“Oh shit,” Alex muttered beneath his breath, his stomach sinking. He could already tell where this was going.
A god, desperate to survive, now being forgotten.
It was easy to guess what had brought Thameland to the situation they found themselves in every hundred years, but Alex still had more questions. Everyones’ eyes were fixed on Uldar: from the sour look on Birger’s face, he'd already figured it out.
He was grimacing and muttering under his breath: “oh, by the ancestors, don’t, don't do it.”
Cedric was beet red.
“Oh, by the spirits,” Drestra’s voice crackled.
Bjorgrund, Professor Jules, Watcher Hill, Isolde and Theresa were still watching in rapt attention.
Grimloch and Hart watched stoically, their expressions unreadable.
“No…” Merzhin moaned. “Do not be so cruel…”
Above them, the image of Uldar continued.
“I want there to be a record, so I will always know that I did not abandon my people when I left their side. I did not simply recede into my sanctum and leave them to their own devices. I did not leave them to the cold, dark world, to the predation of monsters and tyrants, or the machinations of foreign fae lords.”
He began to gesticulate wildly. “I sent oracles and revelations to my priests. I provided them with power to work miracles, and even worked miracles for them from a distance! I spoke to my people from afar: granting them counsel and support! And I did not show favouritism to my children either! Just as I cared for the kings and queens, I cared for the most struggling peasant! Even if I could not be physically beside them, I gave them everything any mortal could ask for and more!”
His eyes shone with white light. “I spoiled them, that is the best way for me to put it! I used precious divine energies that could have been directed toward my own recovery to ensure they wanted for nothing, and yet, they still forgot me! Instead of showing me gratitude, they began to turn inward, thinking of themselves. Many returned to the old ways, some began showing reverence to deities from across the seas that they had been told of!”
The light in his eyes was so bright, Alex had to squint to keep his eyes on the god’s face. Merzhin was partially standing. “To the ungrateful, I was no longer their respected deity, I had become nothing more than a distant, rarely remembered ancestor! Many still respected me, but there was no worship! The fools!”
His image trembled as he roared the last two words. “What more did I have to do to prove that I existed? To prove that I was worthy of their worship! And just what did they think would happen if they scattered their faith to the four winds, leaving their father to wither and die alone? They should have known that they would know the cold, hard dangers of the world! That they would know what death and fear and hunger actually was! But I did not want that for them. I never did! I loved them, even though they would not love me in return! Remember these things, Uldar, always remember those desperate centuries. Let them calm the guilt in your heart! Remember the panic and desperation as you tried to shower them with more miracles! As you tried to do everything in your power to prove that you mattered! That you were worthy of a few simple words spoken in prayer that you needed to keep you alive! Remember those years…and more importantly…”
The light faded from his eyes. “…remember how none of it helped.” The god’s lips trembled. A deep indescribable sorrow was etched in his face. “Remember how your miracles would only produce small surges of faith, as the people then turned right back to forgetting you. Remember how they took your kindness for granted! Remember how many of them cried out about you not being there for them to see you. Remember how some preached that—even if you were truly a god—you were a weak one, unworthy of their prayers.”
He touched his wound again, snarling. “Remember the disgusting corruption that spread through you from this terrible wound as faith continued to dry up around you. Remember the terrible sickness, always threatening to bring you low. Always remember those times of darkness. Remember how they took you for granted, all while the infection kept spreading, continuing to eat away at your life-force. Then always remember the event that changed it all.”
Uldar’s shoulders shook, and he frowned as though searching deep in his mind. “The year was…the year was…” He struggled. “…I cannot recall. I used to know that year as well as I knew my own name, yet I cannot recall it now. I hope I can later, perhaps in a future entry…I do remember, though, that it was in the summertime. That is one thing I hope I will never forget. I had watched Thameland prosper from my viewing room: happy for the people, angry at them, sad for myself. One day, I witnessed invaders coming to our soil. It was the Irtyshenan…people, but the Empire had gone by a different name then…”
He paused. “Or perhaps they were a smaller kingdom or Empire that the Iryshenans later conquered. I do not remember. What I do remember is that I did not have the strength to drive them off. The faith flowing through my sanctum and into me, had fallen so low, that to drive the invaders from our shores, I would have had to sacrifice my very life. At that time, the rot had spread like roots through much of my body, and I was so weak that I found it taxing to even look after my smallest needs. All I could do was watch while my people suffered. My heart bled for them…but there was something extraordinary happening to me.”
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A look of guilt quickly passed across his face. “The invaders showed little mercy to my people, slaughtering them like beasts, and they were warriors, used to fighting, while the Thameish had grown comfortable. I had always protected them, even from this sanctum, even while they were busy forgetting me. Their small army of fighters were all slain by the enemy’s war golems. The invaders shattered our few magicians with deadly magics. Their ships sank ours…they burned our crops, and began putting many to the sword. I truly thought that was the end of both myself and my kingdom, for I still had not the strength to save them, and they had not the strength to save themselves. Yet, as they were once again facing extinction, my people did something they had not done in generations. They turned purely to prayer.”
He laughed bitterly. “These children who had become so proud, so strong—or so they thought—now pulled the ivy from my old shrines, and blew the dust away from my abandoned churches to throw themselves on the ground in prostration and beg me to save them! Even as their numbers dwindled away, their prayers turned more numerous, more frantic, and much stronger. More faith flooded to me in that time than in the previous five centuries altogether. I was awash with power, and my wound receded before my divine might, like shadows fleeing from the sun.”
The god clenched his fist. “Invigorated, I struck down the invaders from where I stood in my sanctum, boiling the seas beneath their ships, raining lightning from the sky, tearing open the earth, and swallowing up their armies. When I was done, none remained, and my people rejoiced!”
He laughed again, a sound both bitter and joyful. “I learned a valuable and terrible lesson in that moment. I had learned that in comfort, they would ignore me, but in times of fear, they would throw themselves down and call for my aid and mercy. After I had ended the threat of the invaders, my people screamed about the miracles that I had wrought. They spoke of their love for me, and how they would dedicate their lives to worshipping me. Statues were raised, and my churches were packed with survivors of the war! Power coursed through me, and I thought it would only be a matter of time before my wound would finally heal. If only that could've been the case.” Uldar sighed. “Within a century—a mere hundred years—many of my people had already forgotten. Mortal lives, are unfortunately, short, and though the generation that lived through the war still worshipped me to their dying breaths…their children thought of me less…their grandchildren even less, ignoring my churches as they went about their selfish lives…their great-grandchildren went a step further, tearing down my churches to build new homes for themselves, for the sacred buildings were now seen as no more than easy sources of stone. Even my secret church could not reverse the tide.”
A look of deep hatred creased lines across Uldar’s face. “I cursed myself for what I did next…I cursed myself for what I had to do. I knew that the only way for me to survive and heal this putrefying wound was to do what would have been, at one time, the unthinkable. I had to…in a way…betray the very people I had sworn to protect. I would need to keep stoking their fear so they would never forget me again. It would only be used as a temporary solution, of course, to be done away with once I healed. There was no other choice…to this day, there is still no other choice.”
“By the Traveller…” Theresa swore.
“Horrible…” Merzhin gasped.
“For my people, and myself, I would have to keep the fear at a peak so that they might heal me, so that I might keep protecting them forever…and then one day I could rejoin them. But for this to happen, I would need an enemy for them to fear. One so terrifying, that they would flock to my churches again. And to this end, I took inspiration from the two greatest enemies that at one time had brought my kingdom to its knees: the invading Empire and the Ravener. I went to my laboratory, took the shell that I had harvested from the ancient demon lord as a trophy—and as an object of study to try and cure my poisoning—and used it as a basis to create a construct. A construct so advanced, that it would make the golems of the time look as rudimentary as a wagon wheel.”
His chest swelled with pride. “I invented entirely new forms of alchemy to create my most fearsome creature. Its power source was twofold: an advanced mana generator, and a vessel to absorb fear. I gave it much of the capabilities of its predecessor and focused on the original Ravener’s ability to create armies of monsters. I then infused it with a number of protocols and attached them to a mind that allowed it to make decisions within a broad context. It is my greatest creation, apart from Thameland itself, that is, and I look upon the Ravener as my child as much as the people of Thameland are. It is loyal, driven, and would never stop worshipping me…if only I were able to infuse it with a true soul. Perhaps, then I could have created an entire army of constructs that simply exist to worship me…unfortunately, though, the Ravener’s reverence did not transition into faith for myself. After all, it did not have a soul. So I needed to continue with my plan.”
“That bastard,” Theresa swore. “So that's why he did it all.”
“To survive,” Merzhin said. “At the expense of us all.”
“Arrogance…” Alex said, feeling a mix of emotions.
The others were quiet.
“Unfortunately, I would also need a counter to my people’s enemy,” Uldar said. “While the Ravener would serve as the object of fear to generate faith in me, such an enemy would be useless if it simply roamed through the realm, killing all who crossed its path. One problem with that, was that I would not be able to stop the Ravener myself. Striking it down with divine might would drain my own power, and allow the people to be less fearful since they would believe they could always count on me to save them from so dangerous a threat. The problem of them becoming comfortable and turning their backs on me would still persist. After all, if I was able to stop it from my sanctum, then what reason would they have to fear it? Yet, if I allowed it to rampage long enough, they would come to see my reluctance to stop it as neglecting them! They would stop worshipping me and even grow to hate me. And so, I had to find a better way to stop my Ravener.”
He smiled, then, a smile filled with pride. “I had already crafted my villain, but I would need heroes to stop it. Heroes that fought in my name, and on my behalf. Heroes that would generate reverence for me, even as the Ravener generated fear and faith. And so, I found inspiration for these Heroes in the rune-marked of the north: I decided to automate a process where five heroes would be selected to battle the Ravener. While my little construct would forever be destined to be defeated by them; it would also be destined to reconstitute itself after every hundred years—giving the people enough time to rebuild, but not enough time to forget their father. New Heroes would be selected every hundred years to face the Ravener in my name. They would be called: the Champion, the Sage, the Saint, the Chosen…and they would have a leader, strategist, and teacher who would be a second in command to myself in times of war; The General.”
His smile faded rapidly. “I had thought myself so brilliant at the time, but in reality I had already built a flaw in my process…one that nearly cost me everything…thanks to the General.”