Courage (19 page)

Aerigo found himself leaning over, one hand still holding Roxie’s face. He was closing in on her lips, however he veered forward and pressed his own to her forehead, and let the kiss linger. He inhaled her scent, a mix of sweat and herbal shampoo. That little bit of contact sent his heart racing. He’d shut this part of himself down for so long... He wanted so badly to take her face in both hands and kiss her until she woke, so she could return his affection. If she cared for him greatly, then maybe...

With great force of will, he straightened up and took away his hand, in case that kiss was enough to wake her. They didn’t have time for this. Roxie’s EKG beeped away without variation and her breathing did the same.

Aerigo mentally scolded himself. Daio was right. Love wasn’t going to save the day. Still, he found himself sorely wanting to lean back in and kiss her again. So many emotions wanted out. But to what point? Aerigo looked at his empty gurney, then at Roxie’s. He got an idea.

Aerigo went to his gurney and, after studying the buttons a moment, pressed the one that would unlock it from its position. He rounded the other side and pushed the gurney right up against Roxie’s, locking it in place, then found himself unable to move. What he was doing was ridiculous, yet he couldn’t seem to resist the need to express how much he reciprocated Roxie’s caring. He glanced at the ER’s door, even though he could’ve checked the whole hallway with his mind’s eye, and saw no one. He climbed onto his gurney and carefully sidled up to Roxie’s side and lay down. He slipped one arm under her neck, draped the other across her stomach, and pulled her close so he could feel her shoulder pressed against his aching, pounding heart. He gazed at her from the intimately close view and snuck in another kiss to her forehead. He nestled his forehead just above her temple and fell back asleep in seconds. When he resumed recharging, he noticed ribbons of pink mixed in with the golden light. Pink was symbolic of love. His love wasn’t making him stronger, but it sure was helping him focus. Regaining his power had never felt so good.

PART TWO

Chapter 14

Nexus reclined against his skeletal tree that topped a red sandstone plateau in his realm. The plateau stood before a vast sandstone basin that spanned for miles, a great bowl to capture every last drop of blood spilled for the sake of his prophecy. A quarter mile behind him lay his temple, positioned safely away from the impending spectacle.

Nexus had been sitting at the base of his tree ever since the Elf Kabiroas had delivered tidings of Aerigo’s and the girl’s fates. Even though that had been some time ago, the young god still felt a thrill every time he pictured the last two Aigis dead. The grisly images made his chest tingle with excitement. His war would commence oh so soon. The perpetual storm blanketing his realm rumbled.

The main reason behind Nexus having not initiated his war yet materialized nearby. He felt the presence like a security system curtly alerting a homeowner of a door opening. Nexus opened his eyes and got to his feet as he smiled. “Welcome, Vanor.” Vancor was a god who took the form of a satyr, a choice that complimented his devilish nature. He and Nexus had gotten along well since the moment Kara had introduced them to each other. He had auburn fur-covered legs and hips, his bare torso and face a smooth light brown skin, and his eyes gleamed an intense black and looked like he was cackling on the inside. He had a goatee that ended in a curled tuft of hair that he often twirled with a finger. Nexus longed to chop that bit of hair off. He just didn’t like it, however he respected Vancor more than enough to leave it be.

Vancor smiled back, sharing a glimpse of fangs. “It’s been a long time since the gods warred over the rules of the mortal realm. I have a good feeling this one will have been worth the wait.”

“That I can promise you. The wrong gods won last time.” Nexus walked past his great ally and mentor. He stopped at the edge of the plateau.

The satyr’s hooves clopped closer and Vancor towered beside Nexus as he gazed at the rocky basin. “You’re the only one who’s possessed the courage and audacity to challenge the rules ever since.”

“There’s dissatisfaction with the way things are. I was actually surprised at how many I could get to side with us.”

“With no Aigis alive to stop this war, and it designed to not last long enough for new ones to be born and come into their power, you’re guaranteed to win.”

Nexus hesitated. If he told Vancor that there were two Aigis left--well probably one by now--the satyr might tell him to hold the war off until Aerigo and the girl were most certainly dead. He didn’t want to put it off any longer, even if it was the right thing to do. Unable to withhold such crucial information, he said, “There are still two Aigis left.” Vancor gave him a hard look. “But one has been poisoned with dragon venom. Lots of venom. Your Elf Kabiroas told me. So that brings us down to one.”

“Aerigo,” Vancor said like the name was a curse. “He’s a powerful enemy.”

“I tricked him into wasting his power. He’s of no concern to us.”

“The flow of time on any god’s realm rarely matches that which mortals live in. We live outside the mortal strictures of time. You best secure his death before you start the war, or the mortal strictures will work in his favor.”

“No!” His exclamation was accented by a lightning strike nearby.

Vancor turned and faced Nexus, his lean face creased with rage. Even though Nexus respected this god more than any other, he couldn’t tolerate waiting much longer. Vancor said, “Daio spent well over a thousand years discreetly killing off every last Aigis, except one, and now that he’s gone, you want to throw all that effort away?”

“One Aigis will not bring me down! I--”

“You?” Vancor said, incredulous. “You think this is just about
you
?”

Of course it was in the end. Nexus really didn’t care about the laws of creation; he just wanted the power of a Creator for a milieu of reasons. Flashes of lightning lit up the contours of the storm clouds, and wan rumbles of thunder followed. “From my perspective, of course it is. But, with your wisdom and your help, what I want has become entwined with what many other gods want: change. If Aerigo kills me, the prophet, then my prophecy dies with me. No one who’s sided with us gets what they want. Aerigo has learned how to release Mana, but I’m not sure if it’s enough to kill me or any god.”

“Well then make sure. Send my Elves back to finish the job, and then you can start the war.”

“No,” Nexus said gently. Before the satyr finished his first word, the young god added, “I will send an Elf or two, however the war starts soon after the armies gather and have a moment to discuss tactics. Are Kabiroas and the other enlisted in your army?”

Vancor digested Nexus’ words as he gazed out over the basin. “Take Kabiroas. He’s the most adept assassin of his brethren. I’ll replace him, but
only
him. If you want more Elves, then you will have to wait to initiate the war. You decide.”

If Nexus initiated his war without Vancor having a full army, then Nexus would find himself endowed with the powers of a Creator in a hurry, along with a divine enemy he never wished to have. If he sent just Kabiroas as he initiated the war, one Elf might still not be enough to eliminate Aerigo. Daio, his Aigis, had failed to kill him. The sooner Aerigo found out that the war was starting, the sooner he’d make an attempt to kill him. For all Nexus knew, desperation was enough to propel an Aigis into his full power. So, if he sent a squad of Elves--it didn’t matter how many he sent. One would have to suffice. The private army he’d enlisted to lure Aerigo into the trap hadn’t been enough to kill him. However, Nexus never had expected it to. “Please lend me Kabiroas. I can’t afford to hold off my war. It’ll make me look like a coward.”

Vancor arched a brow. “Prudent planning trumps cowardice. Are you sure this is the path you wish to take?”

Of course he wasn’t sure. One Aigis was enough to undo him. “I’m sure.”

Vancor heaved a disappointed sigh, stared unfocused a moment, then blinked. “Kabiroas is yours. You may summon him when ready.”

“Let’s summon the armies first, and then I’ll send your prized assassin on his way.”

Vancor took a heavy step closer, causing the plateau to shake. “Are you full of stupid ideas all of the sudden or what?”

Nexus couldn’t help but grin. “I
want
my father to know what I’m about to do to his precious Aigis. Besides, there’s no one he can send to interfere. No other god will interfere because no one will know but you, me, him, and of course my mother.”

The satyr’s features softened. “Why tell Kara? She’s too kind-hearted for murder.”

“It’s a gift I hope to cheer her up with. She’s been rather lethargic ever since Daio died. I don’t know what’s caused it. She didn’t cheer up in the slightest when she witnessed the success of my trap. Perhaps it wasn’t enough.”

“Perhaps.”

His mother had seemed indifferent to everything as of late. “I hate seeing her upset. I just want to make her happy.” The storm rumbled its consent. Nexus returned to his skeletal tree and studied its ashen bark. “I want my father to know because he created Aerigo because of me. Me! His own son. He’s such a coward--so much so that he created a second Aigis right after I told him about my prophesied war.”

“Your braggart nature earned you that.”

“What kind of father creates Aigis to kill his own son?” Nexus said, exasperated. “A coward, that’s what.”

“Aigis do more than kill gods. You know that. You wouldn’t have created Daio if you didn’t. Stop being so paranoid.”

Nexus caressed the tree’s narrow trunk. “It’s a healthy paranoia. Once the war starts, the only way to undo it is to either kill me or convince me to retract my prophecy. I have absolutely no intention of calling the war off, so that leaves me either success or death. Did I ever tell you about this tree?”

“No.” Vancor clopped over to the tree and took in its... lacking of majesty. “The thing looks ghastly. Why does it even exist?”

Nexus pressed a hand to the trunk. The petrified wood was cold to the touch. “This is the first living thing I tried to create. Long ago, I figured if I wanted to be a Creator badly enough, I could bypass the laws of divine possibilities. I considered flora a simpler life to conjure than fauna. I made this tree alright, but it petrified the moment I finished pouring my will into it.”

Vancor placed a clawed hand on a higher portion of the gnarled trunk. “Gods who aren’t Creators can create no more than personal realms and Aigis. Our realms are just an extension of ourselves, and also a reflection. They are real, but they have no influence on the mortal realm. And Aigis are tools more than anything.”

“I used one of my father’s worlds to have Daio born on.

“You could’ve used one of mine.”

“I wanted it to be another insult.”

Nexus looked out over his realm, which was hardly more than an asteroid with a thunderstorm. His mother wasn’t a Creator either, yet her realm was covered in flowers. They were made for her realm, not for a mortal world, so the flower field would remain unchanged, unless she willed it to have seasons and such. Nexus could do the same, but he didn’t want to. He was happy with his rocks and storm, which he’d designed to roil and stew, and serve as a warning to both parents as to how he was feeling at the moment.

“Did your mother put the two leaves on your tree?”

“Of course.” He looked up at the highest point of the tree: the end of a limb that looked like it had been twirled and twisted a hundred time over, and if someone unrolled it, the limb would stretch for dozens of feet. Two oval leaves sprouted from the end. They were a lush green with darker green veins turning their faces into a geometric pattern. “One for her and one for me. And then this one down here for my coward father.” Suspended halfway between the leaves and the ground floated a golden brown, shriveled up leaf. “Mother insisted on one for him.”

“Ever the neutral one, isn’t she?”

“Most infuriatingly yes. She refuses to hate my father. I don’t understand it.” Nexus circled his petrified tree. “She’s made it perfectly clear that she wants nothing more than to see me happy, but she never tried to persuade my father to give me the powers of a Creator. Not once. If she wants me to be happy, then how does that make sense?”

“Perhaps she has a secret trial she is waiting for you to pass? My parents did the same to me before granting me the powers.”

“I have nothing left to prove!” Nexus said with a dismissive wave of an arm. He didn’t want to discuss this anymore. It was putting him in a foul mood when he should be nothing short of excited. He put his back to the satyr. “Vancor, you were the last to finish building an army, even before switching out Elves. What took you so long?” He looked over his shoulder just enough to see the satyr in his peripheral. “I was hoping my father would be the slowest.”

Vancor twirled his short beard. “I was waiting for a certain mortal to mature,” he said smoothly. There was no hint of confusion at the sudden shift in conversation, nor terseness at Nexus’ borderline rudeness. “He needed time to grow and learn, and otherwise prove that he could lead an unbeatable army. I wanted to insure victory, so I bred the best of tacticians and leaders into one. I’m quite pleased with the results.”

Nexus turned, piqued by the time and effort poured into one mere mortal. There was reverence in Vancor’s voice. How could a god feel reverence for something so insignificant, something that was supposed to be just an entertaining pawn?

“You’ll be glad you’ll waited.”

“You’ll have to introduce me to this masterful war creature. But first let me initiate the summons.” Nexus turned once more to the empty battlefield. He brought the palms of his hands within an inch of each other and focused on the gap between them. A deep blue ball of light the size of a walnut sparked to life, then grew and forced his hands apart. It felt like someone was inflating a prickly balloon between his hands. Nexus interlaced his fingers and cradled the orb to his throat. He heard Vancor’s hooves clop a few cautious steps back.

The next part made it perfectly clear as to why gods almost never employed prophecies: it took every ounce of his will to harness the power of the Voice of Prophecy. The first time, when he’d formed the prophecy, the effort has pushed him to the brink of insanity. Insanity would be a worse fate for a god than never becoming a Creator. Insane gods were scarier than mortals watching their world slowly get devoured by a black hole. Nexus shuddered and almost pressed the orb into his throat before he was ready. That close call brought him back to the present. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused all his will on the orb. He refused to be reduced to some mindless god who babbled random bits of madness in the form of prophecy. That would be no fun at all. He pressed the orb to his throat.

Pain. Immeasurable pain seared his vocal cords, but one little vocalization would release the Voice of Prophecy’s potency, tearing apart the force of what he wanted to say and rendering it useless if he lacked the mental faculties to utter it. One couldn’t hold a casual conversation while endowed with the Voice of Prophecy. He had to say exactly what he meant to say, then release it. The first time Nexus had let out a silent scream, cutting off the use of his vocal chords just in time. Another silent scream escaped him as the Voice tried to make him to speak. Clenched his teeth, he sucked in a breath and focused on the right words. Unlike his intrusion on his father’s chat, this time he could speak the words when ready.