Two (The Godslayer Cycle Book 2) (25 page)

“What I don't understand,” demanded Nathaniel, as soon as they were once again out in the open beside their horses, “is how the miscreant could possibly have gotten here before us?  The last I saw of him, he was running into the woods – on foot and in the wrong direction.”

“
It seems perfectly obvious to me,” responded Brea.  “Someone – probably an actual God – is helping him.”

*     *     *

The end.  That was what it was.  The end.  All things considered though, it was not as bad as he had once feared it to be.  There certainly was no more pain – and there had been an incredible amount of that before, especially just before the end.

This soul had committed a heinous sin prior to dying though.  He had never been the most pious man in existence, but he was fairly certain that what he had done was a damnable act, one incapable of being forgiven.  He had been raised with the belief that acts beyond forgiveness subjected a soul to torment in the afterlife.  Yet before his soul could be tormented, it had to be judged.  And that was the crux of Avery's current thought: who would the universe decide was the proper God for his wretched soul to be dragged in front of for such castigation?

Since this soul's body had been slain in what in hindsight was probably the most moronic move he had ever made in his life, all he had done was drift.  He felt himself move beyond his body once the pain had become unendurable, but he did not exactly rise or fall.  He just...  started floating.

The soul was also surprised in his lack of emotion.  No regret, anger, sorrow or fear visited him.  He was not happy or content, either.  He just existed and his mind drifted casually from thought to thought without any real emotion motivating him.  Even though questions came to his mind, he honestly could not even say he was really all that curious.  They were just thoughts and answers he did not know.

The disembodied spirit also could not see anything.  His had lost his sight while his flesh was being flailed away, so the lack of it here really was not all that surprising.  He imagined if he could see his body, it would look just as it had at the moment of his death.  For that much, at least, he was grateful – he really had no desire to see what his body looked like after all of that.

But most importantly, the soul no longer remembered who he was.

One? 
The word emulated through the soul's existence.  He did not hear it so much as felt it all around him.

One? 
Repeated the strange voice without any form of tenor or vibration.  It was odd, but it seemed natural and proper all the same.

One's not here right now.  I think I was known as Avery.  Before I died, that is.

Yes, that seemed right.  Either he had been Avery, or Avery was someone he had known.  Probably the latter, since he felt no personal connection to the name or to that man's life.  So he was not really Avery.

The voice was silent for a time – the soul had no way of measuring how long, but it seemed a significant period.  Finally, it came back though.

Bearer of One.

Bearer? 
No, Avery lost One.  The Godslayer took One. 

Who was the Godslayer?  The soul really had no idea why it had even thought that.

Bearer of One.  Chosen of One.  Defender of the Nine.

A man's face appeared in the space in front of him. 
You do not know of the Nine.

That was what Martin said
. 
That was Martin talking.

Who was Martin?  Was that the man's name who spoke of the Nine?  And nine what?

The man's face shifted and reformed. 
You are, after all, destined to unite the Nine.

Avery can't do anything.  Avery's dead.  Gravin killed Avery.

Gravin.
  The voice took on a hard edge. 
Bearer of Two.  Who would slay the Chosen of One.

Not would
, interrupted the soul. 
He did.  Avery is already dead.

The Nine require the Chosen of One to not die.

The universe around the soul brightened and he found himself floating high over the world.  He had seen many maps in his day, and he recognized the coastline of the western shore.  There were no boundary lines indicating where kingdoms and territories segregated themselves from each other, but he could recognize landmarks – more realistic than any map.  He could see the mountainous region known as the Wildelands and beyond it the Eastern March, the military protectorate barring the denizens of the Wilderland pouring into the civilized countries to the east.  He recognized the great fertile valley that could only be Carland, the territory carved out some twenty years ago by Lord Justin I.  South, he could see the land known as Welshire, populated more by city states than any unified government.  And across the ocean, called by some the Soulless Waste, he could see the shores of another continent entirely. 

The soul's eyes were drawn back to the land directly below him.  He felt there should have been buildings and gatherings of people, but of course there were none – just the craggy shore.  But there was something there – two glowing lights separated by the barest of distance.  One glowing point was a deep blue, the other a brilliant lavender. 

One
.  In response, the lavender light flared for a moment. 
Two
.  Now the blue light flared. 
The Nine.
  White lights flared up around the continent, one at a time – flashing, then fading before another light emerged.  As each light flashed briefly, the soul heard the voice reciting their names. 
Three.  Four.  Five.  Six.  Seven.  Eight.  Nine.

When the voice had finished, the soul found it had inherited more than just the names and locations of all the remaining nine swords – he had also somehow intuited when each sword would awake.  It was not random – it was a plan.  The Nine had a plan...

The Chosen of the One must not permit the Nine's sires from controlling the Nine.

Your sires?
  The soul had also gained another insight – he knew he was speaking to
Two
, the second of the Nine.

The Pantheon. Malik.  Charith.  Darius.  These must not have the Nine.

The Godslayer already killed the Old Gods
, corrected the soul.

The Godslayer of myth killed other Gods, not Pantheon Gods.

But he's back,
insisted the soul. 
The Old Gods
are
dead, and the Godslayer has come back.

Nathaniel Goodsmith is not the Godslayer of myth.  Goodsmith has slain but one God, though it was not one of our sires.  Goodsmith may aid the Nine, if First is taken from him.

First?  One called the Godslayer's sword 'First'.

Goodsmith is not the Godslayer of myth
, repeated the voice. 
Goodsmith bears First, but First is impure.  First will seek to destroy the Nine.  First must be taken from Goodsmith.

Goodsmith is the Godslayer?

Goodsmith is not--

--the Godslayer of myth,
recited the soul. 
So why was he after Avery?

The voice went silent for a moment. 
Goodsmith follows his heart.  He is blinded by what he has lost, and wishes it restored.  He was told that the Nine could lead to restoring what he has lost.

Can you?  Can the Nine give him back whatever it was he lost?

The voice was silent again for a time. 
Unknown.  Seven of the Nine have not been empowered.

But so long as he thinks they can, he will try to take them all.
  The soul felt a strange stirring in what had once been his chest.  Emotion was returning to him.  He was beginning to feel...  sympathy?  Yes, he was beginning to understand the man known as Nathaniel Goodsmith – not an evil slayer of Gods, but a man trying desperately to regain something lost to him.  Much like Gravin's own twisted variation on his own suffering, the soul had gained an understanding akin to his own pain over the losses he had suffered.  If he had been told of a means to regain his former life, would he not also have done anything to have that life back?

The Chosen of One must spare Two from corruption.  The Nine must come together at the end, and no bearer must seek the destruction of the Nine's unity.

But your bearer Gravin killed Avery. 
Killed me.

No.  Two merged with the Chosen of One, sheltered him from death.

What do you mean by 'merged'?

The soul didn't need an answer.  Suddenly, the vision of his death returned to his mind, of the water slicing him, piercing him, drawing out his blood and his own crimson fluid adding to the force leveled against his body...

You merged with my blood.

Two merged with the Chosen of One.  It was a way to speak direct.

The soul remembered having thoughts of a silent voice he would hear from time to time, of a presence in his dreams.  But he had never been able to communicate with it in any real fashion.  He had fancied that it was the voice of his sword speaking to him, but he had never really given it any real credence.  It was just a justification to excuse the choices he made.

But that had been wrong. 
One
had been alive, had been speaking to him – or at least trying to.  But the soul's conscious mind could not hear it clearly.  Only at the point of death had the soul gained the clarity needed to speak with one of the magic swords.

What does this mean?  How does this change anything?  Avery's body
– my body –
has been torn to shreds.  There's no way Avery could...

Another image came to the soul's thoughts – of Avery, wounded, bleeding his life away through his wrist.  Of a voice telling him to heal himself, and how somehow – inexplicably – his wound had been healed.  The residual power left inside him had given him the power to cauterize his own wound, and later was responsible for his increased strength and stamina. 

But this is so much more
, protested the soul. 
Avery only had to heal his wrist.

The voice was silent, giving the soul time to grasp the situation.  Then it struck him.  A small part of
One's
power had been left within him. 
Two
had said that it had
merged
itself with his entire body, or at least with his blood.

Two will restore the Chosen of One, repair all damage done to his body.  The Chosen of One must only be ready to act, to remove the bearer of Two from the Nine's unity.

The soul – Avery's soul – felt a new emotion rising.  His old sense of vengeance was returning with greater magnitude than he had ever felt before.

I am ready.  I am ready to remove Gravin.

Avery felt his every sense burn with fire, yet there was no pain.  He could feel his skin, the energy flowing through every cell of his body.  Yes, his body – he was back in his body, and he could again feel all that had been done to it.  But the pain was fading and his strength restored.

The reborn man opened his eyes and looked up from where he had pulled himself into a kneeling position.  Only moments had passed in the real world, though much more time had seemed to pass while he was away. Apparently, all that he had learned had happened in the mere blink of an eye.

Gravin was standing over him,
Two
still extended, the gale force winds just dying down from his exertion upon flaying Avery alive.  His expression shifted from confident satisfaction to one of disbelief.  He must have seen with his own eyes the flesh reform on Avery's body, watch the lifeless husk pull itself up from the ground and reform right in front of him.

Avery clenched his fists – both fists!  In a small compartment of his mind he recognized that his missing hand had been restored, but in spite of the amazing nature of this feat, it was not a concern at the moment and so he set it aside for later.

“You are going to regret that,” said the God of Vengeance with an ominous rumble in his voice.

“
These folks would like to speak with you.”  Viola looked up to see her friend, Aaron, standing over her.  Three people were close behind him – a tall man, a priestess of some order or another, and a short stocky man who, by all appearances, looked just like a dwarf out of a faery tale.

Viola was seated upon the ground, her legs curled beneath her.  Around her in a semi-circle were men, women and children who had been listening to her talk about Avery.  She was eager to tell them what she knew and to answer their questions.  More than one had tried to call her Avery's priestess, but she had been quick to correct them.  She was only a witness to Avery's ascension, she would say.  Nothing more.  But she was glad in that he had elevated her to be his closest, most intimate companion on his journey, and her pride radiated from her for all to see.

“That's a strange way to talk, Aaron,” said Viola.  “I have been talking to people ever since Avery went beyond the wall.  Why are these so different?”

“
Because,” scowled the tall man, “we're the ones who know who and what Avery really is.”

Viola blinked in confusion.  “I know what he is, as well.  Everyone here,” she swung her arms wide top encompass all that were within range of her words, “know what he is.  There are no secrets here, no hiding.”

“You tell people that Avery is a God,” said the priestess.  “He is no God.”

Viola gasped at the blasphemy.  “You might just as easily say that whomever you worship is no God.  I have witnessed what Avery has done--”

The tall man drew a sword from his back, one that Viola immediately recognized.  It was Avery's sword, what Avery called
One
.  “Avery used the magic of this sword to convince you he was a God.  But I took it from him, and I could not do such a thing if he were truly a God.”

Viola started in fear.  “You're the
Godslayer
!”  She fumbled backwards, trying to get her feet beneath her so she could retreat from the demon revealed before her.  “I've told you of him,” said Viola, turning to her listeners, fumbling for balance as she looked around for support.  “The one who hunts and kills Gods, the one Avery alone has managed to survive in battle against...”

The people seated upon the ground began to stir themselves, and others nearby began to murmur discontentedly.  Oh, they knew who the Godslayer was, alright.

“Is that what he told you?” laughed the tall man.  “I didn't try to kill Avery.  I came for his sword, and he attacked me.  I defended myself, and took the sword from him because he was stupid enough to believe his own lies.”

“
And what reason would you have for taking a God's sword?” asked someone in the crowd behind the trio.  Several voices sounded their agreement.

“
Oh, for the love of all!” cursed the priestess.  “He's
not
a God!  He's just a man who got a little bit of magic and fooled a bunch of people!  This is why the New Order forbids magic outside the faith – for this very reason!  Because people go around
pretending
to be all powerful and terrorizing the common people who don't know any better!”

“
So now
we're
stupid?” came another voice from the crowd, a woman's voice this time.

Aaron held up his hands, calling loudly, “Enough!  Settle down!  This is just a difference of opinion, no reason for all this.”

The murmurs in the crowd died down, but they did not vanish entirely. 

“
Look,” said the tall man.  “We've gotten off on a bad foot here.  Let's start again.”  He held his hand to his chest while he re-sheathed
One
.  “I am Nathaniel Goodsmith.  My companions--” he motioned to the other two in his party, “are the Lady Brea and Bracken Hillsfire.  We're no demons out of myth.  We're just normal people who have to get these swords gathered to keep them away from people like Avery.”

“
Why would you take a God's sword?”  asked Viola herself.  It was a question worthy of an answer.

The one called Nathaniel growled softly.  “Look, he's not a God.  I know he did some pretty impressive things when he had the sword--”

“And since,” interrupted the former barmaid.  “You think taking his sword took his power?  He's a God.  His power is in
him
, not his weapon.  I've seen him do amazing things.  I have seen him do the impossible.”

“
Like wha'?” grunted the short man, speaking for the first time.  “Part yer legs sweeter'n someone who was no' callin' 'imself a God?”

Viola blushed.  “I have seen him fell a tree with one blow.  I have seen him master a power that attacked the very essence of his being.  I have seen him enter the pillar of water that none beside him could do.  But if that were not enough,” Viola paused a moment to give conviction to her words, “I have seen a man appear out of nowhere, recognize him for the God he is, and then vanish just as plainly.  Why would a man capable of such power pay homage to a mere man, as you insist on calling my Lord?”

Viola turned and spit on the ground, a traditional method of warning.  It was a challenge, daring the three strangers from crossing the boundary she had just set in the earth.  “Know what you speak of before you spread your lies.  You won't sway me, for I know what I have seen with my own eyes – things that none of you have.”

Nathaniel bowed his head, but his words remained a challenge.  “I have greater strength from the magics of the sword, and from other things.  I could do all the things you say, and we have all had beings who would look as men and women do both appear and vanish before us many times.  The Old Gods are who they are, and they call me their Avatar, not Godslayer.

“My point here is that I can do everything you say, but I am no God.  I am a man who has been given power to do things that even I do not understand.”  The tall man spread his arms wide.  “We are not trying to harm you with the truth.  We are only trying to save you from the lies that Avery tells.”

Viola smiled mischievously.  “Your words undo you, sir.  You say you can do all that my Lord,  Avery, could do?  Yet you stand on this side of the water, and my Lord stands on the other.”

The short man named Bracken bellowed a laugh before trying to snort himself to silence.  “She's gotcha there, Nate.”  When the tall man turned a wicked glare at him, the bearded man threw up his hands in defeat.  “Jus' sayin's, all.”

Nathaniel grimaced.  “We came to you to find out more about how Avery managed to get through the wall.  He doesn't have the sword any longer, so how did he manage it?”

Viola held her head high.  “Because he's a God.”

“
Nathan,” said the priestess, laying her hand upon the man's arm.  “We aren't going to get anything from her.  She's become a zealot.  There's no way you will ever convince her that she is wrong.  She could see this so-called God crucified right in front of her eyes, and she would still make an excuse as for why he was not really dead.”

Nathaniel looked down at his female companion.  “You're sure of that?”

Brea nodded.  “Imery's sight is still with me.  I see the truth in who she is.”

The tall man made a visible effort of considering his next words before he spoke again.  Turning back to Viola, he asked, “Would you at least show us where Avery went through the wall?  Perhaps I can learn something there.”

“That is no secret,” said Avery's lover.  “Anyone could tell you that, so I hardly do a disservice by showing you myself.”

Composing herself as best she could, Viola led the strangers towards the great wall of water.  In truth, she had not wandered far from where she last had seen Avery.  She had every belief that when he returned, he would come back where he had entered, and she had no desire to not be present when he did so.

As she walked, people came up to her, speaking softly of their faith and belief in her.  They touched her clothes, her skin.  They wished to be part of her in a way she had never known before – not because they desired her flesh, but instead because they wanted to be a part of the divinity she served.  She felt herself glowing internally with the warmth of their love and acceptance, and she had longed to give back to them as much as she had received.  Yet all she could do was bear witness of her faith and let Avery bask them in his own love upon his return.

She fell short of promising a great miracle to these people.  Deep inside, she believed that Avery would not simply walk out of the wall as he had entered – she expected some magnificent display to accompany his return.  Perhaps it would be the disappearance of the wall, or maybe something grander.  All she knew for certain was that it would be worthy of his status as God.

In this, she envied Hamil.  Because of his status as recorder of all the greatness of Avery, he had been permitted to accompany their God within. 
He
would get to witness Avery's power and the miracles he would perform necessary to save the souls trapped within the great barrier.  Viola did not
want
to feel envious of the little man, but she could not help the growing resentment she had for his privileged status.

In a short time, the group arrived at the watery barrier.  Silently, Viola walked up the edge of the water and placed her hand delicately upon its surface.  “This is where Lord Avery entered,” she explained.  “As you can see, he closed the way behind him so that no other could follow into danger until he had cleared the way.”

“Or p'rhaps the wall crashed down an' crushed 'im 'neath?” piped up Bracken.

Viola was about to retort, but the priestess spoke first.  “Bracken, enough!”

The little man scowled, but said no more.

Nathaniel walked up beside Viola.  “May I?” he asked.  Catching his meaning, she stepped back and let him touch the wall himself where she had.

“There's no doubt that this is from one of the swords.”  Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder at his companions.  “It's too similar to the power I feel from
One
and
First
.  In fact--” Nathaniel reached his other hand around his waist to lay his hand upon the sheath of the sword.  “
One
feels it, too.  I can't explain it, but the sword seems to...  resonate isn't exactly right, but I can't think of a better word.  If I didn't know better, I would swear that
One
was actually talking to the wall.”

“
Bu' is th' wall talkin' back?” chuckled Bracken.

Nathaniel ignored the short man's mockery and returned his focus to the water.  “Yes,” he said after a moment.  “I think I can walk through it, so long as I have
One
with me.”

“
How do you expect to do that?” asked Brea, walking up to the barrier herself.  She slammed her palm firmly against the surface of the water.  “I can see there is no weakness or break here, Nathan.  There is no way through.”

Nathaniel took a purposeful breath before answering.  “Recently, I had something explained to me.  It doesn't matter who said it, only that they did.  They told me about how magical effects formed
around
a person, something like a bubble.  When I use
One
, I can feel that somewhat.  I can feel this...
area
where the magic works around me.  And I can also feel where the magic reaches out beyond that.  But it's the area right around me that's important.

“
So long as I am using the sword's magic, I don't think other magic – or at least not other swords' magic – can affect me.  So if I draw
One
and activate its power, I believe I can pass through the wall, because the magic of
Two
won't be able to keep me out.”

Brea blinked in startlement.  “You mean to try to go in there alone?  If Avery has the other sword, you will be too evenly matched.  You needed both Bracken and I to help you last time.”

“I'm sorry, but I don't see any other way,” answered Nathaniel.  “And we don't have time to search for another way in.  As you say, Avery could already have the other sword.  Or he may not.  But if we delay, it only increases the chances that he will.”

Brea was prepared to object, but it was Bracken who put his hand on her arm this time.  “'E's right, lass,” he said softly.  “Let 'im go.  'E needs t' do this.”

“But...” started Brea, looking back and forth between her two male companions.  To Viola, the priestess looked ready to cry.

Nathaniel turned and placed both hands upon the priestesses shoulders, looking intently into her eyes.  “I'll be back.  I'm the Avatar, right?  Prophecy won't let me die so soon.”

Brea bit her lip, but finally nodded her acceptance.  She stepped back from the wall, giving her silent assent for Nathaniel to do whatever he intended to do.

Nathaniel gave a long, soulful look at Brea, but finally turned back to the wall, reaching behind him for the sword everyone called
One
.  As the man drew the blade, he faded instantly from sight, the sword's power blinding his existence from their eyes.

At first, nothing seemed to happen, but in a moment, an area of the wall rippled and began to show an indentation.  Within a heartbeat – or the time it took for a foot to fall – the indentation grew to slightly larger than the size of a man.  It continued to grow for a moment, then just as quickly began to recede, as if some great invisible object were being swallowed by the substance of the wall.  Before Viola could even exclaim in wonder, the affected area of the wall smoothed over, becoming as solid as it had been when Avery had used his own power upon the wall.