Lucian: Dark God's Homecoming (38 page)

If what I suspected was true, the violation was even worse than I had believed. Not only had he bent them to his will, but he had made them utterly dependent upon him, upon his channeling of the Fountain’s Power to them via himself. Anger swelled within me, and I started forward again.

The golden god of battle arrived first. He fairly shook with rage, and his voice echoed off the walls of the deserted city. “Who dares?” he roared. “Who dares pervert the golden realm so?”

“Show yourself, Vorthan,” I yelled, and Baranak looked back at me. I’ll give him credit; stubborn as he was, he no longer seemed surprised.

A figure moved into view at the head of the stairs, atop the platform. Neither his rich red robes nor his uncharacteristic wearing of gold and jewelry could disguise him from us. We knew his face quite well. Mottled bald scalp, black goatee, eyes burning red; our rugged, powerful god of toil had seemingly joined me in moving beyond the limitations of our Aspects—a proposition I found more than troubling.

“I have no more reason to conceal my activities or myself,” Vorthan said, granting us a mock salute.

Reaching into his robes with his left hand, he gestured with the other, and the horde of Dark Men parted before us, allowing us a pathway to the foot of the stairs. When we had moved past them and reached that position, he bade us halt.

“You no longer present a threat,” he gloated. “Only a bare few remain to oppose me. The rest now comprise my dark army.” He raised his bare arms, blacksmith’s muscles bulging, and crimson energies flowed from his clenched fists. I could only guess he had devised some way to channel much of the remaining Power from the Fountain directly to himself, or perhaps even to store it up when the flow ceased entirely. That tracked with what I had already theorized—that he had attacked the others when they were powerless and he himself was not.

So Vorthan most likely retained all his energies, all his potency. Meanwhile, Baranak and I existed as little more than mortals. At that moment I believed our predicament could scarcely grow worse.

“All of the City is mine,” Vorthan crowed.

“Ours,” a melodious voice corrected from behind him.

“You!” Evelyn gasped, moving between us to gaze up at the new figure on the platform.

Baranak and I watched in stunned silence as our lady Alaria strode to the edge and stood beside Vorthan. Alaria, as beautiful as before, her thick, auburn hair a halo about her, her black dress shimmering in the light. Now, though, she carried with her an air of danger and terrible power, enticing yet utterly deadly, that radiated outward as a palpable, tangible force. Alaria, who had released me from the dungeon and had provided clues along my journey of discovery and self-discovery. Alaria, who had used me, I saw now, as a pawn, with which to distract and misdirect Baranak every step of the way. I couldn’t have done it better myself.

“A pawn,” I whispered then, and remembered where I had just recently heard that word spoken, through dying lips. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had used Arendal just as thoroughly as she had used me. For different ends, of course—him, for his weapons and his knowledge; me, for my reputation and my usefulness as a decoy—but to equal effect. She and Vorthan had played us all for fools. And I had been so blinded by my anger toward Baranak and Vorthan that I had never seen it, never suspected.

“Why?” Baranak whispered, his carefully ordered world collapsing around him.

“This is beyond understanding,” I snapped before either of them could reply. Truth be told, I did not want to hear their justifications. It all struck too close to home for me, in more ways than one. Even I, the dark lord, had never conceived of going so far as to render my fellow gods into mindless slaves.

“What I want to know,” I said, “is how.”

Vorthan’s lips parted in a cruel grin.

“You would,” he laughed.

He drew a large red jewel from his robes—surely what he had been clutching there before—and held it aloft. It was similar in appearance to the smaller ones we had encountered so often of late, but much bigger.

“All the gods,” he cackled. “They’re all in here.”

He held the gem before him, leering at it, madness dancing in his eyes.

“So very efficient,” he continued. “One of my finest works. It took but a few centuries to construct—a synthetic gem replicating the properties of the very jewels that powered your weapons, Lucian.” Looking at me, he chuckled. “The gems that, in your weapons, merely stunned… but, given a few modifications of my own, grew capable of drawing out a god’s life force, imprisoning it within, and leaving the body a perfect, empty vessel… possessing some degree of power, and needing only… control.”

I thought of Arendal, and how I must have done the same thing to him, back on my island, that Vorthan had done to… to so many of us. I shivered. At least the three gems in the humans’ guns had been acquired directly from Buchner; they could never have done the damage Vorthan’s gem had. For this, if for little else at the moment, I was grateful—I did not need anything more on my conscience.

Baranak glared at me, once, surely for my unintentional contributions to Vorthan’s dark accomplishments. Then he returned his attention to the lunatic before us.

Vorthan gazed into the gem’s dark depths, and from my vantage below I thought I could see flecks of color swimming within.

“All the souls of the gods—if such is your preferred term—held within, and their bodies mine to command. Though capturing them drained away most of their individual Aspects and abilities, they remain powerful soldiers in my army. Powerful… and
obedient
.”

At that, the row of Dark Men snapped to attention and all turned toward us. There were dozens of them.

My mind worked frantically, searching for a way to turn this to our advantage. I took a few steps up the stairway, Baranak automatically following. I focused on Alaria, trying somehow to know her mind, to understand what dark desires and motivations had driven her to this end. Unexpectedly, I found she was already staring at me, seeking my own thoughts. I met her eyes and knew then what she wanted. I do not know what she saw in mine, nor do I want to know, but she must have felt it was enough.

“Thank you, Vorthan,” she said then. “Your expertise has been most useful, and your assistance most appreciated.”

He frowned, but was not able to look back at her in time.

The silver cane of Arendal appeared in Alaria’s hand, white lightning flaring about it. She raised it high. Then, with a cry, she planted its sharp, pointed tip squarely between Vorthan’s shoulders.

The god of toil gasped once, his eyes wide, then fell to his knees, his crimson energies gushing out through the wound opened by that mighty weapon. He toppled forward, the large gem spilling from his fingers and bouncing just past Alaria’s outstretched, grasping hands to tumble down the stairs.

It skittered to a stop at the feet of the human, Cassidy. He picked it up and peered into its shimmering depths, oblivious to all else around him.

Baranak rushed up the stairs, apparently thinking Alaria an easy mark now, or perhaps believing it had all been a ruse, to defeat Vorthan. Betrayed by his chivalry and his condescension, at the end.

Even as Alaria noted that one of the human men had caught the jewel, she drew the cane from Vorthan’s back and held it at her side. “Oh, Baranak,” she greeted him. “You muscle-bound fool. You think Vorthan had the cunning to mastermind all of this?”

He recoiled, but too late. The deadly weapon struck again, piercing his golden armor and biting deep into his chest.

Shoving Baranak’s gasping form aside, she fixed her gaze on Cassidy. “Give me the stone!”

The human captain raised his pistol but could not fire. She had virtually hypnotized him. I had seen it so many times before, when she would venture to the mortal realm. Men could rarely withstand her Aspect and her will, manifested as overpowering beauty and desire. Cassidy found himself walking up the stairs, the jewel proffered in one hand.

Evelyn and Kim raced after him and tackled his legs. I imagine they fought to save their colleague and friend rather than to save the souls of the gods, but in any event, they delayed him long enough to infuriate Alaria. With a cry, she brought down the lightning—yet another ability I’d not known she possessed—hard upon Cassidy, and white flames consumed him before he could make a sound.

As Kim, stunned, bent over the smoking remains of their fallen friend, Evelyn gathered herself and had the presence of mind to dive for the jewel. Snatching it up, she began to climb the stairs toward me. Then she cried out as Alaria, coming down to meet us, gestured once more. The lightning flared again, and both Kim and I leapt to shove Evelyn out of the way. I didn’t get there fast enough, though in my own defense I was much farther away. Kim, devoted as ever to a woman who did not possess the same feelings for him, shoved her aside and took the brunt of the blast. He met the same end as Cassidy. Evelyn, having received a glancing blow, lay still, unmoving but still breathing, now the only human left alive.

A sick feeling crept over me then. Part of it was for Kim, yes. He had not deserved such a fate, nor had Cassidy. Part of it, though, was for myself.

Again I had failed to save a woman from the wrath of the gods. This time, though, someone else had given his all to cover for my shortcomings. And thus I felt guilt. Guilt over my own failure to save either of them. Guilt that a mere mortal, Kim, had proven himself my better by making his sacrifice. And guilt over my complete unworthiness in regard to either Halaini or Evelyn.

Guilt, I knew then, was not new to me. It had resided within my heart for a thousand years, ever since Halaini’s death. Guilt—that tiny seed I had unwittingly allowed through the cracks of my soul, there to work its gradual evil; or rather, in my case, the opposite. And once that seed of guilt took root, could other strange spiritual flora not be far behind?

Kim’s sacrifice, and all the thoughts it unleashed, passed through my mind even as I watched the jewel tumble from Evelyn’s fingers and skitter across the steps. I leapt for it, but Alaria got there first.

“Ah. My gracious dark lord,” she said to me, a gleam in her eye. “Someone I can do business with, perhaps.”

Hatred and fury held tightly within, I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise, knowing all too well what she meant. “How so?”

“I know these creatures meant nothing to you,” she said in her purring voice. “I know your Aspect.” She smiled wickedly. “I have always loved you, you know.” She shrugged. “And hated you.”

I frowned. “What—?”

“I left the gun for you, there on your island, and the note with it. ‘Do us all a favor,’ it said. I was never entirely sure, myself, what I meant by that. Kill yourself. Or kill Baranak. Or Vorthan. Any of them would have been fine with me. Any would have made my choices easier.” She laughed once, sharply. “I didn’t expect Arendal to be your choice—I didn’t want him interfering so soon—but, in the end, it all worked out.”

My teeth clenched, I sought some reply, some powerful rejoinder, and found nothing. To buy time, I nodded slowly, my mind racing.

“What fun would it be,” she asked, “to spend eternity with no one for company but faceless automatons?”

“I can see where that might be a problem,” I replied, as my internal debate raged on. I moved closer to her, forcing my disposition to appear pleasant.

“I knew it,” came the croaking voice of Baranak, still lying where he had fallen, a couple of steps below. “I knew you were truly evil, Lucian.”

I looked from Baranak’s dying eyes to Alaria’s, full of fire and beauty and life. Was there ever really any choice? Any doubt? I met Alaria’s eyes levelly. “Evil is my Aspect, but it is not necessarily my nature,” I told her. The words felt so familiar, yet in many respects they felt fresh and new. “And naivety even less so. Give me the jewel, Alaria.”

She screamed wordless fury at me, then turned and raced to the top of the platform.