Nathariel sat on the edge of the dome, observing his two disciples with his perception, as best he could. His senses at Admiral were incredible, but they had also been refined over many years. Experience did wonders for a God-heir’s abilities. An Admiral who had spent many decades at the stage would inevitably be more powerful than a young man who just advanced to it.
But eventually, at this rate, Vayra and Glade would overtake him.
He shut his eyes and leaned back on the black shingled of the dome. They still radiated warmth from the day before, and they still infused him with heat.
He shouldn’t have needed heat, but then again, there were many things he shouldn’t have needed. Like apprentices. Disciples.
But he took them, anyway.
He sensed a powerful presence approaching from behind, more powerful than most of the others in the Continental Inn below. If a God were to kill him, very few would know or find out about it—it wasn’t like killing the Mediator, or any of the tournament entrants, where such an act would be exposed and broadcasted.
He wasn’t important anymore. He hadn’t been important for decades.
Centuries.
Ever?
He’d be better off leaving, and he did push himself up, until he studied the presence further.
Farrir. The Forge God.
Nathariel narrowed his eyes, then leaned back against the edge of the dome. There was no sense in running, really, not when a God could always catch up if they wanted. It would make such a mess if Farrir were to attack.
And, it being Farrir helped.
“Good evening,” said the forge god, dropping down atop the dome. He landed a few feet higher than Nathariel. “It’s been a while.”
A God like Farrir had faint wind aspects to his Path and authority—forges required bellows. It wasn’t much, but being a god, it let him control the wind enough to fly and hover, at least.
Nathariel missed being able to do that.
“Why are you doing this?” Farrir demanded. “Causing so much strife, so much trouble within the High Pantheon, and for what?”
“She’d rise anyway,” Nathariel said. “I may as well help her.”
Farrir, despite his bulk, perched on the slope of the dome with surprising grace, buoying himself with wind. His sleeveless coat fluttered, and his enormous hammer swayed. “What I would’ve given for some of your fire…the weapons I could’ve forged would’ve laid low even the greatest fiends from…the realms above.”
“Did Karmion send you?”
“If he wanted to speak with you, he’d visit you himself. No, no. I came to…test the waters. If the tides are shifting, I want to be on the right side.” Farrir raised his chin, and his brown sidelocks shifted to rim his face. He had deep crescents of darkness beneath his eyes, and he wasn’t smiling.
Nathariel had never seen him not at least smirking a little bit.
“If she wins her next three fights, she’ll be in the top sixteen in the tournament,” said Farrir. “As a reward for making it that far, she will have an audience with a God. Ask her to speak with me, and we may come to an…arrangement.”
“What do you want?”
“To live. To keep forging weapons. To do what I do best.” Farrir stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “I would’ve called you brother, once. I gave you a mighty gift, and what have you done except squander it? For five hundred years, you have been nothing.” He slid a few inches down the edge of the dome. “What do you want, hm?”
Nathariel snorted. “I have lived.” He shook his head in mock disgust. “For four-hundred years, I scoured the galaxy, seeing what I could, learning what I could, and experiencing what a God-heir never could. I loved, was loved. I watched countless friends die while I advanced beyond age itself. And then I chose to rest and hide—no sense in rearing my head while Karmion expanded.”
He pushed himself off the dome, unconcerned about looking too casual or angering Farrir. “You say you want to live, but life is more than just…your body’s clock keeping ticking, aye? I want friends, I want children who will survive and thrive.”
“These?” Farrir exclaimed, flicking the tails of his coat back. He stared down at the dome, as if his gaze could penetrate the roof of the dome and see through to the grand halls and ballrooms below, where the God-heirs—and Vayra and Glade—were. “They aren’t your children.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“I…wish they were.”
Farrir said nothing for a few seconds. He stared up into the sky—the half-sphere of the Shattered Moon’s parent planet still covered half the sky, and stars covered the other half. “Wonderful. Just wonderful. Whatever. Tell your disciple, the Mediator, that if she makes it to the top sixteen, she should seek an audience with me. I’ll do what I can to stay in the good graces of all sides.” He interlocked his fingers, then cracked his knuckles. “And if she needs a weapon, it can be arranged. My corespace is a forge, my spirit is an anvil, and my soul is a hammer.”
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Ameena dragged Glade off through the crowd, slipping between God-heirs and servants and navigating toward the stage with the performers.
Vayra trailed behind, keeping up as best she could. She ducked under a mortal man’s arm, swerving around his serving tray, and turned sideways to pass between a pair of mingling oceanfolk God-heirs. A God-heir had bent down to lace up her sandals, but Vayra vaulted over her.
By her reckoning, there should only be around a hundred and thirty or so contestants left, but there were way more than a hundred and thirty guests in the Inn. Some were retainers, some were personal guards, and many were mortal advisors and workers. She sensed the presences of a few Gods nearby, observing but not mingling with the partygoers.
She kept her eyes out, trying to scan for Myrrir and make sure that no one was approaching or threatening her, but there were too many people to keep track of. Instead, she kept her attention glued to Glade and Ameena.
If Glade had wanted to, he probably could’ve broken Ameena’s grip with ease, but there was no need. She led them to the stage with the orchestra (who now played a slower, waltz-y tune), then veered to the side and approached the entrance to the restaurant-like hall. They passed under an archway.
It deposited them in a low-ceilinged, darker room with hundreds of seats. Lanterns with green stained glass windows lit the table. Most were occupied, and though it appeared to be a restaurant, the guests mostly only held drinks and small appetizers.
“Sorry,” Vayra said to Ameena, “but we did already eat back at the contestants’ quarters. We…weren’t expecting this.” It seemed most everyone else was the same way.
“That’s alright,” Ameena said. “I’ve gathered up a table of…uh, let’s just say grateful friends. Who want to speak with you.”
Glade glanced over his shoulder, and Vayra shrugged. She said, “That’s…why we’re here.”
“Wonderful!” Ameena chirped, then flicked her ears toward a table with a few God-heirs seated at it. There had to be about ten of them, all dressed in fancy coats, robes, and dresses. One wore a tricorn hat with a massive plume, and another wore a bandolier with pistols in it. A few were humans, but there was also an elf, a couple oceanfolk, and a man with wolf ears.
She couldn’t say what their Paths were, and she probably wouldn’t be able to remember it anyway, but for the moment, it shouldn’t matter. They were potential allies.
She, Glade, and Ameena approached, but they didn’t sit down. All the others at the tables were all Commodores and Captains, and they turned to look at her the moment she stepped up to the edge of the table.
“Good…evening,” she said, taking a seat at the end of the table. It was oval-shaped, and they’d left the head open for her, Glade, and Ameena. Vayra scooched her chair in closer to the table, sliding its ornately carved legs along the floor. “I…hear you want to talk?”
Ameena motioned to a trio of young men beside her. “These guys heard about what happened. Rumours are circling. There’s an ocean-Path God-heir with blood manipulation abilities, and she’s taking people out.” She motioned to the other side of the table. “And here, these ones were in the ruins. They saw you rescue them.”
“We…can’t stand for this any longer,” the elf said in a low voice, almost a whisper. Vayra barely heard him over the bustling of the crowd all around them. “Karmion only favours his own children.” He glanced over his shoulder, as if worried someone might overhear him. “We figure we’d be better off throwing our lot in with the Velaydians than with him. He has no loyalties, no honour, nothing.”
Vayra swallowed. “Is everyone here still in the tournament?”
Most of them nodded, including Ameena.
She couldn’t give away their plan too soon, and she wasn’t sure if everyone here could be trusted at all. Maybe they were all spies.
And maybe Karmion knew exactly what they were trying anyway, but that didn’t mean she could just abandon all caution.
“Look,” she said. “I’m here to destroy Karmion. I have to.” She’d never set the world right, she’d never see the stars or travel or explore without first dealing with the Elderworlds. “If you’re here to help, you have to know what I want. Are you guys in or not?”
“No one would blame you if you backed down,” Glade added. “We have certain immunities, I suppose, being Velaydians and foreigners, but here? If you get caught, you’re done for.”
Again, most of them nodded. One backed away from the table with a respectful bow. He stood up and turned away, then melded into the crowd—and Vayra never saw him again.
“There isn’t much else to discuss,” Vayra said. “And the way things are going, I don’t think we’re getting offworld without a confrontation. We could use extra hands, I’m sure. And…if we face you in the tournament…have mercy.”
“Why do you need to win?” one asked. “You…can’t hold the Godly authority, can you?”
“She cannot, but I can,” Glade provided. “And one God on our side cannot hurt.”
“If I face you in the tournament,” another said, “I will surrender. No sense in putting all our future in the hands of Karmion when…well, if the Velaydians turn out to be as bad as he says they are, at least it’ll be something different.”
Vayra offered a slight smile. “Thank you, all. There’s…really not much more I can say. We’ll take it as we go, but it’s good to know that there are people on our side. But…for the moment, I wouldn’t mind just getting some drinks and getting to know all of you.”