Hero's Curse (14 page)

Tim wasn’t much of a give-and-take conversationalist. He was okay with being the only one talking. As long as I nodded my head every once in awhile, he was good. I was on my third sandwich and happy to keep on eating while he talked.

“Mr. Paladin, you’re extremely unusual. Most paladins start training with a sword and shield very young, almost as soon as they can walk. Two hundred years ago a paladin named Roland Fare armed himself with a spear and a back-and-breastplate rather than the usual sword and shield. He was killed within hours of becoming a paladin. This isn’t unusual. Paladins are rare. When one dies, it takes months, if not years to find a replacement. When a new paladin is found, there are almost always a lot of minions that have to be dealt with immediately. Thirty percent of paladins die within days of taking their positions. However, most of those who are killed are able to send their gifts back to safety. After David killed Goliath, there’s no mention of him coming back with treasure. When Paladin Fare lost his gifts, his weapon choice was blamed. No one has asked for a spear and breastplate since.”

I was biting down on my sandwich when I thought of a question. I put my hand up to grab Tim’s attention. He watched attentively while I took a second to swallow and take a swig of soda. “What don’t the other paladins like about Roland’s combo?”

Tim stood up and pretended he was wearing armor. He pointed to his chest. “When Jehovah’s will is made manifest as a back-and-breastplate, it is impenetrable and impervious to anything, but it has limits. The advantage of a back-and-breastplate is that it provides constant protection to your vital organs. The disadvantage is that you can’t move it to protect your limbs or your head.” He now pretended to be holding a shield. “A shield at any one time provides less protection than a back-and-breastplate; it can only protect what’s behind it, but it can be moved to protect any part of your body, and it can also be used as a weapon. You can strike your enemy with the face or edge of the shield. The sight of potbellied, twiggy-limbed Tim pretending to be a knight raising a shield brought a smile on my face.

“To claim a god’s gifts by right of conquest, the previous holder must surrender the gifts or be killed so suddenly that he doesn’t have a chance to send the gifts away. You’re the first paladin in at least five hundred years to reclaim lost gifts. It was very fortunate Paladin Fare had the healing spell on his breastplate and the Redcap you killed hadn’t used the spell recently. The healing spell needs a week to recharge.”

It dawned on me I had done something impressive. I now had four of Jehovah’s gifts. Aidan had already modified the breastplate to integrate with the rest of my armor. It was interesting how weapons were named but armor wasn’t. I still preferred Sanguinis, but I could see the advantage of being able to call Obex if I ever ran out of ammo. “Tim, when I call my gear now, will my same phrase work? Oh, how do I choose between Sanguinis and Obex?”

Tim scratched his head, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I think that’s what Master Cahill is working on now. Normally, as his apprentice, I’d be helping him but he knew you’d have questions.” He broke out in a huge grin. “If anyone had ever told me I’d give up a chance to work on reclaimed gifts to answer basic Magic-101 questions, well, I’d have said it was crazy talk. But I have to tell you, it’s a pleasure helping you.”

I carefully studied his earnest face. The guy had a serious case of hero worship. I wasn’t sure if it made him more or less annoying. I reached for a sandwich that wasn’t there. I had eaten them all and actually felt full. I was also really tired. Involuntarily, I let loose a huge yawn.

Tim fretfully said, “Oh you must be exhausted. Look at the time; it’s close to 10 PM You should go home to your true love.”

In my calorie induced stupor it took a second for his words to penetrate. When I lose my temper, I don’t get hot. I get cold. “Tim, you just said ‘true love.’ Why would you say that?”

Even clueless Tim heard the ice in my voice. “Uh, well, you’re staying at the old paladin’s home, and he has two beautiful daughters. Most paladins marry amongst themselves—a relative of another paladin. All Jehovah’s Heroes have one true love.” He gave a sheepish grin. “It’s one of the perks of being a mythic hero. I just figured…”

I can handle prison. I’ve been there before. I will take being a slave until I have a chance to rebel. I WILL NOT TOLERATE someone fucking with my mind or emotions. The shit that was going on with Mina now made sense. It wasn’t real attraction; it was a spell. I glared at Tim until he started to cringe. He didn’t know enough. I needed Aidan. “Where’s Aidan?”

Tim stuttered, “In-in-in his work room, next to his office.”

When I left the kitchen, Tim wisely didn’t follow me. I checked the door to work room. It was locked. When I banged on it, the door felt and sounded like I was striking a solid block of granite. “AIDAN, Open up! I need to talk to you!” There was no response. I considered a spell, and then reconsidered. Sister Irritable had said that if I cast another spell, it would kill me. I wondered if being healed changed those odds. There was another way, “Obex.” The spear appeared in my right hand. It had the spell of permanent sharpness, and it had sliced through my armor like it was butter. It should do the same to this door. I pulled back, aiming the spear at the lock.

Someone grabbed Obex’s shaft from behind. I turned and saw it was B. I was moving to wrench my spear from his grasp when he caught my gaze. For the first time since I’d met him, he wasn’t laughing at a secret joke. Through senses I didn’t know I had, I could feel immense power emanating from him. The armor of my anger was no defense; I felt like I was staring into the fires of Hell. There was deadly intent in his eyes; if I didn’t back down, I would pay. I admitted to myself I was intimidated.

“Victor,” his voice was cold, “any insult you may feel was unintentional. Before you do something you can’t take back, learn the facts.” Making the wise choice—retreating when I’m not in a position of strength—doesn’t come easily to me. I stared back. If there had been any amusement, any hint he was laughing at me, I would have tried to take him. They say eyes are the windows of the soul. His windows revealed nothing but an endless, empty abyss.

I took a deep breath. I know I make errors when I’m angry. I decided I’d make the wise choice today. “Obex.” With my spear gone, we were standing too close for comfort.

B cocked his head to the stairs leading up to the street, “There’s a good microbrewery a couple minutes drive from here. Let’s take your truck. It looks like you could use a good drink.”

Neither one of us said a word until we were in my truck and I was headed west. B spoke first, “Victor, the Earth is only six thousand years old. Evolution is a hoax.” I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture so I didn’t respond. The silence that followed had a physical weight. The brew pub was just four blocks west on Broadway. The couple minutes I spent driving there seemed endless, but it gave me a chance to get my temper under control.

There was parking in a lot nearby. We walked into the busy bar/restaurant. The hostess that greeted us was young and attractive. At another time, I would have been amused by how she kept sneaking stunned glances at B and me. I still wasn’t used to being gorgeous. It wasn’t until we were sitting down and I had a Nitro Cream Ale in my hand that I spoke to B, “You want to explain the hoax?”

B took a slow lingering draft of his beer, and set it down firmly on the table. As he leaned toward me, his eyes were like flint, his mouth turned up into the open mouthed snarl of a predator. “Since charm clearly doesn’t work on you, I’ll try the truth. It burns my ass I’m forced to watch over some pissant paladin prima donna. I can’t believe I had to stop you from throwing a temper tantrum! You need to pull up your panties, put on your big girl skirt, and GROW UP, princess! You have a problem; bring it up with the guy in charge. Take the time to learn how the system works before you beat down a Brotherhood apprentice and a Brotherhood armorer.”

I watched him as he spoke; somehow I knew he was really disgusted and that this wasn’t an act. He had a point. I nodded my head. If that wasn’t enough—fuck him.

B stared back. I tensed, ready to call my gear when he relaxed and sat back, laughing. “Victor, you’ve found my weakness. I can’t resist dumb insolence. I can squish you like a bug, and there you sit, all mean and feisty. You’re so adorable; I can’t stay mad at you.” He grabbed his glass and emptied it with one long swallow. When he set it down, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like a shark. This was the B I knew and desperately wanted to kill. “You ready to learn how the system works?”

I just nodded again.

He waved a waitress over and ordered another beer. He watched her ass as she walked away and then turned his attention back to me. “History is boring but you need the background.” He settled back in his chair. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth”
^[6]
and for a time, He was just another god in the Multiverse. In fact, He was weaker than most—too weak to prevent refugee pantheons from invading our Universe. It’s a god-eat-god Multiverse. No shit, defeated deities are constantly fleeing from one dimension to another. If you’re going to flee, you might as well head for a dimension where the local god is weak. Earth was covered with pantheons that didn’t have the mojo to make it anywhere else. Two thousand and twenty-three years after the creation, Yahweh was making His last stand in the Middle East. The angelic hosts were so depleted He had to roam His own territory to find enough souls to live. Remember what I said about Abraham over our first dinner? Yahweh, back in the day, used to take blood sacrifices like all the other gods. Gods get their sustenance from the life energy from the souls of human or human-like beings.

“Vic, things weren’t looking good for Our Holy Dude.” B paused for dramatic effect. “Then He found a seventy-five year old guy named Abram who had just been exiled from his tribe. He was about to feed on the guy, and his small immediate family, when He had a brilliant idea. Before then, Yahweh had been a hunter-gatherer kind of god feeding off wild, free range souls. He decided instead to cultivate Abram and his family like a shepherd does sheep. Yahweh entered a symbiotic relationship with Abram and his descendants. Abram became THE Abraham, the father of the Jews and eventually, the Christians and Muslims. Yahweh got a new name: Jehovah, although he still answers to both.

B was a natural story teller. Even though I wanted to put a bullet between his eyes, I was intrigued by his history lesson. He continued, “Most gods are spoiled brats without a hint of impulse control. Jehovah had to be calm and methodical; He didn’t have enough souls to waste. He fed sparingly—taking only what he needed to survive, way less than other gods. He hid and protected Abraham’s descendants from the whims and hunger of all other gods. In return, they worshiped Him and gave Him willing tribute. All blood or death sacrifices have power; willing death sacrifices have ten times the power of unwilling. The relationship between Jehovah and the Jews became a self-reinforcing loop. The more He protected His people, the larger their numbers became and the more likely they were to give willing sacrifices.”

We were interrupted when the waitress came back with B’s drink. He took it and leered at her so openly she fled. “I don’t have it, but I can fake it.” He took the time to chuckle, savoring his own joke along with his beer while I waited impatiently.

He took a small sip of his brew. “Things were stable until the descendants of Abraham grew numerous enough to attract the notice of the strongest pantheon of the time, the Egyptian Gods. The Egyptians pulled the usual crap and tried religious conversion by conquest. Yahweh at this time was one moderately strong god trying to fend off an entire pantheon of very strong gods.” B gave a mocking laugh. “He hid like a scared little girl.

“There’s no need for faith when a god is right in your face. Yahweh hid for so long an entire generation of Jews grew up never seeing him personally. It helped enormously that the Egyptian Gods were the usual spoiled pricks. Yahweh looked great in comparison, and in His case, absence made Him look even better. He discovered unforced faith produced almost as much power as unwilling sacrifice. By pure happenstance, He got a continuous stream of power from his worshipers without killing any of them.

“He eventually amassed enough power to free His people from Egypt. Other pantheons saw what He had done and tried to copy Him. They couldn’t; none of them had His discipline.” B chuckled, “Also, He didn’t have to worry about stupid relatives. Pantheons only had to have one idiot who couldn’t control himself to ruin it for everyone.

“For the most part since then, Jehovah has been staying undercover. The less He does, the easier it gets.” He smirked, “Being a scared little girl works for Him. Who knew if you left humans alone, they’d develop technology and multiply like bunnies? The average world controlled by a pantheon has a population between fifty to one hundred million. Currently on Earth, there are seven billion people and a good percentage of them are Jews, Christians, and Muslims. Jehovah’s kicking ass. He doesn’t have to invade other dimensions for more souls. He has the equivalent of seventy decent sized Universes just on Earth.

“Makes you want to just bow down and worship, huh?” B burst into giggles; he was killing himself with his own comedic genius. When I’d talked to B yesterday, I thought he was funny. After today, a little bit of him went a long way. If I had been the kind to roll my eyes, I would have.

“The downside of all this is He needs to have a huge bureaucracy to maintain the illusion He might not exist, while also protecting humans from everything that wants to munch on them. To other deities, this world is El Dorado, the City of Gold. The most competent angels are assigned to defense. The incompetent ones get assigned to illusions, and like idiots anywhere, they’re constantly screwing up.