One (The Godslayer Cycle Book 1) (14 page)

“
Very well.  Let me ask you then, how much did your mother ever say about your father?”

This caught Nathaniel's attention like a slap in the face.  Lifting his head, he cast accusing eyes upon the Goddess.  “What are you driving at?  Are you going to tell me now that my father was a God now, too?”

“No, no.  He was mortal,” Karmel giggled.  “He needed to be for the magic to work.  A child of a God would still not be fully mortal and thus be unable to perceive the swords.”

“
Then what
are
you saying?”

“
It is not so much what I am saying as what I am asking.  How much do you know about your father?”

Nathaniel thought for a moment.  “Honestly, it was rarely a concern.  My mother said that she and my father had been together only briefly, that he left long before she ever knew she had me in her womb.  And by then, it was impossible to know where he had gone.  And, of course, he never came seeking her, either.”

Karmel nodded knowingly.  “Without meaning to speak ill of your mother, dear Nathan, young Maribel was a free spirit.  It was her way and blessed was she of Lendus for it.  In a time when most cringed at the very name, she embraced her calling and gave of herself freely in her Goddess' calling, for it was Lendus' female form she idolized, for this was the aspect most predominant over fertility.

“
Of course, your mother took measures to avoid an unwanted pregnancy.  She had magics to render her infertile until she felt herself ready for such a challenge as motherhood.  So blessed was her faith though, it came to pass on one evening, under Sarla's full moon, that Lendus, instead of gifting her with infertility for the evening ritual of the moon...  Do you know the ritual of which I speak?” Nathaniel shook his head dumbly, so Karmel continued.

“
The ritual of the moon is a celebration of life.  Once a month, during the first night of the full moon, followers of the Pantheon gather and celebrate life through the joining of their bodies.  Being a druidess of Lendus, young Maribel had attended many such rituals in her younger days.  But this night was different, for it was time to spawn a new Avatar potential in this part of the world.  And this time, Maribel had been chosen as the vassal to carry him.  Not that he would have been any less effective as a female, but this time it was to be a male child.

“
At any rate, this night when Maribel cast her infertility charm Lendus twisted the magic to instead
enhance
her fertility.  In counterpoint, Sarla located a man who met the prerequisites we needed to breed a healthy child and implanted within him the seed of the Avatar, magic that, when joined with Lendus' fertility magic, would guarantee the conception of the child.

“
After this, Naris enchanted them with infatuation only for each other, so that no other could distract the purpose of this night.  The two became enraptured with each other and spent a blissful night together under the stars.  By morning, their passions had fled and they each took leave without regret or remorse, since this was the tradition of the ritual.  It was not meant to create lasting pairings, only to celebrate the joy of life.

“
As she told you, by the time she learned she was expecting, she had no idea where your father was nor had any reasonable expectation of ever seeing him again.  They had not even exchanged names.

“
So Maribel took herself into solitude, which is the way of the druid, where she birthed and raised you in the ways of the Old Gods.  Perhaps if she had not died so cruelly, you might have become a druid yourself.  Instead, Fate chose to distance you from your mother's faith so that now, when you are called upon to act in its service, your own life holds more influence.”

“
That is hardly fair, Karmel!”  Nathan blanched.  “I won't have you using the memory of my mother against me!  By your own words, my mother no more chose to be involved in this affair than I did!”

“
That much is true.  But you cannot deny that she did raise you to one day enter the service, nor that her life was devoted in every possible way to her Goddess.  She could have cursed Lendus for denying her the magic of infertility.  She could have carried bitterness in her heart and resented you for the burden, an unwanted one, for certain, that you had placed upon her.  Yet she never wavered in her devotion and accepted you as the blessing you were intended to be.”

Karmel smiled wistfully.  “Maribel knew her place and knew without a doubt that there was a purpose for your conception, dear Nathan.  And she never resented the burden of motherhood, either.  She accepted that your coming had a reason and never questioned that Lendus had a plan for her, even if she did not know what it was.

“I do not use your mother against you.  I only speak of her to remind you from whence you came.  And remember, you did ask how it was that the Pantheon could claim parentage over you...”

Nathaniel relented.  “Yes, I did.”  He sat thoughtfully for a moment, staring off into the distance.  His eyes settled upon his home, knowing that his wife and son would be within.  Tears came unbidden to his eyes.  “I cannot leave this.  I cannot leave
them
.  They are everything to me...”

“
As you are everything to us, as you were to your mother before.”  Karmel stood, her hair flowing in a sudden breeze.  “I came to teach you the way of the Gods, dear Nathan.  To teach you the laws that bind us, not just those of the Pantheon but those of the New Order, as well.  You
will
need these in the days ahead.  For sooner or later, the godlings will learn of what we do and you will not be safe.  Nor then shall your wife and child.

“
Nathan, you hold the potential to find and wield instruments capable of slaying any God of the New Order.  Do you not think they will see you and yours as a threat thereafter?  I told you true that Fate would compel you and likely not in a positive way.  You stand a great deal to lose for declining to act...”

“
I stand an even greater risk if I do as you say,” interrupted Nathaniel.  “Who would protect them if I went away?  Would your Pantheon stand vigil over them and assure their safety?”

Karmel nodded.  “That could easily be arranged.”

“Not so easily.  I remember enough of my mother's teachings to know that a God's protection stems from belief.  Mari and Geoffrey do not hold to the old ways.  Neither do they greatly adhere to the new ways, either, but they would need to invoke you by name to receive your protection.  Is that not so?”  Nathaniel turned to look up at the Goddess, who silently nodded her ascent.

“
Then how would you or any of your Gods protect her if I went on your fool quest?”

“
You have it aright.  At least Mari would need to be convinced to invoke the Pantheon and be faithful to us during the duration of our guardianship.  Geoffrey is as yet an innocent and would be sheltered by his mother's rite.  However, she must do this.”

“
I can tell you now that she will not,” Nathaniel sighed.  “She knows well my history, and that of my mother.  She refuses to permit Geoffrey to be raised under my mother's faith as much as I refuse her father's.”

“
He was a convert of Zantel's from that fateful day,” Karmel said with notable bitterness.

Nathaniel nodded.  “There was great concern, I recall, that her father would forbid our marriage.  He never did, though he keeps his distance, even with the birth of his grandson.”

Karmel paused meaningfully.  “Nathan, have you ever asked the why of this?”

“
Why of what?”  Nathaniel's face reflected his perplexity.

“
Please understand that I question not your love for your wife, nor the love she has come to feel for you.  But is it not a curious thing to you that a man who took part in your mother's death would permit you, of all people, to marry his daughter?”

Nathaniel paled, a sinking feeling in his stomach.  “Aliban took part in the stoning?”

Karmel nodded sadly.  “You had only to look upon those that took up Zantel's faith after that horrific display to know who took a hand, dearest Nathan.  Could any man or woman see such barbarism and swear fealty and devotion to a cause that had elicited it if they did not have a vested interest in doing so?  Only a mortal needing absolution or protection would turn to the proprietor of such evil.

“
Your father-in-law, Aliban, was one of those who needed the protection of that God.  For he had committed murder under Zentel's blessing and no other God nor mortal would absolve him of the deed.”  Karmel bowed her head.

“
Then... then why would he let Mari and I wed?  Was this some kind of penance, a pity to be paid toward the child he had orphaned?”

“
Perhaps.  As a very small consideration.”  Karmel looked directly into Nathaniel's eyes.  “There are many ways to suppress a religion, Nathan.  All require the elimination of the faith's followers.  One can kill them outright, persecute them, oppress them, even outlaw what they believe.  But there is one more insidious way, as well.

“
One can breed them out of existence.”

“
Breed?”  Nathaniel screwed himself up for the answer.  “Speak plainly.  What do you mean to say?”

“
Only,” answered the Goddess, “that by permitting a union between you and she, he could assure that your children would not carry on your mother's legacy.”

“
No...” protested Nathaniel.

“
You said it yourself, dear Nathan.  She has forbidden knowledge of the old ways to be passed on to Geoffrey.”

Nathaniel shook his head, not wanting to hear what came next.

“It saddens me, Nathan.  It truly does.  But Aliban was not the only one who was converted to Zentel's faith that day ten years past.  Mari cannot be wholely blamed.  She was barely ten years of age herself at the time, and only followed the example her father set.  It was he that placed the rock in his child's hand and helped her to aim her first throw.  After that, young Mari did not know that what she did was wrong.  It pleased her father that she shared in throwing stones, and she so craved her father's love.  She was too young to understand what she did or that the stones would slay the woman.  Her only thought was to share in something so seemingly important to her father.”

Nathaniel had buried his face in his hands to hide the new tears.  When the Goddess finished, Nathaniel heaved a great sigh before looking up again at the cabin, now only dimly visible in the twilight.  “You are telling me that my own wife had a hand in my mother's death.”  Karmel nodded.  “And that she only married me at her father's bequest to 'breed' out my family's faith in you.”

“Perhaps not the
only
reason,” answered Karmel.  “She did have affection for you, and she clearly carried more guilt than her father.  But yes, her father only allowed the marriage because she swore she would forbid you to propagate your beliefs in your offspring.”

“
And how do I know that what you say is true?  That you are not trying to manipulate me with deceptive stories and half-truths?”

“
I swear to you, Nathan, that I would never deceive you.”

“
And how am I supposed to believe
that
?”

“
The third law of divinity that I will share with you today, Nathan: A God is always bound by his or her word.  It is what gives meaning to the covenants between mortals and Gods.  If we could falsely take oath, we would not be bound even now by the very laws that forbid the Pantheon from taking more direct measures to preserve our faith in the mortal realm.  We could compel devotion as the New Order does and this elaborate measure of swords and Avatars would never have been necessary, at all.”

Nathan had to accept that.  The Old Gods could have utilized the same depraved methods as the clergy of the New Order, but they never had.  And their very existence rested upon that delicate fact.  So if that were true, then the rest...

Without a backward glance, Nathaniel rose to his feet.  With a heavy heart, he put his first foot forward on the remaining distance to his home.

A little girl sat in front of the fireplace, busily working at something that looked like needlepoint.  A woman, who could either have been her mother or governess, sat in a plush chair to the side, herself working at darning a sock.  No one else was immediately visible in the room, yet it radiated with feelings of security and contentment.

Trappings around the room suggested a well-to-do status of the family.  A few pictures hung from the walls, one directly over the mantle, their framework elegantly carved with different designs.  The wood that was visible on the padded chairs appeared to be deeply varnished oak of fine craftsmanship.  Even the lady's outfit looked to be of fine material and fashion, though the girl's was of a rougher fabric, likely just an outfit for play though, since it did not have a threadbare appearance.  The clothing alone spoke of luxury, without any of the other trappings, since this town was out here on the fringes of the Wildelands.

As Avery looked upon the angelic scene through the drawn curtains, a sliver of a vantage available to his eyes, he sighed.  This could have been
his
family.  Left alone, he would have completed his apprenticeship by now and would have either inherited his master's business (unlikely since Master Farun was many years from retirement) or he would have struck off on his own (to a new village like this one perhaps), married, started a family.  Yes, this could well have been his wife and daughter.  If only Anlar's priest had not come to Kellenburg.  For the first time in many years, he actually wondered what the name of this town was.

It does not matter, I suppose
, he thought.  After tonight, he could rename it whatever he liked.  With the power of
One
at his back, he would own this town and all its people by dawn, he imagined!

The power of the sword was working just as he had expected it to, as well.  No one inside knew he stood at their window and no one passing by noticed him, either.  He was invisible to every sense they had.  Not a one knew he was about, though that would soon change.

With a feeling of longing regret, he left the window and moved out into the street, resuming his journey into the heart of town.  The few people remaining after dark seemed mostly to be traveling in the same direction.  Obviously, whatever passed for a nightlife in this small burg lay in this direction.

Earlier, he had taken liberties to secure a better outfit and a proper leather belt for his scabbard.  He had also washed himself as best he could at a well behind someone's home.  Perhaps he did not look Godly, but at least he felt like it!

Avery felt powerful.  More, he felt invincible.  He was now a greater man than anyone in this town, surely greater than any man in all the world.  Only the Gods themselves surely possessed more power.  Or, perhaps with
One
, he
was
a God now himself!  There must be other abilities of the blade he had not yet discovered.  In time, he could well take his place as the newest God, demanding worship from the mortals beneath him.

And yet, he did lack one divine trait, at least.  Or perhaps, he simply had not learned how to use that aspect yet.  But the bite on his finger was a sharp reminder that he could still be hurt.  So he
was
still vulnerable.  To a point.  He realized that he needed to spend some time exploring how to activate the powers of immortality within this sword before too much more time passed.  For now, he could rely upon the perception of it.  If these people believed he was all-powerful, perhaps that alone would be enough to activate that power.  Had he not heard somewhere that a God's powers derived from the belief mortals held in them, after all?

As he walked, Avery reflected on what he might actually prove vulnerable to.  Clearly, the squirrel proved he could be hurt physically, so he needed to avoid direct confrontations.  Easy enough, he believed.  He could instill sufficient fear at a distance and vanish if a threat came too near.

What about magic?  True,
One
was a source of powerful magic, but he had to admit that he had absolutely no understanding of how its magic worked – or how
any
magic worked, actually.  And that could make him vulnerable to anyone who did.  That would mean he should probably avoid any sorcerers or magicians or any of the races that used magic, like the elves.  And there was no telling how he would fair against a magical creature like a dragon!

Then, of course, there were the Gods themselves.  And their priests could use magic, as well.  So he would have to be exceptionally cautious of them.  Not that he felt as insecure with this group as some others.  The priests were empowered with the same kind of magic as the sword used, but of a lesser sort, he was sure.  He had never seen a priest vanish, though he had heard many tales of wizards doing so.  Therefore, he did not believe the servants of the Gods would pose a great threat.  He just needed to be cautious when dealing with them, was all.

Up ahead, Avery caught sight of a lighted entryway open to the street.  Sounds of mingled voices of various pitches reached his ears.  As he watched, two of the men that had been walking beside him turned and entered the doorway.  It seemed he had found the local tavern.

The worn wooden sign swinging above the door confirmed it:
The Leaping Lizard
, the place was named.  A caricature of a leaping dragon was painted below the words for those who could not read.  Avery could, of course, as he had been a learned man before he had been branded.  Yet there were many, especially in outlying burrows such as this one, who were illiterate.  This concerned Avery not at all.  Illiterate people were usually more superstitious and would prove easier to manipulate through fear.

Crossing the threshold, Avery was inundated with the sense of the place.  The room was brightly lit, a stark contrast to the darkness he had just left behind.  The smell of alcohol mingled with sweet smoke assaulted his nose, while loud, raucous laughter peeled out from across the room, outdoing all other noises in the room.  The source of the barking sound became immediately apparent:  some well-to-do fellow in finer than normal clothes had just had his hand swatted away from the barmaid's posterior.  He, at least, had thought it great sport.  The barmaid, on the other hand, turned away in disgust to resume her duties with other patrons.

Avery idled casually across the room, cautiously avoiding coming into contact with any of the crowd.  Thankfully, it was still early enough that no one seemed overly inebriated yet, so he did not have  to dodge any clumsy drunkards.  As the night progressed and the size of the crowd increased, that would likely change.  Avery wanted a large crowd to witness his first demonstration of power, but he did not wish to find himself trapped behind a mass of bodies if he needed to make a hasty retreat.

First though, Avery wanted to eat.  His mouth watered at the smells of roasting meat drifting across the room.  Apparently, the establishment had a kitchen attached.  He could see several plates amongst the half-filled tables, with scraps of brown meat and vegetables mixed in gravy thereon.  A large block of cheese lay prominently beside a partially sliced loaf of bread on the wealthy man's table, in fact.  And nearly every hand held a chalice or mug filled with what were surely various flavors of ale, wine and spirits.  His stomach knotted at sight and smell of the feast.

Hesitantly, Avery moved across the room to the block of cheese.  Taking up the knife that lay beside it, he made a quick cut into the block, all the while watching the man and his companions for signs that they noticed what he was doing.  Yet they gave no sign, continuing to banter meaninglessly amongst themselves.

“
You watch,” sad the wealthy man who had grabbed at the barmaid, “I'll have her bedded afore the hour is up!  She will not have a choice, so she'll either like it or won't!  And I'll be finished in time enough to come back to take down another!”  At this, he laughed heartily and took a deep swig of his mug.

“
Just leave her enough breath afterward to service us, as well, Quinn!” laughed one of his two companions.  “Last time, there was no sport for us afterward!”

Avery felt bile rise in his throat as he lifted the uncut loaf of bread from the tray to join his pilfered cheese.  These men were sadistic!  With an ill thought swipe, Avery pushed against the bottom of Quin's mug with enough force to tip the large man over backwards, crashing him to the floor behind.

The big man rose, fury rushing off him in waves as the mead spilled down his fine clothing.  “What's the idea?” he bellowed, trying to forcefully brush the liquor from his clothes before they stained, an obviously fruitless effort.  His hands only spread the stain more.

The nearest of his companions held up his hands in defense.  “Not me, Quinn!  Nor Able here, neither!”  The other man nodded wordlessly.

Quinn glanced around, looking for another culprit.  He never saw Avery, who had cautiously slipped back from the outraged man, snaking his hand out to grab the rest of the cheese as he did so.  Avery covered his mouth to hide his own snickering, a difficult task with the loaf of bread in it.  He was not sure yet if his own voice could be heard, but he was too close to danger to risk it.

Another man a short distance from Quinn's side was not so lucky.  He had started laughing himself, and now had gotten punched by the enraged Quinn for his trouble.  The other man toppled back into one of his fellows, where he became momentarily entangled.  “Now there's something to laugh at!” bellowed Quinn.

Avery quickly withdrew to the back of the room as the fight escalated, picking up an unwatched mug of ale along the way.  He located a vacant table and leaned back in the chair there to enjoy the scene of mayhem he had caused, eating heartily of his pilfered fair.

As he sat at the table, he noticed a card lying on the floor beneath, and bent to pick it up.  It was from the Game, the one that had been so popular in his old village.  It had been a pit of excitement for the community whenever someone new came through town with cards to trade.  And here Avery had found one, at least, just lying on the floor of this tavern.

The bewitched heretic turned the card over to see what the other side illustrated.  “A Quiet Repast,” he read from the title.  The card pictured an open-aired fire, with a small group of men surrounding the firepit itself.  Apparently, according to the game text, the card offered a pause in fighting.  Not a particularly powerful card, as Avery understood the Game, but he could see it's usefulness.  With a shrug, he put the card into the front pocket of the shirt he now wore.  Perhaps it could come in handy should he ever start to play again, he thought.

The altercation, as it turned out, did not last long.  The man behind the bar quickly crossed the room with a large stick and slammed it hard against Quinn's table.  “Now what's this?” he shouted.  “You'll behave or take it outside, but either way, further fightin' will see you out for the night!  Clear?”

The melee quickly dispersed after that.  Apparently, the barkeep held considerable clout over his clientele.  Avery considered targeting him next, but discarded the notion.  He actually respected the man as only a fellow merchant could.  It was bad enough that his business would likely suffer tonight as it was.  There was no need to address grievances against the man directly.

After the first ravenous bites, Avery took his time eating his meal.  He thought about going after a helping of the meaty dish, but he found himself content with his bread and cheese.  Besides, he could always pick some up later.

It took a few more minutes for Quinn to notice that his bread and cheese were missing, which sent him off into a new tirade until fresh helpings were brought.  He also neglected the barmaid this time, his lustful mood forgotten for a time.  That, at least, had proven to be a positive note on the encounter.

Avery took a moment to appraise the young lady himself.  She was quite pretty, he admitted, buxom and solid.  Her red hair was cut shorter than he would have considered normal, but perhaps it was necessary for scullery work she did around the place.  Also, her hair closely resembled the coloring of the tavern's proprietor, so she could well have been his daughter.  He had to admit he would not mind a roll in bed with her, either.  He had no intention of allowing that loud-mouthed braggart to have
his
way with her though.

Besides, maybe after tonight, she would be the one pursuing him...

Avery's imaginings were interrupted as he overheard a bit of conversation.  Someone had said something about the woods last night, he was sure of it.  He searched in the direction he thought he had heard the voice and suddenly he saw the speaker.  It was the man who had stood over him last night, right after he had pulled
One
from the ground.  He was seated in a cluster of men some eight strong, two of the others being his companions of the night before.  Avery stood up and made his way toward the group of men seated at a pair of tables pulled together to accommodate their larger number.

“
No, tonight,” said the man his friend last night had called Strom.  “If the miscreant is still around, he'll sneak back into town tonight, I'm sure of it.  We can head him off and stop his mischief before he's begun if we watch the woods to east of town.”

“
But you've had us watching the streets all day, Strom,” said one of the other men Avery did not know.  “You can't expect us to all do night patrol, as well!”