GODSWAR: The Spear of Athena, Chapter 1

The Spear of Athena will be coming out fairly soon, so it's time to start snippeting!

Let's take a look at what our heroes are up to...

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GODSWAR: The Spear of Athena

By Ryk E. Spoor

 

Chapter 1.

"By the Lady's Wisdom…" breathed Captain Pennon.

Ingram chuckled, with a completely silly feeling of pride as he saw the reactions of his fellow Camp-Bels to their first sight of Fanalam' T' ameris' a' u' Zahr-a-Thana T'ikon, Zarathanton, the greatest city in the world.

Less than a mile distant, the pearl-grey, shining-polished walls slanted steeply upward, five hundred unbroken feet of invulnerable stone that had stood untouched for half a million years, since before the days of the Fall. They slanted away to both north and south, encompassing a diamond shape more than two miles on a side, with the great Gate visible in the point of the diamond that bestrode the Great Road. Two hundred fifty feet high, glittering with krellin and gold and jewels, the gates stood open, the twin gates spanning the entire hundred-yard width of the Road and allowing a steady flow of traffic – on foot, riding on sithigorn or horse or runner-lizard, trundling along on wagons – in and out of those mighty gates

Despite the immense height of the walls, other great buildings could be seen, the highest of all being the spires of T'Teranahm Chendoron, the Dragon's Palace, stretching two thousand feet and more into the sky. Even from this distance they could hear the murmur of two hundred thousand people's voices, motions, actions vibrating the atmosphere.

Both of the main approaches to the city have carefully tended growth and designed curves and ridges along the side of the road that obscure any sight during the approach, Quester's mind-voice noted. Do you think that is deliberate?

Ha! I have no doubt it is. The impact of seeing Zarathanton like that? I know if I were the rulers, I'd want to make sure visitors felt it every time.

"By the Lady's Wisdom," Pennon said again. "It seems you might fit all of Aegis itself within a mere corner of it."

"No doubt," Victoria Vantage said with her own smile. "In fairness, that is true of almost any other city I have ever seen. You could fit all of the cities and villages of my native Evanwyl in the Southern Quarter and have room to spare."

"Where is your estate, Lady Vantage?" Pennon asked.

"The easiest way to reach it would be for us to pass through the city to the Eastern Gate, then turn north," she answered, gesturing. "It lies a few miles north of the City, at the edge of the Forest Sea. I would welcome all of you there, but as we have been gone quite some months now, it would be unfair to suddenly impose on my staff, who have undoubtedly grown accustomed to merely maintaining the house and grounds."

Ingram found himself nodding. It had been a while. Months to make their way south through the Forest Sea, and all the adventures that had included, and then, once they'd met up with the survivors of Clan Camp-Bel, turning West and reaching Shipton and hiring onto Great Turtle, one of the larger cargo ships, to go as far as the East Twin… months indeed to come full-circle back to Zarathanton.

"Of course," said Pennon. "We will find rooms here in the city easily enough, I should think." She paused, watching the streaming of human, Artan, mazakh, Children of Odin, and others in and out of the gates. "And here, if anywhere, we will begin to find answers to our questions."

I sure hope so, Urelle's mindvoice said. Because I have no idea where else we'd go.

It still gave him a little tingle of a thrill to hear Urelle's voice that way, in his head. Quester had initiated the younger Vantage and her aunt into the mindspeech connection of his Nest on their journey back North. Their sometimes harrowing southward journey had bound them together, to the point that Quester had come to see them as possible Nestmates as well; the two women, having seen how Ingram and Quester sharing that bond had not harmed but aided them numerous times, had decided to risk it.

It was a unique bond the four of them now shared – and a very, very convenient one. Well, you still have the Wanderer's Lens.

I guess. If we really hit a dead-end here, I guess we'll have to risk it. But I truly do not wish to disappoint him by asking for his help unless there's no other choice.

Ingram couldn't disagree with that; calling on the assistance of a legend was something to be used with great discretion and reluctance. Although he also remembered the parable of the Always-Worse, in which the boy's wish-ring was never used because things could always be worse; sometimes you had to accept that it would be time to use your resources.

But it was definitely not that time yet.

As they approached the gates, Ingram saw one clear reminder that things were not exactly as they had been before they’d left. Well-armed guards stood by the gates, watching carefully the passage of all, large or small. There were also wagons leaving regularly, heading to the West, emblazoned with the lightning bolt-starburst of Elbon Nomicon and the Sauran Kings.

Victoria went to one of the guardsmen as their party reached the Gate. "Pardon me, sir," she said. "It has been some months since I left the City; what news?"

"Months?" The guard, a slender, long-faced man with skin of deep blue-black and a dour expression, shook his head. "Much news, little of it good. The Black City come to the world? The King of All Hells walking the world? But the beginning."

"Ah, Artaquas, don't paint it all with your depressing brush," said another, equally tall and thin but with a bronze-brown complexion and more smiles than frowns written in the grooves of his face. "After the horrors of the start of the war, things are better, at least for now."

"Hmph. Here, maybe, Ichiban. Yes. But with the new King having taken our forces West, to meet those of the Hells? There'll be bad news coming back, I have no doubt."

"New King?" Victoria blinked. "Yes, I suppose there must be."

"That many months, eh? Wasn't much of a choice, of course – the Marshal of Hosts being the King's relation and knowing his mind so well."

Victoria giggled, a startling sound for Ingram, who wasn't used to hearing such a… light sound from the usually serious old Adventurer. "Oh dear. I'm sorry, but… oh dear, poor Toron! He was so often given to remarking how satisfied he was not to be the King. And now it's his job." She looked up, gaze sharpening. "So he's taken the war to the gates of the Black City, has he?"

"Such was the plan. Not sure he's reached it yet – he was traveling the land route to build his forces, recruit as they went, and give allies, including Idinus himself, a chance to gather. Might be mustering near Hell's Edge by now, though." Artaquas nodded gloomily. "How many of them'll make it through there to actually reach the Black City, I don't know."

"Idinus? The Archmage is coming to our aid?" Ingram realized it was his own incredulous voice speaking.

"So the King told us, and no reason to doubt it," Ichiban said. "Sure, and the State of the Dragon King and the Empire of the Mountain have been at odds before…, but neither of them wants the Black Star here, spreading his power and ruin. I even hear rumor the Archmage may send an avatar directly."

"Wow." In some ways, the idea that Idinus of Scimitar, God-Emperor of the Mountain, had bestirred himself to act in concert with his adversaries chilled Ingram more than any of the other news. There was no greater threat than one that could bring such forces together.

"Well, we thank you for this news. Who is in charge at the Dragon's Palace, then, if the King himself has gone to war?"

"Calladan Mystraios," said Artaquas. "Not a Sauran, but the head of the Academy commands respect enough, at least for now."

"I should think so. An excellent choice," Victoria said, nodding. "I will pay my respects later. Again, our thanks."

"You're welcome. Good day to you. HOY! You! Watch where you're going with that wagon!" Artaquas trotted over towards the offending driver.

"So where to now, Ingram?" Captain Pennon asked.

"Quester and I will head to the Guild; we've got to get an idea of how to get into Aegeia, and if anyone's going to have ideas, it'll be our fellow Adventurers. You and the rest of the Clan should get yourselves some rooms. I'm guessing Victoria and Urelle will head home?"

"Quite so. Obviously, you will stay with us, and in a few days we may be able to offer your Clan brethren rooms as well."

"Thank you, Victoria." The kind words did send a twinge through Ingram, because it reminded him of just how very few of Clan Camp-Bel had survived to reach here. Besides himself and the Captain, there were only ten remaining; fifteen had survived the attack that their arrival had interrupted, but four of those had later succumbed to unexpected side effects of the combat – soul-injuries, magically-enhanced infections, and such – and one had been killed on the way to Zarathanton, ambushed by a groundripper.

A lot of the Clan stayed behind, he reminded himself, including Mother and Father. Still, there had been a few hundred, close to half the Clan, on the three ships that had fled, and every effort had been made to make it look like it was in fact all of the Clan on board. Never in the Cycles they had served Athena had the Clan lost so many – and these had been lost in what was at least partly a ploy to distract, not an assault force.

And it was all about me. Hiding me. Preventing people from thinking of me as significant. Keeping even me from taking myself seriously, making me believe I wasn't good enough to be a Camp-Bel.

He still couldn't quite grasp that, sometimes. The lengths to which they had gone weren't, in truth, so surprising - Camp-Bel traditions were nothing if not focused on overachieving in every dimension – but the fact that they'd found it necessary was. Something about the prophecy they'd been given had managed to get them to swallow their pride and confidence and not confront the unknown threat head-on, which was much more the Camp-Bel preference.

What that "something" was, however, none of the Clan survivors here knew.

He was still thinking on all of this when the group separated, the Camp-Bels heading North from the Grand Intersection and the two Vantages hurrying on ahead to the East.

The Adventurer's Guild Hall hadn't visibly changed in the years since they'd first entered, and Ingram felt his spirits lift as they passed the threshold. We really are Guild Adventurers, and we've got tales to tell, to enter in the annals!

     That we do, Quester agreed. It is different from the first time we passed these doors, indeed.

Passing through the front entrance hall and the Hall of Requests, the two of them reached the main Adventurer's Hall, and immediately saw a familiar figure. Nine feet tall with blue-gray skin, bent over a desk with papers scattered about, the Sorter of Querents was clearly the same being they'd met almost three years ago.

He glanced up as they entered, then froze, a letter sliding unnoticed from the huge hand. Disregarding the Artan Querent before him, the Sorter shot to his feet and practically ran to them. "Quester! By Chromaias and Kharianda, you're alive!"