Three (The Godslayer Cycle Book 3) (20 page)

“I'm not--” started Nathaniel.

“'E thinks 'e's the son o' one o' our neighbors, 'sall,” interrupted the dwarf.  “Bu' the boy 'e thinks 'e is be barely thirteen summ'rs.  So...”  Bracken shrugged, looking hopefully to the priestess.

“So he's insane,” said the woman calmly.  She said the words as though she were passing judgment.

“No' 'nsane,” corrected Bracken.  “Sick.”

The priestess averted her gaze to the dwarf.  “Is there a difference?”

Surprisingly, Olric spoke up from behind his father.  “Insane has no chance of ever getting better. Someone who is sick does.”

All eyes darted to the normally shy young man.  Olric in turn avoided the eyes suddenly upon him, glancing towards his feet.  “Sorry.”

“No,” said Aliban, slapping his hand firmly upon his son's shoulder.  “Olric's right.”  He turned towards the priestess.  “Sick'll get better.  And if he's only sick, it's just the fever talking, right?”

Erias turned to face Nathaniel again.  “Is that it, good sir?  Do you have a brain fever?”

“An' 'ow woul' 'e know if'n 'e did?” interjected Bracken.  “Tha's part o' the probl'm, i'n't it?  'Is brain's no' clear 'nough to know bett'r.” 

The dwarf turned on Nathaniel.  “Stan' down, boy,” he said, his gaze as firm as any Nathaniel had ever remembered.  “This's no' the place fer this.”

The time-lost man hesitated himself, then ground his teeth together.  “I've been sick,” he heard himself mutter through his clamped teeth.  “Please forgive me.”  It took a colossal effort, but he managed to release his hold on
Two
, letting his hand fall away from his weapon.

The priestess smirked.  “A fever dream, then.  All a delusion in your mind.”  She turned away, casting her hand nonsensically in the air as she turned.  “Zantel's blessing be on you.  For if you had not had such a malady, it is the law that you would have been branded a heretic and cast out.  You had best offer your prayers to Zantel for his bountiful generosity.”

It was all Nathaniel could do not to respond to the barb.  He held his ground however as Aliban led the priestess to a table on the other side of the common room.  Yet as the smuggler led his guest away, his son remained.  Timidly, the younger Stinhauf raised his eyes to meet Nathaniel's, his mouth moving in silent utterance.

I know.

Olric turned to join his father, but Nathaniel was faster.  In a moment, he had bridged the distance between himself and his future brother-in-law and grabbed the young man's arm.

“What did that mean?” demanded Nathaniel in a hushed tone.  “What do you know?”

Olric lowered his head dejectedly.  “I know why you're here,” he said meekly.  “I know who you are. Who you are really.”

A chill ran up Nathaniel's back at the words.  “Who I really am?” he heard himself mimic.

Olric's eyes darted to where his father was now seated, engaged in conversation with the priestess.  Apparently, his presence had not yet been missed. 

Hesitantly, keeping his eyes upon his father, the young man reached beneath the edge of his tunic, hooking his ringers below the waist.  In a moment, his hand withdrew, a roughly circular object held pinched between his two fingers.  As he turned the object at an angle, Nathaniel held back a gasp as he recognized the object for what it was.

Each of the Gods - the Old and the New - had a glyph which symbolized their identity.  Often called a holy symbol or crest, these objects often represented a unique means by which someone of a specific faith could be recognized.  And the symbol emblazoned on this particular metallic emblem was one Nathaniel knew intimately.

It was the glyph for Lendus, God and Goddess of Bounty and Famine, Guardian of the Grail.  His mother's deity.

“Since I was little,” Olric spoke into the silence, slipping the object back to its place of concealment, “I have seen things.”  The young man tapped the side of his head.  “Here.  When I sleep, and sometimes - once in awhile - when I'm awake.  Your mom - she's been helping me with it.  For a couple of years now.”

Nathaniel let his grip on the young man's arm fall away.  “You know Maribel's my mother.”

Olric nodded, turning pleading eyes on the older man.  “But my dad doesn't know.  He'd be furious if he did.  He never understood about what I see.  He beat me when I was younger until I stopped telling him about the things I saw.  But as I got older, they just got...  too much.”

Nathaniel took a step back.  “Makes me see you in a completely different light,” he confessed.  “In my time, I was never close to you.  To be honest, I wasn't close to any of Mari's family.”

Olric nodded.  “I would guess my dad had something to do with that.”  The young man's face split in an ironic smile.  “This is so strange, talking to someone who believes me.  I mean, other than your mom.  She believed right from the start.”

Nathaniel felt his own smile warm his face.  “Yes.  Mother was always like that.  She believed in everyone.”  Then his mood darkened.  “Except she didn't believe me when I told her who I was.”

Olric looked back to his father again, then back to his companion.  “Did you think she could?  Even for me, it's hard to accept - and I've been seeing you for weeks now.”

Nathaniel considered for a moment.  “How
much
do you know?”

“That you're little Nathan, that you're older because you're not from here...”  At this, the young man made a sweeping motion around himself.  “And I know you think you're here to change something, something really, really bad.  But I don't think you can.”

“But you don't
know
I can't?”

Olric lowered his head.  “No.  I haven't seen anything like that.  I don't know exactly what you are here to change, but I know someone's already told you that you won't do it.”

“The Eternal,” Nathaniel offered.

“Eternal...”  Olric played with the sound of the name.  “That sounds right.  Like I should have known that.”

“Olric!” called Aliban from across the room.  “Enough with all of that and get over here!”

“Yes, Sir,” answered the young man.  Turning back to Nathaniel, he bowed his head.  “I need to go. Now that I know you're here, maybe we can talk more another time.  That is if...”  He left the words unspoken, turning away.  “We'll just have to see.”

As Olric moved across the room, Nathaniel found himself alone once more with his thoughts.  It was entirely possible that he had just found an ally - or he might have just found someone who would work against what he had to do. 

“Yer a fool, 'swhat ya are,” came Bracken's voice from behind the man.  Nathaniel turned quickly, taking a step back defensively.  “I know she's no' th' bes' sor' ta 'ave 'ere'bouts.  Bu' ya star' doin' things like wha' yew jus' did, an' yer gonna en' up dead.  Trus' me on t'is.”  The dwarf's head bobbed in the direction of the priestess.  “She's a viper, tha' one.  An' ya star' tellin' tall tales--”

“Everything I said was true,” said Nathaniel.  “Two hundred years ago, the New Order went about pillaging the land, killing off anyone who insisted on keeping to the old faith.”

“Tha' may be true,” responded the dwarf.  “An' le's say yer righ'.  'Bout all o' it.”  Bracken raised one eyebrow, giving the appearance of a caterpillar climbing his forehead.  “How's tha' gonna help ya 'ere an' now, 'sides getting' yew dead?”

Nathaniel balked as the dwarf's fist suddenly impacted with his side.  “Ya may no' be Mar'bel's boy, bu' I'll give ya th' same werds I'da given 'im if'n he'd done wha' yew jus' did.  Think b'fore ya act, boy.  Ya been too shel'ered if'n ya think t'is worl's all tha' forgiv'n 'bout standin' up ta t'ose in power.  An' like i' 'r no', tha' New Order lot's go' power.”

Bracken's eyes wandered for a moment.  “I oughta know.”  The dwarf gave a final open-handed slap to Nathaniel's side, then turned away.  His hand rose to brush something away from his face, but the man he left behind could not tell if it was what he thought it was.

Once more, Nathaniel found himself standing alone.  As he looked about the room, he could see that the other patrons had returned to their seats, doing their best to avoid looking in his direction.

Bracken had been right.  The man had been reckless.  He had actually planned to draw
Two
, to call upon its magic.  Whether his deeper motivations to seek justice for his mother had been an influence upon him or not, the truth was that he had been a bare swing away from saving her life.  If he had only had the courage to follow through, he could have killed the woman right there.  Then she would not have been able to call up a mob to stone his mother in what...  how many days
were
left until that fateful day?

Nathaniel's eyes fell upon the room's exit.  He may have found an ally, but he had not yet done anything to genuinely save his mother.  And yet...  Knowing that she had helped Olric with the young man's affliction, it lent him hope that all was not as lost as he had thought.  Someone else here knew who he really was - someone whom Maribel trusted.  So all he had to do was convince her to speak to Olric, and he could finally get her to accept who he was.

New hope sprang up in the man's chest.  This could work.  This could
really
work.  All he needed to do was convince his mother to listen.  To come into town and talk to Olric...

That thought churned up the acid in his stomach.  Was not the point of this to keep her
out
of Oaken Wood?  What happened if he brought her into town to speak with Olric and that was the day she had been destined to die?

“Enough,” Nathaniel said to himself.  Clasping his fists to provide himself some measure of self-confidence, he walked to the door and out into the street beyond.  In moments, he found himself on the path that would lead him out of town and towards his old homestead.

One way or another, I still have to talk to her
, he told himself.  One way or another, he had to convince her to stay alive...

The walk to the old Goodsmith homestead would not be considered a journey of any great length, yet it was not a short trip, either.  When Maribel Goodsmith built her cabin in the woods, she had wanted to be close enough to community to be reachable, yet far enough that her natural callings would not be intruded upon.  And three miles had apparently been the ideal distance.

The walk gave Nathaniel time to mull over choices in his mind - as if the last several days had not provided him enough time to do so.  And yet Olric's revelations had added an entirely new dimension to consider.

As much as the man tried, he could not recall Olric from his childhood other than as someone he had seen in town.  He had not recollection of his wife's brother ever visiting his home or - for that matter - ever even speaking with his mother.  And if Maribel had indeed been helping the young man for two years, surely there would have been some sign?

Which prompted a new question entirely: how much did Nathaniel
not
know about his mother?

As the time-lost man walked the forest path, he approached a turn in the trail.  A momentary flash of memory caused him to miss a step.  This had been where Airek had been waiting for Nathaniel on that first day, when he had learned of his chosen fate as the Pantheon's Avatar.  It had not been their first encounter - that had been in the Wyrm's Fang earlier in the day.  But this was where Airek had intercepted his path home, and where the God had revealed himself for who he truly was.

Nathaniel let his pace slow as he reflected on all that had happened since that fateful meeting.  Here he had been given a flash of memory, where he had stood in witness to the Old Gods' debate over the nine godslayer swords.  It was as close as he had ever come to witnessing the origin of his birthright. Airek had been reasonable, even kind, in his efforts to convince the man to join the Old Gods' cause, to take up the duties of being an Avatar.  But the man had wanted nothing to do with the Gods then.

How much different would his life had been if he had simply accepted the wisdom of Airek's words that day, Nathaniel wondered.  Would his Mariabelle still be dead, his son Geoffrey lost to parts unknown?  It was impossible to say - but somehow, he could not dismiss that his own arrogance on that day may well have been to blame for what had followed.  He certainly had not become loyal to the Old Gods in the interim, but he had learned the wisdom of outright defying them.

No, it was better to defy their whims in less obvious ways.

“You look lost in thought,” came a voice from the side of the road.  In a moment, Maribel herself emerged in the distance, moving into Nathaniel's line of sight as she passed from behind some brush. She continued to approach as she spoke.  “I would not presume to impose if it is not a good time?”

Nathaniel realized he had actually stopped walking altogether and stiffened at the embarrassment of it.  “No, no,” he said quickly.  “You are who I came to find anyways, so it would have made my walk pointless to turn you away now.”

Maribel giggled as she stepped from the forest floor onto the path, an almost childish innocence to the sound.  “You know, you don't need to always be trying to impress me.”   Nathaniel began to say something, but Maribel continued.  “I am already impressed.”

Those words startled the man, his mouth closing before more words could come out. 
She was impressed of him?

Maribel must have recognized Nathaniel's discomfort, for she smiled disarmingly.  “With how far you have come, is that any real surprise?  It is certainly more than anyone else could have journeyed.”

The man looked back over his shoulder, confused by the woman's words.  Hitching a thumb over his shoulder, he said, “Oaken Wood is barely two clicks back.  It's really not all that far.”

Maribel walked directly up to Nathaniel and looked up into his eyes.  “I think you know what I mean, Nathan.”

And suddenly, the time-lost man did.  He blinked, unsure of how to frame the thoughts crowding for attention in his mind.  Finally, he managed, “You said you didn't believe me...”

“Did you honestly think I would
not
recognize my own son?  Especially when he tells me outright who he is?”

“So why--”

Maribel held up her hand.  “You were lying in the middle of town, Nathan.  Would you have me pronounce for any and all that you - a man barely a half-dozen years my younger - is somehow my son?  Magic is not so easily embraced in this world.  I know not how it is where you're from--”

“No, it's pretty much the same,” Nathaniel admitted.

Maribel reached a hand up and cupped her son's face.  “Oh, it
is
good to see you grown.  It does a mother's heart proud to know her son has lived and lived well.”

Nathaniel placed his own hand over his mother's, pushing his face more firmly into her grasp, his eyes closing to hold in the tears.  “Not so much as you might think,” he said quietly.

The woman nodded, withdrawing her hand.  “I know that, as well.”  She took a step back as she took in a deep breath, steeling herself for what was on her mind to speak.  “One cannot imagine that her child would have cause to come into the past to see his mother if there was not some great tragedy which prevented him from doing so in his own time.”

Maribel turned away, crossing her arms and lowering her head.  “I will confess, it is a chilling thought.  To know you are destined to die, yet not knowing more than that.”  She turned her neck to the side, looking to her son from profile.  “It
is
soon, isn't it?”

Nathaniel nodded, unsure whether the woman could see his movement or not.  “When next--”

Maribel turned about sharply.  “Do not say it!  You cannot tell me how!”

“But--”

“It is bad enough I know,” pleaded the woman.  “You cannot tell me when or how.”

“But I can help stop it,” fairly cried Nathaniel.

“You
must
not,” urged Maribel.  “Believe me, I want more than anything to have it not be so.  It has been the greatest test of my
faith
to not seek you out and demand to know.  But these things are part of the natural order, and we are not meant to be architects of that kind of change.”

Nathaniel fell silent, struggling for the words he needed to convince his mother to set aside her faith and to let him save her.  But if there was one thing more important to Maribel Goodsmith than herself, it was her unswaying faith in the Pantheon.

“We are only mortal, Nathan,” said the woman calmly.  “We must have faith in the divine path the Gods have set for us.”

“Then why am I here?” asked Nathaniel.  “Why else would Fate have brought me to this point if not to fix what the Gods failed to do in the first place?”

Maribel slapped the man harshly across the face.  “Do not
dare
blaspheme to me!  I
know
I raised you better than that!”

“But...”  Nathaniel managed, holding the side of his face where the sting of his mother's strike still resonated.  “They
didn't
save you.  And I
can
!”

Maribel made a visible sign of reflecting on what she said next before she spoke.  “Nathan, when I am gone, is your life the same as when I was here?”

“Of course not!”

“Did you go on to form close bonds with other people who you might not have if I were there?”

Images of his close friendship with Bracken and his romance with the girl who had taken notice of him only because he was the orphaned boy flashed across the man's mind.  “Yes, but--”

“Then how can you say it was not the will of the Olds Gods that I step aside so that you could become the man you have?”  The woman lay her hand upon the man's large bicep.  “Would you have become the strong, independent man who could make an impossible journey into the past if I had been there to continue sheltering you?”

“I would rather have had you.”  Nathaniel's voice was small, childlike.  In spite of the fact he stood two heads taller than his mother, he still felt the child beside her.

“If my time has come, it has come, Nathan.  If it is the will of the Old Gods that I join them beyond this mortal plane, then who am I to challenge their will?  And who are you?”

Nathaniel's eyes burned, and the tear that escaped down his cheek did little to cool them.  “Then why am I here?” he heard himself repeating.

Maribel stepped into line with her son, wrapping her arms around her son's muscle.  “Perhaps you should see this not as some great quest to right some incredible wrong, but as an unimaginable gift instead.  You are with me.  You have a chance to spend time with your mother again, and I with the man you will one day become.”  The woman rubbed the side of her head into the man's arm.  “Nathan, how many ever get the chance to come back and see their lost family again?  Do you not know what I would give for the chance to go back and hold my father as I hold you now?”

All at once, a great burden Nathaniel had not realized had been upon his heart vanished.  His mother was right.  He was with
her
, the woman he had missed with every fiber of his being for a dozen years.  No woman could ever have taken her place in his heart.  He had been wounded when she was taken from him, a wound that had never healed.  There had been no closure.  And now there was, could be.  He could actually say farewell to his mother...

“Walk with me, Nathan,” said the woman, as she began to lead the man along the path.  It took a moment for Nathaniel to realize she had turned him around and was leading him back to town.  “I would have you tell me of your life.  What became of my great child, Nathaniel Goodsmith?”

Nathaniel shrugged.  “There's so much...”

“Did you marry?” prompted Maribel.  “Children?”

“Yes,” the man felt himself mechanically respond.  “To both.  But...  Mariabelle's gone.  And so is Geoffrey.”

“Oh, Nathan,” said the woman, a great sadness filling her eyes as she looked up.   Then a moment's curiosity passed her eyes and her brow wrinkled.  “Mariabelle...”

“A coincidence,” Nathaniel responded defensively.  “She was the one who chased after me.  Well, sort of.  She followed me around for years after you were gone...”

The woman gasped and suddenly held her hand to her mouth.  “It's more,” she said from behind her hand.  “I
know
that name.”  She lowered her hand.  “Aliban's daughter, right?”  Nathaniel nodded, and Maribel fell quiet for a moment.  “There is a cruel irony there,” she said after a moment.

“How so?”

Maribel continued to watch the path ahead as she next spoke.  “I don't suppose Aliban ever told you why Mariabelle was named as she was?”

The man felt his back stiffen.  “No.”

“It is because Aliban wanted a child with
me
, and I would not give him one.  And so he gave his daughter my name.  Or a close version of it.  Young Mariabelle was named after me, after a sick obsession her father had with me.”

Nathaniel pulled back.  “You and
Aliban
?!  You were with--”

“No, no,” responded Maribel, pulling her son back to her.  “
He
wanted to.  He wanted me, but I would not be his.  There is a... darkness in that man, Nathan.  One that kept me away from him.  But he fancied taking me, making me his own.”

“He had a wife,” rebutted Nathaniel.  “Children...”

“Such things do not stop the desires of men of privilege like Aliban Stinhauf, Nathan.  He wanted what he wanted, and his vows stopped him no more than they would the wails of some bitch in heat.”

“So you refused him?”

“Time and again,” said the woman.  “It never stopped him though.  He would journey to my home, follow me around Oaken Wood like some love-sick colt.  All could see his ambitions, his desire.  He was never silent about them.  He made more than one threat against anyone else he saw take an interest in me.  I was his and nothing
I
said mattered to him.  I can only imagine how the spectacle must have hurt his wife.

“Two days after Mariabelle was born, he trekked out to my home carrying his newborn daughter. He confessed to me that he had named her for me, to show all the world of his love and devotion to me.  It was late enough, thank Lendus, that you were asleep, but still...”  The woman paused for a moment.  “He said some very cruel things that night.  He told me that he now had a choice.  If I would not lay with him and give him a child in the old ways, that he would always have his daughter to hold in my place.”

Nathaniel's stomach twisted.  “He didn't mean--”

“Oh yes, he did.  He was quite clear on his meaning.  He confessed his intent to lie with his daughter if I would not lie with him.”

New anger roiled in Nathaniel's heart.  “Did he ever...”  He could not bring himself to finish the question.

Maribel sighed.  “I cannot say.  She's only a child yet herself, though there are certainly men of that perversion in the world.”

The woman walked in silence for several minutes before she spoke again.  “Do not take me out of turn when I say that a man who would lie with his daughter out of some perversion is about as amoral an act as a soul may take.  This is not an awakening, Nathan.  There is no blessing of the Old Gods in such a thing, to lust after one's own child...”  She shuddered again.