“How does it work?” he asked. “I mean, you said I had to know what to ask for.”
“You just need to think about what you want,” Marduk said. “Thoughts are energy, and in reality, this place is as well. But it helps if you have a certain familiarity with your question. Much like computers, garbage input will result in less than desirable output. Perhaps you should start by asking about yourself.”
Gwynn studied the blank spines just an inch away from his hovering fingers.
The story of my life?
He dully remembered Adrastia urging him as he lay dying, reaching a hand out to him and telling him to grab hold—to take his proper place in the story of his life. When she said those words to him, what part of his story did she want him to fulfill—to be her father? Even if events differed from her expected timeline, he’d still managed to have a daughter who demonstrated Adrastia’s powers, and certainly bore a striking resemblance to her as well. Or did she mean for him to face Cain—to finish the mission she considered herself incapable of? So many questions and too few answers. Could this place give him those? If he only knew the right questions to ask.
“Why are we here?” he asked Marduk. “I know Adrastia wants me to have the strength to defeat Cain, so why start with books? What are you hoping I learn?”
“Are you trying to formulate your question, or are you demonstrating your ignorance?”
“I’m trying to figure out the question.” No. He shook his head. “Not the question, actually, but which question. The more I think of it, I feel like I have nothing but questions. I don’t even know where to start.”
Marduk paced along the shelves to Gwynn’s left.
“It is an odd feeling, is it not?” he said. “Limitless options—you can ask any question. As long as you can wrap your head and heart around it, you can have your answer. So many choices. Do you ask if Jesus is real? Or perhaps you are more interested in the Loch Ness Monster.” Marduk chuckled. “But as you stand there, your fingers tingling with their proximity to boundless knowledge, you worry asking a trivial question will rob you of the opportunity to learn something useful. This is a burden we carry as creatures of linearity—we are prisoners to the sense of our impending doom—we worry about wasting our limited time.”
Marduk returned to Gwynn and rested his hand on his shoulder.
“We are here to learn if Cain knows something about your soul you do not. Why is Cain able to harness more of its power? Is it purely due to his advantage of time, or is there something more to it? What truth do you need to discover in order to unlock its full potential for yourself?”
“I’m not sure that helps,” Gwynn said.
“You need answers, and I have given you the greatest resource for answers in existence. But I will not find the answers for you. One of my titles was The God of Judgement. In judging you, I believe the only way for an answer to mean something is for you to find it yourself.”
Marduk took hold of Gwynn’s extended forearm and pushed it forward, splaying his fingers on the blank spines.
“Stop being so afraid of being wrong,” he said. “Just ask a question.”
Gwynn’s palms and fingers tingled where they touched the spines. There was the slightest bit of a tug, like the spines were magnetized and his fingers were an opposing pole.
I need to be Cain’s equal, he thought.
The spines remained blank.
Stupid, stupid. That’s not a question.
Gwynn inhaled slowly, trying to chase any extraneous thoughts or doubts from his mind.
If Cain and I share a soul, why is he so much stronger than I am?
The tingling beneath his palm snapped off with a jolt. The spines vibrated and hummed. A swirling mass of gold and black churned beneath his hand and spun off, leaving hundreds, possibly thousands, of titles on the books.
“How do I read any of the books if I have to keep my hand here?” Gwynn asked.
Marduk laughed.
“I guess I should have given you a better primer. So long as you ask nothing more of the books, they will remain as they are. If you ask a new question, or tell the books you are finished, they will change.”
Gwynn eased his hand away from the spines—a pins-and-needles sensation still remained. He regarded the books in front of him. Most of the titles were names with a series of dates beneath them.
“Is this Cain’s history?” he asked.
“I would think so. What did you ask?”
“Why Cain was so much stronger than I am since we share a soul.”
Marduk stroked his bearded chin.
“We could try reading all these books, but I would surmise the simplest answer would be experience.”
“But that doesn’t help me,” Gwynn said. “I mean, I could’ve guessed that right from the start.”
Marduk walked along the line of books, moving his head up and down, side to side, as he moved.
“So ask something different.”
Gwynn pressed his palm against the spines in front of him.
How do I become as strong as Cain?
A wave of swirling words crashed in from all sides, evaporating as they struck the point where his hand touched. No further titles fanned out from his touch. After a minute, he lifted his hand to reveal a single book title which had been hidden beneath his palm.
“Dormath Family Tree…”
He read the dates indicated beneath.
“This is about Sophia, Allison, and I.”
He lifted it from the shelf and sat on the floor so he could spread the book open on his lap. Thumbing through the pages, his meeting with Sophia on Asgard, their subsequent courtship, marriage, and the birth of Allison, were written in great detail. He laughed at little moments he’d forgotten, felt a swelling in his chest as he read about the things he didn’t know—where Sophia stayed by his side during his recovery. This may not have been the entire story of his life, but it felt like the only part that mattered.
“But I don’t understand,” he said. “How does this make me as strong as Cain?”
Marduk walked to the bookshelf and touched the spines. A moment later, he stepped away, inspected the titles, and with a satisfied smile and a flourish of his hand, he motioned Gwynn to take a look.
He closed his own book and placed it gently on the floor beside him.
Only two of the spines bore titles—Fear and Anger.
“This,” said Marduk, “is what fuels Cain. These are the two forces which drive the entirety of his existence. I told you his own family line was filled with anger and tales of children overthrowing their parents. So tell me, what do you suppose your relationship with your daughter is like, knowing she came through time to try and save your life?”
Gwynn looked back to the book lying on the ground, its pages opened to where he’d been reading about Allison’s birth.
“I’d like to think we have a good relationship. I don’t think she feels the need to destroy me, if that’s what you’re asking. Truthfully, she and Sophia are everything good in my life. I’d be lost without either of them.”
“So if Cain fuels his actions with fear and anger, what two words fuel your life?”
Gwynn returned to the book on the floor, flipping it closed, picking it up and holding it close to his chest. How long had he been away from them? He stepped worlds away and now wasn’t even in the same realm of existence.
“Love,” he replied. Yes, love was the obvious answer.
“We could easily say that is the opposite of Anger—hence why the two seem to be so easily intertwined. But what of your other choice?”
Gwynn looked to the bookshelf, his hand sensing some of its pull.
“No,” Marduk said. “I brought you here to find some answers, but not to have this place think entirely for you. It is your life, your story. Should you not know what it means?”
Gwynn pressed the book closer to his chest, as though he might be able to absorb any secrets it contained. His life. His story.
> “While you think on it,” Marduk said, “let us discuss the sword Cain, and you at one point, use. It was called Xanthe, correct?”
Gwynn nodded.
“Did you know if you look up the word Xanthe, in an old, dead, dialect it meant Wrath? Not too surprising given Cain’s history. But for our purposes, it is the modern meaning we should focus on. Have you ever researched it?”
“No,” Gwynn said. “There never seemed to be a reason. I was always running, just trying to stay ahead of the next disaster. And when life slowed down, I had a wife, and a home to build—not to mention no internet and limited access to books.”
“I suppose this is fair. Well, let me enlighten you—the name Xanthe, in the modern sense, means blond-haired. Do you suppose that holds some significance for you?” He held up his hand, indicating the question needed no answering. “Do you see, even the name of the sword holds a double meaning—one of significance to Cain, and one to you. Tell me, the first time you summoned the sword, what were you thinking, what was happening?”
“I was in the park at night with a girl name Fuyuko. She was a member of Suture, though I didn’t know at the time. We were attacked by two Curses. Fuyuko was fighting well, but the second one was preparing a surprise strike—it would’ve killed her. At the time, Adrastia sang a song that seemed so familiar—“
“Your soul’s song,” Marduk said. “She was trying to awaken your powers using a more passive approach.”
“I just knew I didn’t want Fuyuko to die. I already felt I’d failed Sophia…I just grabbed all of my frustration, sadness, anger, and hope…”
“Yes?” Marduk said, drawing beckoning circles in the air with his hand. “Go on.”
“Hope… I never thought of it before—everything was just so…frightening. But what I really felt was hope. I hoped I could save Fuyuko. I thought if I had more power I would have a hope of saving Sophia. Even my life now. When Allison awoke as an Anunnaki, my initial response was fear. But then Sophia, Pridament, and I started working with her and I realized her powers gave me hope. I thought, if my daughter can control these abilities, she’ll never have to live in fear.”
Marduk chuckled.
“And based on a much older version of her, do you see much in the way of fear?”
Gwynn shook his head.
“No. She seems strong and sure of herself. All the things I could hope for.”
“And if love and anger are strongly tied, it fits that your answer of hope seems to be the perfect counter to fear. You see, what gives you strength, what pushes you forward, is opposite to Cain. Even in summoning a sword named Xanthe, you each could tie your own personal meaning to it.”
“So why won’t it answer my call?” Gwynn asked. “Is it because Cain took my right arm?”
“No. We may wear our markings as Anunnaki on our right arm, but the power is within our genes. That can’t be severed with a limb. Xanthe no longer answers your call because you fear it. In your story, you summoned it using many of the same emotions Cain is driven by. And now you carry the burden of being the destroyer of worlds. You fear becoming Cain, or that you have already become Cain, and so you shun anything associated with him.”
“I…”
Marduk grasped Gwynn’s shoulders.
“Stop denying yourself. You were duped into committing something you view as an atrocity. A part of you cannot let go of the guilt. You are afraid to admit the truth of yourself.”
“My truth, or the one you want to choose for me?”
Marduk’s head fell back with a roar of laughter.
“Ah, she said you would be a quick student. No, this truth is simple to see, and it is also obvious why you refuse to take ownership of it. Admit the truth—you think you deserve punishment, that you deserve misery. Instead, you are happier than you can recall. You have mourned ones you loved and lost, you carry the weight of your deeds like a modern Atlas. At the moment you summoned Xanthe, and I imagine in the months following, your emotions were clear—it was easy to feel the darker moods which birthed the sword for Cain. But now you are happy, content, even though you think you should not be. Stop causing yourself conflict. Love and hope. These are not things to battle Cain with, they are the things that set you apart. The library is saying you are not Cain, you will never be Cain, because you are defined by his opposites. Stop fearing and denying aspects of yourself. You must be whole before you can be strong.”
Gwynn returned to the bookshelf and returned the book. As his hand left it, the spine went blank once more.
“You know, in the past seven years, I’ve heard time and again what happened wasn’t my fault. But those words never help.”
Marduk extended his left hand. Gwynn took it after some hesitation.
“I forgive you,” Marduk said.
“What?”
“The god of judgement has heard your words and seen your soul. You do not need pandering. You destroyed lives in the trillions. But it was not your desire or intent. You were a victim of deception, yes, but it does not mean you escape blame completely. So, instead of lying to you, I say you did this thing. The worlds we inhabit have been forever changed by your actions. But I forgive you.”
Gwynn’s throat constricted. It was difficult, but he managed to say, “Thank you.”
“I brought you here to provide focus, and to help dispel your fear of becoming what you hate. The true learning of your strength and story lies outside the door. I will not go with you this time. When you push the door open, you will be exposed to the true immensity of the Veil. Since my soul no longer shields you, your own will come and you will face it. Saying “face it” is an over-simplification. You will need to confront every aspect of your soul—even those parts you shun. Only when you have done this and survived, will you be ready.”
“How will I know when it’s over?”
“If you have enough of a mind left,” Marduk said, “that will be answer enough.”
Gwynn approached the door and pushed it open only a crack.
“If I fail, you’ll tell them I loved them, won’t you?”
Marduk nodded.
“I will say you cherished their love—that I saw proof it was the thing which defined you. But when you return, you can deliver the message yourself.”
“Thanks. I’ll do my best.”
Gwynn pushed the door open all the way and stepped over the threshold.
13
Quetzalcoatl
They’d reached the southernmost shore of Cyprus just as alarms sounded the end of their fuel reserves. Jason managed to set the chopper down on nothing but vapours.
Fuyuko searched her contacts and stabbed at the screen when she found the number she needed.
“Miss Takeda, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Zeus answered.
“Lord Zeus, I’m hoping you would see fit to give us some aid.”
“I may be convinced. What are your needs?”
Fuyuko motioned to Toms for his phone. She opened a GPS app and pinged their location.
“We’re a few miles west of Limassol on the island of Cyprus. I was hoping you might be able to arrange transport for us from here to Larnaca International Airport. Lord Quetzalcoatl is arranging for our flight home from there.”
Zeus laughed.
“He can arrange an aircraft from Larnaca, but he can’t get a vehicle out to pick you up?”
“Lord Zeus, it was his opinion that since the lands of Cyprus fall within your purview we should first ask your permission before travelling the distance across land. Also, we thought you would be the best person to ensure the transport was…trustworthy.”
She waited, an extended silence came from the other side.
“How many did you lose?” he finally asked.
“Twenty-six. I’ve already put my request in to lead the forces to suppress Anubis.”
Zeus sighed.
“A ground war will go on too long and over extend our forces. We should just carpet bomb the entire country.”
/> Fuyuko didn’t answer. He was right, of course. But his solution meant heavy casualties of non-combatants—the thought caused a twisting sensation in her lower abdomen.
“Well,” Zeus said, “these are all things the Pantheon will have to decide at a later date. Yes, Fuyuko, I will arrange safe transport for you. I have some trustworthy individuals in Limassol, so they shouldn’t be too long. What are your coordinates?”
She read the lat/lon from Toms’ phone.
“I’ll contact them immediately. We’ll talk again, Miss Takeda.”
“Thank you for your assistance, Lord Zeus.”
Fuyuko ended the call and slipped her phone back into her pocket and handed Toms his back.
The flight time had granted them all enough of a reprieve they’d been able to heal their wounds—though the dirt and blood stains on their clothes spoke of their ordeal. None of them used the time to grieve. Instead, their eyes looked empty, stones set in an equally expressionless face. She looked at them and could only think one word, drained. These few survived, but their days in the field were probably done.
“I’m going to have to put these back on you,” she said to Jason, holding out the collar and restraints.
Jason failed at hiding his disdain.
“After everything we’ve been through, you really think that’s necessary?”
“I hate to question you, sir,” Toms said, “but he has proven himself to be at least a little trustworthy.”
“That has nothing to do with it,” Fuyuko said. “We’re being picked up by agents from another Pantheon. He may have proven himself to us, but he’s an unknown element to them and I don’t need anyone else getting twitchy trigger fingers around us.” Please understand this, she said to Jason with her eyes.
Jason’s expression softened. He stretched up his neck and held out his arms.
“You’re right,” he said. “Everyone’s been through enough.”
She clipped the collar around his neck and secured the cuffs around his wrists.
Twenty minutes later, they were inside three black, unmarked, SUVs, heading east on the Cyprus A1 highway. After making connections to the A5 and then the A3, they arrived at the Larnaca International Airport. The SUVs dropped them off at a private hanger on the east side of the airport where a private jet stood ready.
Resonance 4th Edits - Bleeding Worlds Bk 3 Page 15