He heard the screech again and then banging on his house door. He ran to his window and looked out. Mount Olympus was in flames, smoke darkened the sky as buildings burned. Svante heard the clashing of metal as more scream rocked out.
“What’s happening?”
The beating on his door became louder. He ran and answered it. It was Ruslan, his best friend.
“Oh, thank He, you’re fine.”
“Ruslan, what’s happening?”
“We’re at war.”
“What? How is that even possible?”
“It’s between Queen and your brother. It’s a massacre, Svante. We have to get out of here!” Ruslan pulled on his arm but Svante pulled back.
“Wait, you’re going to need to tell me more, Ruslan.”
“Well…” Ruslan paused.
“Ruslan, tell me what’s going on.”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Dammit, tell me!”
“Your brother is trying to kill God.”
“What?” Svante said in shock.
“Or, that’s what Queen is telling people. She says that your brother is trying to kill He and she’s trying to stop him.”
“Bull crap.”
“You wanted me to tell you.”
“And you believe the rumors?”
“Not really, and I’m not the only one who doesn’t believe Queen. Your brother has followers who are fighting for him, while Queen has most of the major gods on her side. Queen’s men are going around killing anybody they believe are with your brother. It doesn’t matter if they aren’t fighters. I just saw a woman and her child get cut down.”
“That’s horrible.”
“No crap. Now hurry the hell up so we can get the hell out of here. I’m surprised Queen’s men didn’t get to you before I did. I’m sure they’re on their way here.”
Svante looked back into his house. What should he do? He suddenly ran past Ruslan and out into the street.
“Svante, wait!” Ruslan followed after him.
Svante had remembered that Anja’s brother, the god of chaos, was a supporter of his brother. Her place would be targeted.
As they ran through the streets, chaos was erupting around them. Steel and blood clashed around them. They sprinted past the dying and the dueling. As they were turning a corner, they came to a halt as someone cut down a man guarding his wife.
Svante stared at them in shock. He had to do something.
The soldier yelled, “Join Zakhehus in hell!” He raised his blade to strike him down.
A colorful flash came from his left and stabbed him in his stomach. The soldier fell dead. One of his brother’s men helped the woman up. He held a blade studded with blue colorful glitter.
“Run!” he yelled at them as more soldiers came down the street. The woman ran the other way, but Svante still had to find Anja.
He ran for only a few minutes before he forced himself to stop. He held in his stomach to stop himself from barfing. In the street ahead of him, the cracks between the cobblestone blocks were filled with blood.
The bodies of men, women, and children filled the street.
There was no way his brother could have brought all this death and destruction, just to kill He. Zakhehus was smarter than that; there was no reason for all this fighting, all this bloodshed. He had to find him before more died.
“This… this is too much,” Svante mentioned as he turned blue.
“I told you they were killing everybody. Forget Anja and let’s get out of here.”
“And what if she told me to do the same thing to you?”
“I…” Ruslan paused. “You’re right. Let’s just hurry up, alright.”
* * *
They came up to Anja’s house. It was engulfed in flames. There were metal spears jutting from the rooftop as if He himself threw them from the heavens.
Svante hurled himself through the door but was blown back as the flames intensified. The spears pierced through the rooftop and into the floor in front of him, the flames turned them bright red.
“Anja!” Svante screamed. “Anja!” He tried to run back in but Ruslan pulled him back.
“Stop! We don’t know if she’s in there.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Neither do you!”
Svante calmed down. He was right. She could have escaped, but how could he be sure?
“The best thing we can do is to escape the streets until this blows over.”
There was something else they could do. He never taught them violence, so it shouldn’t have even come into his head. To fight. But as he looked around at the dead, the burning building in front of him, there was only one way he thought he could stop this. The only way to find answers. To fight.
“We can fight. It’s wrong what Queen’s men are doing. This war is wrong.”
“You might have forgotten this but my brother isn’t the god of war. I’m not a fighter, remember?”
“Then what do you think will happen if we run? Where will we go, we can’t just run?”
“There’s a cave under the peak of the city. Your brother’s men told any noncombatants to go there. If Anja is alive, that’s where she’ll be. If you want to go off fighting then more power to you but you’ll be doing it alone.”
“Aren’t best friends supposed to have each other’s backs?”
“Only when you’re not thinking of doing anything stupid like fighting against Queen.”
“Alright… lead the way.”
Svante looked up at the peaks of Mount Olympus as they ran toward it. The peak the city was on was the third highest peak of the mountain. The second was where the Eye of the World was and the first was the entrance to the Wandering Radiant, which was He’s home.
As they closed in, they had to dodge and hide from more soldiers and fighting. Hiding in buildings as Queen’s men lurked around for prey. Ducking behind corners as her men and his brother’s clashed.
These little instances became more and more common. They were heading toward the fighting.
Svante peeked around a corner. The street was empty. Or empty of the living, at least.
Svante had gotten used to the dead bodies they passed. He was angry about how low they had come. They were supposed to be above killing, maiming innocent people, and destroying their homes.
Svante whispered, “We’re getting closer to the Eye of the World, and the fighting apparently. Are you sure it’s this way?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. It seems like they’re fighting toward the Wavering Radiant.”
Svante looked up on the rooftops. Spears jutted out of the buildings around them. “I don’t think that’s the only thing they’re fighting for.”
They ran out.
“Halt!” A man jumped out in front of them. He held a sword shining in green colorful glitter.
Svante jumped in front of Ruslan and held out his arms. Electricity twisted around his hand.
“Wait, I’m not your enemy.” The man approached them and Svante backed up.
“How can I be sure?” Svante asked.
“You know me, Svante. I’m with your brother.”
Svante looked at the man’s face. He seemed genuine. He hoped he didn’t regret his decision.
Svante dropped his hands. The electricity in them went away.
The blade of color the man held disappeared into nothing. “Good, there has already been too much blood-shed.”
“Why did you stop us?” Svante asked.
“You need to turn around.”
Ruslan said, “What? Why? We need to get to the cave under the city for safety.”
“The cave has been lost. We advise going down to Earth. It’s the only way to escape this madness.”
Svante slapped Ruslan in the shoulder.
Ruslan said, “Crap.”
“Can you tell us what’s happening?”
“Your brother is fighting in the Wavering Radiant, but I was tasked with securing and holding the—”
The sun suddenly blotted out. Hundreds of golden spears rained over the peak of Mount Olympus and hailed down over them.
“Run!” the man yelled as four pierced him.
Svante grabbed Ruslan and pressed him against the building wall. It sounded like metal was raining from the heavens and, eventually, the rain halted.
Svante slowly got up, peering into the sky. It was clear. Spears stuck out from the marble roads and the rooftops. Some pierced through the roofs into the buildings they hit. Nowhere was safe.
“Thanks,” Ruslan said from under him.
“Don’t thank me yet.”
Svante ran to his brother’s soldier. He was held up by the spears, unable to move, as his blood ran down them.
He mouth sputtered out blood. Svante leaned in. “The… Eye… Of… The… World.” His breaths left him and he was gone.
“What did he say?”
“He said the Eye of the world. I have to go there.”
“You mean ‘we’?”
“I thought you weren’t a fighter?”
“I’m not, but I’m also not a coward either, so let’s go.” Ruslan led the way again.
Svante and Ruslan ran up the mountainside, leading up to a cliff. As they approached the cliff, the sky became darker, as if a gray filter had been placed over the sky.
Dark clouds slowly rolled in from the distance.
Svante paused as his feet touched the cliffside.
“Light…” Ruslan muttered beside him.
In front of them, the cliffside stretched out a hundred meters to a sudden drop. Hundreds of bodies cluttered the battlefield.
Thousands of spears pierced through them and the ground. Some had died where they stood as the spears held them up.
The ground crunched as Svante and Ruslan walked forward. Blood came up from the soaked ground with each step, sloshing around their feet.
“Whose power can do this?” Ruslan asked.
“I don’t know,” Svante said as he looked closer at the spears. Some glowed golden, pulsating from yellow to gold. “The goddess of the sea?”
“Not just her,” Ruslan pointed at another one of the spears. But it wasn’t a spear, it was a javelin.
Svante took a closer look at the battlefield; there were javelins, spears, tridents, harpoons, arrows. “It’s not just one god doing this.”
Ruslan turned to him. “I think—”
A spear pierced through Ruslan’s chest and came out of the other side.
“Ruslan!” Svante glanced to the cliff drop and jumped as a spear zoomed past his head. He rolled to his feet. Electricity pooled in his fist and he threw it.
A lightning bolt blasted out and struck the attacker. He dropped with a smoldering hole in his chest.
Svante ran to his friend and tried to shake him up. “Ruslan! Wake up!”
His eyes were white. Whatever magic the attacker had on his spear instantly killed.
Svante stopped shaking him when he noticed it was useless. He stood to his feet, a tear in his eye.
From the cliff’s edge, more gods were coming up. Ten of them. They yelled for him. Five held out their hands and summoned their projectile weapons. The others charged at him with swords.
Blue sparks skirted around his skin, to his arms, and to his legs. His hands basked in the blue. He ran for them.
Golden projectiles filled the sky, raining down on him. He swirled through them as they landed.
He threw a lightning bolt into one of the advancing men. He exploded back in a flash of light.
One came from Svante’s right and Svante hurled his fist into his chest. A sonic boom exploded out as his fist collided with him. Before the man fell, another charged him from the left.
The man smashed his shoulder into Svante; he felt a sting as he was pushed back. But Svante caught himself and leapt back and struck forward.
Something flashed from the cliffside and Svante lurched back as a spear sliced open his cheek. Four of the men surrounded him.
They hesitated, which was their mistake. Sparks surrounded him as he hurled lightning into the ground. The men blew back as electricity and chunks of rock burst from the ground, into the air and into the men.
Svante moved fast before the four men could fall dead. Their comrades on the cliffside continued to fire at him.
Svante swung out his hands and smashed them together in their direction. A wave of electricity shot out of as his hands as they collided. The wave clashed into four of the men on the cliffside, throwing them off.
The last one summoned his spear as Svante charged him. Svante sent his fists flying but the man blocked them with his spear.
His fist flew as he attacked him, but the man was a strong fighter. He blocked all his attacks with a simple whirl.
The man struck down with his spear and Svante caught it with his hand. The man’s foot slammed into Svante’s chest. Svante’s grip slipped on the spear and the man sent it into his face.
Svante was knocked back and landed hard on his back. The man raised his spear to strike down. A sword pierced the man’s chest and he fell dead.
Another man came up from behind him. “You’re a good fighter, just like your brother,” the man said.
“Not perfect though,” Svante growled. He wiped the blood from the cut on his cheek and rubbed his shoulder. The man helped Svante up. “Thank you, Mathis. I’m guessing you’re on my brother’s side?”
“Always.”
Svante walked over to Ruslan’s body and knelt beside him. He closed his eyes. Rain started to fall from the clouds. “May He watch over your soul. You’re with He now, buddy.”
“Svante?”
Svante stood and walked over to Mathis; he would make sure to say a few more words at his funeral. “Where’s my brother?”
“In the Wavering Radiant.” Mathis led Svante to the cliffside.
Svante opened his mouth but paused. He wanted to ask him if the rumors were true, that he and Zakhehus were trying to kill He. He hoped it wasn’t true. In the back of his head, he knew it wasn’t, that maybe Queen was lying and this war was for something else. But if she was right, what would Mathis do to him?
He was sure he could take him, but with all the other soldiers around, he didn’t stand a chance. Plus, he didn’t want to kill anymore.
So he simply had to wait until he saw his brother, to ask him himself. His brother would never lie to his face.
“I want to be brought to my brother,” Svante said.
“I will, once I’m done here. Come on.”
There was a stairway leading out into the air. Into nothing. Yet, there were people standing in the nothing. “He told me to hold the Eye of the World.” The bodies of the gods he had killed were laying on the air as if there was a floor.
“Is all this killing necessary, Mathis? He never taught us to kill.”
“It’s a different world, Svante. Now that He is gone. A very different world.”
Svante stepped out his foot from the staircase and held it over the nothing. The rain fell through the imaginary floor and onto the Earth below.
“Never been at the Eye of the World before?” Mathis asked.
“No.” He placed his foot down in the air and then his next. He wasn’t falling or flying. He was simply standing. “This feels strange.”
“You can actually use it anywhere from the heavens, but this platform is where its power are at their strongest. It’s the source. The only place we can see into the Earth and the heavens we live in.” Mathis led him to the edge of the Eye of the World.
Around Svante, he saw groups of people huddled up in a circle, looking at something. One of them raised up his hand. Above them, a spear materialized in the air and as the man swung down, the spear shot out into the sky.
“Oh, no.” The Eye of the World was where the spears were coming from. “Mathis!”
Mathis stopped. “What?”
“You’re the one who’s been sending spears into the city! You’ve killed a
ll those people!”
“This is a war, Svante. Both sides have been using the Eye.”
“You’re a murderer!”
“You think I killed all those men out there? No, I didn’t. Both Queen and your brother have been contesting this place all morning. This is the third time we’ve held on to it and I plan on keeping it this time.”
“He didn’t teach us this. He didn’t teach us to kill our comrades, to kill anybody. My brother would never do something this horrible.”
“Then you are more naïve than I thought. This is a war and casualties are to be expected. I’m doing what I need to do.”
“You can do it without spitting in the face of He.”
Mathis grimaced at the comment. “If you were my brother, I would knock some sense into you.”
Electricity swirled around Svante’s fist. “Try it.”
“So quick to violence, and yet you expect me to accept your word. Ha!”
Someone screamed near the entrance of the Eye of the World. Some of his brother’s men were holding off attackers on the staircase. But they were becoming overwhelmed as more appeared, jumping down the side.
“Shit! Who was watching the cliffside?” No one answered. “Crap!” Mathis held out his hands. The reality in front of him twisted and distorted like a magnifying glass and zoomed into the cliffside. It was like a looking-glass. “Svante, I needed your lightning bolt!”
“No!”
“If you don’t, we are dead!”
His brother’s men on the staircase were cut down and Queen’s men advanced.
Svante didn’t want to kill anymore. To go against He’s word. But as his brother’s men were cut down, he felt like he didn’t have a choice.
He pooled his electricity into his hands and swung down over the distorted reality in front of him.
The cliffside exploded out as his lightning struck its mark. Body parts flew into the air and rained over them. More of Queen’s men quickly ran down the cliff.
“I need it again,” Mathis said.
“No.” Svante pulled back and hurled into the invisible floor. He shook hard. He fell to his knees.
He did have a choice. He was weak, giving in to pressure. He wasn’t much of a speaker, or a debater. If he was so weak, why did he act like he was the perfect disciple under He? He wasn’t, he wasn’t as great of a man as his brother, he wasn’t the holiest of the gods under He.
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