GODSWAR: The Spear of Athena, Chapter 13

They've got a problem, so they're calling in a consultant...

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Chapter 13.

It was not, Victoria admitted to herself, a sufficiently dramatic method of invoking a legend. Urelle simply gazed with full concentration into the Lens, a small girl with her black hair hanging in her face, staring intently at a little crystal object barely larger than her pinky nail. Faint glimmers came from it, so faint that she could not be sure it wasn’t merely reflection from the light-orbs in the room. Then she spoke the single word: "Arisia."

The Lens flared up with a brilliant polychromatic refulgence that was nearly a solid thing, a shining, shifting rainbow of nigh-living light that enveloped the entire bed on which Urelle sat, then filled the world with spectral luminance.

When the light faded, the Wanderer was there.

He is… different, Victoria thought.

In appearance he was little changed; the light blond hair, the extremely fair skin, the piercingly blue eyes, the black cloak clasped with silver at the throat, the dark clothing with hints of strange, squarish armor similar to Ingram's beneath, and the tall, elaborately enruned Staff of Stars crowned with its blue-white glowing crystal within the twined cage of metal.

But his pose and expression were different; he stood as one ready for combat, Staff raised, the other hand poised. A long sword of unknown design was sheathed at his side, and about his body flickered the light of mystic defenses. Though he still looked as human as ever, there was about him a sense of power and peril greater than anything Victoria had yet encountered, save perhaps her momentary contact with Myrionar itself.

That gaze flashed about the room, taking in the entire situation – and abruptly the man in front of them was the same relaxed, faintly smiling Wanderer they had met in his fortress, months before. "Well, that's a surprise," he said. "A pleasant one, but still a surprise. I'd expected to be called when you were in some terrible danger."

"Not a danger, exactly," Urelle said, apology strong in her voice, "and I hope you won't think it's wasted the Lens' power, but… we have a problem we can't solve."

"Well, whether it's a waste … we'll see, after I hear about your problem." He glanced around, his fingers moving casually through arcane symbology. "Well, the Freehold. Okay, then your problem's something that can't be solved by hitting it harder, anyway. So tell me."

Quickly – with some interjections by Victoria herself, Ingram, and Quester – they summarized their journey here, Urelle's testing, and their sudden realization of Urelle and Victoria's nature, and what it seemed to imply about their entire quest. "So… I guess you understand now, right?" Urelle finished.

The Wanderer sat down slowly on one of the chairs, the Staff of Stars floating away to lean in a corner. The young-looking face suddenly flashed out a grin that grew wider, then became a chuckle, and finally a full-fledged laugh.

"It's not that funny!"

"Oh, it's easily that funny if you've got my perspective, Urelle," he said. "Being funny doesn't mean it's not also serious, and believe me, I'm taking this very seriously."

He bowed deeply to her. "And a Salandaras, now, there's a name I've never imagined as one that would be attached to an apprentice of mine. I respect them immensely – considering their average size, it's kind of hard to respect them any other way – but mages, they generally ain't. I hope you realize the honor you've earned."

"I think so," Urelle said after a moment, looking to Victoria.

"We all appreciate it, perhaps more seeing what a terrible price she had to pay to attain that honor," Victoria said. "But if we are stopped here, it becomes little more than an honor."

"Do not underestimate that honor, any of you. The Salandaras are a power unto themselves, and to be accepted as one of them is to have that power as your own." The lopsided smile flashed out again. "But still, I know, all the power and honor doesn't matter much if you can't get where you all have to go."

"So?" From her interactions with the Wanderer, she had come to grasp that he was a man of paradoxes – immensely ancient, possessed of fantastic breadth and depth of knowledge that only someone literal ages old could have… and sometimes with the maturity and sense of melodrama of a boy scarce older than Ingram. "Have you any answers to our questions? Will Urelle suddenly become Athena if she enters Aegeia? Is Ingram's guess about the entire situation correct? If Urelle is chosen by Athena, does it mean my… does it mean Urelle is suddenly no longer… herself?"

She realized her phrasing had become more… personal than she intended, but despite a brief twinkle in his eyes, the Wanderer showed no notice. And really… why should I pretend? "Because that is something I will not countenance, Wanderer. I bore no children of my own, but Urelle is nevertheless my daughter, as surely as I live."

Urelle's eyes filled with tears and she reached out and gripped Victoria's hand tightly; she felt Quester's pleased reaction, and saw Ingram smile.

"No one who had seen you together for even a few minutes would think anything else," the Wanderer said. "And I can't blame you. No matter how really great it would be to have an incarnate goddess on your side, it'd still suck for that to cost you a friend. Read a book that had an ending like that, it was a really unpleasant jolt. Lot worse to have happen in real life.

"So, to address your questions… let me think. And do a little research."

So saying, the Wanderer reached into his pack and pulled out several books – blowing the dust off of one. "Man, that one has been in there a while."

Ingram leaned forward. "Wait… that's the Camp-Bel sigil on that one! And that other one… that's Athena! Those are sacred!"

"Whoa! Whoa!" the Wanderer tumbled back as Ingram tried to snatch the books out of his hand.

"Ingram! Control yourself!" Victoria snapped, though she could sense, through the link, the emotions driving the boy.

Ingram hesitated for an instant, giving Quester a chance to drag him back.

"Holy Jebus, give a guy a chance to explain before you try to grab his books!" the Wanderer said. "I was given these, one by the then-Captain, the other by one of the God-Warriors some Cycles ago – the Lady knew I collect useful info and this was my reward for helping the right side out a bit. Yes, they're probably sacred books for your people, but they're my sacred books, given me by the people they're sacred to, so sorry, I'm keeping them."

Ingram flushed visibly, then bowed. "My apologies, sir. That was… rude, uncalled for, and stupid."

"No one's hurt, it's fine. Just let me work now."

For a while they all waited, silence broken only by the turning of pages and the occasional murmur of some kind of spell.

I'm feeling … kind of disappointed, Ingram thought to them.

In what way? Quester's thoughts were genuinely curious.

Oh, I know what Ingram means. It's kinda… well, no, really silly, but I think both of us expected the Wanderer to just, you know, answer everything.

     He is, after all, still a human being, Victoria reminded them. Ancient, and peculiar, I will grant you. But he himself emphasized that while he could sometimes play in the 'Great Game,' he was still more one of us than a cosmic power. I am afraid he has the same limits as most of us, just much more experience.

I know that, Auntie. I just… expected more.

"No help for it," the Wanderer said, his voice startling in the former silence. "I've got part of your answer, but I've got to get a consultant for the rest."

"A… consultant?"

"Yeah, one of my colleagues who knows a lot more about specifics of how the gods and such work. Everyone stand clear."

Assured they were well away, the Wanderer waved the Staff and a complex magical circle appeared in shimmering light on the polished floorboards of the room. Victoria could only read small parts of the symbology, but it was clearly one of considerable power.

The words the Wanderer intoned then were of no language Victoria had ever heard; it was rhythmic, musical, with some hints of pronunciation and emphasis that sometimes echoed the sonorous sound of Ancient Sauran, but with the flow that only a truly human language could have for a human speaker. He repeated the same chant three times, four, five…

Upon the seventh repetition, a seven-pointed star flared into existence about the circle, and within the circle a huge shadowy shape appeared, tall and forbidding, vaguely human in outline but so dim and blurred that Victoria could make out little else except that its head seemed broad and flattened, the body nigh-shapeless or perhaps clothed in robes. A deep voice echoed faintly from the wraithlike shape.

The Wanderer replied, still in that unknown language; for a few minutes, the two conversed, the Wanderer's tone becoming more insistent. Finally, he broke into common speech. "Okay, you need to actually come here!"

There was a shockwave of displaced air and – with not even a moment's transition – the shadowy form solidified into full reality.

It was a man, Victoria realized now – an extraordinarily tall man, over seven feet in height, wearing a strange five-sided hat, gripping a staff even more elaborate in design than the Staff of Stars, wearing robes of brown and gray and blue. "Wanderer, I am currently – by Torline's soul, how dare you?"

"Shut up, you meddling old fraud, this is right smack-dab in the middle of your bailiwick, and this will go a lot faster if you take a look around in person."

The other's hand – a powerful, huge hand, fully in proportion to the figure's height – gripped his staff so tightly the knuckles went white. "You… child! I was on the front lines of the battle!"

"They'll just think you teleported to go mess things up somewhere else. And do you want me to remind you of the time that you –"

"Enough! Very well."

The Wanderer, only partially hiding a triumphant grin, turned to the rest of them. "Allow me to introduce the possibly even more legendary than me wizard, Konstantin Khoros."

Victoria felt a chill across her whole body and gripped her hands together, seeking a trivial comfort. The younger members of their group might know only the name, but she had heard tales of the ancient soul-mage from Toron and others during her adventures. On the side of the Light Khoros might be… but he was one of deep maneuverings and hard choices, and whenever he appeared, danger and disaster were never far behind.

The Wanderer continued, either oblivious to her reaction or simply ignoring it. "Khoros, I know you know who everyone is already, but that extremely distinguished woman is Lady Victoria Vantage, the bandaged girl in the bed is Urelle Vantage – my apprentice," he added, causing an intake of breath from Khoros, "the lavender-haired boy is Ingram Camp-Bel, and the Iriistiik is called Quester."

Khoros bowed briefly to them, then rose. "An honor to meet you all," he said in that startlingly deep voice. Victoria noted that despite the illumination, Khoros' face remained in shadow at all times; hints of expression were visible, but no detail. "I apologize for the unseemly conflict. I should have expressed my displeasure later, privately.

"Now," he went on, "I understand what you are asking, Wanderer. I will first verify what I suspect."

The staff in his hand chimed and gold-crystal light pulsed out from it in concentric circles like ripples on a pond.

The light… tingled. It was a wave of sparks and snowflakes, kissing the skin with melting chill and sharp warmth all at once, soaking into her with the bite of a high-mountain wind and the comfort of a long-awaited bath; at the same time, she heard whispers of words she could not understand, and a deep song that resonated in her heart and soul.

For an instant she saw, not bodies, but light. Khoros was a blinding sun wrapped in dark mist; the Wanderer, a dancing skein of rainbow gems that receded into infinity in all directions.

Where Urelle lay there was a girl of crystal, of limitless complexity, each facet made of innumerable others, every edge limned with violet fire, every plane seething with the colors of eternity. Standing next to her, Ingram Camp-Bel was a blazing statue of gold behind smoked glass, and Quester was a sphere of emerald luminance that touched somehow upon the rest of them while remaining, at the same time, itself; a point of pure white, more intense than a dozen suns, burned at the very core of the emerald globe.

The vision ended before she thought to look at herself.

Khoros' shrouded face surveyed them slowly, then he nodded, the hat with its unknown symbols emphasizing the motion. "Not entirely unexpected, but it is still good to be certain. Now, pardon me for a few moments, as I must also ascertain certain things about the state of Aegeia and the gods."

Ingram narrowed his gaze. "And you can do that from here, through the barrier?"

"Through it… not precisely. Past it, yes, in something of the manner in which you will have to enter, though – as I need not travel thence physically, and have rather more knowledge and experience, it will be done more quickly and will seem easier. Now please, a moment of peace."

Khoros did not make a circle on the floor; instead, he held his staff vertical before him with his right hand, while the left sketched complex mystical symbols and formulae in the air, in streaks of blue-white fire. Victoria noted Urelle leaning forward, attention utterly focused on following the ancient magician's every move.

 

An aura of that same blue-white fire enveloped the soul-mage, shimmering and rippling like burning water; again, Victoria had the impression of voices speaking words she could not catch.

Long moments went by before Khoros let his staff sink to rest on the floor and the luminous aura faded. "So. I believe I can answer your questions.

"First and foremost, no, none of you will find yourselves suddenly possessed by the essence of a god – or, I would expect, anything else – upon entering Aegeia. Your enemy – who is surprisingly closed to me; I can distinguish nothing save only to confirm your suspicion that he is not, in fact, Ares – has expended a great deal of effort and subtle craft to ensure that it is virtually impossible for Athena to be reborn."

Ingram went so pale that Victoria was afraid he would faint; he did sway unsteadily before Quester caught his arm. "Impossible?"

"I said virtually impossible, but yes. His intentions are fairly obvious, even though I can, as I said, distinguish little of his true nature or the mechanisms he is employing. He attempts to subvert the Cycle and, by ensuring that Athena cannot appear at the requisite time, break the Cycle."

"No! That would be… that would be a complete disaster! Athena and the Cycle –"

"I assure you, young Ingram, I am at least as aware as you are of the consequences. It is the importance of these things that justifies the time and energies I am expending in talking with you, here, when a few thousand miles from here the armies of the Sauran King are in pitched battle with the forces of Kerlamion and his accursed City."

"Wait," said Urelle. "Sir, if you could so quickly divine the situation within Aegeia, could you not then at least send us through the barrier yourself?"

"Could I? Yes; I expect that you will find a way through on your own, and thus I would be certain that I could do it. However, what is swiftly – though not easily – accomplished with pure magic and divinations is not done nearly that quickly with living persons, physical beings that must be moved through the barrier. As an analogy, you have spells that will easily enhance your sight and hearing; this does not eliminate the difficulty of escaping a locked room, despite being able to hear and see what passes beyond that room."

Victoria caught both Khoros and the Wanderer in her gaze. "What else can you do? I admit it is useful to know that we can move forward without risking my… Urelle's self, and possibly to know the general goal of our adversary…"

"Hey, the first bit was the main concern, right?" the Wanderer pointed out.

"Not now," Ingram said, shock and horror still evident on his face. "If Athena can't be reborn, then the Cycle is over. So what's the virtually part of your 'virtually impossible'? We have to know that."

Khoros sighed. "Yes, you do. Yet I cannot give you a detailed answer. All my divinations tell me is that your enemy has, first, prevented the rebirth of Athena in the normal fashion. Second, has produced a very convincing false Athena so that none will suspect the problem even exists."

"By the Mother…" buzzed Quester. "He can not only imitate one god successfully, but also make another false god?"

"So it would seem. But! While your enemy has closed off most routes, there remains one possibility to awaken Athena. I cannot tell the details, but I know that it will require some one of a very few symbols or artifacts of her worship, and it will require some very specific conditions. On the positive side, I know that more than one of you could, under the right circumstances, meet those conditions. It is also possible you will meet someone else who will be an appropriate candidate.

"And," Khoros went on, "your group's existence is not accident or coincidence. If there is indeed 'destiny' at work, it guides you to the confrontation. I must believe that – if you win through – it may also help guide you to the solution to this mystery."

He surveyed the group again. "I will also caution all of you against assumptions. The greatest danger is the falsehood that you believe without realizing you believe it. Whatever your enemy may be, he is a master at manipulating appearances, at cloaking a vile truth within an obvious lie that no one questions. The fact that he can do this with the gods and not have his lie revealed by the priests? This tells us a great deal – most importantly, that he will prefer to hide even his vulnerabilities with assumptions; in some fashion they will be plain to see, yet passed over."

The Wanderer grinned, a startling flash of optimism. "But you've got one big advantage; you're on the right side."

"Yes," agreed Khoros. "True in more ways than they know. Oh, one other fact that may be of some comfort: Ingram's impression is correct. Those who become the vessels of the gods are not erased, not turned into duplicates of some particular incarnation of the god. They retain their selves, even while also being connected to the essence of Athena or whatever other god they might be.

"On the other hand, it is also true to say they will not remain the 'self' they were before the incarnation. The access to the knowledge and history and spirit of Athena will change any who suddenly acquire them. Yet… we are, none of us, who we were before any particular significant event. Life changes us. You know this well, Lady Victoria."

"Yes," she admitted after a moment's hesitation. "But is there no difference?"

"In degree, perhaps. It is each person's decision as to what degree of change is acceptable." Khoros turned and bowed to the Wanderer. "My apologies again. You were correct in choosing to bring me."

"Don't worry about it; I should've been more polite about asking. It's not like another ten seconds would've made any difference today. Want me to send you back?"

"At this point?" Khoros hesitated. "Ahh. Yes, send me back… to a point one hundred fifty yards east and two hundred south of my prior position."

"By your command," the Wanderer said in a peculiarly metallic voice, then grinned. "Good luck, and keep your head way down."

The Wanderer brought his staff down three times; upon the third strike, a blaze of gold and blue enveloped Khoros, and the huge mage vanished.

"Well," the Wanderer said, "That at least got us the answers you really need. You can move forward now, yes?"

"Yes," Ingram said, his color having finally returned to normal. "At least we can do that."

The Wanderer put his hand on Ingram's shoulder; Victoria noted how pale the Wanderer was, even next to Ingram's skin, which was far lighter than hers or Kyri's. "Look, Ingram, don't worry too much. I know the idea of the Cycle ending is scary, and possibly disastrous, but have some faith. The gods are all playing this game, and that means there's plenty in your corner too."

Ingram's gaze searched the Wanderer's crystal-blue eyes for a moment, then the young boy managed a smile. "All right. Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Ingram." He spun his staff in a lazy circle. "I've got to get moving myself; I wasn't in a battle at the time you called, but I do have things I have to finish."

"Will you… I mean, is this used up?" Urelle asked, holding up the tiny Lens.

The Wanderer smiled. "Not yet. Good for one, maybe two, more shots. You made a good call using this one; trust yourself to use it when the right time comes."

"Will it work through Athena's Shield?" Quester asked, antennae inclined in a quizzical manner. "Given that it bars the gods…?"

"Ha! First, remember that I'm the guy that gets to do the things no one else can. But more seriously, yes, because you have the Lens with you as you travel to Aegeia. Your… location trace, for lack of a better term, tells the Lens and me how to get through the Shield, by following your own path. Not that I'm going to physically follow the path, that is, it's more that I know what the sequence of locations in space-time-dimension is that corresponds to a passage to Aegeia."

Victoria could mostly follow that; she wasn't sure that Ingram did. Urelle probably understood more than Victoria. Quester's face was, of course, hard to read. "But we can only pass through because we have a Salandaras with us, as I understand it."

"Me and the Salandaras go way back. I'll pass, don't worry." He gave a bow, with a flourish of his cape, and vanished in a flash of smoke and flame.

"We need to get ready!" Urelle started to slide out of the bed – then almost fell to the floor as her knees gave out.

"You need to stay in bed, young lady!" Victoria snapped, feeling an unreasonably intense worry at the sight. "Until you are recovered from your ordeal, we are not moving one inch. And given what you went through, that will be a day or three even now."

"She's right," Ingram said, with an intensity that made Victoria smile inside, and took Urelle's hand. "You stay right there until you're all better."

Urelle's own smile flashed out.

Quester's mindvoice echoed in Victoria's head with gentle humor. It seems to me that she just became all better.