One (The Godslayer Cycle Book 1) (6 page)

“
There are nine such swords in total,” spoke the woman as she flipped the top card from her deck, looking at it casually.  “So the answer as to how many
others
there are is eight.”

“
Swords...?”  Again, the woman's words struck a chord of familiarity deep within Nathaniel's breast.   “A sword...  Held by the feet...”

Bracken recovered himself enough to clear his throat, his eyes now diverted to the cards the woman flipped through.  “An' how woul' ya be knowin' such a thing?” he asked through gritted teeth.

The woman sat somewhat in shadow, so her immediate features were not immediately visible.  However, the smile that crossed her features could not be hidden.  “You play, do you not?”

Bracken flinched.  “Ya be meanin' what by that, madame?”

The woman looked up, her face still masked in shadow, though the brights of her eyes shown clearly enough to pierce Bracken through his core.  “Why, the Game, of course.”  In response, the woman flipped the card in her hand across the room with a precision that seemed to defy her slight hand.  The card flew through the air with an accuracy that appeared unworldly and came to rest on the floor at Bracken's feet.  “The Game, sir dwarf.  You do play, do you not?”

Bracken swallowed uncomfortably.  He did play, of course.  And now that the card rested on the floor at his feet, he even recognized the stylized backing of the card.

This was not just a game; it was as the strange woman called it, simply “the Game”.  Its origins were unknown, its rules intricate and impossible to some, easier to others.  And yet, despite the idea that no one seemed to ever know from whence the Game had come, few there were that could avoid at least knowing of it.

The Game, according to lore, had originated some few hundred years ago.  It was a human convention, something Bracken had never seen nor heard of before coming to reside upon the surface.  Some attributed the first Game's printing to an anonymous printer somewhere on the coast.  Others claimed it was a divine gift of the Gods, though which set of Gods was anyone's guess.  Still others thought it an elaborate machination of politics, instituted by some now-deceased ruler designed to keep the minds of his subjects diverted.  The only thing known for sure of the Game, in truth, was that no one really knew anything about where it came from, neither in the past nor the present.

The oddest element about the Game was that there were always new cards entering circulation.  The cards would depict current rulers, elements in history, sites and communities from across the world.  For many, the Game was the single source of knowledge that such places even existed, though none doubted that if they appeared on a card that they did in fact truly exist somewhere.  Some cards were fairly easy to acquire, others rarer and consequently more valuable.  Many a merchant was said to have lost a fortune upon seeking out and purchasing the more exotic cards of the Game, in time abandoning the profit-based source of their livelihood in favor of the compulsive need to track and collect the different cards that could be found.

Many were the errant who had tried to trace the origins of the Game, yet none had ever prevailed that Bracken knew of.  Where one may have followed rumors to the coast, another would follow a path leading far inland or even across the sea to uncharted territories.  Yet no matter how far and wide one traveled, the answers were always the same – no one knew where the cards came from.

Bracken himself had made an erstwhile attempt in his younger days to track down a card that actually depicted a dwarven hero, Stelk Rockcruncher.  This was before he had actually learned to play the Game, and his sole interest in the beginning was to learn how humans had acquired such intimate knowledge of dwarven history.  He purchased the card from a player, and followed the man's tale to contact the one from whom he had acquired the card.  But of course, by the time his quest was completed, Bracken had been lured into actually learning the Game himself, and he was an avid player by the time he reached the final branch in his path.  He managed to track the card back along a chain of seven individuals before he encountered a dead end, the final player just saying he had found the card on the street one day.

This, if anything, was the most consistent origin story that could be derived – the cards were “found”, implying that someone unknown was out there losing the cards and others were finding them.  Not that this was the only story, but it did seem the most common.

Regardless the method of their creation or distribution, the cards seemed to be in enough abundance to be actively played in all major communities.  Bracken had acquired a taste for the game during his time tracking Rockcruncher's card, and even here in Oaken Wood, he acquired the occasional new card from players who wandered through.  Though he had yet to find one just lying upon the ground, he still had a fair selection of cards to play with and prided himself on his Game strategies.

The unique factor of the Game was that no two games were ever the same.  The cards were not set and one player's deck of cards rarely resembled another's.  Bracken had often wondered, with the popularity of the Game, why no one had ever tried to operate a business to profit full-time off of the Game, aside of course from the seemingly unprovoked reactions some representatives of the new Order had towards the Game.  Yet, somehow, this idea never seemed to catch on the few times Bracken had witnessed it tried.  There seemed an almost divine will to sabotage any one person who tried to capitalize off of the Game.  And yet, in absence of profit, it was beyond Bracken's understanding how the creator of the Game, whoever that had been or currently was, could afford to continue to produce new cards to be played.  And even more mysterious was how a card quality could be produced so that cards could endure for as long as they did.  Some people claimed to have inherited cards from as long ago as their great grandsires!  Surely not an inexpensive process...

Bracken had taught Nathaniel how to play when he was younger and the young man had proven an apt pupil, not to mention a challenging opponent.  Yet despite his success with the Game, Nathaniel had never desired cards of his own.  He played with his own deck created from Bracken's unused collection, but he had no desire to own a deck of his own.  And as far as Bracken knew, he had been Nate's only opponent.

The dwarf leaned down and picked up the card, gasping as he did so.  “What kind o' wizardry be this, then?”

In response, the woman stood and walked over to the pair, bringing her features for the first time into full light.  Her hair was long, and hung loosely upon her shoulders, presumably cascading unseen some distance down her back.  It's luster seemed to frame the delicate features of her face, though either man would have been hard pressed to identify what exactly about her features stood out the most.  In truth, there was an almost masculine quality to her features that somehow only enhanced her feminine characteristics.  Her face seemed almost out of proportion, as though some odd sculptor had crafted her face from a dozen different designs ranging from solid masculinity to subtle feminism.  Her eyes sparkled as she moved behind Bracken and casually glanced over his shoulder.  “It's rather a good likeness, I would think,” she said.

Bracken felt his face flush, and he rose angrily to his feet.  “I coul' care less the artist's flair,
lady!
  I care only fer the truth behin' the wizardry wha' was used to make it!”

Nathaniel's curiosity was piqued by now.  “What is it, Bracken?”

“No' important,” grumbled the dwarf, slapping the card face down upon the table.  “An' I s'pose ya have others like this one, too?”

“
Oh, no,” purred the woman, holding up her hand in supplication.  “For now, I imagine, that is one of a kind.  You should be honored that she made one in your name.  Is that not what everyone who plays the Game thinks about?  The day that they might come upon a card with their own name upon it?  What one of their own cards might look like?”

“
'Your own cards...'” Nathaniel gasped.  “That's a card with
you
on it?!”

“
That would be dependin' 'pon wha' ya thought o' as me,” grumbled the dwarf.  “Tha' card is no' who I be anymore.”

The woman smiled.  “As I understand it, the cards reflect important persons and events from when they are important.  Bracken the Hero makes a better card, I would imagine, than Bracken the Innkeeper.”

Bracken's features twisted in a rage Nathaniel had never before seen in his friend.  “An' who are ya tha' thinks she knows me so well?  An' wha' trickery 'ave you been about in my place?  First a man, then a lass?  Don' think I dinna see ya well 'nough when ya came through my doors!”

The stranger seemed nonplussed by Bracken's outburst, wandering around the table to stand closer to Nathaniel.  “Do keep the card,” she said, still speaking to the dwarf though her eyes were fully now upon Nathaniel.  “I think it will serve you well.  Far better than it would serve me.”  At this, the woman grinned.  “Of course, one card in a deck does not make for a better deck, but it does add chance to the hand.  A chance to return to glory, perhaps?”

Nathaniel reached across the table in his friend's direction, pleading for Bracken to remain calm.  He could almost feel the dwarf's muscles knotted like steel cords even at a distance, and he knew that if he did not do something to diffuse the encounter, the dwarf would be unable to keep from assaulting the woman outright.

“
Milady, you are indeed a woman of mystery,” he started.  “And I am thinking that is your intent.  But your air is insulting at best, arrogant at worst.  May I suggest that all withdraw before one of you regrets the outcome?”

The stranger beamed.  “Well spoken!  Well spoken, indeed!”  The woman leaned over and took on a more serious air.  “Yet the purpose of your original question remains unanswered.”

The woman remained silent for a few moments, clearly considering whether to say what she would next.

“
Nine to avenge nine,

to shatter those that follow.

Powered by the divine,

defined by mortal hands.

Awakened in order,

marked by sign of chance.

Each will gift its power,

to the last to wield it.

Hidden from the eyes of Gods,

called to the minds of men.

Only one can follow,

only one shall unite.

None shall abide another,

save for the one before.

The fate of each,

and all are one.

To destruction and rebirth,

they shall be forever cast.
”

Bracken shook his head, only now realizing that he had been enchanted by the woman's words.  He cast a quick glance to his friend, but the look in Nate's eyes was more fire than ensorcelment.  Obviously, he had not been bewitched by the words as had he.  Yet neither, it seemed, had he been able to interrupt the woman's speech.  And now that she had finished, Bracken found himself yet again enraged at having been magicked upon at all.

“
More sorcery!” he bellowed, bearing down indignantly upon the speaker.

“
I...”  Bracken's momentum was stopped as abruptly as it had begun by the broken utterance coming from Nate, though he could not later have said why.  “I have heard that before...  somewhere...  I know that...  those words...” he managed.

The woman nodded.  Of course you have.  You've known the prophecy since you were born.  Before, actually.  It was part of your conception, born into this world completely with your birthright.”

“Birthright?”  Nathaniel responded.  “What are you talking about?  I don't have a
birthright!
  I know nothing of nobles or their claims, and I assure you I am no lost son of any throne!”

“
Certainly, you do,” the woman purred.  “Were you not listening?  You are the one the prophecy spoke of.  You are the Avatar.”

“
A wha'?” burst out Bracken.

“
Not 'a'.  'The'.  There is only one.  At least, there's only one for our purposes.”  The stranger pulled up a chair that neither of the friends had noticed before and proceeded to sit without invitation.  Bracken still stood where he had come to a stop in his abbreviated rush upon the strange woman as Nathaniel leaned forward in his own chair expectantly.

Close up, the woman seemed of indeterminate age.  Her hair and skin suggested the vibrancy of youth, yet her eyes told of a far more worldly existence.  There was an aura about her, unmistakable at close quarters, one that seemed magnetic with her sharp blue eyes and golden locks.  Even her clothes, at first seeming merely common cloth, gave the appearance of being almost regal in quality when closely inspected.  Bracken had experience with things of magic, and the hairs upon his neck and chin bristled in its presence, as they most assuredly did now.

“Okay, so wha' is
the
Avatar?” Bracken asked, feeling the unmistakable urge to defend his friend.

“
A servant of the Gods,” answered the woman.  “An emissary, if you will, between the divine and mortal realms.”

Nathaniel felt his own face flush now.  “I do not serve the New Order now, nor can you ever compel me to.  You are mistaken if you think some small poetry will sway me against my nature, for I have learned it upon hard lessons since I was barely able to lean against a grown man's knee!”