Lucian: Dark God's Homecoming (3 page)

At that moment, I found my mind spinning backwards through the centuries, to the days prior to my failed revolt. Memories long suppressed flooded forth, sweeping me along helpless in their path.

My Halaini. My lady of poise and strength and grace. My goddess, my muse, my inspiration, and my conscience. She who had encouraged me to strive beyond the limitations of my Aspect, then consoled me when I’d invariably failed. She who had argued so strongly against my secret plans to overthrow Baranak’s ruling circle and install myself as ruler of the City. She who had watched in sorrow as my plans were exposed and an army of gods marched out to meet my followers and me before we were fully ready to strike.

She had stood there, in the main square of the City, her hands raised between both armies, appealing for peace and restraint. She had faced even mighty Baranak down with the sheer force of her will and the purity of her intent. She had been determined to stop my war before it got going, and she had said--

“There’s nothing to be gained from this, can’t you see?”

My mind snapped instantly back to the present.

Those words. Had Evelyn actually spoken them, just then? Or had they merely floated up to me, from out of the depths of time, echoes and memories of my long-lost love? I wasn’t sure.

I looked at the humans again and saw that their captain had indeed spoken them. She had stopped the fight with those words.

Thus did the mortal woman Evelyn Colicos, with her poise and her strength and her grace, inscribe the first cracks in the wall surrounding my black heart, and summon ghosts from ten centuries in the past to torment me. That was the moment when all my plans and dreams came to naught, though I scarcely suspected the truth until much, much later.

At about that time the door opened, shattering my reverie.

The “door” was in actuality a portal, a breach in the fabric of reality that could only be opened from the outside. It shimmered into existence a few feet from us, blindingly bright golden lights flooding through. I raised a hand to shade my eyes, and saw the humans behind me cringing.

“Could you turn it down a bit, perhaps?” I called into the light, my voice tinged with sarcasm. “I don’t think the humans are equipped to tolerate your glorious radiance.”

The two of Baranak’s Host who had entered flared in indignation before settling into a more torch-like blaze. They moved to each side of the portal as their lord and master—and our captor—stepped through. Behind him came two others, whom I did not recognize at first.

“The dark god himself. So. This one is the cause of all our pain and woe,” said the figure to Baranak’s right. I knew him then: Vorthan, the self-styled god of the forge. Our engineer and builder. His mottled bald scalp reflected the Host’s golden light; above his black goatee, two red-tinged eyes seemed to bore through me. His muscular arms were crossed over his chest, and contempt dripped from his every word. “My compliments, Baranak, on his swift capture.”

“Indeed, you acted swiftly,” came a female voice to Baranak’s left, “but are you certain you acted properly?”

Alaria, of course. Tall she was, and curvy, fitted within a tight, black dress that shone of intricate patterns in the flickering light, iridescent and shifting and almost snakeskin-like. Her eyes, rimmed in black, sparkled with many colors; her thick, pouty lips shone with the color of wine. Her narrow face, pale to nearly white, lay within a sea of hair so deeply red as to appear almost black, shot through with shades of burgundy and magenta where the light struck it. Two long braids trailed down her left shoulder and over her breast. In all, her Aspect caused me to ponder anew the concepts of beauty and love and desire. What else would you expect? As with all of us, she lived up to the part she desired to play.

“Is this then the guilty party?” she asked, gazing at me where I sat.

“Who else?” Baranak growled.

“And there is no doubt?” she continued.

The big, blond god seemed momentarily troubled by her question, but swept it aside.

“Can there be any?” he said by way of answer.

“None of the other few who remain has a motive,” Vorthan added.

Baranak nodded.

“And Lucian’s past deeds are well known,” he said. “He conspired to overthrow this realm once before, and was exiled. From there, he doubtless plotted any number of schemes to bring us to ruin. And he has nearly succeeded.”

“Is there even any point to me saying that I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

Sullenly I stared back at them, growing more resigned to my fate by the moment.

“You feign both innocence and ignorance,” stated Baranak. “Very well. We shall convene a trial to prove your guilt. And then you will be executed.”

“You will be consigned to the Fountain,” Vorthan added, “where your form and energies will disperse…” He smiled. “And you will cease… to be.”

Nothing unexpected there. I nodded impatiently.

“Right, right—but what exactly am I accused of? Can you at least tell me that much?”

Baranak glared at me, full of righteous fury.

“Mass murder,” he hissed.

“Excuse me?”

“You are charged with the murder of seventy-two gods,” he said coldly. “Nearly three quarters of our number are gone forever. And for that…” His eyes burned into mine. “…You will pay.”

I absorbed this news with a degree of shock. So many of our kind—-dead? It was no easy trick to kill just one of us, but
seventy-two?
My stomach twisted and my heart quaked at the mere thought. Then I remembered that the Fountain had not flowed for years, and had started up again only recently. The Power had been denied us for so long. Of course, I had thought only of my own loss during that time—-what else would you expect? But during that period, we had all been vulnerable…

Baranak whirled and stalked toward the portal even as I fought to regain my wits.

“You do realize,” I called after him, “that at least one homicidal figure in black is patrolling the main path to Earth’s plane, right? You do not suppose he might have anything to do with this?”

“This one will stop at nothing,” Vorthan muttered. “The master of lies, indeed.”

Wordlessly, Baranak stomped back through the portal. Vorthan followed without so much as a backward glance, but Alaria remained another moment, her eyes meeting my own, her expression unreadable.

“Alaria!” came the booming voice.

Casting her eyes down, her black dress flaring at the bottom as she turned about, she followed the other two out of the dungeon. The Hosts closed the portal behind them and darkness descended once more.

I stared at the point where the opening had been, my eyes readjusting to the lighting, and contemplated what I had been told. I was being framed, obviously. And who better to frame?

Anger and depression settled over my spirit, and I sat in solitude for a while, considering my situation. The humans must have been impressed by the visit of our captors, for they kept to themselves during that time and I all but forgot them.

After the passing of perhaps an hour, they must have worked up their courage once more, for I heard one of them approaching. It was the captain, Evelyn. She knelt beside me, and I saw that her expression was pained.

“If you’re suffering from delusions,” she said, “clearly you’re not the only one.”

I shrugged, my mind still occupied with Baranak’s words.

“I am innocent, of course,” I said.

She nodded earnestly.

“Innocent. Yes. The devil himself. Of course.”

Despite my frustration, I couldn’t resist a laugh, and she joined me. I found my depression lifting somewhat, much to my surprise.

“I apologize for our presumptions earlier,” she said after a pause. “We had no right to assume you’d wish to help us—especially if you do have some connection to the rebellious worlds.”

“I—” Words failed me. Indeed, I found myself quite unsure of how to respond.

“I disagree with their positions, of course,” she continued, apparently oblivious to my discomfort, “but certainly you wouldn’t feel any compunction to aid those whom you might view as the enemy.”

“I—” I did not know what to say. Speechless? Ridiculous! My thrashing at Baranak’s hands must have caused some sort of brain damage.

“You do view us that way, right? As your enemies?” She frowned. “I can tell.”

Was the woman sincere? I felt adrift, uncertain of my actions and my feelings—not a sensation I to which I was accustomed. Was she intentionally shaming me? Or could she possibly be as open, as sincere, as she seemed? I could not get a read on her, and it galled me.

Leaning forward, she rested a hand on my shoulder, and met my eyes.

“We won’t make any further demands of you,” she said. “If you should find some way to assist us, and feel willing to do so, we’ll be grateful.”

I may have nodded once, my throat dry.

At that moment I had one of those out-of-body experiences, where you see yourself from high above. And I saw myself conversing with this mortal woman, as if she were one of us. And I was amazed. Certainly, in the thousand years of my recently ended exile on her plane of existence, I’d been forced to deal with humans, to interact with them. But always I had occupied the highest reaches of power, where I was removed from contact with all but the elites. I’d slain dukes and princes in my day, as well as generals and admirals and enlisted men by the bushels. By the end I had built my own power base among the Outer Worlds and had them on the brink of a war of liberation from the old Terrans. In all that time, though, only a very few mortal women had known my attentions, and none of them for long, even as the mortals measured time. My regard for most of them had been slight, indeed. None compared to what I had known in the eternal realm, to goddesses such as Halaini or Alaria. A thousand years had not been enough to make me forget what I had been forced to leave behind, nor to make me accept what I had deemed sub-standard replacements.

Yet here I sat, an inexplicable and undeniable interest in this mortal woman growing within me. Once I realized it, it struck me as quite ludicrous; no mortal woman—no mortal at all—could evoke such a reaction from in me in so short a time. No, this had to be something unrelated to any specific woman. Something that had been building within me for quite a while. I could see it now. This woman, Evelyn Colicos, was the catalyst of the moment, but the root cause was ten centuries spent in exile among their kind. It had softened me. That simply could not be.

While my own mind had been in turmoil, the captain apparently had been doing some thinking of her own. Standing, she walked a few steps away, then turned back, gazing down at me.

“I do have one question, though,” she said.

I sighed. I had known it was too good to be true. Her mind was always active, always thinking. Good traits in a captain, but not in a cellmate.

I looked up at her, waiting.

“So you’re a god.” She shrugged. “Okay. We’ll take that as a given, for now.”

One of the others snorted; we both ignored him.

“But, if so,” she continued, “why can’t you simply walk out of here?”

Grinding the balls of my hands into my tired eyes, I replied, “A portal into here has to be opened from outside. Our powers are negated within the dungeon. It is actually a walled-off pocket universe, a step below the City, and the Power scarcely trickles into this space.”

Lieutenant Kim had been approaching, and he scoffed at my words.