“It was not me,” I said, growing tired of being seen as public enemy number one. “I was in exile. I was on the human worlds.” I sighed tiredly, shaking my head. “What is so hard for everyone to grasp about that?”
A small smile played about that thin-lipped mouth. He nodded.
“I anticipated you would have a sparkling alibi,” he said with a chuckle. “And it might even be true—though it would go against your nature.”
“What do you know of my nature?” I demanded, suddenly fed up with all the prejudice I felt from my fellow gods. Few of them were squeaky clean—how dare they judge me so? “You don’t know me! I don’t even know you.”
“I know you better than you might think,” he said.
I gritted my teeth, angry that this big oaf already had gotten the better of me.
“What do you know, then?”
He crossed his thick arms and regarded me, his head tilted slightly to one side. I was reminded of a dog I had owned once, on Mysentia, that had looked at me that way now and then—usually when it felt that dinner was late, or that I had not fed it enough. I tried to shove that image out of my head.
“I know this,” he said. “I know that the Power can be stored up. That objects can be—what was the word he used?—imbued with quantities of it.” Turmborne’s eyes narrowed as he peered at me. “I also know that you can do this.”
I shrugged. “And?”
“And it strikes me that this would be useful… if the Fountain were to stop flowing.” He smiled a thin smile. “In fact, if that happened, anybody storing up a reserve of the Power would enjoy a big advantage over all the others.” He leaned closer towards me, jabbing a meaty finger into my chest. “And it did.”
I will admit I had not yet considered this angle. But it begged another question, one I needed answered.
“The gods who were killed—“
“Murdered!” he growled.
“Murdered, fine. Were they all in the City when they died?”
He looked upon me with utter contempt.
“As if you don’t know this.”
“Humor me.”
He nodded, his face registering disgust.
“Some were in the City. Many were not. Many were in their private domains, and some were among the humans.”
Not what I had wanted to hear. This made his case stronger, with regard to the stored energies, though I was not certain he realized it yet. The killer had to have been able to travel among the planes without the Fountain to provide power. This also meant the perpetrator must have retained his or her abilities even as the victims had been rendered powerless. I winced. It must have been a slaughter.
This suggested another possibility, however. “Has anyone considered yet that it might not have been one of us?” I asked. “That it might have been someone not dependent upon the Fountain at all? Are we so mutually suspicious—or at least so suspicious of me—that such a possibility never even crossed anyone’s mind?”
He stared at me for a moment, then leaned back, stroking his beard.
“Excellent,” he laughed. “I knew the master of lies wouldn’t let me down.” Then, after a few seconds, “Fine. I will humor you. I suppose you have someone in mind?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” I growled, “though hardly anyone has been willing to listen to me about it.”
I described the Dark Man with whom I’d had a running battle on the Road to the City, as well as the two we had seen in the bog near Malachek’s place.
“The humans saw them, too,” I noted.
Turmborne glanced over at them curiously, pursed his lips, and looked back at me.
“That proves nothing,” he said. “I have seen many strange things on the Road. Fought with plenty of them, too. Nothing like that has ever killed a god before. Much less six dozen of them.”
“It proves there are other, powerful players about,” I said. “It proves that way too many of us are entirely too eager to charge me with everything from murder to bad fashion sense, when there are other suspects to consider.”
Turmborne laughed at that, his laughter a deep, rumbling thing that seemed to begin somewhere near his toes before spilling over his lips. I would have sworn the ground vibrated from it.
“I have to admit you’re right about that,” he said finally. “Not the fashion sense—though I’m hardly the best one to judge—but about your culpability for… everything… in the eyes of the others. It’s true. But it’s true for a reason.
“Let me be honest with you, Lucian,” he said then, hunkering forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was low but deep and full. “I did not know many of the dead gods well, if at all. I have never spent much time in the City. I had no interest in their perpetual parties and gatherings and ceremonies and so forth. I love my woods, and here I dwell. Sure, in principal, I’m outraged about it all. And I’ll admit that there’s a selfish motive for me, too—I’m pretty tough, but, given my preferences, I’d rather not have to worry about becoming a victim of some kind of clever sneak attack, myself, one day.” His eyes narrowed. “And that’s what it would have to be, you know. A sneak attack. A good one.
“All of that aside, though,” he continued, “the main thing, as I told you before, is inconvenience. The murders have Baranak and his bunch all stirred up, and he has all but declared martial law, sealing off the City. I wouldn’t go there right now if I could. I gather from some of the others it’s not what you would call a very hospitable place at the moment.
“And this I blame on you,” he concluded. “I really, really do not like my life to be complicated. And you’ve gone and complicated it.”
“Well,” I said. “Your honesty is… refreshing, if nothing else.”
He snorted.
“And now, how about some from you?” He cocked his head in that odd way again. “You did it, didn’t you? Just admit it. You killed them.”
“No.”
He sighed—a big, powerful sound that went on a surprisingly long time—and leaned back, resting against a particularly large tree trunk. He sat that way for several minutes, seemingly deep in thought. I let him be.
What little of the sun that could be seen in this forest dropped lower, off to my right. The temperature cooled. The insect sounds grew louder.
Finally Turmborne climbed to his feet and walked over to the cage holding the humans. He squinted at them, then looked back at me.
“What’s this bunch all about?” he asked. “Why are you dragging them along on your prison break?” He grinned. “Decoys? Strange medical experiments?” He cocked an eye at Evelyn. “Don’t tell me you like the girl.”
The humans glared at him but, to their credit, said nothing. I knew they had to be as angry and frustrated as ever. They did not much care for me, and certainly did not trust me—yet every other god they had encountered thus far, with the exception of Malachek, seemed intent on doing them harm, or at least handing them over to Baranak. They had no better option than to stick with me, and they knew it, and they were not happy about it. For my part, I was still not sure why I had not simply abandoned them already. I assumed that if the answer ever presented itself, I would be sufficiently amazed, because it made little sense to me at the moment. Beyond that, I decided to let it alone.
“Baranak had them,” I said. “That seemed reason enough to free them.” Hell, it sounded as good as anything else I might have said. Maybe it would shut him up about them.
“Now that I can relate to,” Turmborne said, laughing. “I’ve little enough love for the Golden God. But he does seem to be calling the shots, for now. If you wanted him out of the way, your efforts backfired. All your killing spree has done is to put him more securely in power.”
“I would think that would serve as further evidence of my innocence,” I replied. “Why would I do anything to boost his popularity? The others must be living in fear, right now,” I said. “Of course they would turn to the strongman, and give him all the power and influence he cl
aims he needs, to keep them and the City safe.”
Turmborne strode about the clearing, hands like ham hocks clasped behind his back. Pausing, he scratched at his thick, red beard and eyed me curiously.
“Yeah, I’ll admit that part bothers me. We’ve never had a single supreme leader in control in the City… And I know you wouldn’t want to see anyone with that much power—other than yourself.”
I looked him straight in the eye, unblinking.
“You do realize there is at least as much evidence pointing to him as to me, don’t you?”
Turmborne said nothing, merely resumed pacing.
I kept quiet for a while, hoping I had sowed enough seeds of doubt at least to buy myself a little more time. I looked over at the humans from time to time; they sat in the cage, sullen but silent. Idly I wondered if Kim still thought this was all happening only in his mind.
Finally Turmborne stopped his pacing directly before me.
“I knew it was a mistake to talk this over with you. I should have done what I planned to do from the start—grab you and turn you over to Baranak and the others that minute.”
He glared at me, his bushy red eyebrows bunching like storm clouds over his eyes.
“Hearing all the facts before rushing to judgment,” I said. “That’s never a mistake, Turmborne.”
“Shut up. This conversation is over. I’m not a hundred percent sure you’re guilty anymore, but if turning you over to Baranak will settle things down again, I think it’s a bargain at the price.”
I started to argue, but he backhanded me then, hard enough to loosen the teeth that were not already hurting.
“This is the part where you go to meet your fate in stoic silence,” he growled, jabbing a finger at me. “Not another word.”
I had come up with several more words for him, actually, and was about to launch them in his direction when Evelyn cried out from the cage.
“Lucian!”
We both turned our heads in her direction then, and thus failed at first to see what she had noticed: a bright white light, flaring about three feet above the ground, immediately behind Turmborne.
What I did see, as I turned back to the big hunter, was a slender figure stepping out of the white light. In one smooth action, the new arrival closed the distance between himself and Turmborne and chopped the big man in the neck with the edge of his hand.
Turmborne collapsed with precisely none of the grace or majesty of a toppled redwood. He merely fell in a sprawled heap, groaning faintly.
The light from the portal blinked out, leaving me face to face with one I had not seen in many, many years.
“Well, well,” I said, by way of welcome.
He said nothing, merely raised the left corner of his mouth approximately an eighth of an inch, in what generously might have been construed to be a smile. He pushed his small, round, dark glasses a bit further up his long, straight nose.
I looked at him and immediately realized I had assumed all along he had survived. There had never been any question in my mind. Not about Arendal.
Arendal, who knows the secrets no one else knows.
Arendal, who holds the keys to long-forgotten locks.
Arendal, who watches, always watches.
He looked, of course, exactly the same as he had so many centuries before, when he had stood there in the main square of the City, aloof and above it all, refusing to get involved. I had hated him, then. I was not at all certain those feelings had changed in a mere millennium.
Thin of body, short of stature, with long, straight hair that was a negative image of my own--pale white, to match the pallor of his skin. He wore a cream-colored business suit of indeterminate vintage, and carried a silver walking stick in his left hand, the index finger of which also displayed a silver ring. A large, red stone sparkled within it.
Arendal, whom I regarded with some measure of admiration and respect.
Arendal, whom I disliked and suspected.
Arendal, whom in some small, indefinable way, I feared.
He walked past me to the cage where the humans were held, and looked them over as one might inspect puppies in a pet store. For their part, they eyed him warily, having apparently been sufficiently disappointed by everyone else they had met in my company to refrain from immediately beseeching him for assistance.
“Are they held this way for a reason?” he asked, fiddling with the lock.
“Not by me,” I replied.
He nodded, then squeezed the lock carefully in his hand. The stone on his ring sparkled brighter for a second, and the lock split exactly in half. Smiling again, he opened his hand and let the pieces fall to the ground.
Kim, scowling, shoved the door open and climbed out, followed by Evelyn and Cassidy. They still said nothing. I decided that either they were in shock or had agreed among themselves to limit their conversation. Probably both.
“I think they’re thirsty,” Arendal said, “and hungry. Perhaps you would like to crack open some of Turmborne’s supplies?”
I realized then that both of those conditions applied to me, as well. Keeping an eye on Arendal all the while, unsure of his motives, I moved to inspect the crates and barrels stacked around the clearing. Opening one of the crates, I found a variety of small food packets inside—the sort of self-contained, long-lasting military ration Turmborne would favor for his long hunts. The barrels turned out to contain drinking water, and I found a set of collapsible cups nearby. I tossed handfuls of the packets and cups to the others, and even Arendal seemed glad to have them.
Moments later, we were seated once more around the clearing, eating and drinking and all eyeing one another suspiciously. Our former captor lay where he had fallen, unmoving. Arendal kept an eye on him. For the longest time, no one said a word.
Then: “You didn’t honestly believe Turmborne would help you, did you?” Arendal asked.
“He sought me out, not the other way around,” I said.
He nodded. “Well, he is a good hunter, so I can’t fault you overmuch for letting him capture you.”
“Circumstances conspired to make the job a bit easier for him,” I said.
Arendal didn’t reply. He gazed at the humans, one at a time, through his tiny glasses. They glared back at him.
Cassidy could no longer restrain himself. “Who are you supposed to be?” he growled.
At that moment, a groaning sound emerged from Turmborne. He rolled slowly over onto his back, blinked his eyes twice, and ran a meaty hand over his face.
“Twelve minutes,” Arendal noted. “Your constitution continues to amaze me.”
Turmborne must have become aware of Arendal’s presence for the first time. “Oh,” he said. “You.” Still dazed, he sat back against a crate, taking in the situation.
Evelyn set her food aside and stood, walking around the circle to sit next to me. Leaning over, she whispered, “Are we any closer to home?”
“Somewhat,” I replied, “if we are where I think we are.” I did some quick calculations in my head. “Um… still a very long way, though.”
Nodding, she appeared to consider her next question for a long moment. Then, “Can you take either of these guys?”
I frowned.
“Take?”
Then I understood what she meant. Despite myself, I laughed.
She did not.
“Can you beat them, if you have to?” she said.
She was dead serious, and I understood her concern. It certainly was not concern for me, but for her crew and herself. Sad as it might be, I remained their best hope of escaping the nightmare they had found themselves in. I attributed whatever sentiment I felt for them at that moment to a desire to stick it to Baranak and his cronies by helping them escape.
Those thoughts bounced around in my mind for a few seconds, prompting me to reach a certain conclusion. Carefully, discreetly, I began to form tiny spheres of blue-tinged energy on the fingertips of my right hand, keeping my left hand in position to conceal this.
“So,” Turmborne said at length, “what do you want, Arendal?”
“I have what I want,” he replied.
Turmborne’s brow wrinkled. “I’m sure you don’t mean what I think you mean.”
The pale god smiled.
“You cannot have them back,” he said by way of answer.
The big man’s face twisted into a frown.
“Now, just a minute!”
Hoisting his massive frame from the grass, Turmborne moved menacingly toward the rest of us.
“I captured them,” he growled, “and I’ll be the one to decide what happens to them next.”
“Sit your ass down,” Arendal said, his voice calm and even.
Turmborne hesitated, gave him that curious-dog look I was coming to think of as his trademark, and then sat down.
I heard Kim muttering something to Cassidy in reaction.
“Well, that was impressive,” I said, casually spilling a handful of my tiny blue spheres onto the grass, allowing them to instantly scatter and vanish. Immediately I began to form a second set. “Can you make him do any other tricks?”
“I’ll show you a good trick, Lucian,” Turmborne growled, cracking his knuckles.
“Quiet, both of you,” Arendal said. He faced the hunter. “I don’t intend to take him back to the City,” he said, indicating me with a slight gesture. “I have no desire to curry favor with Baranak or his hangers on.”
“You are one of his hangers on,” Turmborne said with a snort.
“I hope he believes that to be true,” Arendal replied with a shrug. “But I do retain my status as an independent agent, whatever you or anyone else might think.”
“Then what do you want with Lucian?”
“I am letting him go.”
Turmborne looked as puzzled as I had ever seen him.
Arendal turned to face me.
“Lucian. Are you guilty?”
“Guilty? Oh, you bet.”
Turmborne perked up.
Arendal sighed and shook his head in mock disgust at my sense of humor. Or maybe it was genuine disgust. I could scarcely have blamed him.
Lucian: Dark God's Homecoming (The Above Book 1) Page 7