Three (The Godslayer Cycle Book 3) (26 page)

Ankor shrunk down into himself.  “Yeah, that.”  The God of Mischief struggled with how to avoid the question, uncomfortable with admitting anything.

“Answer her,” commanded Avery.  And just like that, Ankor's resistance was gone.

“The truth is, I don't know,” said the God.  “You are correct - the second rule says we cannot kill a mortal.  Belask should not have been able to kill one, much less two mortals.  And yet she did.  She broke covenant, and had she lived, she could have been asked...”

“Yet these are not rules that can be
chosen
to be followed or not,” insisted Brea.  “All my teachings have told me that these are compulsory elements of being a God.  Just as you are bound to reveal yourself when I asked, you cannot
choose
to kill a mortal.  Or can you?”

Ankor groaned.  “We are not supposed to be able to.  I confess, I am a little disturbed that she could do what she did.  It means she had somehow found a way to bypass the rules which bind us.  And if
she
can do that...”  The God shrugged, wincing at the pain in his injured arm when he did so.

“...Then any of the Gods could,” finished the priestess. 

The implication left an impact upon all present, Ankor himself not the least affected.  None of the Lesser Powers possessed this ability, he was sure.  So was it something the Greater Powers had achieved? 

If the Greater Powers are no longer bound by the Rules of Divinity, are any of us safe?

*     *     *

Bracken shrugged as he tossed the coin to the farmer.  It seemed that everyone in Oaken Wood had forgotten what it was to be neighborly.  As recently as last year, if he had come to ask Old Palen to borrow his horse and wagon, he would have lent it to the dwarf with a smile and a promise of a meal when he brought the conveyance back.  Now, the old man refused to budge without some payment for the service.

It was all that had happened in this last year.  The attack on Wyrm's Fang, then the sudden onset of traveling pilgrims trying to find some meaning out of the Old Gods' trick with Mariabelle.  The kindly citizens of the small outlying community were being exposed more and more to the evils of the outside world, and the more they became aware of others' vices, the more the people here adopted their own.

It was odd that even slaying their resident priestess all those years ago had not had this impact.  The entire town had been made to see their darkest sides through the manipulations of that damnable priestess of Zantel.  She had come to town, convinced them to
murder
one of their own, then vanished into the world beyond Oaken Wood without any further explanation.  And yet, after the instigator was gone, they had all returned to their typical behavior.

The dwarf would have thought that being made to turn on their own would have been enough to turn the hearts of the men and women here dark, but it had not.  No, it had taken another decade to completely taint their souls with avarice and greed.  Murder had not been enough to corrupt them - but finding people they could take advantage of themselves had...

Bracken stood in the shade of the barn while Old Palen retreated within to shackle up his plow horse.  The wagon was needed to move the bodies of the two men killed in the battle between the Gods. Even if their bodies were not bloody, the thought of individually carrying multiple severed body parts to the outskirts of town to burn was not a pleasant thing to consider.  Loris had been cleaved neatly in twain, but Nalen's right side had not intersected so cleanly with whatever force the ebon Goddess had used to slice at the pair, leaving his hand, fingers and parts of his arm scattered about.

As he stood in the building's shadow, the dwarf reflected upon all that had happened to him since coming to this town.  The one place in all the world where the politics of the Gods should have avoided had somehow become a lodestone for incursions.  Zantel had intruded a decade ago.  Last year, Imery had sent a priestess, who had then been blamed for merciless attacks on both Mariabelle and Geoffrey Goodsmith.  Then the Old Gods themselves had created a debacle by erecting a shrine to Mariabelle which had drawn people from all over Carland and beyond.  Then to have Geoffrey return, somehow aged and brainwashed into believing the worst of his father - if this had not been the act of some unseen divine influence, Bracken was convinced he would have willingly eaten his own beard.

Finally, as if none of what had come before had not been enough, the town had been beset with a war between the Gods themselves.  Six Gods had fought - and four of them had actually
died
.  Right in the central road of Oaken Wood.  The center of town may have been largely deserted after the confrontation that had taken Nathaniel from them, but there had surely been enough people around to witness the battle.  What stories would emerge from this new event?

Yet above all of this was the nagging sense of personal failure.  Brea had used magic upon the dwarf - forced him to see a truth deep in his heart that he had lived in denial of for decades.  He had abandoned his people, his clan.  He had fled rather than remain and seek to expose the truth of his own sire's murder.  And in doing so, he had proven himself a coward.

Bracken owed his clan more.  He owed them the truth.  By all rights, he had a duty to return and see justice through, to see the dwarves truly responsible for his sire's death be held accountable.  And if the act cost him his own life, well...  Did he deserve any better for fleeing like the coward he had been?

This new awareness conflicted with his current purpose, however.  He owed the Goodsmiths as much as he did his clan.  They had been good to him, they had honored him, and to a soul he had seen them all fall.  Maribel - mother, Lendus priestess, and noble heart - had died right outside his business because he had been too self-involved to be concerned with what a damnable priestess was calling a rally for.  Mariabelle - the woman whose name was so close to that of the other's - had been brutally slain in her own home, while her son, Geoffrey, was abducted that very night, as well.  And somehow young Geoffrey had been corrupted, lost to them all in whatever his current state of mind was.  Finally, Nathaniel - Maribel's son, the dwarf's charge - had died fighting a little girl in the street, all over a set of swords the Old Gods had scattered throughout Na'Ril as some ultimate quest to preserve their own legacy.

But what did the Old Gods care about mortals or the lives they lost in the service to the Gods?  This was why the dwarves had cast out their own Gods generations before - because they were petty, diabolical creatures who cared more for their own vanity than they did the lives of those who committed themselves to their Gods' service.

Bracken reached to his side and gripped the hasp of the great axe he wore there. 
Hal'Bracken
was the last remnant of the dwarven Gods, somehow surviving in the depths of the world until chance had cast the dwarf Helmen Stonerichter into the chasm where the axe had been lost.  It still possessed much of the magic that the now deceased God, Bracken, had possessed - and possessing this ancient weapon had inspired Helmen to take the name of the deceased God for his own.  But simply changing ones name did not erase the obligations of the dwarf who had turned away from his family for fear of his own worthless hide.

Torn between obligations, the dwarf was completely uncertain of what to do with them.  He owed Nathaniel the duty of carrying on the quest which he had begun, and - if at all possible - saving Geoffrey from whatever darkness now consumed
his
soul.  But he also had an older debt to his clan, to see his father's murderer brought to justice - even if returning to his clan meant his own execution.

Bracken was torn from his reverie by Old Palen exiting the barn with the horse and wagon behind him.  The old farmer's hand rested lightly in the rope that served as the horse's muzzle, making soft
nicking
sounds as he led the beast forward.

“Bessy's been havin' gas somethin' fierce,” said the old man.  “So be careful and mind you stay downwind if she starts up.”

Bracken chuckled.  “I be thinkin' tha'll be the leas' o' my probl'ms t'day, Palen.”

The farmer nodded knowingly, having been given at least a small explanation for the dwarf's need. “S'pose so,” he mumbled.

Bracken took the rein of the horse and started to lead the beast back toward town.  “Shoul' 'ave 'er back b'fore dusk,” the dwarf called as he walked away.  The farmer just shrugged and went off to work on something else now that he had finished with his guest.

No' much fer talkin'
, the dwarf laughed inwardly.

It would only take a quarter hour to get back to Oaken Wood, but the walk seemed to be intolerably long.  Alone with his own thoughts, the distance seemed to take hours rather than minutes, as Bracken struggled with where he needed to go from here.  The girl with the new sword would be there sometime soon, so he did not have to make a decision until then.  But once she returned, once they had the sword she carried, where would he go?  Would he stay with Brea and Avery, try to find more of the swords? Or would he set out and fix the mistakes of his past?

At his side, his axe seemed to hum, drawing his attention away from his own thoughts.  The axe had never done anything like that before...

The dwarf stopped, placing his hand on the hasp but there was nothing.  Convinced he had somehow imagined it, he started to release his hold - just as a new vibration sent tremors up his arm.

Bracken let go of the axe, his breath caught in his throat.  What was happening now?

A horrific thought crossed the dwarf's mind: he carried a dead God's weapon, and he had just stabbed a
living
God with it.  Had he just woken up whatever magics had laid dormant in the blade by doing so?

Thinking on the power of the godslayer swords, Bracken shuddered.  What if his own axe were alive, as well?

The Eternal had said it - there was no way to change what would happen.  Nathaniel had not believed the immortal.  Not then.  But he had come to.  It had cost him dearly, but he had come to believe the words the Eternal had uttered.

You are as much a part of this time and what happens as you always will be.  You must believe in me on this - what happens in this town is
predestined
to happen.

The immortal being who served as guardian of the First City had journeyed to deliver that message to Nathaniel.  And yet the man cast back in time had not been willing to listen.  The Eternal had been correct - he had needed to learn the lessons Fate had planned for him before he would ever believe what the immortal told him.

Initially, Nathaniel had set out to prove the immortal wrong.  Towards the end, he had thought he could accept what was to come.  And then Fate had stepped in and made
certain
he accepted.  He had been bound and forced to watch his mother stoned right in front of him.

The man paused, wiping a tear from his eye before he continued.  It had been two weeks now, and still the pain was raw.  He would have thought living through the experience once would have been more painful than having to relive it - but he would have been wrong.  As much as losing his mother had crippled him emotionally as a child, seeing it happen in person had been a thousand times worse.  He had wanted to stay, to watch over his mother's final rest - but the Eternal's words had echoed in his ears.

You have asked me to intercept you...  You will be seeing me again soon enough.

It was as the Eternal had said - he moved back through time.  He had journeyed to Oaken Wood because at a future point in time, Nathaniel had
asked
him to.  And since what was the man's future was already the immortal's past, the only way for that to happen was for Nathaniel to make the journey to the First City, to ask the Eternal to travel to Oaken Wood to tell his earlier self what needed to be said.

Nathaniel's head hurt just trying to reason out the sequence of events, as jumbled as they were to his normal, progressive way of thinking.  Cause led to effect in a linear universe - yet when dealing with the Eternal, effect preceded cause.  The immortal had come to pass a message to Nathaniel because he had already asked the First City's guardian to do so - in the Eternal's past, which was Nathaniel's future.

Nathaniel could have made the journey faster - perhaps in ten days' time - but he had not planned for the trip well.  He could have stocked up on supplies for a journey before leaving Oaken Wood, but instead had to forage for his food as he traveled.  There had not been much thought given to planning this trip - in fact, Nathaniel only realized it was where he needed to go barely moments before he had set out to make it.  Thankfully it was springtime, and the forest held a bounty of fresh greens and mushrooms, not to mention the animals coming out to make up for their sparse winter diets.  Yet even if he ate well, it did nothing to ease the pain in his heart.

Of course, the First City was not on any road, nor was it on a map.  The city had been lost to legend, supposedly razed by the Old Gods for turning their backs upon their deities.  Before Nathaniel had stumbled upon the Eternal by chance, he had never known the city was anything more than a creation of lore.  There was no reason to believe such a place had ever truly existed.  It was a parable - a warning against being unfaithful.  And yet, this particular tale had been based on a true story.

Brea had told Nathaniel the full legend, for he had known little of it before the Eternal had introduced the site to him.  The story went that the citizens of the First City had set aside religion in favor of mechanical devices and practices.  The more they learned and created, the less they relied upon the Pantheon for guidance.  The Gods had become jealous and visited the city with plagues.  But the learned men of the First City responded to the plagues with their skills, overcoming the hardships imposed upon them.  Proving the Gods powerless over them, the First Men turned their backs completely on the Gods - and the Gods had retaliated by wiping their very city from the face of Na'Ril.

Of course, the story was not
precisely
true.  The First City had not been destroyed nor wiped from existence.  It had been frozen in a massive amber construct, preserved perpetually at its moment of destruction.  At the right time of day, when the sun shone down from above, the Amber even lit up enough to let someone standing at its edge catch a glimpse of the once magnificent city - complete with souls trapped in their moment of death, their features frozen in fear as they tried to flee their fate.

Nathaniel shuddered at the image in his mind.  The Eternal had shared one brief glimpse - on a day the immortal had said was not even the clearest view.  Yet it was enough for Nathaniel to see a man suspended in the Amber, petrified with a look of panic upon his face - an appearance he would wear for all of eternity.

The second-time orphaned man had left the road some hours earlier, traveling to the point where he alone of all the mortals on Na'Ril knew of.  To this day, he was not sure what had possessed the Eternal and his companion, the Constant, to let him glimpse the city.  By the Eternal's own account, he served as an eternal guardian, keeping people away from the First City, lest the mass grave become the site of pillaging and destruction - or worse, earned the citizens of Na'Ril a second attack by the Gods who sought to hide their past crime.  There were many secrets lost when the First City fell - even a small fraction of which could potentially have reshaped the modern world.  And the Eternal was committed to keep that from happening for fear of the consequences that would follow.

And yet for some reason, when the Eternal had come across Nathaniel chasing after a will o' the wisp, a magical being of light that had attempted to guide Nathaniel to his doom in order to protect its home, the immortal had broken his own rules. The Eternal had intercepted him and taken him to the edge of the Amber, to deliver a warning about the Gods who had compelled service from Nathaniel: regardless of whether the Gods professed to being unable to actually kill mortals, there were fates far worse than death they could commit...

But none of that really explained why the Eternal had made such an exception in the first place.  He spoke of knowing Nathaniel in the future - Nathaniel's future, the Eternal's past.  There was clearly a great deal unsaid, some great significance that had led the Eternal to leading Nathaniel to the single most guarded secret in all of Na'Ril.  The Eternal's appearance in Oaken Wood had only been the second time Nathaniel had even met the immortal, but already the man sometimes called a phoenix was speaking of a future meeting yet to happen.

And once everything had fallen, after all the elements of history had settled, it was obvious to Nathaniel where he needed to go.  His next meeting with the Eternal was just as predestined as had been his mother's death.  Nathaniel was trapped in time, on a path he could not change.  And he already knew where next he was destined to go.

“Well met, Nathaniel,” came the old man's familiar voice, startling the young man out of his internal reflections. 

The time-lost man stopped, looking around.  After a moment, he saw the Eternal in the distance, standing alone in a break through the trees.

“Eternal,” Nathaniel answered.  It seemed such a strange name to address someone as, but he did not know another name to call the immortal in his presence.  “Do you know why I'm here?”

The immortal man nodded.  “The time has come for me to meet you for the first time.”

“But we've already...”  Nathaniel caught himself, trying to remember how time worked for the other man.  “We've met in my future already,” he started again.  “How could this be our first meeting?”

The old man chuckled.  “It will make sense before the sun sets.  But for now, I believe you need to speak with me of what will come yet for me?”

The younger man bit back his confusion.  “In a few weeks, you'll come to my home town, Oaken Wood.  You said I would have to learn the lessons of Fate, and that when I had, I would see you again.” He shrugged.  “You were right, so here I am.”

The Eternal nodded, trying to put on an appearance of understanding.  Though in truth, he would already know whatever Nathaniel would yet say, so chances were he
did
understand already, even if he would not have from all the man had said so far.

“You will need to tell me what I will tell you, of course,” offered the elder man after Nathaniel fell silent for a few moments.

“Of course,” said Nathaniel, looking about for a place to sit.  After a moment, he elected to lean against a slanted tree as he began his tale.  “I imagine you know I'm not in my right time.  I was sent back in time, to a point just before my mother died.  When I first got here, I thought I had died and that I was visiting with my mother in some spirit world.  You were the one who told me I wasn't, told me where I really was.”

“I told you this?”

“Yes, though you were careful to not give me specifics.”  Nathaniel sighed.  “I can't tell you what will happen exactly.  I know now that I have to live through it, but I'll ask you to tell me.  So it's best if I don't tell you, so you won't need to lie to me.”

“Did I tell you anything at all?  It seems to me that you're not really giving me a reason to go there, if I'm not actually going to tell you anything.”

The time-lost man stared intently at the immortal.  “You are the one who tells me this is not some dream, some after-life fantasy.  You explain to me the importance of Fate, and how that no matter how hard I will want to change things, that I won't be able to.  You told me that everything that is predestined to happen, will happen, and that I need to learn that.  And when I did learn, that I would see you again.”

“Which brought you here now,” finished the old man, bobbing his head agreeably.

“Yes.  You told me I would resist changing.  I'm sorry, but I'm not going to believe you.  But what you tell me is important, because...”  Nathaniel swallowed hard.  “I'll be honest.  Knowing this all happened like it was
supposed
to happen is about the only thing that's keeping me going right now.  I think I might have given up on everything if you hadn't told me that.”

“And it brings you here now,” repeated the Eternal.  “Which is even more important than you realize.”

The younger man scrunched his brow.  “How do you mean?”

The elder man beckoned.  “I must show you something.  Then I will be able to better explain.”

“You've already shown me the Amber and the First City,” offered Nathaniel.

“I have only shown you the
edge
of the Amber, Nathaniel.”  The elder man smiled.  “Today, I will show it
all
to you.”  Again, he beckoned.  “Remember, I must have you lead.  I will give you directions on where we go.”

Nathaniel walked up to the man and made to pass him, but the Eternal reached out and took hold of his arm.  “One thing.  You will need to draw your sword.  Remember, the Gods must not know you are here, and the only way to hide you from them is if you are wielding one of the Nine.”

The younger man complied, though he did so with less certainty than he might have.  “I no longer have
One
,” he explained.  “This is the second sword,
Two
.” 

“I am aware,” said the immortal.  “But though
One
's ability is to hide its wielder from anyone, the Gods are not able to sense any of their swords.  And when you wield any of them, you cannot be scryed from a distance, either.  It's a talent that all the swords share.  My abilities keeps me from the Gods' eyes, but without your sword, you would raise their attention.  The First City is meant to remain undiscovered - and we do not need them to know we are there.”

Nathaniel shrugged and moved onward,
Two
now carried openly at his side.

True to his word, the Eternal guided the man with occasional suggestions for directions, but otherwise the pair traveled without any significant words shared between them.  It took nearly an hour before the Eternal finally broke the monotony of directions with more informative conversation.  Just as the pair arrived at a large stone that had been split in half at some point in the past, the immortal once more started speaking. 

The stone itself rose twice the height of the men, and would have been a truly formidable barrier if it had not been cracked in twain.  As it stood, there was a space between the two halves barely wide enough to allow someone to slide through, and it was to this point the immortal clearly led his companion towards.

“I cannot be sure if this stone was always here,” said the elder man, running his hand along the eroded surface of the rock, “but as it is, it provides an entry to the valley that none in the First City likely ever knew of.  There were three passes that provided entry to the valley, but this path was not one known to the First Men.”

Nathaniel did not know how to respond, and so remained silent.  He had to twist his body to the side in order to pass through the barricade, but once he had passed the granite barrier, he found himself standing in a wide chasm that angled upwards into the distance.  Overgrown vegetation left the passage in perpetual shadow, though enough light filtered through to illuminate the path ahead.  If one were looking for this path, however, it certainly would not have been visible.  And - much as the Eternal had suggested - had the rock not been split, this crevice in the earth would have been completely undetectable.