Three (The Godslayer Cycle Book 3) (18 page)

Prealis nodded grudgingly.  “It would appear that what he says is true, in as much as he has chosen to share.”  The Goddess turned away from the Prankster and began to fade from view.  “I believe we are finished here.”  With that, the Goddess disappeared entirely.

Corus only lingered long enough to look meaningfully upon his Lesser brethren.  “I never thought I would ever be offering my thanks to you, Prankster,” he said, “but this day, I do just that.”

Then, without providing Ankor an opportunity to respond, the God of Knowledge also vanished, leaving the Prankster alone in his ethereal state.  He waited a moment to assure himself that his fellows were indeed gone, then willed himself to merge back into his Hamil facade.

It probably would have killed him outright to actually say the words
, he mused. 
But then, that would have deprived me of the fun of watching him wiped from existence like the others...

The fire popped, startling Bracken from his own self-reflection.  He blinked, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed his mind wandering, wondering if perhaps he might even have fallen asleep. But if any had noticed, none made any obvious signs.

Brea and Avery were engaged in what the dwarf would call “tolerated discussion”.  Though Avery had no reservations about speaking with the priestess, she on the other hand clearly only conversed with the man out of necessity.  The would-be God had become an unwanted ally, and so Brea needed to endure.  But she made no effort to disguise her lack of interest, either.

Bracken had lost interest in the conversation shortly after it had begun days ago.  How many times could one talk about “what if”s or “most likely”s, after all?  The dwarf had learned that humans had an annoying habit for speculation and over-thinking possible outcomes.  To a dwarf, one simply did what was needed when it was needed doing.  If something different happened, one dealt with it when and
if
the need came up.  Thinking about it - or worse still,
talking
about it incessantly - would not change what was to come.  So why dwell on it?

“When will Nalen return from his watch?” asked Brea, interrupting something that Avery was saying. Her question was aimed toward Lartien, an obvious slight to whatever it was that the God-man had been saying.

“I will send Loris out to replace him in another hour, if we have not heard anything by then.”  Ever hopeful that their vigil would end sooner rather than later, the commander of Avery's guard always proposed his scheduling of his men upon the possibility that the watch would soon be done.

“Perhaps I should go in his stead,” suggested the priestess.  “I tire of all this waiting.”

“The sword
will
come back,” Avery insisted.  “All we have to do is wait for it.”

Brea stiffened at the rebuke.  “Nathan is dead.  And all you care about is the damnable sword.”

“Need I remind you,” responded the faux God, “that it is the
girl
we are both after?  She's the one who slew the Godslayer.”

“And the only reason we are tolerating your presence,” added Brea. “Our causes are joined.  For the moment.  But I do not have to tolerate your obsession with the swords while we wait.”

“The Nine are all that matter,” said Avery in a considerably softer tone.  “Your Nathan knew that much.  If you can not see past my presence and view, at least consider that getting this sword under our control will at the very least be honoring the man.”

“
Our
contr'l?” spat Bracken.  “More'n like yers.  Don' take us fer fools, young'un.  None of us'r so blinds as t' no' see tha' ya want the sword fer yerself.”

Avery was quiet for a moment.  Then with firm resignation, he met the dwarf's eye.  “I will not deny that.  But not for the reasons you believe.  There is more here than you know, something I have not said.”

“Oh?” asked the dwarf, his back straightening.  “Do tell.”

The would-be God paused again before answering.  “I told you Martin had visited me.  What I did not tell you was that he told me I needed to be sure Nathaniel Goodsmith did not gain
Three
.  He said it was critical because he could not have come into the past to warn me if the Godslayer acquired the sword.”

“No' much chance o' tha' now, is t'ere?” snapped the dwarf.

Avery's eyes fell.  “I'll admit, the warning about keeping it from the Godslayer now seems to be a pointless caution.  But I cannot argue that Martin seemed to know what had not yet come, and so I intend to keep the sword safe.  At least until whatever future where I meet this Martin comes to pass and can send him back to warn myself.  After that?”  He shrugged.  “Who can say?”

“So you seek to keep your own path through time intact?” asked Brea.  “That is your only concern?”

“Not entirely, but it is my
primary
one.”

“Well, yer confessin' a'ready, so's migh''s well tell the rest.”  Bracken screwed up one eye, willing his other to pin the man across the fire in place.

“Something else Martin said,” said Avery.  “He said it was my destiny to bring together the Nine, to unite
all
the swords.  I cannot say I know what that means exactly, or what purpose would be served by it, but it is clear that I am supposed to do it.  And I have... spoken - if that is even the right word - with
Two
.  There is a plan that the swords have, and it does involve bringing them all together at some point. Then if Martin is to be believed, it will be my place to do so.”

“But
Two
has been destroyed,” supplied Brea.  “You cannot reunite something that no longer exists.”

Avery raised his hands helplessly.  “Again, I have no way of answering that.  Like keeping
Three
from the Godslayer, I cannot decipher all of what Martin told me.  But if we are to work together, you have a right to know
my
motivations.”

Bracken ground his teeth.  It infuriated him that this man was being so forthcoming.  He had come to think of Avery as a conniving rat, abusing power he lucked upon to make simpletons worship him. But more and more, this man was disproving all aspects of the dwarf's belief in him.  Either there was more to the former heretic than the dwarf had ever considered, or he was simply growing into a better person through his experiences.  Either answer however put the dwarf's loathing of the man to shame.  He might not have been convinced that there was any sincerity behind the man's surface behavior, but Avery left little to criticize in what he actually did.

“So what will you do when this girl returns?” asked Brea pointedly.  “We have talked for days now on how to fight her, but not once have we discussed what we will do should we prevail.  Who walks away with the sword once the dust settles?”

Tension-filled silence took over the small group, the fire crackles the only sound to be heard. Bracken noticed Lartien's hand sliding toward the hilt of his sword, prompting the dwarf to reach to his side where
Hal'b
racken
rested against the side of his seat. 

“I believe it goes without saying,” said Avery cautiously, “that the sword must leave with me.”

“But that is not to say we could not leave together with it,” added Viola quickly.  Ever the peacemaker, Avery's lady spoke rarely, but when she did, it was with an effort to prevent conflict.

“So you would have us follow you now?” asked Brea.

“Not follow,” said Avery, taking up the former barmaid's offered compromise.  “Join us.  We are all after the same thing, I would say.  None of us want these swords misused, do we?  Why not make a pact to seek them out together?”

Bracken gave a sidelong look to the priestess, but she made no move to look away from Avery.  After several moments of silence, Avery continued.

“Look, Nathaniel Goodsmith is gone.  There is no changing that.  And the swords will not all come to you as this one has.  What do you intend to do?  Give up the quest?”

The dwarf bowed his head and grimaced.  “He's no' wrong, Brea,” he said grudgingly.  “Wha' woul' we do if we di' no' join 'im?  Give up on Nate's plan?  Stop followin' the swor's an' give up any chance we migh' 'ave ta fin' Nate's boy?”

The would-be God perked up at this.  “Boy?”

“Nathan's son was taken,” offered Brea in a lifeless voice.  “He was deceived into believing Imery had taken him, which is what led to his taking her life.”

“So Goodsmith
did
slay a God before Levitz?”  Avery chuckled.  “I was beginning to think I was wrong about his being a Godslayer up until he killed one there.  But he killed one before.  Interesting.”

“Actually, he was defending me,” said Brea, dropping her shoulders in a sigh.  “For a long time, I held a grudge against what he did that night.  But with his passing, I have come to accept that what he did was necessary.  Imery may have killed me if Nathan had not interceded.  And none of us knew that the result would be her death.”

Avery reached around and pulled
One
free of its sheath, then proceeded to swing the sword aimlessly through the air in front of him.  “It would seem I have some catching up to do.  Funny, I'm still in competition with the Godslayer even after he's already dead.”

The would-be God suddenly stopped his sword in mid-swing, his face going rigid.  “
First
,” he said ominously. He turned to Brea sharply.  “You have
First
here?”

The priestess pulled back.  “What? 
First
?”

“Nate's ot'er sword's not yers ta take, boy,” growled Bracken.  The dwarf did his best to avoid Brea's glare of rebuke.

Avery stood, looking about the darkness beyond the light cast by the fire's flames.  “No, you don't understand. 
One
can sense the other swords.  And it's telling me
First
is nearby.”

“So?” asked Brea. 

Avery raised his sword defensively.  “It means someone is
using
the other sword.  Someone has drawn
First
!”

At this, Bracken picked up
Hal'bracken
and stood up, prepared for battle.  Brea stood beside him, and he could hear the two sellswords drawing their own blades, as well.  In moments, the small company had become an armed encampment.

Who could have known that Nate even
had
another sword?
  He made a point of never having both in the open at once, and to any casual observer, the swords
looked
identical. 
First
was, after all, the sword from which the mold for all the others had been made...

“I had hoped to slip away quietly,” came a voice from the dark.  “But I suspect this will be more fun.”

As the last syllable was uttered, a young man's sturdy frame began to take shape from around the edge of the shack.  The newcomer walked casually, completely at ease in spite of the numerous weapons raised against him.  In one hand, he held an empty scabbard while in his right he held the unmistakable outline of one of the Old Gods' swords, carried with an ease that suggested either extreme confidence or utter foolhardiness.  Bracken would have guessed the latter.

“Put down the sword, sir,” called Avery.  “You have no idea who you face here this night, and we will not let you take what you have stolen.”

The young man laughed.  As he continued to step forward, his features began to coalesce into a face full of unforgettable familiarity.  The dwarf heard Brea's sharp intake of breath at the unmistakable resemblance.  There were subtle differences, certainly enough to distinguish this newcomer from the man they all knew, and yet...

Bracken had watched Nathaniel Goodsmith grow from a small lad into a powerful young man, but even he had to consider whether this was a younger version of his friend standing before them now.  Yet he knew that was at best wishful thinking - this newcomer was not his Nate, but he looked so much like the man who had so recently fallen that there could be no doubt that there was a familial connection at play on the young man's features as he approached.

The stranger laughed wickedly.  “Oh, your faces are hilarious!  You actually thought I was
him
for a moment, didn't you?”  When no one responded, the man stopped his forward progress and continued.  “Well, I'm not
Nathaniel
Goodsmith.”  The young man's inflection of Nate's name held pure venom.  “I'm his better.  In every way.  He was a traitor to the Pantheon!  I'm the
real
Avatar. ”

Bracken felt his rage rising, his feet moving forward of their own volition.  “Look 'ere,
lad
,” he managed through the effort not to grunt, “Nate was our frien', an' yer no' ta speak ill o' him.  No' now, no' ever.”

“If not me, then who else?” guffawed the newcomer.  “
He's
the failure, and he died because he
was
a failure.  He was blessed by the Gods - by the
Gods!
  And he turned his back on them!  What else did you think was going to happen?”

Bracken felt a heavy hand fall on his shoulder, one of the men laying his strength upon him to hold the dwarf in place.  The reminder checked his charge, but only just.  Brea may have helped him understand where his rage came from, but it had not
cured
him of it.  And this young man tempted a great deal with his disrespect.

“Nate was th' bes' man I ever knew,” said Bracken instead, his words barely distinguishable from the growl in his throat.

Another hand - lighter than the first - fell on Bracken's other shoulder and he immediately felt the presence of the priestess at his side.  “Who are you?” asked Brea.  “You're related to Nathan.  That's unmistakable.  But none of us know you.”

The young man laughed again, swinging the sword at his side in a swishing motion as he did so. “The dwarf knows me.  Don't you, old man?”