Gathering of the Chosen (12 page)

“I will give you mortals credit for being
willing to assault a god that is a thousand times more powerful
than all of you put together,” Tinkar said. “But if this had not
been on the north side of the Dividing Line, I would have killed
you all for the severe lack of respect you showed toward me.”

“Go fuck yourself!” one of the villagers
shouted. “We don't want you stupid gods on our island!”

Tinkar didn't even look offended by that.
He yawned and said, “Obscenities. Is that the best you mortals can
come up with? Wait. Do not answer that question. The future tells
me that that is indeed the best that you are able to come up
with.”

“Are you going to restore Ruwa to its
former glory?” another village shouted.

“No,” said Tinkar. “I did not come here to
help a bunch of heathens.”

“Then why did you come here at all?” a
third villager shouted. He took off his shoe like he was going to
throw it at Tinkar. “Get out of here! No one wants you around.”

The villager threw his shoe at Tinkar. His
aim, unfortunately, was severely off, because his shoe instead hit
Saia directly in the face.

“Ow!” Saia said, rubbing his nose where
the shoe had hit. “Barc, what the hell was
that
for?”

“Sorry,” said Barc, the villager who had
thrown the shoe, sheepishly. “My bad.”

Carmaz again rose to his full height and
said, “Please, I understand how angry everyone here is at Tinkar
and the gods, but you must understand that Tinkar rescued Saia and
me from the crustaceans and has offered us hope for Ruwa.”

“Hope for Ruwa?” Frissa repeated, looking
up at Carmaz with her large eyes. “What do you mean, Carmy?”

Smiling, Carmaz scooped Frissa into his
arms again and then addressed the villagers once more, saying,
“According to Tinkar, there is an event starting next month on
World's End known as the Tournament of the Gods. It is an event
that will pit one hundred mortals against one another to determine
who will ascend to godhood to replace the gods that died in Uron's
attack on Martir two months ago.”

“I have never heard of this 'Tournament of
the Gods' before,” said Hazur, her old voice full of suspicion.

“That is because, elder, it is the first
of its kind,” said Tinkar. “The Powers themselves created the idea
as an efficient way of replacing the deities lost by Uron's hand.
It is no lie.”

“What's so great about this stupid
Tournament?” Barc said, folding his arms over his chest. “Sounds
like a glorified game to me.”

“It's great because I have been chosen to
participate,” said Carmaz, gesturing at himself. “That means I have
a shot at becoming the God of Martir. And if I become the God of
Martir, I can use that power to help Ruwa.”

“Really?” said Frissa. She hugged Carmaz's
head in excitement. “Yay! You can help Ruwa. Can I help?”

“Sorry, Frissa, but you have to stay
here,” said Carmaz, pushing her hands off of his head. “Saia and I
are going to World's End alone. We only came back here to explain
the situation and say good bye to everyone.”

“But don't you worry, Frissa,” said Saia,
giving her the thumbs up. “I'll make sure to keep Carmaz here out
of trouble for you while we're away.”

Frissa giggled, but Carmaz paid her no
more attention. He was now looking at the other villagers, waiting
to see what their reactions would be. He saw no reason for any of
them to be against it. After all, everyone here knew him well
enough to understand that he really would use the power given to
him as God of Martir to help fix Ruwa if he won the Tournament. He
expected complete support from everyone.

But the longer he waited for a reaction,
the less likely it seemed he would get one. Or at least, the less
likely it seemed that he would get a
positive
reaction. The
general facial expression he saw was a mixture of disappointment
and betrayal. Barc even looked away and made a noise of
disgust.

Carmaz's smile fell. “What is the matter
with you all? Aren't you happy for this rare opportunity I could
use to actually improve the lives of us all?”

Still no smiles.

Then Hazur looked Carmaz straight in the
eye. Her gaze was one of betrayal and sadness, which actually hurt
Carmaz more than he thought it would.

“Why should we be happy that you have a
chance to join those who have ignored us?” said Hazur. Though she
spoke softly, her words were impossible not to hear. “We remember
the last God of Martir, Skimif, who did not improve our lives in
any way. I recall when he first ascended thirty years ago. I was a
much younger and more hopeful woman then than I am now.”

“But I'm not an aquarian like Skimif was,”
said Carmaz. “I'm one of you. I would never forget you, no matter
how big and powerful I may get.”

“Skimif did nothing for us,” said Hazur,
as if Carmaz hadn't said a word. “He only ever seemed preoccupied
with higher things. Or perhaps it was his aquarian bias against
humans that prevented him from helping us. In any case, we have
learned not to rely on any higher powers to help us, because the
higher powers have shown that they do not
want
to help us,
even when they are able.”

“I understand your distrust and hatred of
the gods,” said Carmaz. He tried to keep his voice calm, but it was
hard, even with Frissa in his arms. “But you have to realize what a
grand opportunity this is. I am not asking you to trust Tinkar or
any of the other gods. I am asking you to trust
me
, which I
know that everyone here already does.”

“We trust you only because you are one of
us,” said Hazur. “But one thing I have learned in my life is that
power changes people, often in bad ways. And I can think of no
position with more power than that of the God of Martir.”

“Are you saying that I will go mad with
power?” said Carmaz. “Elder, you have to know me better than
that.”

“I did not say that you would go mad,”
said Hazur. “But I believe you will forget. You will stop thinking
of us as your equals. You will come to view us much like the rest
of the gods, as minor annoyances who you are under no obligation to
aid or protect.”

Carmaz did not know what to say to that.
He looked at the other villagers, searching for any who might
disagree with Hazur, but none did. Even Frissa was quiet, though
that may have been more due to her lack of understanding of what
they were talking about more than anything. Saia looked as
uncomfortable as Carmaz, but like everyone else, he kept his mouth
shut.

Then Hazur turned and walked back toward
her hut. The rest of the villagers did as well, until soon the
entire village square was empty once more, save for Carmaz, Saia,
Frissa, and Tinkar.

Carmaz lowered Frissa back onto the
ground. She looked up at him with worry and confusion on her
childish features.

“Carmy, are you really going to forget us
if you go away?” asked Frissa. She sounded close to tears.

Carmaz smiled, though it felt fake, and
mussed her hair. “Of course not, Frissa.”

“But Hazur said—”

“Elders can be wrong sometimes, despite
their immense wisdom and experience,” said Carmaz. “Just know that,
whether I win or lose the Tournament, I
will
come back. I
will not forget anyone here, even the people who refuse to support
me. You can count on that.”

“Okay,” said Frissa in a much happier
voice. “But I want you to take this with you before you leave.”

Frissa jammed her hands into the pockets
of dress and then pulled out a shiny, solid gold coin that Carmaz
had never seen before. She then held it out for him to take, which
he did. Turning the coin over, Carmaz saw that it was one of the
old Ruwan coins that had been the primary currency of the island
nation before its downfall centuries ago.

Carmaz looked down at Frissa again. “Where
did you find this?”

“In the jungle when I was out gathering
wood for the fire,” said Frissa. “It was shiny and pretty, so I
took it. But you can have it. I think you need it more than
me.”

Carmaz did not have the heart to tell
Frissa that the gold coin was completely worthless, so he simply
closed his hand around the coin and said, “I will treasure it
always, Frissa. Thank you.”

Frissa gave a great, big smile when he
said that. “That makes me happy.”

“Now I think you should go,” said Carmaz,
gesturing at the rest of the village. “It's time for Saia and I to
leave now. But we will definitely return, no matter what.”

“Okay,” said Frissa. She waved at him and
Saia. “Bye Carmy, bye Saia. I hope you both become gods!”

With that, Frissa turned and ran off into
the village. Carmaz watched her go, feeling a little better about
himself now, knowing that he had at least one supporter here who
cared about his success.

“Well …” said Saia, causing Carmaz to look
at him. Saia had his hands in his pockets, looking rather
uncomfortable. “That was not how I expected the announcement to go.
At all.”

“Think nothing of it, mortals,” said
Tinkar, shaking his head. “Few mortals are intelligent enough to
see when they will benefit from something like this. Most are so
caught up in jealousy and the trivialities of day-to-day life that
any possibility of improvement becomes a myth to them that must be
shot down at all costs.”

“You knew they would react this way,
didn't you?” said Carmaz, looking at Tinkar with disgust. “Why
didn't you tell me?”

“As the God of Fate and Time, I have made
a point of not interfering with either,” said Tinkar. “I am not
like the other gods, who regularly interfere with their domains as
they see fit. Fate and time are too fragile to alter without
causing devastating consequences for everyone, including the
gods.”

“What about the things that my people said
to you?” said Carmaz. “When they accused you and the other gods of
not caring about us? What did you think about that? Didn't it
bother you?”

“You act like I hadn't already known they
would say that,” said Tinkar. “Besides, why should I be angry at
the truth? Skimif really did fail to improve Ruwa's condition while
he reigned. And the rest of us have not done much, either.”

Carmaz's fists shook. “Is that all, then?
No apologies for ignoring us? No justifications for your lack of
action?”

“Justify? To whom and why?” said Tinkar.
“It is not the gods' job to make everything comfortable for you
humans. Our job is to watch over the domains that the Powers
assigned to us, and to defend Martir when necessary.”

Carmaz didn't say anything to that. He
just looked down at Frissa's coin, which was cold in his hand.

“I imagine, then, that your village's
rejection of you has caused you to rethink your previous plan for
helping Ruwa if you win the Tournament,” said Tinkar.

Carmaz looked up at Tinkar in surprise.
“'I imagine'? I thought you knew the actions of every mortal before
even they do.”

“Not if you are a godling like yourself,”
said Tinkar. “Most of your actions come as a surprise to me. It
makes you godlings annoying to deal with, but even gods like myself
have our limitations.”

“Well, to answer your question, no,” said
Carmaz. He held Frissa's coin up to his chest. “If I win this
Tournament, I am still going to use my power to help Ruwa.”

“Despite their obvious lack of support
toward you?” said Tinkar, now sounding genuinely surprised.
“Why?”

“Because they are still my people and my
friends,” said Carmaz. “And I know that if I don't help them, then
no one will.”

For once, Tinkar looked at a loss for
words. Then he shrugged and said, “I guess you humans still have a
few surprises up your sleeve. Anyway, let us leave right away.
There is not much time before the Tournament begins and there are
still many other godlings to gather before the fateful day.”

“Then take us there, Tinkar,” said Carmaz,
gesturing at himself and Saia. “We're both ready to go right
away.”

Tinkar nodded. He then snapped his fingers
and Ruwa faded away around Carmaz, until he and Saia found
themselves standing in the largest city he had ever seen in his
life.

***

One month later …

B
raim Kotogs stood before the
massive, domed stadium known as the Stadium of the Gods, looking at
it with interest. It was a brand new building, having only just
been finished about a week ago. Neither Braim nor any of the other
godlings had been allowed to watch its construction while it was in
progress. In fact, the godlings had all been separated entirely,
kept in their own apartments or inn rooms to avoid meeting each
other until the day of the Tournament. The reasoning behind that,
according to Alira, was so that the godlings would not be able to
formulate strategies to use against each other in the Tournament
itself, though Braim thought it was actually because neither Alira
nor the gods wanted the godlings to interact with each other
unsupervised.

Whatever the case, the Stadium resembled
the Temple of the Gods, except its exterior was made of pure gold
and its doors were crystalline. It was located on the far west side
of the city, on one of the few places on World's End that had been
open enough to build on. Even then, Braim knew that the gods had
had to tear down a handful of buildings that were already there in
order to make room for the large structure.

The Stadium had a huge frieze built above
the entrance that displayed the thousands of gods already in
existence. It was so intricately made that Braim sometimes wondered
if it was just an illusion, as he doubted even the gods could make
a frieze so intricate. On either side of the entrance were two
stone statues of Alira, flanking the entrance like guards, holding
up the Rulebook of the Tournament in their stone hands.