Paternus: Wrath of Gods (The Paternus Trilogy Book 2)

by Dyrk Ashton

  Zeke turns to Edgar at the mention of Cetus, but Edgar holds up a finger for him to wait.

  “Even then,” Peter continues, “they did not see it, because it didn’t happen on Asgard or on this world.” The Deva shuffle as they try to understand. “As we know, there is not just one world, there are many, created in splits of this earth. A cluster of worlds, if you will. The earliest Hindus were also aware of this, as other ancient cultures have been. They even named quite a few. However, they believed the cycle of destruction and renewal to be all encompassing, when in fact not all worlds have been destroyed between each stage.

  “Not long after I first discovered I could slip and became aware there were other earths, I was on one of them when the first yuga stage came to an end, exactly 1,780,000,000 years after my birth. The sky turned red and the world burned, from the outer atmosphere to the surface, then right to its core. I watched in fascination until it was gone, then slipped to another, also burning. How many worlds existed before that happened, I don’t know, but after, I slipped to all that remained, and counted one thousand. All the rest were gone.

  “Of course I had no idea what it was or why it occurred. I still don’t, much like I know nothing about where I come from or why I am here. Then it happened a second time, after another 1,296,000,000 years. I was on this world at the time, but I could feel it. I slipped and witnessed the burning again. Once again, I counted the remaining worlds, and there were only one hundred. When it happened a third time, there were ten.

  “Though I still did not know what caused the burnings, and had no way to stop them, I knew that this world survived them all. And after each, it continued to split, spawning more worlds. I also noticed the frequency of splittings increased in each stage. In the last few hundred years, that frequency has increased exponentially. I assume it is because the world is changing more quickly with the rapid development of human civilization.

  “I also observed the worlds which remained after each burning were those that seemed to have the greatest potential for the advancement of life, that retained a measure of balance, good and bad, but also the greatest possibility for change for the good. I understand if that makes little sense, and I cannot pretend to comprehend it fully myself, but it is what I believe. I have called these the ‘worlds of promise.’”

  Fi and Zeke’s eyes meet. This is what Kleron was talking about back in the great room of Peter’s house when he said all the worlds of promise had fallen.

  “Though I had an inkling after the second burning and was able to predict the third, only after the third could I solidify my theories of the stages, and clearly determine their pattern. The decrease in duration of each stage by 432,000,000 years. The reduction in the number of remaining worlds after each burning by a factor of ten. The anchorage of what has come to be known as the Maha yuga to my first moment of consciousness and memory.”

  He holds up a hand as the others begin to speak. “But all is not lost. If the pattern holds true, when the next burning comes, one world will remain.” He taps the information on the chalkboard, which he’s updated as he has gone along.

  “As I mentioned, our world, the ‘originary’ world, if you will, has been one of those that survived all the previous yuga stages. I have assumed all along it will be this one that survives the burning at the end of the final stage, because thinking any other way brings only anxiety and despair, which is one reason I haven’t told you until now. Another is that I’ve been suffering from serious depression for quite some time, and have not been of a right mind. This also led to a bout of patermentia, which rendered me incapable of clear thought or speech.”

  The Deva are deep in contemplation, tapping fingers and rubbing beards. A few get up to refresh their drinks, including Léon and Mac Gallus.

  Freyja asks Peter, “What of Deva on other worlds?”

  “There have not been many in recent times, and all I know to be alive are here now. If there are others, they have been gone for many millennia and I wouldn’t know how to find them.” Peter looks to Naga and Ganesh. “I would have done everything I could to locate the two of you. I hope you know that.” Ganesh and Naga return nods of appreciation. Peter’s eyes meet Fi’s. “Though if someone very special had not rescued me from the patermentia, things would be very different now.” Fi’s cheeks redden.

  Fintán speaks. “Is it possible, Pater, this will not be the world to survive, or there will be none, as the Purana’s assume?”

  “Anything is possible, Son.”

  Mac is surprisingly calm as he refills his tankard. “Still,” he calls out to Peter, “if there is nothing we can do to stop it, as you say, what will be, will be.”

  “Hear, hear!” says Léon, tapping his tankard to Mac’s.

  Peter says, “‘What will be, will be.’ Few wiser words have been spoken. Meanwhile, however, we have the Asura to contend with.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  NORWAY

  PRATHA’S CONFESSION

  Pratha, who has remained in silent deliberation throughout Peter’s explanation of the cosmic calendar, now speaks up. “May I, Pater?”

  Her request is unexpected, but Peter says, “Of course,” and takes his seat.

  Pratha stands and the room grows quiet. “You may take comfort in believing this world will be the last,” Pratha begins, “that our chances are good we will survive the demise of worlds. But the ending of the Maha yuga is not our only concern. What of Lucifer and his demon armies, his Asura brought back from the dead, his locust hordes, in themselves a formidable force, especially considering our numbers are so few? Where do you think they will go when the burning that Father speaks of begins?” The group is silent as they think about that. “And it only gets worse from there, I’m afraid,” she continues, “for it is not Lucifer who leads them.” They look to each other, murmuring. “Iblis-Thevetat, ash-Shaitan, Khagan and first Master of the Asura, has returned.”

  Gasps from the group, the dropping of jaws, and cries of outrage.

  “Impossible!” Léon says. “There are many among us who saw him die. You yourself cast the dragon’s body into a live volcano after Pater cut him down then throttled him and ended his life.” There’s a rumbling of support among the Deva.

  Peter pushes to his feet. “Nonetheless. Iblis-Thevetat lives.” Many wince at the repeated mention of Khagan’s Truename. “Khagan rules the Asura once more.”

  Thoth speaks up for the first time. “What proof have you of this, Pratha? Pater?”

  “Fi has seen it,” Peter says.

  Léon scoffs, and Ochosi stands to speak. “Is this one in league with Lucifer, then? Or Khagan’s spy?”

  “Don’t be a fool, Ochosi,” Pratha retorts. “The Last Daughter is clairvoyant.” More murmurs abound as all eyes go to Fi, who shrinks under their gaze. “Through Odin’s Ring, she has held the hand of the Lord of Lies,” Pratha continues, her voice clear and commanding. “She saw through his eyes, and looked upon ash-Shaitan himself.”

  Mrs. Mirskaya pushes up from her seat next to Fi. “It is true.” Edgar stands and places a calloused hand on Fi’s shoulder. Myrddin rises as well.

  Peter says, “When I was deep in the thralls of patermentia, Fi induced me to dream. And she was there.” The crowd goes silent. “As you all know, I do not dream. I have never dreamed in my lifetime. It was Fi who brought me back from the patermentia, in a single day.” Léon moves to his seat, and Ochosi sits back down.

  Pratha says, “We know what Kleron is capable of. Mighty and iniquitous things. Even he, however, cannot retrieve Firstborn from beyond death’s veil in the manner that we, that you yourselves, have seen. Even Lucifer could not create the locust abominations, and certainly not in these numbers, even if he’d had another million years since the last Holocaust.” Her golden eyes scan the group, tempting anyone to challenge her. Only her sisters and calm Asterion do not look away. “There have ever been only two who could possibly do these things, with enough time and inclination. You are look
ing at one of them. The only other is Khagan.”

  Pratha takes a breath. To Fi she seems despondent, the shine of hubris in her eyes diminished. For the first time in her presence, Fi senses hesitation, and something else. Could it be shame?

  Pratha squares her shoulders and once again looks over the crowd. “At the end of the Second Holocaust, after we had prevailed and Khagan laid low, I myself dragged his body up the mountain. This you know. I stood alone at the rim of the caldera and called upon the deepest powers of the earth for the lava to rise. I cast the body of our enemy down.” She pauses, her gaze lowered and far away.

  “But I did not see his body burn.” Murmurs erupt once more. Peter raises a hand for silence, though he’s looking at Pratha, as shocked as the rest. “He had fallen to a ledge far below. I did not climb down. I did not confirm the death. As the magma rose, I turned away and returned to the field of battle.” She looks up now. “I knew he still clung to life, but I could not stay. I could not watch my son burn.”

  A shocked silence returns. Fi says to Edgar, “Wait. Khagan is her son?”

  Edgar is as surprised as she is. “I did not know.”

  “We did,” says Mrs. Mirskaya. “The Deva have always known, but it is never spoken of. That his body was not disposed of, however, I don’t think even Father knew that.”

  Low rumblings of unrest among the Deva become an outburst. Léon leaps up once more. “You lied to us? All this time, you knew it was possible The Beast could still be alive?”

  Ochosi shouts, “This is your fault, Prathamaja Nandana!” There are cries of support from the group. Fi keeps her eyes on Peter and Pratha. Peter still stares at his eldest daughter, though his shock has changed to dismay. Freyja stands, attempting to shout the crowd down, but they don’t listen. For Pratha to have betrayed them is too much for them to bear.

  A loud tap of metal on stone rings out, catching their attention. All turn as Asterion rises, using his staff for support. As much as it obviously pains him, he stands straight, shoulders back, massive bovine head held high. Even with his bandages and missing horn, he poses a formidable figure.

  “Brothers! Sisters!” The sounds of protest fade away. “Is this the time for blame and accusation? At what could be the end of all worlds, faced by our greatest and oldest foe? We are all that is left of the Warriors of Old. We are the last of the Deva.” He looks them over and it seems his gaze falls on each and every one of them. “I, for one, would act like it.” With that, he slumps into his chair.

  The eyes of the Deva meet in shared disgrace. Some flit to Pratha in anger and suspicion, but all those standing take their seats and remain silent. Except for Léon, who opens his mouth to speak—

  “Tut!” Freyja whacks the table with her cane. Léon shuts his mouth with a clacking of teeth. “As much as I will personally enjoy lording this lapse in judgment over The Prathamaja Nandana, I am also a mother. I have killed some of my own children. I am guilty of that. But it is never an easy task. In fact, it is the most terrible thing you can possibly imagine.”

  She points her cane out over the tables. “Are any of you boys a mother? Has a one of you given life out of your own womb, after growing it, nurturing it for months at a time from your own body? Have you given birth to new life, an individual, unlike any other, and loved them with all your heart?

  “Because a mother has no choice, you know, between loving her children or not. They are part of you and always will be, no matter what they have done. If any one of you fully comprehends these things, come to me now, explain to me here, before my eyes. Then you can speak of blame. Not before.” None of the men meet her gaze.

  Freyja takes her seat and lays her cane on the table while Pratha stares at her in disbelief. Freyja leans in, nudges her with her elbow, and whispers. “You dumb bitch.” Pratha’s lips curve ever so slightly in a smile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  NORWAY

  A PLAN

  Peter stands once again. “How or why Khagan still lives is irrelevant. All we need worry about is what we are going to do now. As far as I’m concerned, we proceed under the assumption this world will be the last, if there are to be any at all. In fact, Khagan and Kleron are making sure of it.” He retrieves a long duffel bag from the floor behind him and sets it on the table, then pulls out the locust head he collected in Scotland. Utterances of interest as well as disgust arise from the group. “Their armies of locusts, led by Asura captains, both living and brought back from the dead, have taken all the worlds of promise, meaning any that could be considered worthy of surviving the burning at the end of the Maha yuga.”

  He tosses the locust head onto the floor in the center of the octagon of tables, then dumps the remaining contents of the duffel on the table—the full body of the locust Pratha brought from the Lady’s keep. More sounds of discontent from the crowd, and some stand to get a better look. Peter taps its chrome-like helmet and plated thorax. “Their armor is nearly Astra grade. They fly at tremendous speed and in vast numbers. Swarms of them can be slipped from world to world, even without Kleron or Hugin, though we have yet to determine by what mechanism.” He holds up the triple golden claws of one of its six feet. “Their claws can tear Firstborn flesh. Even that of Cù Sìth and The Prathamaja Nandana.” Now he truly has the Deva’s attention.

  “They attack in coordinated swarms,” Peter continues, “but their communication goes beyond that of mere insects.” He holds a hand to Akhu. “I have suspected as much, but our newest guests also believe these creatures not only communicate with one another with a kind of hive mind, but this communication also travels between worlds.” Eyes go wide all around. “Hugin can speak to them, as can Kleron, using some sort of device, the design and operation of which I cannot fathom.” He holds up a hand to silence the rumblings of disquiet. “I have no doubt Khagan is responsible, which means he is in ultimate control of the locusts himself.

  “I can only guess at their numbers, but there must be at least a billion of these creatures. More likely, billions.” He pauses to let that sink in. “As you have seen, Khagan is bringing back dead Asura as well, but perhaps far more than we could imagine. He intends this world to be the last, and it will be his, or it will be decimated. I believe what we have seen is only a fraction of his full might. There will be nowhere to run, nowhere safe to hide. He will not stop until all of you are dead, and I am buried or broken.”

  Anubis leans forward. “What can we do, Pater?”

  From where he refills his tankard with mead yet again, Léon says, “What we have always done, Brother Anubis. We will fight. If the other worlds of promise have fallen to the locust hordes, as Pater says, all the better for us. We can more safely assume this world will be the last, and what other choice do we have? Why concern ourselves with something we can do nothing about? In a way, the Asura have done us a favor. And when they come, we will meet them. We will defend this world and its watoto the best we can, win or lose.”

  Fi glances around at the nodding Deva. “What about all the people on those other worlds?” she asks. “There must be survivors, families, children, hiding and hungry, hurt and scared. Can’t we do something for them? Maybe bring some of them here?”

  The Deva at the floor tables look at her as if she’s just some poor sweet thing of naive innocence.

  Peter says, “Worlds come and worlds go, Fi. It has always been this way. This world must be our priority. We can only do so much.” By her expression, Fi isn’t convinced. “Consider, too, even the peoples here don’t feed and protect all their own. Those of distant worlds may also carry diseases the populations here cannot survive. I have done these things you suggest, and I have seen the disaster that can result.”

  “But we’re healers. We have all this knowledge and power. We have to be able to do something.”

  “We can’t save everyone, Fi. We may not be able to save ourselves.”

  Fi frowns in disappointment.

  “There is no denying we face a great challenge,” P
eter says to the group. “Beyond any that has come before, and our time has been long, our challenges many. Khagan is aware of the true duration and end of the Maha yuga. This I know because I told him myself when in the thralls of a mania, long ago. He has obviously shared this knowledge with Kleron, and now they are using it against us. Khagan has not had his locusts or armies brought here in large numbers because he must wait until after the burnings have begun. If he tips the balance too far, this world, too, could be destroyed.

  “The way I see it, we can either wait here for the attack, for him to bring down upon this world all the might of his war machine in one fell swoop, or we try to stop him before that time comes. This is a war we cannot win on the battlefield alone, we are far too few, but believe me, there will be battle. I say we take the fight to him, to the doorstep of Satan himself.”

  Led by Léon, the group begins to chant in unison, banging the tables and stomping the floor. Louder it grows, until Peter holds up a hand.

  “The odds are against us. Khagan and Kleron are forces to be reckoned with in their own right. They have more True Ancients than we. Ziz and Maskim Xul of the living, and only Élan knows how many of the dead. They have the infernal swarms. And they’ve been planning for a long time.

  “But we have the greatest scientific and strategic minds the worlds have ever known.” His voice rises as he speaks. “We have Deva warriors who have defeated the Asura in battles beyond count.” Those at the floor tables cheer. “We have The Naga.” In spite of their misgivings, they cheer. Naga rises, spreads his hood, and draws his frightening scimitars. “We have The Elephant.” More cheers. Ganesh nods humbly in his seat. “We have The Prathamaja Nandana.” Even louder cheering. “We have The Daughters!” The crowd is on their feet with the loudest cheer yet. Peter nods to each of the women in turn, including Fi, who gulps.