his abilities, and had always tried to do what he had been told, except when those commands had been too horrific to contemplate. Those times had earned Giltreas the retribution of the Mid-God he had been conceived to serve, a price he was willing to pay. But not this time. His conscience was clear. He had done what he was directed, what Anubis, his patron, had taught him. He stood, and drew his sword, intent on defending himself against injustice, reaching inside himself to those places where his strength came from, and joined himself to everything he was and had become.

  Anubis saw the defiance in his tool, and his anger redoubled. He would not be denied by this whelp of his making. He continued forward to continue the lessons the defiant one so desperately needed to remind him of his place, an implacable determination plain on his face, then paused as the defiant one was joined by humans in strange apparel he had noticed near where Giltreas had stepped forward, including the new Sister that had called him that term. They spread out in front of Giltreas, and each had a small black metal thing held in their hands that were pointed at him. He paused as the grim, fearless faces of the humans told him that they would fight on the side of his erstwhile tool against him.

  Anubis had not faced determined, defiant humans in over five thousand summers, since the one had stood up to him. A moment of indecision held him, before determination once again made him advance, and now he drew his sword, as well. But a new voice, one that he knew well, stopped him.

  “You must not. I might have need of him yet.”

  Anubis paused, then spoke up in a tone of more respect. “I would not destroy him.”

  “I wasn’t speaking to you. I was telling him that I might yet need you, and that he must not end your existence.”

  “He would not be able to! What is this?”

  “You do not know your tool any longer. He could easily.” An uneasy silence came from Anubis as he contemplated what the voice announced to the room at large. Then Anubis spoke again.

  “Master Sekur? I do not understand. What place do you have in this discussion? I was correcting my – “ Anubis tried to regain control of the situation, but Sekur would have none of it.

  “Anubis, Giltreas has been following the words and path of My Will. I have need of him, and his use and connection to you is at an end. He is yours no longer. No one will command him now; he has earned his freedom. And I would not have him end you before your usefulness is no more.” The new voice seemed to come out of the very air, and the invisible presence that spoke seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. Perceptions of light, depth, and distance altered, warping reality as the newest visitor to the throne room joined the conversation. Anubis stopped stock still.

  “You will not alter My Purpose. You may have created the tool Giltreas, and have honed him into the perfect weapon for your judgement against those that have wronged you, and yet, you have never pursued, listened to, nor understood the true reason I have allowed you such latitude in shaping the destiny of this worthy one in front of you. I needed a child born of mortal blood such as Giltreas has to accomplish certain things. The time has come for the Gods to serve the needs of The Plane of the Godless once more.

  “This will be held in abeyance no more. The vast numbers of mortal souls waiting in the Lands of the Dead and at the House Between Worlds must be allowed to continue on the Great Path of the Soul. They have completed their journey on my planes, and some have waited millennia for their ascendancy. Raise not your hand agai
nst My Purpose, Anubis, or I shall find another who will take up your role, and you will spend an eternity in darkness, isolation, and silence.” The words were spoken matter-of-fact, almost without emotion, as if the being speaking them was a well-educated adult lecturing a child.

  “I will have the gifts back that I have loaned him, and the skills I have honed in him, before I agree to this. They are not meant for mortal hands, and must be kept away from a child such as he.” Anubis’s voice sounded faintly desperate and punitive at the same time, but Sekur’s voice continued.

  “No, you will not. He is no longer a child. They shall remain with him. He has earned the right to them. All of them,” the voice added, as Anubis started to speak up. “You will renounce all claims upon him, the gifts he has gained, and his soul. And you will not interfere with him, my work I have set him upon, or any of his companions, at your immortal peril.”

  Anubis looked both angry and desperate now, as if searching for an avenue to justify his position, but that was quickly turned aside as the presence spoke again.

  “Do you wish to question my decision, or challenge my will in this, Anubis?” The voice of Sekur turned dark and dangerous.

  Anubis swallowed as he realized that he had no more tokens to play. He had no desire to challenge Sekur. That had never gone well for him in the past, and he saw no reason for it to be any different now. He bowed to no particular direction, and spoke again, much more subdued. “Very well, Master. I shall leave these to you.” He vanished in a rush of air.

  “Michelle,” the voice of Sekur spoke again. “You have been forced down a difficult path; one not of your choosing. No other path would save you. Soon you will be asked to follow an even harder path. Consider well your choice. Seek me when you have questions, and we shall talk. I will never give you a load that you cannot carry, no matter how difficult it may seem at the time. We must all have free will to choose.” Then with a rumbling that seemed to come from everything and nothing at the same time, the presence withdrew, and a vast emptiness was felt in the throne room in its absence.