Three (The Godslayer Cycle Book 3) (27 page)

Nathaniel paused on the other side and waited for the immortal man to join him.  But if the time-lost man expected his companion to say more, he was sorely disappointed.  All the Eternal did was motion for the man to continue on and with a shrug, Nathaniel complied.  The pair trekked on through the natural ravine for quite some time before either spoke again.

After roughly an hour, Nathaniel called for a rest.  The upward angle of the cleft had taken its toll, and his own mortal strength had begun to flag.  The Eternal silently agreed while casting his sight up the path yet untraveled.

“The day comes along,” said the Eternal casually.  “We will reach the summit soon, but we cannot afford to lag long or it will be too dark for you to see much when we do.”

“What is it you want me to see?”

The old man bowed his head, looking almost sad as he said, “Be patient awhile longer, and all will be clear.”

The two fell silent, Nathaniel doing his level best to not force anything further from the old man. But the knowledge that the Eternal was deliberately keeping something from him was inescapable, and more than a little unsettling.  He began to wonder if he had made the right choice in coming here after all.  In spite of his concerns though, he nodded his readiness to continue and once more began to lead the way up the ravine.

Perhaps another hour passed before the rift in the ground finally opened to a much broader view, and within a handful of steps beyond, the pair crested the last rise.  Nathaniel stopped, blinded initially by what met his gaze.  As far as the eye could see in every direction ahead, there was nothing but a massive, flat plane of yellowish glass.  Or what
appeared
to be glass.  Nathaniel knew better.

The Eternal had not lied.  Splayed out before the pair was the entire amber-colored valley.  Having seen just a fragment of the Amber that had been held suspended in a natural break in the hillside could not have prepared Nathaniel for the sheer immensity of the entire phenomenon.  He had had no way of knowing exactly how massive the wrath of the Gods had been until he saw it from above as he did now.  It held an amazing effect of unreality, causing Nathaniel to even lose his sense of balance momentarily as a sense of vertigo overtook him.

The valley was not a simple thing, either.  It stretched for miles in all directions.  At the broadest point, Nathaniel could not even see the far border, fog and haze masking whatever details existed so far away. And covering the entire bowl of the valley between the peaks was one colossal, unbroken mass of yellow, semi-transparent stone.  For all intents and purposes, it looked as if the valley were filled with liquid tree sap, even though he knew that it was all one solid mass. 

This was the Amber - a creation that was indisputably of divine origin, for no being other than a God could ever have conceived of something so all-consuming.

“The entire valley was once filled with buildings,” sighed the Eternal.  Spires, simple homes, observatories.  Any kind of structure you could imagine could be found here.  The population was greater than any community that exists in the world today.  It was not my area to know the census, but I would easily have said that hundreds of thousands of souls had dwelled here once upon a time.”

The Eternal broke his own rule and took the lead, drawing Nathaniel behind him as he walked down the ridge toward the yellowish mass.  As he took his first step out onto the yellow stone, he turned to face his companion, visibly walking back and away from him.

“You may not realize this, but the Amber is not really as solid as it appears,” said the Eternal.  “It's actually a very slow moving liquid.  It is just moving so slowly that it cannot be seen with our mortal eyes.  I might not have believed this myself if I had not witnessed its passage over time, seeing subtle changes in the Amber over the centuries.”

The Eternal turned back in the direction they were heading.  After a few moments, it became obvious that the immortal had a specific destination in mind.  There was no randomness to the old man's movements, no meandering.  How he could possibly recognize one place on the Amber from another was beyond the mortal who followed, but there was little doubt that he could.

Once more, Nathaniel began to wonder what the Eternal's true motivations were here.  Why had the old man insisted on taking him here?  What message could possibly be so important that it could not be delivered anywhere other than here?

“You know,” said the younger man after some time had passed, “when I realized I needed to come here, I thought you would have a way for me to go back to my own time.  I thought that was why you suggested I see you again.”

The Eternal said nothing for several minutes, but finally did respond.  “Nathaniel, you don't belong in this time, that much is true.  Your presence here is a very real danger.  But moving through time is not something easily done.  You were brought here by one of the Nine, and that sword will not wake until your own time.”

A chill ran up the man's spine.  “How do you know about how I got here?  I didn't say anything--”

The Eternal turned about suddenly, a finality in the way he did so.  They had arrived wherever the immortal had intended them to be and it was plain that the old man would walk no further.

“Nathaniel, this is not our first meeting, nor will it be our last.  What
you
have yet to tell me - the you that is here right now - has already been said from my frame of reference by a version of yourself that has not yet come to be.”

Of course, this would be true.  But somehow this explanation seemed more like a way to avoid the subject rather than a proper explanation.  The mortal man was about to say so when the immortal continued.

“There is only one way to return you to your own time, Nathaniel,” the elder man said, sadness tenting his words.  “And that is through the normal passage of time.  But you cannot run around in this world with
that.
”  At this, he bobbed his head toward the sword in the other man's hand.  “You have been spared any great attention so far because you have not used its power.  But can you say you can keep it unused for a dozen years?”

The younger man took a step back unconsciously.  All of a sudden he felt a direct threat from the situation. He was alone with an immortal whose power he did not completely understand, in the most isolated place he could possibly be.  Looking over his shoulder, he could see the edge of the Amber in the distance, but it was in no way close enough to reach before anything aggressive could be done.  And out here on the flatness of the Amber's surface, there was no cover to shelter him should a genuine threat emerge.

“You don't really know much about how my abilities work,” said the Eternal, as though reading the mortal's thoughts.  “I was trapped, for a very long time.  And to escape, I needed to learn how to break the rules of how the world worked.  It was the only way.  But there were consequences.  My existence was the most obvious - moving back in time like a rubber thread, drawn to its most elastic point and then snapped back in the direction it came from.  But there were less obvious side effects, as well.”

The old man lowered his head, reflecting on memories only he could see.  “You likely won't recognize the word, but in my own time I was known as a scientist.  I used to work with machines and made great inventions.  To escape, I had to break away from what I knew.  I had to discover how to use magic.  It was the only way to break the rules of time, and this was the only way I could escape from my prison.”

Nathaniel gripped the hilt of his blade, flexing his strength against the solidness of the steel he held. Tentatively, he tapped into the sword's powers, feeling for any moisture within the range of the blade that could be called to his aid if he needed it.

“But to do this,” continued the Eternal, “I had to change myself.  Take into my body elements of time and magic that I would never be able to completely rid myself of.

“I told you before that I have an area around my body that I moved through, that let me see a short distance into the future.  Do you remember?”

Nathaniel's mouth was too dry to speak, so he just nodded.  He began to take another step back when he suddenly became aware that his feet would not move.  Looking down, he found his feet had been absorbed into the Amber, just enough to keep him from moving.

“What I did not tell you was that the field could let me pass through the Amber,” said the Eternal casually.  “Since the magic of the Amber is linked to the forward motion of time, my own movement backwards through time makes me immune to its effects.  Or that I could control that field, extend it beyond myself, or over someone else.”

The trap had been sprung, Nathaniel realized.  The Eternal had given his reasons - the young man could not stay in this time.  He could not be trusted not to use the sword.  And the only solution the immortal could offer...

“Don't do this,” pleaded the time-lost man.  “There must be another way to fix this.  You can take the sword, make sure I don't use it.”

The Eternal shook his head.  “Remember what I've said already, Nathaniel.  All of this has already happened.  There is no other solution than this one.”

The immortal walked up to within an arm's length of his captive.  “Just remember,” he said, “the Amber is a
liquid
.”

A liquid... 
All at once, Nathaniel realized what the meaning of that was. 
Two
controlled liquids - and he could use the sword to escape...

But before he could act on this thought, he found himself falling.  A bubble formed around him as he sunk below the surface of the Amber, the surface sealing over him in an instant.  He did not fall as fast as he would if he were doing so through air, but the descent was still rapid enough that there was no time to keep himself from sinking further and further into the yellowish substance. 

Desperately, the man reached out with
Two
's power, trying to manipulate the Amber itself, and though he could definitely feel the material move to his will, it was slow and sluggish.  It lacked the fluidity that he was used to controlling with water and other vapors.  Yes, he could make the Amber move, but he could not use the Amber in any constructive way to aid his plight.

Within minutes, Nathaniel's fall ended, his feet coming to rest upon the floor of the valley.  The light above barely filtered this far, everything around him now tinted with a sickly hue.  The bubble remained around him, but fear of running out of breathable air dominated his mind.  He might be able to move the Amber to let him pass, to even move the trapped air with him, but where could he possibly travel before the air exhausted itself?

Above, the light began to dim, signaling the sun's edging down toward nightfall.  New fear of trying to wander in absolute blackness consumed Nathaniel.  This seemed an exceptionally cruel way to eliminate his threat to the past - to suffocate him below this massive, murky substance, revisiting upon him the divine punishment long forgotten.

But as the light above dimmed, another began to come into view.  It appeared as a halo in the distance - in front of him rather than above.  Somewhere down here there was light - and though it did not have the strength of daylight, it gave the man something to focus on.  It was a direction in the otherwise mercurial bleakness of his surroundings.  And if he could reach the light before he ran out of air...

Exerting his will through the sword proved taxing.  He could indeed manipulate the mass of Amber with
Two
, but it was a slow process.  There was no quick solution, and Nathaniel had to exert every ounce of energy he could mentally manifest to get the Amber to sluggishly comply.  Step by agonizing step, he struggled, sweat pouring from his body as he moved.  Though his physical efforts were minimal, it nevertheless felt as though he were wrestling with every muscle in his frame.

Finally, gasping for breath, the edge of the Amber retreated to show a doorframe, light from the panes of glass in the door providing the source of the illumination.  The air around him was thin enough that he felt near to losing consciousness.  With a final burst of strength, he pushed against the door, hoping it would not be barricaded - for surely he had no strength left to break through a solid door.

The man let out a sigh of gratitude as the door yielded with no effort, the hinges apparently well-oiled and maintained.  Whatever else could be said for the Amber, it apparently did not allow for rust. 

Nathaniel collapsed through the portal, barely possessing the frame of mind to turn and push the door closed behind him.  Exhausted, he collapsed onto his back, gasping in the sweet air that had been held perpetually in suspension here, so far below the world's atmosphere.

“Oh my,” came a voice from across the room. 

Nathaniel's eyes snapped open, his head shifting back to take in the figure standing at the far end of the room.  With utter disbelief stealing any words, he rolled over, lacking the strength to properly rise and face the man who stood there.  But more surprising than anything else was precisely
who
stood there.

With a look of utter shock and astonishment on his face, the man Nathaniel had come to know as the Eternal returned his look of confusion, though this man did so without any sign whatsoever of recognition.

The Player sat at his table, riffling his cards nervously.  Something about this day held an anxiety mixed with the very air around him that had left him on edge.  This energy had been resonating through the fabric of the Player's being for three days now.  He could feel the change on the wind - he could not say what it was, but there was
something
out there that had just shifted.  And he could feel it buzz his fingertips whenever he ran them across his deck of cards.

The demi-God had rarely felt something this powerful in the Game before.  He had felt something similar around the time the card called
The Vanquished
had first been rumored to exist.  Of course, since then not only had the man seen the infamous card, he now possessed two copies of it.  The card's story text resonated in his mind as he contemplated what new power had just manifested in the Game:

Two fallen makes three.

Simple.  The card's effect was indeed powerful - “Destroy two creatures. Add their strength to an ally.”  But it was the card's imagery that was the most frightening, for it did indeed depict two Gods being slain, some invisible object protruding from their chests.  And the symbols on each of the Gods' chests were unmistakable - they were the holy symbols of Galentine and Kelvor.  Two Gods who had fallen to the invisible swords of the newly arisen Godslayers. 

Though what was meant by “three”...?  Did it refer to the other missing New Order Goddess, Imery? Did it refer to the number of Godslayers loose in the world?  Or something else entirely...?

The Player was so distracted by his own thoughts, he did not even notice the appearance of the girl before him.  He was sure that Dart had not simply materialized - she could, after all, since that was her talent.  But to do so in a crowded place?  Far more likely that he simply had not seen her approach.

“I do not see your companion,” the demi-God of chance said simply, looking for a way to recover from his surprise.

Dart's lip turned up on the right, a look that on anyone else would look snarky - but on this girl, it simply looked impish.  “He is keeping an eye on your Conclave,” she said simply.  “They are plotting something in Surenport.  Something big.  Know anything about that?”

The man who had once been named Laris Montise leaned back in his chair, taking his cards with him, continuing to run his thumb along their edge as he spoke.  “If they have not acted, the chances of there being anything in the Game are pretty remote.  Cards represent people and events, not plots and schemes.  Usually, at any rate.  But in answer to your question, no - I know nothing of any meeting in Surenport.”

Dart shrugged.  “Didn't think so, but it was worth asking.”  The girl plopped unceremoniously into a chair opposite the Player.  “Anything interesting in the Game at all then?”

The Player chuckled.  “Always.  Seen some interesting cards in the last few months.  I now own a card called
The Shroud of Imery
, and it definitely indicates that the Goddess of Truth is dead, not just missing.”

“That
is
interesting,” agreed Dart, a twinkle lighting her eye.

“There's also a related card called
Imery's Mantle
, but I haven't actually seen that one.  I trust the source who told me about it though.  Apparently there's someone walking around with Imery's power, though I don't have the slightest idea what that could mean.”  The man lifted his left shoulder, twisting his face in a look of bewilderment.  “And there's only so much I can ask someone about a card without showing my hand, that my interest is in more than the Game...”

“True, true,” nodded the girl vigorously. 

The Player raised an eyebrow.  “You're playing with me,” he said after a moment.  “You know something and you're toying with asking me questions to put off telling me, aren't you?”

Dart tried to hold the Player's gaze, her face muscles twitching as she tried to keep a non-committal smile on her lips.  But after a moment, she slapped the table and laughed out loud.  “Should have known better than to try to bluff you.”

“So you've come looking for me after all this time for more than just
my
information?”

The girl slipped her hand between the straps lacing the front of her leather bodice.  She held her hand there for a moment suggestively, lowering her eyes seductively to imply an interest.  But she could not maintain this appearance anymore than she could the calm smile, and her hand whipped out of its concealment with a card held between two fingers.

“We made a promise to you,” said the teleporting demi-God.  “And I believe we have found the missing piece to deliver on that promise.” 

The girl slapped the card face down upon the table, her hand atop it to prevent the Player from reaching for it.  The man could feel sweat drip down the back of his neck, his eyes incapable of looking away from the proffered item.

“But first, we have an assignment for you.”  Dart's flippant behavior vanished, severity replacing the light tone of a moment before.  “Your service to us does not end with the revelation of this information. We're clear on that, yes?”

The Player swallowed.  “Yes, yes, of course,” he mumbled.  “You have my word.”

“I will show this to you, but you will keep the information to yourself.  Because once I show it to you, I will be taking you to Surenport.  The Witness' talents are not enough to see what they are planning without revealing himself, and neither of us want them to know we're watching them.  So we need a mole...”

“You want someone inside,” said the Player, looking into Dart's eyes with conviction.  “It's a game, and I do
very
well at games.  Yes, I will do what you ask.  Just...”  The man's eyes shot to the card on the table.

Dart's lighter personality returned, yet she held back a moment longer.  “The Witness found this in Surenport.  He just...  became aware of it.  Once we saw it, we knew you would want it for your collection.” 

The girl at last lifted the card for the man to see. “
The God Behind the Man
,” the girl recited.  The artwork showed the same image from
The Fake God
, the one which had first shown the false God, Avery.  But behind him now stood another person, his head lowered, a twinkle of mischievousness in his eye.  On the shoulder of the second man's leather vest was a stylized symbol that just about anyone knew readily enough. 

“Ankor,” gasped the Player.  “The God behind the fake God is
Ankor
.  Which means...”

“Which means it was Ankor disguised beside Avery in Levitz,” finished the other demi-God.  “That it's been Ankor who has been helping Avery pretend to be a God.”

“But for what purpose?”

“Read the story text.”

The Player's eye went to the words along the bottom edge of the card:

Oh, isn't this the greatest practical joke there ever was?

The Player laughed.  “It's a joke?  The God of Mischief is just playing a joke?”

“A fairly serious one, it would seem,” suggested Dart.  “Do you know how many people all over the kingdom have branded themselves as faithful to the God of Vengeance?”

The Player had not considered that, but it was true - more and more people walked the streets of just about every town he had moved through in recent months brandishing the former heretic symbol, the inverted horns that Avery had adopted as his own holy symbol.  But the Player did not dwell on this - for the full impact of this information finally struck home.

“You said that whoever was in Levitz helping Avery...”

“...Was the true author of the Game,” finished Dart.  “Because only someone
inside
the wall of water could have known what transpired there.  And there was only
one
God in Levitz that day.”

“Ankor.”  The Player fell back in his seat, all energy leaving his body.  “The author of the Game is the God of Mischief himself.”

Dart raised a finger.  “Now, to be
completely
fair, we do not know that absolutely.  Not yet.  We know he was there, but he
could
have told one of the other Gods.  Not likely, but it
is
a possibility.”

The Player raised the deck he held to his face, pressing the edge of the cards to the underside of his nose.  “No.  I think I would know if it were not true.  I believe the Game would know the truth of it.  I don't feel any disagreement.  So it must be true...”

Dart grinned wickedly.  “I would feel better
asking
him myself, but if you are content, then who am I to complain?”

The Player took a deep breath.  “I thank you.  You have indeed kept your promise.”  He leaned to the side, retrieving his ever-present satchel.  With practiced ease, he slipped the deck of cards within and had the bag across his shoulder in a matter of moments.  “And now I shall deliver upon my own.  Take me to Surenport.  It is time for the Player to try his hand at the spy game...”

*     *     *

Seree rested upon her dais, the deep pillows consisting more of nebulous cloud-like material than anything else.  Though the illusion of great comfort was maintained, the end effect was far more luxurious, since she literally floated while she reposed.

The Goddess was not greatly surprised by the other God's appearance, but she was annoyed.  This was her private domain, and she did not like to have her peace and solitude intruded upon without some consideration being given.

“You should
not
be here,” said the Goddess of Charm, stretching luxuriously, the meager blouse rising as she did, exposing the underside of her shapely breasts.  “And not just because this is my private abode.”

“And here I thought we had a
thing
,” said Ankor, leaning suggestively over the reposed body of his host.

The Goddess rolled her eyes.  “Just because we play now and again does not make our relationship a
thing
, Trickster.”

“Ah, and here I thought you appreciated my unique...
maneuvers
.”  The God gave up all pretense of leaning and let his body fall into the pillows beside the Goddess.  “Ooh, fluffy.”

“Ankor,” groaned Seree, shifting her body away from the other God.  “Why are you here?  You've been cast out.  If any of the other Gods knew where you were...”

The God of Mischief rolled onto his back, folding his hands behind her head.  “Such lack of respect, that,” he grumbled.  “It is true what they say - no good deed goes unpunished.  For the first time in my entire existence, I was
completely
honest with you all.  There were no games, no tricks.  The Lesser Powers were set to make the largest coup in this world's
history
.  And just like that...”  The God tweaked his toes, emulating the sound of snapping fingers.  “...they cast me out like so much bath water!”

“Enuchek is dead, Ankor,” scolded the Goddess.  “You assured us that you were only after the
Greater
Powers.  Now Enuchek--”

“Was the one who betrayed
us
,” interjected the God, rolling over to face the Goddess.  “We were supposed to all be working in secret, but she made an alliance with Belask. 
Belask!
”

“So you say--”

“So it
was
,” insisted the Trickster.  “Enuchek showed up with Belask, and she had told Belask
everything!
”

“So you killed her.”

“I did no such thing!”

“But your Godslayer did.”

“That wasn't my idea!” cried Ankor.  “Galanor showed up leading a lynch mob and Avery stepped out to help me against
them
- Enuchek could have left, but she started fighting.  How was any mortal supposed to know which God was safe to kill and which was not?”

Ankor sat up, throwing his arms wide in submission.  “I had nothing to do with Enuchek's death.  I swear.”

“Then how did you get
that
?” asked the Goddess, tweaking her face in disgust as she pointed to the twisted scars covering the God's right arm. 

“I got that from Belask,” he confessed.  “I did stab
her
.  But only because she was going to kill Avery.  With Nathaniel Goodsmith believed to be dead, I couldn't let her do that.  And besides, that's what I was
supposed
to be doing - helping to kill the Greater Powers so we could all ascend.”

“All except Enuchek, it seems.”

Ankor threw his head back.  “I keep
telling
you, I had nothing to do with that!  She was only there because
she
had betrayed us all to Belask!”

Seree considered what her fellow God said.  In truth, she did have a special affection for the Trickster.  No other God could entertain her the way he did.  He was just so... 
diverse
in the things he did with her.  Ankor was possibly the most unique lover she had ever had.  And that arm...  She had to confess to herself if to no one else, she had always had a soft spot for a wounded warrior...  And who would ever have thought Ankor would ever go into battle for
any
reason?  The whole concept was just so wickedly... 
sexy!