Brittle huddled beneath the workbench, whispering his final prayers. He could see the approaching men from only the knee down. Three pairs of worn leather shoes dragged along the rickety floorboards as the trio closed in. A flash of light flared from the opposite end of the room, followed by an uproarious boom! In the span of a single heartbeat, the workshop descended into absolute chaos. Tools ripped from their hooks, tables and benches flipped and flung with a life of their own, as eerie flashes of light painted long, dancing shadows along the planked floor.

Glass shattered in the distance as a lantern fell from its hook and struck the floor. The smell of hot fish oil and smoke filled the dingy air. The resulting fire spread quickly, its eager flames lapping up the abundance of dried wood and cedar shavings with unbridled hunger. The three men shouted at one another, their blaring voices made indiscernible by the ruckus going on around them.

Brittle watched, frozen with terror, as a thick layer of smoke swept closer. The smoke blanketed the long room in shifting clouds of impenetrable gray haze. Crouched low to the ground, Brittle felt the old floorboards creak and tremble as something raced towards them, feet pounding against the rickety planks. A blurred shadow erupted from the smoke and ash beside the trio of men. The first of the baddies was too slow to react and went down with a gurgled scream caught in his throat. The other two scattered like roaches, disappearing into the flickering haze.

“Brittle?” Sir Thomassin’s voice, raspy and panting for breath, called out, muffled by the noise. Behind him, concealed within the roiling clouds of shifting black and gray smoke, Brittle saw flashes of light lance back and forth, erupting against the walls in sprays of fiery sparks. He felt trapped within a black cloud amidst a thunder and lightning storm.

“Brittle, where are you?”

Brittle scuttled out from under the workbench on his hands and knees. “Here!”

Sir Thomassin stood over the body of the fallen baddie, longsword gripped in both hands as he whipped his head back and forth. He followed Brittle’s voice to where he crouched low against the trembling floor. A look of relief lessened some of the lines around the knight’s worried eyes. “Oh thank goodness, you’re–”

The rest of the sentiment died on Sir Thomassin’s tongue when a woodworking table came hurtling out of the swirl of haze and smashed into the wall behind them. He grabbed Brittle by the hand and hoisted him to his feet.

“On the double, lad. Before they bring the whole mill down on top of us.” Sheathing his heavy sword, Sir Thomassin pulled Brittle behind him as the pair sprinted through the smoke, ducking and weaving the barrage of wicked tools that hurtled back-and-forth across the room without rhyme or reason.

Brittle flinched as a hammer whizzed past overhead, nearly nicking one of his gnarled antlers. “Is this Mara’s doing?”

“Edvin’s,” Sir Thomassin replied. He wasn’t whispering, but with the deafening roar going on around them, he may as well have been. “Gilly went back to fetch Mara while Edvin and I followed you here. I’m supposed to fetch you while he, uh, distracts Gabor.”

“Distracts?”

“He’s up against the God of Champions, Brittle. Distraction is the best we can hope for.”

Sir Thomassin yanked Brittle to the side, flattening him against the wall with his arm as an unknown object broke from the gloom. It swept past before disappearing back into the shifting wall of cinders and ash once more. A sudden draft caused the smoke to part just long enough for Brittle to see what was taking place inside. Edvin and Gabor stood at the center of the smoke cloud as phantom waves of light poured from their bodies, intermixing with the swirl of ash.

“You insolent wretch!” Gabor’s voice thundered around them. He ripped the last of the long workbenches from the floor with a flick of his fingers and whipped it across the room. “I’ve been too soft on you for you too long. No more. It stops today. You either embrace who you are, who I made you to be, or I’ll make sure you live to regret it for the rest of your miserable existence!”

Edvin threw up his hands, splintering the oncoming table into a lethal volley of jagged splinters. “And you think bending to your will is going to make me any less miserable?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“You will do as you are told! As I command you to do.”

Gabor sent another wave of destruction at him, bowling the other god back. Edvin skidded across the broken floor, digging his heels into the wooden planks until he slid to a stop. A feral smile pulled across his lips, revealing two rows of tightly clenched teeth, as he staggered stubbornly to his feet. Edvin charged, bellowing something indiscernible at the top of his lungs as he ran. The power pouring from the gods moved in mighty gusts of wind, whipping both flames and debris into the air as the two gods slammed together.

Snapped from his shock, Sir Thomassin started to move again. Brittle tugged at his hand. “We’re not just going to leave Edvin, are we?”

“He’s a god. He won’t die, he’ll just…” Sir Thomassin’s voice trailed for a second or two as he scurried along, adding reluctantly, “Get really hurt.”

Brittle’s horrified response turned to ash on his coarse tongue as a burning beam crashed down between them. He threw himself sideways, tumbling across the hot, upturned floorboards as he rolled free of the destruction. He rose back onto his shaky legs once the worst of the debris had settled, realizing he was alone. Brittle whipped his head from side to side as he edged a tentative step backwards, unable to find Sir Thomassin amongst the impenetrable gloom.

“Sir Thomassin?”

Turned around, he didn’t even know which way was the exit. Brittle nearly leapt out of his bark when something heavy struck the floor beside him. He was both relieved and horrified to discover it was not another table, but Edvin. Easing back onto his feet with a groan, the giant god wiped the splatter of blood from under his nose as he started back towards the fray.

“Edvin!” Brittle called to him. “Edvin, help! I don’t know which way’s the door.”

The skin on the god’s taut face looked more pale than Brittle had ever seen it before. “Might and muscle, I thought Thom got you out already, little loggo.”

Brittle couldn’t believe the plea that poured from his mouth, but desperate times called for unthinkable measures. “Can you portal me out?”

“Give me just a sec here.” Edvin made a shape with his hands and power sparked between his fingertips. Teeth clenched against the strain, he formed a pinpoint of blazing light between his palms. The circle grew, slowly, flickering along the edges as the god poured more of his waning power into the portal. It was barely the size of a dinner plate when beam collapsed over the top of him, trapping Edvin against the floor.

The portal disintegrated before Brittle’s hollow eyes.

“You never learn, Edvin. That’s what I’ve always despised about you.” Backlit by the worsening flames, Gabor’s dark shadow lumbered towards them. “No matter how many times I beat you down, drive the lesson home as memorably as possible, you just keep right at it. While a human can drive his own fate, you are a slave to yours. So long as you keep fighting what you are, you will never be anything at all.”

Gabor’s heavy gaze moved from the burning beam to Brittle. The frown stretched over his mouth pulled tighter. “It’s a lesson, unfortunately, that you and Mara both have to learn. My only regret, Edvin, is that I will have to be the one to teach it to you.”

Brittle watched, helpless, as Gabor lifted his hand and power crackled like lightning between his outstretched fingertips. Footsteps pounded against the broken floorboards a split second before Sir Thomassin came hurtling out of the cloud of smoke and flames. His sword arced through the air and struck the god’s unprotected flank. Alas, the metal scraped harmlessly against Gabor’s skin, doing little more than ripping his tunic.

“Foolish human.” Gabor spun around and swung in the knight’s direction.

Sir Thomassin avoided the blow. Moving on the balls of his feet, he danced out of range with sweat and blood dripping from his brow.

“And just what do you think you’re going to do against a god?” Gabor demanded. “You can’t kill me, boy. That flimsy blade of yours can’t even break my skin.”

“Brittle.” Sir Thomassin spoke low, gray eyes fixed on the towering god. “Run.”

Brittle did as he was told, willing his rickety legs to move faster than ever before. He raced around Gabor, avoiding the fallen beam and sought the wall. He followed it, ducking the barrage of obstacles still whipping through the air. He heard the slam and crash of unimaginable destruction at his back. Clearing the worst of the smoke, Brittle saw the open doorway ahead of him. Hope mixed with desperation as he flew towards it.

A scream leapt from his mouth as a flash of light lit from the other side. Gabor stepped through the open doorway, dragging Sir Thomassin’s limp body with him. The god threw the knight onto the ground at Brittle’s feet. “Make no mistake, brave knight, I will kill you. But I want you to see the extent of your abysmal failure first.”

Brittle tried to run but a wave of the god’s hand knocked his legs out from under him.

Gabor approached, looking more annoyed than angry now. He muttered to himself as his long strides closed the gap between them. “This is what I get for sending humans to do a deity’s job. Further proof that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

He lifted his hand the same moment a portal opened over his head and a pink and orange blur slammed on top him.