H - 120: Between the Gods and Timekeepers (Patreon)

“What?” Vanimax demanded, alighting upon the cathedral’s roof in response to Vadaralshi’s roar. “If you hadn’t noticed, we are in the middle of something!”

“Yeah, but we’re at best treading water, and causing a bunch of splash damage,” she replied. Both her passengers had already hopped down from her neck and were standing upon the great central tower to which the dragon herself now clung. “And our little friends have an idea.”

The Flock’s cathedral was a blend of Vale sensibilities and their own: its main structure consisted of enormous rough-hewn stone columns and slabs delineating a simple space, surmounted by a gently sloped roof covered with sod in which lush grass, moss, and wildflowers grew. Within the open spaces framed by those coarse stoneworks, however, were built walls of intricate gothic stonework bracing stained glass windows and beautifully engraved wooden doors. Even the cathedral’s towers were uneven and rough-looking in shape, albeit with the same elaborate stonework and glass within—including this, the great central spire rising from the Cathedral’s massive main sanctuary. Its huge glass windows framed the marble statue of Anessima within, casting her shadow across the city when the sun hit in just the right way.

Now, Greg and Lilith stood upon the flat stone roof of the tower, with Vadaralshi and Vanimax carefully clinging to its sides.

“This is it,” Lilith said, her voice dramatically raspy and her expression avidly intent. “This is the moment. My destiny is at hand.”

Vanimax emitted a sharp sigh which ruffled their clothes with a hot breeze smelling of molten copper. “Oh, for the—this is why you interrupted us?”

He spread his wings to take off again.

“Wait! Listen to her!” Riocco urged from astride his neck.

“Yes, wait! Hang on, Max!” Pheneraxa called, herself gliding in to grab onto the tower alongside the others. “This is her, the mage I was telling you about! Please tell me you remember. That mage?”

Vanimax hesitated, turning a newly analytical stare upon Lilith.

Riocco took the opportunity to leap down nimbly from his neck to join their teammates atop the tower. “Lilith, are you certain?”

“I feel it,” Lilith grated sepulchurally, “in the depths of my very soul. There will never be a better time, nor a greater need. It must be now.”

Zhiiji had now clambered all the way up to Vanimax’s head to peer down at the trio from between his horns. “Somebody wanna let me in on the joke?”

“Eclipsian,” he said curtly, rolling his eyes up to give her a long-suffering look.

“Ah, okay, I see, I see. And…that means?”

Spooky, who had remained alongside Zhiiji and Vanimax’s group instead of joining the other Legionaries who had come to Boisverd, swooped up to her and leaned in close to murmur in her ear. The chef narrowed her eyes, then widened them, then turned her head to give Spooky an incredulous stare.

“Kid, I don’t wanna discourage you, but we need certainty,” said Vadaralshi. “And what worries me is your branch of magic is kind of infamous for being unable to provide that specific, exact thing.”

“That is sort of the point, though,” said Pheneraxa. “If she feels certain… That’s unusual. And it’s about as strong an indicator as we can hope for.”

“Nor is she alone!” Greg proclaimed, shaking a leg, stomping a foot, and rolling his shoulders to produce a fanfare. “We have all been preparing for this day—I’ve built my instrument to provide everything Lilith needs for support when the time came.”

Vanimax’s long face was still a mask of draconic skepticism, but he glanced around at the city being overrun by colossus spiders, the several points of mortal defenders managing to hold ground, and grimaced. “What exactly is your plan?”

“We have been placed in the grim position of pitting victims against one another,” Lilith rasped. “Colossus spiders are docile creatures who wanted none of this, and deserve none of it. They are innocent animals suffering because of the flailing of a madwoman, along with this city. I will send them home, healed and at peace, and remedy the destruction caused here. Not even Eclipse has power over death, but all else is fixable.”

“Wait, you can do all that?” Percy demanded.

“There’s nothing she hypothetically can’t do, given ideal conditions, which we don’t have,” Vadaralshi said. “It’s a hell of a coin to flip.”

Vanimax shook his head, growling in displeasure. “Percy… This is your city. You’re in charge. What do you think?”

Percy twitched, looking momentarily dumbfounded, but then frowned, leaning forward to brace both her hands against the blue scales before her. “Pheneraxa? I know nothing about…this kind of magic. I could use perspective.”

“It’s unpredictable and unreliable,” Pheneraxa said immediately, “and in most cases I wouldn’t consider it. But it’s also…ah…thematic in a bardic way, and Lilith feeling sure with the actual bard backing her up…well, it makes a difference. Also it’s questionable how much difference we’ve been making. You have to understand there’s nothing even resembling certainty about this, but in this one specific instance… I think it’s worth a try.”

“Then we’ll try it,” the princess stated. “Herons, what do you need from us?”

“I must have time and freedom to cast,” Lilith stated, striking a pose and slamming the butt of her staff against the tower’s stone roof. “Greg’s bardic magic will support mine for the duration. My spell will immediately bring reprieve to the city by directing all the colossus spiders’ attention to me. That is why I asked that we be put down atop this tower. It is the tallest structure in Boisverd and it will take them the most time to reach me—time in which they will be exposed and vulnerable to being knocked off.”

“You need to be defended from being the single focus of thousands of monsters?” Vanimax exclaimed.

“In a word: yes,” Lilith answered gravely.

“And they aren’t monsters,” Riocco added, “just animals. None of this is their fault. If you three can provide large-scale disruptions to keep the swarm at bay, I will stand guard over Lilith and deal with any which slip through.”

“We will,” Zhiiji corrected, leaping down to join them atop the tower. “You can’t beat dragons for smashing through a huge swarm, but there’s no way one person can hold off everything that’ll wiggle through that. With me and Spooky helping, you’ve got a shot.”

“I don’t even need space to stand!” Spooky added cheerily, zipping away to float in midair just off the side of the tower to demonstrate. A spear of green light coalesced in her grip, held at the ready.

“Then, to give it a lot of credit, we have a plan,” Vanimax growled. “May whatever god is listening lend their support.”

“I hate to sound demanding,” Riocco added, “but if possible, please try not to damage the cathedral too much. I mean, more than it will be by having thousands of colossus spiders climbing it. It’s sort of a landmark.”

“Also, we’re standing on it,” Greg added further.

“We’ll do our best,” Vadaralshi replied with a grin, then pushed off and snapped her wings outward, gliding away in an arc. Vanimax and Pheneraxa followed suit, catching the winds and swooping about to begin a patrolling flight path around the cathedral.

“Y’know, I’d never have expected to find that the dragons are a lot like adventurers,” Greg commented. “They bicker and banter with the best of ‘em.”

“Hells yeah, they do!” Zhiiji crowed, twirling her khopesh. “I love those guys! This is the best job I’ve ever had.”

“Just as a point of curiosity,” said Spooky, “if your party’s mage is an Eclipsian and has never cast a spell, and the bard is specialized into supporting her when the time comes… Riocco, have you been doing all the work this entire time?”

“Friends support one another’s destinies,” Riocco said solemnly. “Do what you need to, Lilith. We have your back.”

“And speaking of backs: the time has come!” Greg spun about, clicking his heels, and once again the panel retracted in his contraption and a single shaft emerged, topped by a crystal knob which emitted a slowly pulsing glow. “Pull my lever, Riocco!”

***

“The first and hardest lesson, at least for those of us who care, is that mortals must be allowed to fight their own battles.”

Kaln felt that to the bottom of his soul. He couldn’t hear many screams from this altitude, but he knew what a healthy city sounded like; Boisverd was dangerously quiet now, even its alarm bells having fallen silent, and the only distant voice he could hear were raised in fear and fury. From their vantage atop this tower he could see its streets, a patchwork of the multi-limbed hordes being desperately fended off as the people of the city struggled to protect each other.

“Your instinct is to plunge in and help, however you can,” Anessima continued softly, once again touching his upper back. “Even mortals most act with care in a crisis; the first rule of disaster relief is not to become another victim. But for gods, there are whole additional layers of towering considerations, and it is power that makes the difference. So many problems that such as we could fix with a wave of our hands…and not a one that would not spiral uncontrollably into greater problems if we did.”

“I’m not…sure what I could do from here,” Kaln admitted, glancing over at Shadrach, who… Well, he was staring fixedly into the whirling construct Anessima had created, and light kept flickering along his staff. Presumably he was doing something.

“That is what we will determine,” said the goddess, “once I am certain you understand these matters in their proper context. The direct exertion of power such as ours is as much as an invitation to other deities, including some who might operate at cross purposes, to likewise intervene; this escalates quickly into the kind of direct conflict which reshapes the face of the world to the detriment of all. There is also the fact that our first and foremost responsibility is to guide our followers actively, to uplift their own strength, rather than simply rescuing them from disasters. Solving their problems for them steals their power, whereas arming them with the skills and attributes to solve their own advances them. Even the smallest exertion of force from the likes of us, furthermore, will tend to resonate far beyond what ever we can foresee…”

She hesitated; Kaln looked up at her, and she shook her head once.

“I could go on listing reasons, but they only grow less compelling from there. Truthfully, none of these would suffice to stay my hand, alone, but in aggregate they amount to the inescapable truth that we must allow mortals to fight their own battles, solve their own problems.”

Anessima looked down at him, and smiled.

“But you are not a god yet, little brother. It is in times of crisis that people grow their own strength, and learn what kind of person they truly are. I am not above taking the excuse of helping guide you to lend a hand to my people during this disaster.”

“What can I do?” he asked.

“You have touched the divine enough, now, to know what it feels like. Reach within, find the light in yourself. I will guide you.”

He was already calling upon that glow as she spoke, and felt it immediately resonate, reaching out to connect to the three drakes now taking up a clearly defensive position around Anessima’s own cathedral, right across the city from him. Kaln felt their renewed focus, saw the tiny figures perched atop the flat central tower. They had a plan. But…

“Trust them,” the goddess murmured. “Dragons are rather unlike mortal followers in many ways, but some of the same principles apply to the likes of us. We must empower them, and trust them.”

“I do trust them,” he said truthfully. “I, ah… I also know them. And I’m concerned about how intact your cathedral is going to be after they get done with whatever they’re about to do…”

She chuckled. “Even a sacred place is only a place; it is the coming together of the people within it which makes it sacred. If they have to repair it later, doing so will strengthen their bond. Let it serve whatever purpose it must. For now, hold onto the light, and let me show you.”

It was like a repeat of that first moment in the lair of Atraximos, when he had placed the shadow crystal into the Timegate and been blasted out of his own existence… Except, in a way, backwards. This time it was not a wild, unexpected reaction, unspooling while all the gods but one turned their backs and left him to his fate. Now, Kaln felt himself carefully held in Anessima’s grasp.

Everything was so different, when he viewed it from a place of safety.

Her presence surrounded him, a filter that he could sense was both carefully managing his experience, while even more carefully walling off her own identity so that she did not influence him in this vulnerable state. He could see the world as he had before, feel its existence down to the tiniest patterns of probability of which all matter was made, beyond and through the limited veil of mortal senses. But this time, Kaln’s own identity was protected; he was not in danger of dissipating, but resting in Anessima’s steadying hand.

And, increasingly, without it. She was a good guide, gently nudging him into place, but pulling back enough to let him gain his own equilibrium. This, he understood, was part of the reason for this lesson—showing him how to exist like this, without needing another god to hold his hand.

Already, he was not the same hapless innocent who had first stumbled into this position. Kaln knew the nature of souls and could perceive them directly, the thousands and thousands which thronged Boisverd—mostly, at the moment, in sheltered vaults under it. He understood the nature of divinity, the way it created indentations in reality through which the currents of existence flowed; now, he saw patterns he’d not had the opportunity to perceive before.

The four primary gods of the Evervales were a strong presence here, but not a vague one as they were out in Dragonvale. The people gathered here were mostly their worshipers; they held ground sacred to them in this city. It formed an interconnectedness of intricacy and complexity he knew his mortal brain would ordinarily be unable to parse, something reminiscent both of an orderly city map and a spider’s web, both extrapolated into three dimensions and then linked together.

In fact, there was now the pressure of another divine presence he did not recognized. Centered, Kaln realized with growing concern, upon Anessima’s temple. Upon the very top of the cathedral, where—

“Leave it be,” the Shepherd herself murmured. “That’s Eclipse, who is best left to his own devices in general. Now he is actually being helpful, a rarity we ought not discourage. Cast your attention wider, little brother. The key is to relax your mind, while also focusing. Sense the mortals, the weight of every soul—if your consciousness is expanded enough, you will be able to feel them as individuals, and simultaneously a network. It is thus that you can read the web of their linked existence like text on a scroll.”

Relaxed, but focused? It sounded contradictory, but Kaln knew something of the flow state which accompanied true concentration. The thing was, that in and of itself wasn’t achievable; it came only when one was focusing on a task, on something which held one’s attention and commanded one’s inspiration. Finding it in a new, unfamiliar action…

“Do not push.” She no longer spoke to him aloud, but he felt her words directly; her communication was gentle, layered, reassuring and protecting his mind even as she conveyed information. “Let it come to you, if it does; cast your mind across the minds of all these mortals, and if you are ready, it will. If not, that too is all right. That stage of your development will come in its own time, and you only risk harm to yourself by forcing it.”

A wider attention, then. Kaln attempted to follow her advice, pulling back his focus, seeing the pattern as a whole. The three drakes loomed largest in his consciousness, overshadowing all these thousands of mortals; his much stronger connection to them was formed both of his growing divine aspect, and his relationships with these individuals. That was intriguing, the way those links differed… It was an old bad habit of his, going off on tangents when something caught his intellectual curiosity, and for a moment Kaln forgot what he was supposed to be doing, examining the distinct nature of the divine presence he felt from miscellaneous mortals and three dragons about whom he strongly cared.

It was either ironic or the opposite that this was what snapped the perspective into place for him; he was too distracted by the experience to tell which. Anessima’s quiet amusement told him she was aware of what he was perceiving.

“Well done,” she praised. “Now observe them, Kaln. Your nature as a deity will be formed of the relationship you have with those who pledge themselves to you. Now that you can see them, watch the souls arrayed in this city. In a moment of crisis such as this, you will see the truth of their nature more clearly. If you find a connection with any of them, it may be that you will be able to lend them your power. That will be your first experience of answering prayer.”

“I’m sort of…locked to dragons, though.”

“You are definitely linked to them on a profound level. And it may well be that you can connect only to dragons. If this is so, accept it and be not dismayed. Remember: above all, do not attempt to force yourself into a role that does not fit. Doing so on this level can damage you in ways you are not yet able to comprehend. Only reach out, with your mind open. See them, hear them, and feel them. Find out whose voice calls to you, if any. You will know your people, once you find them.”

Kaln drew in a breath with his mortal body, felt the corresponding flex of reality around him as his true nature gathered strength and stillness, and opened his mind to these cries for help.

There were so many.

***

The entire apparatus began to vibrate, emitting a thin whine which rapidly rose in both pitch and intensity. Suddenly, the lever Riocco had just pulled into place retracted into the machine’s housing, and the light it had been putting out seemed to magnify greatly, so much that beams of white luminescence streamed from every minute crack and fissure between pieces.

“Whoah,” Zhiiji said, backing up to the very edge of the rooftop, where Spooky zipped around protectively behind her. “Stop me if this is a dumb question, but what are the odds of that thing blowing up?”

“Oh, there will be no blowing up,” Greg promised, now wearing a maniacal grin. “On the contrary, my dear Zhiiji. It is time to shred.”

Every extension of the machine suddenly loosened, belts and buckles and clasps unsnapping from the fixtures that kept them in place around his various limbs, and these extensions retracted straight into the metal housing, leaving him wearing only a trembling, glowing backpack which did not at all seem large enough to contain everything they had just seen it absorb.

Then the glowing lever emerged directly from the top, poking up behind Greg’s head, and the entire device unfolded.

A single arm whipped around in front of him, attached to a strip of metal with six taut strings running its length; it had no body, but looked for all the world like the playable surface of a guitar, and the bard placed his left hand around its neck accordingly.

A second, similar extension snapped into place directly behind it; rather than Greg placing his fingers on the frets, however, this one had articulated claws of metal attached to a sliding mechanism upon it, as if it would play itself.

Behind him, the whole contraption unfolded into a fan of discs spreading out like some demented peacock’s tail. The glowing lever split straight down its center, both halves extending as they snapped back down to protrude from hinged arms springing from the middle of the fan.

A last piece extended down Greg’s leg and popped loose, a single pedal attached to a rubber hose coming to rest upon the stone by his foot.

“When you say ‘shred,’” Zhiiji began warily.

“This world is older than you know,” Gregarious Greg proclaimed. His entire demeanor had changed as completely as his musical machine had; he grinned in manic delight, as if baring his teeth in the face of death itself. “Between the gods and Timekeepers, civilization has risen and fallen, leaving countless hidden legacies. Forgotten ways, and lost arts. Lilith, my comrade, what I unleash on this world today may have been better left hidden, but the weight of your destiny demands nothing less than the power…”

He stomped on the pedal; the two halves of the lever began whipping about, hammering a rapid and intricate beat from the surrounding drumheads, powerful enough to shiver even the stone beneath them. The claws along the second fretboard plucked and compressed the strings, producing a deep and resonant tone augmenting the rhythm.

And Greg slammed his thumb across the strings he held; rather than the melodious hum of a guitar, the instrument emitted an uncanny scream.

“…of ROCK!”

“We have your back,” Riocco swore, flipping both their blades in place, so that the sharpened rear edges faced outward.

Lilith raised her staff overhead, brandishing a challenge to the skies. “And so. It. BEGINS!”

Above, clouds began to whirl in a pattern centered upon the temple of the Shepherd.

Throughout the city, every panicking colossus spider turned as one. For a confused second, they paused.

Then they began to rush through alleys, over buildings, trampling all in their way, to converge on the point where the power of Eclipse called to them.