Hederick The Theocrat (4 page)

Hederick probed the centuries-old, hand-lettered words of the Praxis until they swam
before his eyes. Finally, just as the setting sun withdrew the last bit of light, he found
a passage that both inspired and frightened him. Allow not a caster of spells to live, the
Praxis read. Magic corrupts and infects. Magic derives from the old, betrayer gods. Magic
defiles even the most faithful, if suffered to continue. Magic, and belief in its use, is
evil. Those who seek the New Gods have no need for magic.

Tarscenian had been different since Ancilla had arrived, the boy thought as he remembered
the priest's heavy drinking and irreverent words. Had Hederick's sister enchanted him from
the very first? Hadn't she lured the priest, that first day, into using spellcasting, in
the show of the dragon and human figurines? And didn't the witch hover like a rapacious
bird within sight of Garlund even now? She'd spent ten years studying the arts of magic,
ten years that should have been spent caring for him! As though the thought came directly
from Omalthea, Hederick suddenly knew where Tarscenian was spending his nights. Ancilla
had tainted the priest. That meant Hederick was now the only true believer in a town of
sinners. But what to do? Hederick vowed to pray until his gods sent him a sign of what
course to take next. And they did. A wondrous, holy, terrible sign.

*****

It was past midnight in Garlund. For hours Hederick had been secreted in the grass on the
prairie west of the village, praying to the New Gods and staring at the red moon until he
could see it with his eyes closed. At first he'd been conscious of every night whisper of
the greenery around him. Prairie spiders, while only the size of his fist, built webs so
strong and sticky that creatures as large as a dwarf had little chance of escape.
Southlund ticks, while only the size of his thumb, could drain the blood from a grown deer
in half a day, and they were fearfully difficult to dislodge. Earth elementals, dis-
guised as hummocks, had been known to burst through the prairie soil and engulf whatever
lay on the surface.

But some time passed, until all but one lamp in Garlund was extinguished. Hederick felt as
though he were alone with the New Gods. The prairie still whispered, but no footfalls
broke the night. Then the last lampthe one in Tarscenian's dwelling went out. A door
creaked, and a tall figure staggered from the prayer house. Tarscenian paused and
carefully surveyed the prairie in the direction of Ancilla's Copse, gazed upward briefly
at the moon Lunitari, then headed north.

The boy watched him go, his heart numb with disillusionment. With the aid of magic, the
witch had destroyed a devout priest in less than a week. Certainly the Seekers could not
rise to any position of power in the world until they eradicated magic. Perhaps
Tarscenian's only purpose in life had been to bring Hederick to Seekerism. Now that
purpose was fulfilled, and the Seeker gods had no more use for the priest. Perhaps he was
like a dumb beast now, conscious only of hunger and thirstand whatever base urge drove him
toward the witch Ancilla in the dead of night.

Hederick marked the priest's passage across the prairie, and a voice withinstraight from
the pantheons, he knewurged, Follow. There was no refusing. At times Hederick drew close
to Tarscenian, but the once-alert swordsman suspected nothing. His hand never went to his
blade. The tall, broad body moved like a dead man brought to life. Tarscenian's gaze had
but one object now: the copse.

While they were still some distance from the trees, the inner voice advised Hederick,
Pause. Keep back from the witch. She has set wards. Pray. Hederick sank to his knees.
Tarscenian went on alone. “Omalthea,” Hederick entreated, “send me a sign to tell me what
you desire. In all of Garlund, I am the only one who is truly devout. Your priest has lost
his faith. I know it is my destiny to continue without him. Please make me worthy, Divine
One. Send me a sign.”

Hederick's body ached down to his soul. He clenched his hands, pressed his teary eyelids
shut, and bowed his head. He begged for Omalthea's grace and wisdom. At that moment, the
boy became aware of light. “By the New Gods!” he whispered. This was more than mere
illumination from Solinari and Lunitari: neither red nor silver-white moon was full enough
to account for this growing brilliance. The luminescence, diffuse at first, soon
concentrated on a rise directly in front of him. The light became a glowing column. Sparks
of seafoam green, blue, and purple danced within. Roaring wind filled his ears. “Omalthea,
be merci- ful!” he shrieked.

Was this a sign from the New Gods? Or had Ancilla detected him and brought down the force
of her magic? The smell of a forge assailed him. It brought more tears to his eyes, and
Hederick fancied he could taste the tang of metal, heated nearly to liquid. His hair
whipped in the gale. He could not see for sobbing. He threw himself facedown on the grass.

The wind changed to keeningbanshees? The light, the sounds, the smell engulfed him, and
Hederick could not stop shaking. “Ferae, daughter of the gods, come to my aid,” Hederick
begged. “Cadithal. Zeshun. Sauvay. Omalthea, please! I desire only to serve you. Don't
slay” Then the roaring, the keening, the cries in the windall stopped. Hederick lay,
muscles jerking, in a circle of brilliance, bathed in heatless fire. His heart quavered in
his chest. All warmth had fled his hands and feet. Heddderrrick. He could not open his
eyes. Heddderrrick. He whimpered, sure he would be struck blind or mad if he lifted his
head. He prayed that this was proof that he'd been ordained to greatness. But fear so
paralyzed him that he could not raise himself from the crushed grassnot even to accept the
mantle of exaltation. Heddderrrick. I orrrder you to rrrise. “I will die,” Hederick
whispered. I hhhave plans for you. Yyyou mmmust be my priessst, Hed-dderrrick. I hhhave
need of you. Rrrise. Hederick inhaled, then let out the breath slowly, trying to expel his
fear. The gods were calling him, or were they? Was this what Venessi had felt when she
experienced visions of Tiolanthe? It could not be the same; his mother was insane, prey to
fertile imaginings. This was certainly real. He drew himself together, then stood in the
circle of brightness. Opennn your eyyyes. Hederick obeyed. At first the boy could make out
only a rough shape before him. Then he saw a muscular torso that appeared to flow right
from the prairie soil. Corded shoulders, draped with a gauze shirt, bore a proud head with
flowing yellow hair. The jaw was broad, the mouth severe. A braided circlet of iridescent
threads banded the god's forehead. Tiny bolts of gold and purple lightning radiated from
the crown. Sparks rained down on Hederick, but still he felt only coldness.

Below the glittering crown, the eyes beamed fire. They looked straight at him.
Heddderrrick. “My lord?” Hederick forced his voice low and steady. This being would not
tolerate weakness; Hederick must not show any. Yyyou knnnow mmme, thennn? That is good.
Sssay mmmy nnname, Heddderrrick ofGarlund. Greet me as I deservwe. Warmth coursed through
the boy. This magnificent being approved of him! “I honor and welcome you. You are Sauvay,
supreme god of power and vengeance and Father-lord of all the Lesser Pantheons.” Annnd...?
“Once consort to Omalthea, Motherlord of the Pantheons. And father of the goddess Ferae.”
Annnd nnnow demmmoted beneath mmmy own daughterrr, Heddderrrick. The fire in the heartless
eyes burned brighter. Hederick measured his words. “That is so.” Yyyou wwwill be my chief
mmminion, Heddderrrick. You will ssserve me. For I ammm Sauvay, God of Vwengeance, and
yyyou have mmmuch to avenge, young Heddderrrick of Gar-lund. “I?” Mmmuch evvvil hhhas been
done here in the nnname of fffalse rrrighteousness, Heddderrrick. Yyyou have begunnn to
might those wrongs. I sssee and approve. You must continue. Escalate this hhholy wwwar.
Dessstroy all sinners, if it takes until yyyour dying day. “I will do as you order.” Yyyou
mmmust destroy the witch in the treesss. Hederick nodded readily. “And Tarscenian?” The
stench of molten metal thickened. Hederick's eyes watered. The wind sighed. Hhhe wwwas a
Seeker priessst, Heddderrrick. He hasss sinned the greatest sin. If Tarscenian were
ssstrong in faith, Heddderrrick, magic wwxvould have no hold on himmm. He hasss made hhhis
choice. Know, Heddderrrick, that if yyyou are faithful, I will be at yyyour side alwaysss.
Hederick bowed. “I will do what you ask, my lord.” The being vanished.

*****

Hederick plunged through the grass like an antelope, and within moments he was crouched by
the copse. Birds chirped sleepily, though sunrise was still hours away. The boy's clothes
grew uncomfortably damp with dew as he waited. Hederick knew Sauvay was watching. He knew
that when the time came to annihilate his sister and her traitorous lover, Sauvay would
show himself in all his brilliance, and for a few moments, Sauvay's power would be
Heder-ick's power.

Ancilla and Tarscenian would die. There was no need for stealth. Hederick had Sauvay's
protection. “Ancilla! Tarscenian!” Hederick shouted into the leafy blackness. Silence
swallowed his words. No magical carnivorous being, no emissary of the undead, reached for
him. Had the witch and the blasphemer sense enough to be frightened? Were they hiding?
Hederick longed to stalk them as the lynx had pursued him months before, when he was only
a boy of twelve. Now he was thirteen, practically a man, and a servant of the Seeker god
of vengeance. Something sparked before his eyes. A globe, scarlet and silver, the size of
a forest puffball, hovered and sputtered, moving away, then back. It repeated the motion,
the message clear: Hederick was to follow. Either Sauvay or Ancilla could have sent the
globe, but to Hederick it didn't matter. One was on his side, the other helpless before
him. Within moments, Hederick stood before a stone cottagemagically created, for there had
been no

building in the copse beforeand the globe disappeared. The door stood open beneath the
thatched roof, and lights gleamed within. “Ancilla!” Hederick shouted. “Tarscenian! Your
wards are powerless before me!” Ancilla's warm voice flowed from the doorway. “Did you
think I would set wards against my little brother? After I worked so long to come back to
free him?” She appeared in the doorway, silhouetted in the orange light from the
fireplace. “The wards were for the people of the village.” “But not Tarscenian?”
Hederick's voice filled with contempt.

“Tarscenian did not come to the copse to do me harm. He came to learn.” She stood aside.
The firelight glinted on the embroidery of her white robe and on her curly cascades of
pale hair. “Come inside, Brother. We have much to discuss, the three of us.” Tarscenian
sat cross-legged on the floor before the fireplace. He didn't look up as Hederick entered.
Instead, the priest's gaze seemed riveted on a tiny, glittering object. Hederick thought
at first that it was a smaller version of the sparkling globe that had led him here, but
as he drew nearer he recognized the steel and diamond dragon that Ancilla had displayed in
her palm in the village. It had appeared to move then; now it was still once again, only a
statue. It was pretty, but Hederick could see no reason for it to fascinate Tarscenian
sonone but witchcraft. That Ancilla had the priest in her power was painfully clear.
Hederick remained standing before the fire, while Ancilla arranged herself in a
comfortable sitting position on the floor. “Hederick is here,” Ancilla said soothingly to
Tarscenian. The priest lifted his head slowly, as if the Diamond Dragon released him from
its spell grudgingly. Recognition dawned in the gray eyes. “You have come at last,” he
said, his voice hoarse. “I have done great wrong, son. I am grateful that you are here. We
must atone, you and I.” Ancilla spoke gently. “I've been instructing Tarscenian in the
ways of the Old Gods.” “The betrayers,” Hederick spat out. Tarscenian quickly shook his
head. “No, Hederick,” he said. “I was wrong. The Seekers are wrong. The Old Gods did not
betray us with the Cataclysm. We humans brought it on ourselves. We sought to become gods,
nearly three centuries ago.” His voice grew more excited, and he reached out to clasp the
boy's small hands in his. “There are no Seeker gods, Hederick,” he said. “Omalthea,
Sauvay, and the restthey are illusions, no more real than Venessi's god, Tiolanthe.
Believe me, lad!” He tugged, and Hederick knelt down next to him. Ancilla wordlessly
watched the two. The fire crackled in the background. “No!” the boy denied vehemently,
pulling back. “The Seeker gods are the true gods. I have proof.” “What kind of proof can
you have that the nonexistent exists?” Tarscenian asked. Triumph rose within Hederick.
“Sauvay showed himself to me tonight,” he declared. Excitement choked his voice. “He spoke
to me, Tarscenian! Sauvay, god of power and vengeance! To me! He has been waiting for me
to follow the Seekers. It is my lot to punish the sinners! I have been especially chosen.”
Tarscenian stared dumbly at Hederick, and the boy redoubled his efforts to convince the
priest. “To bring me to the Seekersthis was your mission in life, Tarscenian. That's why
you were drawn to Garlund. Perhaps Sauvay even sent the giant lynx to bring us together.
You've fulfilled your purpose.” Hederick felt the power of oratory fill him. “Don't
compound your sin by denying your faith and betraying the pantheons. Pray with me! If you
prostrate yourself, you may die forgiven!” Ancilla watched silently, her face devoid of
emotion. Her unblinking gaze flicked between her brother and Tarscenian. The false priest
came to himself with a start. “You . .. saw... Sauvay,” he said, shaking his head in
disbelief. “A god ... showed himself to you?” Hederick clasped Tarscenian's hands tighter.
“Yes,” he replied eagerly. “Outside the copse. I...” “Did his voice rumble? Venessi always
said the voice of her god rumbled like thunder.” “No, it was more like the wind
speakinglike a loud whisper. I...” "Were there explosions? Did he wear a robe? Or did he
come to you like Tiolanthe did to Venessi