Two (The Godslayer Cycle Book 2) (16 page)

“
The Pantheon has never sired a child from our unions, Godling.” 

“
Oh, I know you didn't beget a
God
,” offered Ankor. “But you did have
something
to do with Avery.  I could sense that much about his magic.”

“
Wait a moment.  Avery.  That was the one who found
One
.  The one who passed himself off as a God.”

“
That would be him,” agreed Ankor.  “He claimed that you and Malik were his parents to bolster his pedigree, and though it was pretty clear that he was not a
real
God, there was something of both you and Malik about him when he talked about it.  You touched the boy in some way, and if you weren't really his parents, then how?”

“
The swords, fool,” scoffed the Goddess.  “Malik and I made the swords.  If Avery had
One
, what you sensed must have been our influence leaking into the mortal's body along with our magic.”

Ankor rolled his eyes upward for a moment, presenting for all appearances that he was thinking hard upon the possibility.  “Yet I could never actually
see
the sword.  Couldn't even really sense it in any way.  I only knew it was real because everyone else saw it.”

“
Part of its enchantment,” admitted Charith grudgingly.  “We hid the swords so no God could find them.”

“
Why would you do that?  Doesn't seem very practical for a game.  After all, if you make the toys, don't you want to see how they are played with?”

Charith considered her words carefully.  “Because we didn't want your lot to find them, either.”

“Again, why? Why would you do something like that?  It makes no sense!”  Ankor folded his hands behind his back and began pacing back and forth in the hallway.  His path, however, was width-wise across the hall, which limited him to three steps before he would have to turn around again to continue pacing.

“
You have nine magic swords, but you want to hide them, even from yourselves.  It just doesn't make sense.”

Ankor stopped abruptly and turned an accusing finger on Charith.  “It's the sword!  The sword killed Imery, didn't it?”

Charith hesitated.  She had not wanted to reveal that detail of the swords, but clearly the Prankster
was
much better at solving riddles than she had given him credit for.

Ankor did not wait for Charith to respond.  Waving his hand dismissively, he said, “Now
that
makes sense.  You created something really bad, bad enough you had to hide it from
all
the Gods, even yourselves.  Yeah, I don't think I would have wanted any of my brothers or sisters to have those lying around, either.”

The Prankster turned a sheepish eye towards the Goddess.  “My next prank would have been my last, for sure.  Can you imagine how quickly someone would have decided maybe they didn't need a God of Mischief, after all?”

“I can imagine,” answered Charith in all honesty.  She had only been in the same place as the God for a few minutes, and already she could imagine using one of the swords on him.

“
So now you're what?  Trying to get the sword that's been found back?” 

Charith opened her mouth to answer, but Ankor cut her off.  “Well, sorry to tell you, but that won't work.  Apparently other swords are waking up, too.  So maybe you know that, too, and you're trying to get them
all
back, maybe?”

Ankor paused, studying the Goddess' reaction.  “Not it exactly either, is it?”  He walked over to stand in front of the Goddess again.  “Well, come on.  I can't keep guessing all day.  You're going to have to fill in some blanks here, too.”

Charith smiled mischievously.  “Not until you deliver on your part of the deal.”

Ankor stepped back in mock affront.  “Me?  I've told you--”

“You've not told me the real reason you came here,” interrupted the Goddess.

“
I did so!  I told you I didn't want to die like Imery!”

The Goddess shook her head softly.  “You are indeed the God of Mischief, but I am the Goddess of Death
and
Life.  You cannot come to me claiming you want to live and expect me to
not
know whether you are being truthful in such a statement.”

“
But--”

Charith raised her hand.  “Oh, there is
some
truth in what you say.  You really don't want to die.  But that's not why you really came to me.  There is something else that led you here at this moment and in this way.  And before I say anymore, you will tell me what you have not said of your reasons.”

Ankor looked affronted – for all of two seconds.  After that, he could not keep his humor hidden as his features broke into a broad grin.  “I like you,” he said.  “You're actually a challenge.  I can see I have grown lazy in practicing against my brothers and sisters.  You may actually make this fun.”

Charith folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow.
 

“
Okay, okay,” laughed Ankor, raising his hands in mock supplication.  “I was made an offer by a couple of my brothers, and truth be told, I don't believe they would ever keep their promise.  So with Imery being dead and all, I figured maybe it was time to find out what was really going on to see whether I really wanted to stay on their ship and all.”

“
You'll have to be clearer than that.”

“
Yeah, I thought so,” begrudged Ankor.  “But can't blame a God for trying.

“
Okay, so it's like this.  Apparently, before Imery died, she told Galentine and Kelvor about these ten flowers in the Field of Knowledge.  It's actually a part of Corus' domain, but being as she was the Goddess of Truth, she was known to visit searching for, well...  truth.  Had found this group of buds that wouldn't open and resisted all efforts to divine their purpose.  And they had been like that for centuries.

“
Only now these flowers are starting to open up.  Imery spotted one opening and told the others about it.  But then she died, and Galentine and Kelvor thought I might know something about it, so they summoned me to ask me questions.  I didn't really – well, at least I didn't think I did at the time.  I've kind of put some things together since then.  They made me a promise to get me to help them – they promised me Imery's position as God of Truth if I could uncover what really happened to her.”

Ankor blanched at a renewed frown from Charith.  “Okay, yeah.  So they didn't exactly
offer
it to me.  I told them I would help them if they gave it to me.  And they said they would put in a good word with the other Greater Powers if I found out what had happened, which is sort of a round-about way of offering it to me.”

Before Charith could respond again, Ankor waved his hands quickly in front of him.  “None of that's important though.  See, I knew they wouldn't recommend me for anything.  None of them want
me
as a Greater Power.  I know what they think of me, and there's no way either of those stiff-necked masochists would ever support the idea of me being their equal.  But I needed to make them
think
I thought they would so I could find out what was really going on without them getting suspicious.”

“
I can see that,” acknowledged Charith.  “So what else?”

“
Wow, tough cookie,” muttered Ankor.  “So I took a trip up to the Field of Knowledge for myself and found not one, but
two
flowers had started to open.  One was a lavender, and the other was a deep blue.  And then I remembered about there being nine swords and how another one would be waking up soon--”

“
And how did you know that?” asked Charith.

Ankor waved his hand dismissively.  “Not important just yet.  Let's just say I overheard someone telling Avery and let that detail lie for the moment.

“Anyways, so I was thinking on this, and about how these swords were hidden and all, and about how there's this Godslayer running around killing Gods, and it occurred to me – was I really playing for the winning team?  If someone could kill Gods, and they were going after New Order deities, it only made sense that you were involved.”

Ankor paused in his oration.  “And by
you
, I mean you Old Gods, of course.”

Charith sighed and motioned with her hand for the Prankster to continue.

“So as I was going along thinking of what to do next, there was this powerful storm of objects falling to the ground – things that as a God I couldn't make any sense out of.  But when I went to look, I found that whatever it was that had fallen from the sky disrupted magic.”

“
What do you mean by 'disrupted'?” asked Charith, intrigued in spite of herself.  None of the Pantheon had gone to investigate the rocks that had fallen – rocks fell from the skies periodically, and regardless of whether these rocks came from a breach between worlds or from the heavens above had not concerned the Old Gods whatsoever.  So to have word from Ankor that there may have been something more to this debris was indeed news to her.

“
I couldn't even maintain my form once I got too close – I had to teleport away.  Whatever it was in the crater was powerful enough to drive me away, which got me to thinking even more.  Now there were not only secret swords, but also some element that made even divine magic not work right, and I had to ask myself – were the two related?”

“
I can assure you, they are not,” confessed Charith.  “We had nothing to do with the firestorm, and to be honest, we dismissed it entirely.  We had no idea there was anything significant about it.”

Ankor considered Charith's response for a moment.  Apparently, he accepted it as truth and continued his own story.  “After I managed to reform that version of myself, I asked myself, 'Self, who could I ask about what is going on here?'  I knew you and Malik were involved someway, so you two were my first choices.  Well, actually, Malik was my first choice, but dealing with Kartar – our own War God – has never gone over well for me, so I decided you were likely the lesser of two evils if I were going to try to talk to anyone in your camp.”

“So you came here – to my realm – to ask me to divulge secrets?  Didn't it occur to you that if I had secrets, that I would not be inclined to share them?”

“
Oh yes, it did,” agreed Ankor, nodding his head vigorously.  “Which is why I've saved the best for last.”

Ankor leaned forward, smirking lecherously.  “If you don't let me in on what's going on, I will be forced to tell my brothers and sisters not only about how this Godslayer works for you, but also where to find him.”

Charith felt a pit of fear grow within her.  “And where would that be?”

Ankor's face lost all humor.  “Why, where the second sword has woken up.  In the town of Levitz.”

“
I thought you said you couldn't predict anything anymore?” asked Dart.

“
No,” responded the Witness.  “I said I could no longer predict the path of anyone touched by whatever happened in Scollhaven.”

Dart had to curb her typical speed of walking, since the Witness insisted on not being rushed.  He had grown accustomed over centuries of simply knowing exactly how much time he needed to get somewhere, and could always leave with ample time to arrive.  There was absolutely no haste in the man's demeanor, and it infuriated the normally hyper woman.

The pair walked along the road, their destination visible little more than a few hundred feet down the hillside.  It had certainly not been Dart's idea to visit this seaside community, but the Witness was difficult to refuse. 

Dart had taken the Witness as far from civilization as she could manage.  If she knew he was acting out of sorts, other immortals would, as well, she reasoned.  And she was convinced that the Witness' sudden inability to see the future would leave him vulnerable to others of their kind who would rather not wait to see if his abilities returned.

And besides
, Dart had rationalized,
he's far more valuable to me alive than dead. 
It was most definitely not any kind of interest in keeping the witless immortal from harm.

For some reason, after the two of them had wandered for nearly a week through the countryside though, the Witness had awoken that morning insisting on traveling to the coast.  And not just anywhere – he wanted to go to a town called Levitz.  And he insisted they needed to be there by sundown.

Dart had argued against it until she was blue in the face, but the Witness only stared blankly in response.  Once she had finished, he said simply, “You're going to take me eventually.”

It was said so simply and with such firmness that Dart could not doubt for a moment that the Witness was speaking through his strange talent to foresee the future.  He saw her taking him to this foul-smelling cluster of huts that was little better than a fishing village sooner or later.  She could either accept it now or waste time arguing, but she apparently would eventually agree regardless. 

And so – with a sigh of resignation – Dart agreed.  It took barely a thought to imagine the hillside above the small town and in less time than it took for the Witness to acknowledge her agreement, they were standing where she envisioned, looking down upon their destination.

“
I wasn't in Scollhaven, but you couldn't see me coming, remember?” asked Dart.

“
No, but what happened in Scollhaven moved out from the town to the rest of Na'Ril.  You said yourself that word reached the coast within days of my settling there.  I would not have settled if things had not changed, and therefore you would never have been told I was there.

“
But I was wrong,” amended the Witness.

“
You were what?”  Dart stopped walking and pulled on the Witness' sleeve to stop him, as well.  “What do you mean you were wrong?”

The Witness blinked in confusion.  “I mean, what I said about not being able to predict things that had happened after Scollhaven was somewhat shortsighted of me.  It seems I can see them if I look for them in a different way.”

Dart shook her head in irritation.  “Are you at all able to just answer a question without forcing me to ask a dozen questions to figure out what your answer meant in the first place?”

Taking a deep breath, the immortal watcher tried again.  “It was true that I could not see where anyone should have been, but seems to have been because I had lost their paths.  By the time I realized people were not moving where I had foreseen them moving, they had wandered out of where I knew to look for them.  All I could focus on while in Scollhaven was where people
should
have been, and because of that, I could not see them.

“
But you brought me away from everything and everyone, and by doing that, I was forced to reach out to areas I would not have otherwise looked.  I now can see the other paths I was not seeing before, seeing that even though they are different, they
are
still there.  It appears I am not as crippled as I had imagined myself to be.”

“
So basically, you're saying you forgot how to swim until I drop kicked you into the lake,” supplied Dart.

The man scrunched his brow.  “I don't understand.”

“You were so used to doing everything a certain way, that you forgot there was any other way to do it.”

The Witness considered the analogy thoughtfully before responding.  “Yes.  That is a way of looking at it.”

Dart let out a groan of frustration.  Throwing her head back in mock despair, she began walking again towards the town.  “Okay, so you've got your trick back, and it says you need to watch something here.  Why?”

The Witness fell into step behind Dart.  “I
believe
that whatever caused the change in Scollhaven is coming here.  Or, at least, something similar is going to happen here that will answer what happened there.”

“
You can't be a little more specific?  I mean, I thought you
knew
what was going to happen, not what
might
.”

The man shrugged.  “Still getting used to doing something new, I suppose.  I am still seeing things in two realms – seeing things as they were before, and now things that are a completely different shade of – apparently – what is going to happen now.  To be honest, it's a little disorienting.”

Dart stopped again and waved the Witness ahead of her.  “Well, here it is.  The magnificent seaside town of Levitz, may the memory of its barnacles and dead fish odor be carried with you the rest of your days.”

The Witness did not pause as he walked past Dart and into the town proper.  Casting his eyes from side to side, he took in all that was around him.  But Dart could tell from his body language that he was not finding what he was expecting to see.

“So what's missing?” the woman challenged.

“
I see...  I see towers of water in the future, but I cannot see what is going to cause them.  I don't see a storm to sea, or any kind of disturbance that would bring great waves--”

“
You brought us here to get drowned?!” broke in Dart.

“
Of course not,” protested the Witness.  “Besides, if we were in any danger, you could take us away in a moment.  No, this is something else.  Like I said, I just can't see what is going to cause it.”

“
Well, I think we'd better find out before we have to test how reliable my teleporting is in times of stress, don't you think?”

The Witness didn't respond, only kept searching around him as he walked with eyes that saw more of the world than anyone else could see.

*     *     *

Desperation continued to push at Gravin as he climbed over yet another rocky crag, searching the horizon for the telltale sign of the port.  He had gone so much further south than he had imagined, and lost so much time as he tried to reach his destination.

It all came down to the day he had died.  And Gravin knew now that that was exactly what had happened.  What he had originally thought of as a miraculous rescue had proven to be something entirely different.  He had been under the waves too long, had been away from the surface much longer than the few minutes he had perceived. 

It had been daybreak when Aris had cast him in the ocean, and there had only been a few hours left in the day once he had reached shore.  By Gravin's estimation, that meant he had been under the waves for at least half a score of hours.  No mortal man could live after being under the water for that long, and yet he had seemingly survived.  Only, he couldn't have.

And that could only mean he had died and been brought back to life.  The only remaining mystery was by whom?

There was the obvious answer – the Gods.  Or, more specifically, Kalrios the God of the Sea.  Or possibly even Mastron the Stormlord, since a storm had been brewing at the time.  And yet, that explanation felt hollow.  Many were the tales Gravin had heard growing up of one spirit or another being raised in vengeance by an angry God or Goddess, but in each instance, the deity had appeared before the resurrected soul and commanded them to take revenge.

If that was a prerequisite to being brought back for vengeance, then it clearly was not what had happened to Gravin.

The other explanation was the sword.

Not for the first time, Gravin flexed his grip on the hilt.  Every waking moment, he carried the sword, even in times like this when he could have used his hand to climb the rough rocks along the shore.  He could not exactly thrust the blade in his pants, and he had no other way of securing it.  If he had had a shirt, he might have sacrificed it to carry the strange treasure, but he had lost that in his time below the waves.

That the sword was magic incarnate was beyond dispute.  Over the last several days, Gravin had toyed with the sword's power, summoning waves to his beck and call to dance and splash upon the shore as he chose.  He learned how to even make the water freeze in mid-air, to float about him like some strange ghostly blob.

But what the former sailor had not been able to do with the sword was bring anything back to life.

Gravin knew enough to fend for himself along the shore, to craft a crude spear to go after fish in the shallows, to dig for clams, and even how to set a snare to catch a few small birds that flittered along the shore in search of debris.  So he had no trouble surviving on his journey.  But he also had a wealth of formerly living creatures to test his theory on.

Once the man had thought of the possibility of the sword bringing him back to life, he had set out to learn how it was done.  His first test had been upon a half-eaten gull.  When that had proved unsuccessful, he next tried it on a speared fish with the same lack of success.  From then on, before he ate any of his catches, he would attempt to use the power of the sword to bring his kill back to life – and each time, the creature would continue to lie there as lifeless as when he first slew it.

Without any success in having the sword resurrect anything, Gravin had run out of ideas on what could have brought him back to life.  Not a God, not the sword, but something had.  For there was no way he could have lived under the sea for ten or more hours.

As if the time of day had not been clue enough of his time under the water, Gravin had found himself impossibly further south than he originally conceived.  Even with a storm surge, he had thought himself carried no more than a few miles.  Yet he had now been traveling for six days, and in that time, he had yet to find where
The Gull-Griffin
had been scheduled to dock. 

Gravin knew the route that the
Griffin
was to take.  He knew of the stop in Levitz, followed by the run up the coast to the capitol, Surenport.  There was plenty of time to finish the run before the winter storms set in next month, but even still he expected that the
Gull
would not take more than a week's time in Levitz before disembarking on its final leg of this season's trade run.  There was too much profit to be had
not
to reach Surenport. 

And this fact was what was driving Gravin to the point of mania: If he did not reach Levitz before the
Gull
set sail, there was no telling when next he might catch up to mongrel that had cast him into the sea.  Whether the Gods wished it or not, he intended to exact his revenge upon his former captain and take back the ship that he saw as rightfully his own. 

But the ship's course would change from year to year, depending on what contracts Aris could secure over the winter months.  He could head back down to Levitz in the spring, sail right by the hole-in-the-mast little town to richer prospects in the southern hemisphere, or across the ocean entirely.  Such was the way of the independent sea merchant – you went where the cargo manifests ordered you to, and the romantic notion of visiting the same ports season after season were left to the minstrels to sing about in their fanciful songs.

Gravin had set out along the shore, originally because he thought himself no more than a day to the south.  Then, once he realized it would be a longer trek, he stayed along the shore for fear of wandering inland and passing the town by entirely.  He did not know the land roads, nor whether any he might find would actually lead him to Levitz.  And so he stayed with what he knew – the shoreline.

Gasping for breath, Gravin pulled himself erect to stare once again along the shore.  He had seen sails of ships over the last two days, which had led him to believe he had been getting closer.  But what he saw now confirmed it – ahead of him, the rocky shore finally gave way to a graveled beach and further along still he could see the masts of several ships with their sails drawn in. 

He had finally found the port of Levitz.  Or if not Levitz, then at least he had found a place where he could find a ship capable of taking him to Surenport before the storms set in.

It took the mutineer the remaining part of the day to cross the beach and at last come to the outskirts of the town.  The edges of the community were little more than fisherman shanties, worn and battered by the harsh weather of seasons' past.  But they were signs of civilization all the same, and could not have been more welcome if they had been elegant gold-fringed palaces.