GODSWAR: The Spear of Athena, Chapter 9

Time to look in on our adversary and see that he's thinking ahead...

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Chapter 9.

He stood atop Mistveil Peak, looking out from Aegeia to the north and west. Somewhere out there, he knew, the armies of the Sauran King and the Archmage were confronting those of Kerlamion. That would be a battle to see. And one that would likely allow him to steal countless souls for power. Unfortunately, I don't have time for such amusements.

Raiagamor had come here for a far different and much more urgent purpose. He extended claws rarely seen by any, assumed his true shape for a moment, for what he was about to do was delicate and perilous – if not to him personally, most certainly to his plan.

The Seal of Athena is not quite unbreachable. Beings such as the King and myself have a unique power to do so. But I must do it extremely carefully, for what I do not wish to do is leave a weakened area – or, worse, damage the enchantment so that it unravels.

What he did then would perhaps have made sense to the young mage Urelle – though she would never have been able to duplicate it. He touched the strands of enchantment, the stupendously complex and immense structure, and found the parts of the enchantment that barred creatures and beings of intellect or power… and slowly, carefully shifted himself until he could tell that those forces no longer responded to him, no longer recognized him as anything other than the least of animals.

With that, Raiagamor passed easily through a seal that could have stopped a god, and stood on the other side of the barrier. He walked down the slope, searching, until he found a flat area of stone, perhaps fifty feet long and twenty wide.

Now he could accomplish his goal. Resuming his human form, he produced from his neverfull pack a small table, a chair, and a metal-and-bone tube inscribed with many runes. When opened, the tube released the polished-metal scroll he had used several times before.

Setting the scroll in the holders designed for it, he sat down and touched the smooth surface, willing it to activate. "Majesty?"

There was no response at first, but Raiagamor had not really expected one. The King had his own plans and responsibilities, and would be unlikely to interrupt them for his still-unacknowledged offspring.

That he would answer eventually – of that, Raiagamor was certain. The King had given his word, and for all the terrible and true things one could say about him, one absolute was that he kept his word scrupulously.

So Raiagamor waited patiently. His rage was well under control; in this quiet, clean, cold space he felt as nearly peaceful as he ever could. For the moment there were no demands, no conflicts, no decisions, not even hunger. Just the wind and the mist, the faint hissing clatter as small stones shifted, the pure scent of the thin, crisp air. He took this in, let it fill him. Calmness, peace, these were things he knew so rarely, and both things that would serve him well in any contact with the King.

With scarcely a shimmer, the blank gold changed to a dark room and the familiar blond man with his even more familiar half-smile. "Raiagamor, what an unexpected pleasure. What occasions this call?"

And once more to the unspoken contest. "A pleasure to speak with you as well, Majesty. As you know, I had thought that, perhaps, I could and should complete my plan without availing myself of my third opportunity for your assistance."

"And yet you have called. Has something gone wrong?" The smile was a study in twin edges, false sympathy and mockery in one.

"Not at all, Majesty." A tiny but unmistakable uptick of the eyebrow. "At the moment, things appear well in hand. Yet I thought much on this, and it came to me that one who waits until something has gone wrong makes the righting of their plan much more difficult; and that one who foregoes a powerful resource out of pride is twice a fool. So I would consult you for a third and final time, now."

A true smile spread across the King's face. "Now that is both well-spoken and well thought, Raiagamor. And you are correct; even had your plan succeeded, I would have had doubts still had you not taken advantage of this resource. Pride is our strength… and our great weakness. So come, he who would be my child; what would you have of me? The Cards, once more?"

"No." He smiled with a sour edge to it. "Truthful or not, I have seen how well they seek to mislead; I begin only now to suspect the fullness of their deceptive truths. No, my King, I would have advice. Your advice. I will lay before you all I plan, all I know, all I guess, and then ask you to tell me one action that I have not taken that I should take to make my victory most certain."

The King pursed his lips, then stood and bowed. "Your thinking is clear and shows you have learned somewhat, Raiagamor. Very well." He extended his hand, and it emerged from the surface of the scroll. "Bring me through, for this is best done face-to-face."

Raiagamor grasped the King's hand and pulled; in an instant, the human form of the King stood before him. Raiagamor knelt and bowed his head.

"Oh, no, no need for that now," the King said, and pulled him to his feet. "I am here as a mere consultant, not one to take your oath or pass judgment… yet. Another chair would not go amiss, however."

"Of course, Majesty."

With both now seated, the King studied him from deceptively innocent blue eyes. "And will you trust me enough to take all you know directly? Or must we talk it through?"

Raiagamor considered. "If you give your word that you will take nothing I would not willingly give you, and pass no judgments unasked based on anything you see… then directly would be acceptable, and I think wisest."

The King bowed. "You have my word. I will take only that which you offer, that I must learn in order to properly advise you, and if I see aught else – say, your plans for my overthrow later – I shall dismiss it from my mind and judge you not." He laughed at the faint twitch that Raiagamor was not – quite – able to restrain. "Child, it is of no moment to me. Fully half of my children have entertained such thoughts at one time or another, and no few have gone beyond idle speculation. It is a perfectly reasonable ambition, even admirable if the plotter lays his plans well."

For an instant, the face shifted and the smile was immense, crystal blades beneath blank, yellow-glowing orbs, hungry and perilous. "The only punishment comes if the plotter sets their plans in motion… and fails."

In other words, I will be safe as long as I leave such things in the realm of thought and not of action. Good to know. "Then shall we begin, Majesty?"

The King took his outstretched hand.

Raiagamor found himself stumbling back, shaking, horrified and awed and fearful. The King simply laced his fingers together and leaned back, regarding Raiagamor with dark amusement.

It had truly been nothing but a single touch. Yet in that instant, the King's mind and soul had touched Raiagamor's. In that single instant he had felt the King locate and gather every element and aspect of his grand plan, every single fact or deduction or event, howsoever small, that might have relevance to the success or failure of the mission, and absorb it, a single drop of water added to the immensity of an ocean. But more, Raiagamor had seen the Soul of the King, and it was infinitely more grand and awesome and terrifying than Raiaga had even begun to imagine. It seemed to him that a monstrous shadow loomed up, encompassing not merely the world but the universe, stars and galaxies themselves as motes of dust before infinite hunger, ultimate malice, immeasurable and pitiless amusement at the devices and schemes of beings scarcely able to comprehend the adversary they would face.

"Yes," the King said softly. "Perhaps you are of my children, for few others indeed could have seen and understood so much, Raiagamor."

Raiaga was immensely grateful, all of a sudden, for the brief but intense peace he had felt before. That peace gave him a buffer, a cushion that allowed him to fight back against the feeling of insignificance and horrid, hungry menace without letting the rage envelop him – something that would have undoubtedly been fatal. He expected that reaction; now I must recover, must accept and act as though I have seen nothing!

He rose and seated himself across from the King. "So you have seen the plan and all things I believe impinge upon it."

"I have. And an excellent structure of intent you have built. It is… worthy of having inspired me. Have you any specific question you wish to ask, or any additional thoughts?"

He took a breath – not, strictly speaking, necessary, but the human body responded to such things, and it was well to pay attention to all aspects of one’s masquerade. "I have thought long and hard on these things, Majesty, and one thing that I have, reluctantly, come to conclude from study of history is that would-be heroes, and especially Adventurers, overcome obstacles, even – or perhaps especially – when this appears impossible."

"And…?"

"And that means that, improbable though it would seem, I must assume that Ingram Camp-Bel and his companions will somehow find a way through the Seal and all the obstacles I have raised – even though some of those exist on levels he cannot possibly imagine now. I believe it would be best if your advice touched upon them in some way."

"Oh, excellent. Yes, that is one of the most important lessons to learn. Heroes find a way. This is not merely a truism, it is, in some very real sense, the way the world works. The Creation prefers creation; we are agents of destruction."

Raiagamor stared at his unacknowledged grandfather. "You mean the universe itself assists heroes to their goals?"

"Ha! Not in so crude and direct way as you mean, yet… yes, indeed. It makes our challenges all the more amusing. So! Let me consider your problem."

For long moments, the King sat immobile in his chair, eyes glowing with that unreadable, blankly yellow flicker. The mist surrounding them faded away slowly, yielding to bright sunshine that warmed the stone about them. Raiagamor waited, watching the sun's slow movement, occasionally consuming a minor mote of power from insects that passed too close.

At last, the King stirred. "An intriguing problem to contemplate, Raiaga. I thank you. So rarely am I presented with something so worthy of thought, or – in truth – a plan so well-wrought, overall, in both its functionality and its ability to eventually bring about confusion, pain, and suffering." He nodded. "And you have chosen excellent allies. Powerful, flexible, deadly to almost any… but no threat to you if you remain aware of them. Yes, these will serve you well."

"Thank you, Majesty."

"It is a pleasure to see, so thanks to you, Raiaga. Now, to the matter at hand. You were wise to speak the Camp-Bel's name first. This is not to diminish the significance of his companions; two Vantages in a party are, I am afraid, two too many, and that Iriistiik warrior is an unusual creature.

"But the Camp-Bel is the center of this. Oh, he may not be the one to directly endanger your plan – aspects of the Cards' prophecy argue against it – but I believe he is the crux, the one who will trigger, or possibly plan, the events that could threaten your grand design."

Raiagamor nodded. "And your advice, then?"

"Hmm. Well, as you have done everything reasonable to prevent his entry, I will focus on the likelihood that he and his friends pass all your barriers." The King frowned in thought. "Given his demonstrated prowess, we can both agree that Ingram Camp-Bel's purported incapacities were a blind, a ruse – and a cleverly enacted one. Yes?"

"Yes. Extraordinarily well enacted. I had not the slightest suspicion that this boy was anything other than a disappointment, and I would swear that no others did, either."

"Quite so. Thus, there must have been an equally extraordinary reason, and given other aspects… the Camp-Bels were in possession of knowledge of his future importance. A prophecy, the direct word of a god, even perhaps a forecast from some combination of their advanced technology and their peculiar connection to other forces."

The King glanced at Raiagamor, saw his nod, and went on. "It is my belief – one based on some knowledge I have that you do not, as well as on your own – that as of this moment Ingram Camp-Bel still does not know the details. He obviously knows, by now, that the Camp-Bels deceived him, and presumably since he still associates with them that he has accepted the benevolent, or at least neutral, nature of their motives in this."

While he didn't have whatever other information the King had, he felt the statement was reasonable. "Go on."

"This means, of course, that the other Camp-Bels have not told him, and I incline to the theory that none of the survivors know the details. The Camp-Bels are very much aware of one of the most ancient facts about such covert operations – as phrased by a human some years back, 'three can keep a secret… if two of them are dead.' They would not dare spread the true knowledge around very far. It would inevitably leak out. Since the highest ranked survivor of the Camp-Bels with Ingram was Pennon – formerly third in command – it stands to reason that of that group, only the original Captain and possibly his second in command would have known the secret."

"So… Ingram Camp-Bel no longer has a way of discovering his purpose?"

"Tsk, tsk, Raiaga. You have made a cardinal error – a small one amidst all the other work you have had to do, but still a potentially fatal one. You have accepted that the fact that your searches for remaining Camp-Bels have turned up nothing means that there are no remaining Camp-Bels. I believe that not only are there remaining Camp-Bels, but that it is likely close to half of their original clan."

Now a spark of rage ignited, and he clamped down on it ruthlessly. The King was in a fine mood, barely trying to tweak him today, and offering valuable insight. "I… see. You believe they were capable of hiding even from my best agents?"

"Say rather that they were capable of devising a way to disappear that would deceive such agents, with the distraction of the other part of the clan, especially if such agents had other interests and responsibilities. I do not believe – especially with some of the most capable allies you have – that they can remain hidden overlong against a search directed with the knowledge that there is something to find. But it will require some little resource and time to find them."

Riagamor considered this. "Yet how does it matter to this specific problem? Yes, they would undoubtedly be useful allies to Ingram and his friends, and for that reason must be destroyed, but, by your own words, the two who knew the truth are dead."

"Ahh, but think! There are – must be – two others who know the truth, had to know the truth."

Rarely did Raiaga think himself stupid, but this was one; even as the King spoke he saw his error. "My apologies for my blindness. His parents, of course."

"It would seem likely, would it not? The two closest to him must understand what he is to face, what he must do, and must make sure that – even as he is convinced he is the least of the Clan – he is trained to be equal of any task. This could never be accomplished unless those directly and intimately associated with him knew full well what they sought to do."

"And so your advice…"

The King smiled, and this was the smile of his true form. "… is that the Camp-Bels be found. As a group, naturally, they will be fine bait, drawing your nemeses into a trap. They must suspect nothing.

"But you – and your agents – must ensure that Ingram Camp-Bel never speaks to his parents again."