From the Biographer – Level Scribbler

I have used some creative licence in an attempt to make this story more understandable to you, who – I imagine – have not studied the Sphere all of your life. Where I have not been accurate to the true nature of events, I have at least attempted to be true to the essence of the story.

In a realm about 240 turns from ours is a planet called the Sphere. On this world, it is said that the gods play games with the lives of mortals. This causes death and destruction on a scale so vast that many races became extinct. Then the Creator decreed that there should be a reward for the risk, and that, in all things, a balance must be sought. There would be a barrier between those who are often considered good (such as gods), those who are considered evil (such as daemons) and those who are mortal (such as humans).

The game continues, albeit with rather more subtle manipulation of the playing pieces. Many of the players think that it has improved the game, adding to it a level of skill that had been missing.

Prologue

The playing board took up the entire room (which means little, as the dimensions of the room would defy any normal means of measurement). It looked to cover every inch of space and yet, somehow – by some trickery of the eye or, more accurately, of the mind – a few gods were moving through the board without disturbing it. It was as though the board flowed around them like water splitting around a stone. When you looked at the board, your eyes would feel as though they were moving independently to each other. In one instant, the board could represent the surface of the planet as seen from outside, equally, however, it could show you the inside of a room. The change between aspects and ratios was instantaneous and yet intuitive.

A hazel-haired woman with rich-brown skin that almost glowed, and dressed in long, flowing, maroon-and-topaz robes walked over to a man with buzz-cut hair, blood-red war paint over his bare torso and his thumbs in his belt. As he noticed the woman, he thrust his hips forwards.

‘Ah, you care to join this scuffle, my lady?’ he asked.

‘You are about to engage with my pieces,’ began the woman, who then said another word.

The man held his hands out. ‘It was agreed long ago that our true names would not be spoken in here, o fickle one.’

She bowed her head, looking abashed. ‘My apologies, Horus.’

‘Apology accepted,’ Horus said, picking up a cup from the table. He placed his hand over the cup and shook it, and then released his hand and let the dice fall. ‘Ha, not a bad score; we won’t even have a scratch.’

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Horus reached over and plucked a few pieces from the board; as they were pulled away, so too did they become intangible, until they vanished into the air.

The lady was the goddess of luck, and – as such – she was a fickle being. By her own definition, if someone prayed to her or spoke her name to affect the outcome, then she could not intervene. By her own rule, she needed to be ineffable, random and pure chance. She may appear in your hand when you play cards, or sit beside a general whilst they orchestrate a battle, but most of the time she wouldn’t. Her nature was to be absent more often than she was present, and her followers could not know of her nature.

She had many names, but most of them were spoken as a curse; she was nameless. She picked up the cup and dice, and swirled the dice lazily inside the cup. ‘They were mine.’

‘Indeed? Well, fortunately for you, my guards will have to return to the city. The Good King is abroad and the Gamemaster…’ Horus said, spitting out the words (but he was careful not to let his face so much as twitch), ‘is after a word. Perhaps you could try to put up a struggle next time, hey?’ Horus left, leaving his figures in place.

He made his way – without any obvious show of haste – towards a grand throne in the centre of the room, where a raised pedestal hosted a figure that hurt the eyes of even the gods to behold. The figure radiated a presence that made even thinking of it intimidating.

The nameless lady watched Horus go, averting her eyes from the pedestal, then placed the cup upside down on the table and tapped the air nearby. A translucent figure shimmered into view. Horus wasn’t paying attention, but was instead boasting to a nearby god, who listened with just a hint of long suffering in its eyes. The lady lifted the corner of the cup, enough to see her throw, before scooping the dice up in the cup and placing it down the right way up. She had seen the roll, albeit fleetingly, and it was enough, however, to count.

The lady turned to her translucent figure and concentrated, ignoring the prickle of hair on the back of her neck. The Gamemaster was powerful, it was true, but not even it was capable of half the stories that were told. For if the stories were true, than she would have been long dead by now.

Now, the lady turned her attention to the game board; although the board conveyed the entirety of the planet, the playing area for her new pieces was limited (relatively speaking) to just one portion, where her remaining temple – which was lost to the ages – remained. In your world, this would correspond loosely to Europe. Fortunately, the Gamemaster was forgoing expeditions to the newly discovered lands (excluding those who already happened to live there), and subduing the locals whilst exposing the glories and morality of their gods.

A few ships lazily traversed the docks along the shore of these lands. A few new cities bloomed from the ground like mushrooms, but the wild nature of the land resisted mass settlement for now. Amongst the vast mountain range known as Aseneye’s Wall, the tale of Melfolous the Deceived was popular. Aseneye drew the mountain range from the ground to protect the land from Melfolous’ wraiths.

But that was not for the lady; she passed through a temple dedicated to local gods and into the forest nearby. She pinched her fingers, then widened them before blowing the dice into the wisp, and, with a flick of her hand, changed the image before her to that of the planet from orbit.