One (The Godslayer Cycle Book 1) (12 page)

At the mention of the Death God, Brea's body spasmed in fear.  “Please, Oh, Goddess.  I- I know not of what you say!  Only you, Oh, Imery, I only worship you...”

“Do not seek to fool the Goddess of Truth,” Imery threatened.

“
Never!”  cried Brea.  “Look into my heart!  Though I be troubled by a mortal man, yours is the only God I hold therein!”

Imery paused in her wrath.  Leave to enter her soul to divine the truth?  Would a servant of the Old Gods permit such a thing, knowing that no deception could stand to her scrutiny?  Normally, even a God is forbidden to trespass upon a mortal soul without invite to do so.  Faithful swore fealty to the Gods in the afterlife, or the Gods would hold no sway.  But a living soul was another matter. 

A mortal soul must give of its devotion freely while it lived.  And it must remain free to denounce their faith right unto death.  A divine entry into a mortal soul was akin to an instant conversion, for no mortal could have the presence of a God within them for long and not be overwhelmed.  A God that could freely enter a mortal soul could compel devotion and the Gods would war over each soul, burning out the mortals in the process.  It was not that a God could
not
do such a thing if permitted by covenant; more, it was that a God would be a fool to do so.  If the mortals were lost over a battle between deities, the Gods would lose the very devotion they needed to
be
Gods!

However, a mortal could freely invite a God where he or she would otherwise not freely go.  If permitted by a mortal, the God could enter the soul for a limited time for an express purpose, so long as they did not defy the covenant they held in doing so. 

In this case, Brea's invitation to search her heart permitted Imery entry for the express purpose of verifying the validity of her convictions, since the heart was only another name for the soul under the covenant the New Order held with its faithful.  It was an offer made without coercion nor suggestion by Imery.  Imery's wrath had not been directed at eliciting this response, after all, but as punishment to a wayward disciple.  And it was an offer, under the circumstances, that Imery could not refuse.

Whether by ignorance or foolish bravado, Brea had opened herself to Imery and the Goddess wasted no time in delving into Brea's soul, determined to wrench the truth from the traitor in full.

For Brea, the sensation of being possessed by a God would be ecstasy beyond imagining.  The mortal soul could not interpret contact with a divine essence in any other way, no matter how harshly Imery took hold.  However, a mortal could die if the mind became overwhelmed, the heart overburdened.  There was occasion that a mortal could die from sheer joy, after all.  And the Goddess knew she would need to temper herself if she intended to have Brea survive the experience long enough to divulge the truth.

The search only took moments regardless.  Brea made no effort to hide anything, surrendering herself to the rapture completely.  When Imery was done and withdrew, Brea remained huddled on the floor shivering, only now she did not shiver from fear – her entire body tingled from the divine joining.

Imery however was not so pleased.  Brea had spoken true.  She was a true and loyal disciple.  She worshiped no other deity, much less held devotion for the Old Gods.  Brea held as much distaste in her heart for them as Imery herself.  So where then did this taint upon her come from?

Softly, she kneeled to place her hand on the back of Brea's scalp.  The priestess' hair was matted now with sweat, as her whole body must be.  Union with one's God was greater than any sexual climax and Brea was in a state of afterglow unlike anything she had ever experienced, or would likely again in her lifetime.  Imery felt Brea's body convulse as she continued to bask in the pleasurable endorphins.

But Imery was not interested in Brea's pleasure.  She intended to seek out the source of the taint upon her servant, something she realized she should have done from the beginning.  She could have done so had she not convinced herself of Brea's unfaithfulness so prematurely.

It took less time than her soul search.  Once she set her mind to it, she knew.  Brea had been charmed.  The magic was indeed of the Old Gods; of that, there was no doubt.  It was far more powerful than anything she had sensed from them in over a century, yet it was there, and there was no denying the source.  And there it would remain, for Imery had no power nor influence over the magics of another God, especially one of a different Pantheon entirely.

Imery lifted herself once again to stand over her priestess.  “It would seem your fellow is more than he appears,” she said casually.

Brea looked up through sweat-drenched locks.  “M- my Goddess...?”  Imery could not be sure that Brea was actually fully cognizant, as she was still caught up at least in part in her ecstasy.  But the Goddess knew that her words, through force of her presence alone, would imprint upon her priestess' mind.

“This Goodsmith ensorcelled you with a charm,” Imery continued.  “A charm with the distinctive energy that only the Old Gods possessed.”

“
He – he's a cleric of the Old Gods?”  Brea asked in disbelief, finally coming out of her fog.

“
Methinks more,” murmured Imery thoughtfully.  “The charm is too powerful for a mere priest of their faith to effect.  Their influence has grown too sparse, their power too depleted for this.  This charm speaks of something more...  direct.”

“
I do not understand...”

“
No, of course you do not.  I think you have helped uncover a secret, dear child.  It would appear that the Old Gods, or at least one of them, has chosen to pass himself off as a mortal.”

“
For what reason?”  Brea still could not grasp what Imery was leading her to.

“
Who but the Old Gods themselves would know.  But we have unmasked the rose.  And he will be unaware that we know.”

Comprehension dawned on Brea.  “Nathaniel Goodsmith is one of the Old Gods, living as a mortal man?  But...  why?  And...  which one?”

Imery smirked.  “That, dear child, is what I intend
you
to find out for me.  Of course, you will need a bit more than what you already have if you intend to wander into another God's domain...”

“
But...  the Old Gods died, didn't they?  Is Nathaniel then...  somehow...  a God reborn?”

“
Hardly, child,” Imery said softly.  “And the Old Gods did not die.  They have just...  been
gone
.  They abandoned their faithful and the New Order assumed guardianship.”  It was not an entirely accurate statement, but there was no specific falsehood spoken, either.  Imery felt no need to explain the complexities involved in expelling the Old Gods and Brea did not know enough to ask further.

“
Now relax, child, and receive the blessings of your Goddess...”  Imery's hands glowed with a pale, bluish-silver aura as she reached out to lay them upon the shoulders of her disciple.

Nathaniel bolted upright, scrambling as best he could away from the Goddess.  “No,” he muttered uselessly.  “The Old Gods are dead!  They have been for hundreds of years!”

Airek smirked, spreading her arms wide.  “Do I look dead to you?”

“
But how...  where...  how could you...?”

“
Calm yourself,” the Goddess cooed.  “ There is time enough for answers.  You came awake without understanding all of it.  Perhaps all the memories did not reach you, or perhaps the rest will come in time.  Regardless, I need to explain at least what Dariel had done.”

“
Dariel,” Nathaniel's lips formed around the name.  “He stole the swords for himself, didn't he?”

Airek nodded.  “Yes, and placed a few enchantments of his own upon them before casting them into the mortal realm.  They fell as fireballs to the earth and buried themselves below the surface, hidden from God and mortal alike.  And they have lain hidden these past four hundred years.”

“But why would he do that?” Nathaniel was intrigued, in spite of his internal instincts that urged him to run.

“
He said it was because he knew the swords would be destroyed if he did not,”  Airek's face scrunched in what might otherwise be an adorable pout, but in the Goddess came across as stark disapproval.  “He claims that he saw a greater purpose for them.  Not as instruments of war against the New Order godlings, but as a legacy of revenge should they succeed in destroying our influence in the mortal realm.  Under new dictates set by Dariel, the swords would remain dormant, eluding discovery, unless the Pantheon – what you call the Old Gods – lost too much presence within the mortal realm.”

Nathaniel nodded, slowing grasping an understanding.  “And Malik's prediction came to pass.  The New Order
did
drive out the belief in the Old Gods, so barely a memory of your time here remains.”

“
Not so bad as that yet, but our power
is
far less than what it once was.  And people do not even recall the correct stories of us, either.  Many who still remember us think of us as single sexed, for instance, or as representatives of powers we never had.  Our passing has created imperfect legends, and in the falseness of the fables, our power has been greatly impaired.

“
A God needs the unique mental energies that mortal devotion gives us.  It is from whence our power to affect the world comes from.  But these new Godlings, barely half a millennium old, have gouged out their own realm and left the Pantheon slim desserts.”

“
So why not...”

“
Fight back?”  Airek grinned ironically.  “Gods may
seem
all powerful, young Nate, but ultimately we are bound by service to our faithful.  In times lost, your ancestors set upon us precepts under which their worship would be given.  They defined our purposes and spheres of influence through covenant.  And to receive their continued devotions, we are bound to follow the creed we agreed to.  To do otherwise betrays the faithful and turns their worship elsewhere.

“
One of the precepts we guaranteed to our mortal followers was that the Pantheon would never force worship upon any mortal.  They must come to our faith of their own free will.  The Gods of the New Order adopted no such creed and took advantage of how we could not respond to their methods of recruitment in kind.”

“
But your followers would lose faith for your not doing anything, wouldn't they?”

“
And so you begin to see the vicious cycle that is our dilemma.  We are forbidden by our faithful to act, yet our very adherence to the rules
they
set upon us causes them to lose faith in us anyways.  Far too many see our refusal to challenge the New Order openly as a sign of being forsaken, and yet we are powerless to do anything to disprove their crises of faith.”

“
And Dariel's prophecy...  How does that affect what has happened?”  Nathaniel's face screwed up with concentration.  “It has not saved your religion.  Belief in the Old Gods, your 'Pantheon', can be a death sentence.  At the very least, it can lead to being branded a heretic by the New Order.  Even if the swords came into play today, what could be accomplished?”

Airek smiled.  “That is where the Avatar plays his role.  As best we can tell, at any rate.”

“You mean me.”  Nathaniel's features turned grim.

Airek nodded.  “You.  Dariel bound us all to the prophecy.  There
would
be one who would follow the swords, and there
would
be one to unite them to their cause.  If we did nothing, one would still be created – by the prophecy itself, if need be...”

“
The prophecy?  You make it sound as though it were a living thing...”

“
Oh, a prophecy may not live as you see life, yet it
is
a living thing, nonetheless.  A prophecy bends reality to its will.  It commits certain forces and powers to itself and shapes the destiny of those it is meant to effect.  It may not have a mind, in the strictest sense of the word, but it most certainly has a will and can impose that will upon reality itself to see its purpose fulfilled.”

Nathaniel scoffed.  “I have heard many so-called prophecies in my life, and many contradict each other.  Personally, I believe that prophecy is little more than someone wanting something to be and then writing it down and calling it a prophecy to convince people it should.  Then, when something happens that seems to fulfill the prophecy, however remote, then people stand around and harp on how they knew the prophecy was true all along.”

Airek gave Nathaniel an appraising look.  “Very insightful, Nate.  Truly impressive perspective.”  The Goddess raised a delicate finger to emphasize her next point.  “However, you confuse prophecy with portent.  True, mortals will call a portent prophecy, but they truly are not the same thing.  A portent is a prophetic foretelling of a potentially significant event.  Portents, unlike prophecies, are glimpses into the future by a mortal mind.  But the future is not set in stone, and so knowledge of the future event can alter its outcome, especially when more than one possible outcome exists.

“
A prophecy, on the other hand, is not a prediction of the future, but a forceful compulsion for the future to conform to a specific path.  A prophecy is something akin to a spell, of sorts, in that it shapes reality to a purpose that it would not have otherwise taken.  As such, a prophecy must be empowered to come into existence.  The greater the prophecy, the greater the power necessary to create it.

“
Dariel prophesied that one would come, and therefore one
must
come.  That is how prophecies work.  If we did nothing, this one would be an unknown and could just as easily have been created as a servant of the New Order.  So it was decided to take a more active measure in the one's existence.  We created an Avatar that would serve as the one the prophecy intended.”

“
But...”

Airek held up her hand.  “A moment more, Nate.

“Malik's magic made the swords impossible for Gods to detect, but it did not prevent a mortal from being attuned to their magics by a God.  Malik, Charith and Dariel each provided the signatures they had used to imprint their magics upon the swords, and Lendus gave us blessing from dominion over the sphere of fertility to seed
potentials
in each successive generation.  The Pantheon then created a matrix, a balance of powers gifted from all members of the Pantheon, which we imbued into these potentials, in essence creating mortals capable of inheriting these powers when the time for the Avatar came to pass.”

“
And you think that time is now,” ventured Nathaniel.

“
No.  You do.”  Nathaniel's protest was again quelled by Airek's raised hand.  “Please, I beg of you, listen.  The Avatar could not be controlled by the Pantheon.  If he were, he would not be able to find the swords anymore than we could.  The Avatar would, by necessity, need to be independent of our direct influence.  So the Avatar matrix was set to sense the swords and when one awakened, to awaken the Avatar that was in proximity to the first sword and to alert him to his need.”

“
My dream...” 

“
Yes, your dream.  Each sword is designated to wake in order as part of Dariel's enchantment.  And each sword is named after its designation of order.  The first sword, known as
One
, must have awoken and chosen a host.  In your dream, you saw yourself
as
the sword, since you were attuned to it.  You have the ability to find the swords, because you can 'see' where the swords are at any time.  Or so it was in theory.  It was not exactly possible to test, as we could not use the Avatar matrix to seek the swords out ourselves.  So far, however, you have only accessed this ability in your sleep.  That boundary
will
need to be overcome...”

“
Okay, now wait a moment,”  Nathaniel's caution once again reasserted itself, interrupting Airek in spite of the Goddess' cautionary glare.  “You expect me to go in search of these swords for you.”

“
Yes,” Airek said firmly.  “It is the reason you were born.”

“
I can't do that!  I have a family now.  A wife and child.  I can't leave them to go off on this quest for you.  I'm sorry, but you need to find someone else, activate another 'potential' or whatever you call them.”

“
There is no one else now, Nathan.  As soon as the Avatar matrix chose you, it drew all the potential seeds' power to you.  The potential moves from one generation to the next every fifteen years, so that the potential that may eventually be chosen will be in his prime.  But once activated, the power will only move to another potential upon the Avatar's death.  You inherited the potential at the age of fifteen, and it would not have passed from you for another six.  Yet now that it is activated, it would not move on even then.  For better or worse, until the day you die, you
are
our Avatar.”

Nathaniel shook his head firmly to the left as he responded.  “No.  You will have to find another way.  I will not abandon my family, even at the bequest of a Goddess, no matter how beguiling she may appear.”

“Think carefully on what you say now, young Nate.”  Airek's voice dripped with foreboding.  “There will be others who learn of your awakening now that it has come to pass.  Your existence is not a small thing, and your coming into power will not go unnoticed.  Not all will be as gentile in their means of winning you to their cause.  At the very least, invoke my protection while you take some time to think on this.  I imagine we can spare a few days...”

“
I do not need a few days,” said Nathaniel.  “My commitments will not change in that time.  I sympathize with your plight – I really do – but I have a life of my own to lead.  You will have to manage without me.”

Without further word, Nathaniel bowed in farewell, then turned his back on the Goddess.  Setting a brisk pace, he turned for home, leaving Airek and her plots behind.

* * *

The forest parted, revealing a valley cut between three hills.  Trees had been cleared away, though they had only been sparse here to begin with.  Nathaniel knew this because his mother had told him when he was very young.  As a druid of Lendus, she chose this place so as to affect the surrounding lands as little as possible.

Nathaniel paused to take in the view.  He had seen it a thousand times before and still its simple beauty was to him magnificent.  The plowed field where the early autumn harvest grew was surrounded by a rail fence to act as boundary, though he knew it would have done little to keep the likes of deer and rabbits from nibbling at the green.  That was accomplished by the wards his mother had erected at the four corners of the field.  These minor magics sent gentle resistance against nature's forces, so that not even a field mouse could cross into the garden without being invited by one who had touched the soil within.

The young man marveled that still twenty years and more since being laid, the wards still worked, showing no sign of failing.  Nathaniel had memories of his mother ritually renewing the wards each spring, but since her death ten years earlier, they had not been renewed at all.  Nathaniel had always wondered at that small blessing.  Even after the property had been abandoned for six years, the wards had kept out the wildlife so that when Nathaniel had returned to reclaim his heritage, the garden may have grown wild, but it had remained pest free.

Nathaniel looked to the corral neighboring the garden, separated only by a walking path.  Their plow horse, Cloff, meandered aimlessly around inside, nudging occasionally against the cow, Aila.  Normally, Aila would have retreated into the shed at the far end of the yard rather than suffer Cloff's pestering, but today she tolerated it as she mindlessly chewed at her cud.  She was getting on in years, Nathaniel knew, and would eventually need to be replaced.  Perhaps they could yet breed her again and keep the calf if it was a female this time, and not another bull.  Her two previous birthings had netted male offspring, and they had been gifted to the townfolk who had provided the stud once they were weened.