The Magister’s College loomed above as Tenthé walked past. The outside wall contained layers of swirling spells and other eldritch defensive constructions. At the edge of his awareness, he could pick up hints of creatures patrolling; things that weren’t fully here. These were his old friends, the Guardians. He and they had a long and varied history together because, unlike many, they could remember him.
From time to time, he pitted himself against the College’s wards and defenses, breaking in to spy on the students. In one of his forays, he’d come across a secret passage inside the wall of one of the buildings which gave him access to a peephole overlooking a room containing shelves stuffed with bound broadsheets. On the floor were several tables, usually populated by young adults, quietly looking at the pages. None of them ever seemed happy, and more than once, he’d seen someone crying.
He knew how they felt. Over the years, he’d had his fair share of rough masters. Tenthé was pretty sure that as expensive as their clothing was, like him, they used it to cover up the bruises and scars that were a part of learning new magic, as well as those from the beatings that came from earning the displeasure of whoever, or whatever, was doing the teaching.
But whatever. No spying for today. He had other plans.
Leaving the College behind, he made his way to the temple district. While the City Center had few buildings and many parks, this area was more typical, with everything except the larger temples crammed together along narrow streets.
Tenthé dove in. As he went along, the surrounding structures became more decrepit, reflecting their age and popularity of their patron gods. Symbols and icons were everywhere, the paint layers thick where competing groups had covered over each other’s work, time and again.
Eventually, he found himself alone. Tenthé wasn’t entirely sure why, but the spirits and other creatures haunting the area might have something to do with it. Even so, it was obvious he wasn’t the first one with this idea. Many of the temples had already been stripped of anything valuable, but, as he well knew, it was dangerous work, and there were still many untouched buildings left to rummage through.
He had mixed feelings. Looting the old temples provided him with coin, but there was a steep price. The old gods weren’t nice; their safeguards were meant to punish. To them, simply killing an intruder was too easy. They wanted them to suffer. Way back when he started out, before he knew what he was doing, he’d walked right into a lot of their traps.
He and Bear had managed to survive, but not without scars, both physical and mental. A few times the magic had been powerful enough to dump him deep into the Pools, his own name for the other places where things were different than here in the City. Once caught, he’d spent days, and in a few cases, years, trying to stay alive and learn what he needed to escape.
But, most of that was a long time ago. Tenthé prepared himself, putting on a belt to keep his robe in place, making sure his knives and spells were ready, and getting into the proper mental state. That done, he stepped into an alley leading deeper into the warren.
In spite of the potential danger, the area was peaceful. There were the faint sounds of the city, but the loudest noises came from the birds who would be nesting as soon as it warmed up a little more. When that happened, he could add eggs to his diet. He liked to eat them raw.
After following a seemingly random path through the maze of streets, he approached a temple he knew. Always wary of newly spawned traps, he stepped inside. The interior wasn’t large, and the roof had fallen in spots, but that allowed the midday sun to provide some level of illumination. Generally indistinguishable from the other ruins, this one boasted a single redeeming feature: a working fountain. Tenthé took a long drink, then sat on the floor to eat. It was nice here, warm and quiet.
Once the bun was gone, he yawned, stretched, rose, and exited back to the street. After threading past a few more buildings, he stopped in front of a temple flaunting a worn statue carved into the stone wall next to a narrow doorway. Staying alert, Tenthé pulled a few slats from the door, releasing the musty smell of old rot. Once the opening was large enough, he edged through, pausing to scan the interior. The general neglect of the structure let in some light, but still, it was rather gloomy. As usual, there were a number of bits and pieces scattered about, but nothing valuable.
Looking up, he could see sparkly lines in the air, resembling spider webs. When he used his blue eye, the webs were somewhat brighter. Through his green eye, they disappeared, but now he could see a puddle of magic on the floor near his feet.
Just what he expected. A trap. Picking up a piece of tile, he threw it into the puddle. Little claws flashed out and feebly attempted to slice it apart. Tenthé edged nearer, touched the edge of the magic, and drew a small amount into himself. The magic was extremely weak, barely a taste. He ran his finger back and forth, slowly consuming the energy powering the underlying spell. It warmed his interior. Not much, but a slight boost.
Once the trap was gone, he cautiously pushed into the temple. The webs were tempting, but were too high for him to reach easily. He decided to leave these alone; it probably wasn’t worth the risk to poke at them for no obvious gain.
In a back corner, he found the remains of a glamor over a section of the floor. Hoping, he ate the spell and pried up a few tiles. Score! A handful of pennies! There were also bundles of parchment, but nothing else. The Fifth Street gang sometimes took paper things, so these might be worth something. He stuffed everything into his robe.
This haul was adequate. Enough to keep him supplied with coin for a few more days, and really, that was all he needed.
Tenthé returned to the door, watchful for any surprises. Hard experience had taught him that some traps only worked when you were leaving.
Back on the street, he debated his next move. If he went home now, he’d end up hanging around, and most likely get into trouble. Not a bad option, but the Guardians were still on alert from the last time. He could look through more temples to see what there was to find. That would be practical.
But he already had what he had come for. Instead, he decided to visit the dead gods.
Plus, going that way would take him past a vendor he liked. It would use up a few of his coins, but that was what they were for. Tenthé headed deeper into the district.
He navigated through the streets, keeping an eye out for dangers, only having to deal with one giant skeleton. The look of surprise on its face as it fell apart made him laugh. Who knew a skeleton could even have an expression? After that, he felt other lurkers pull back. Somehow, they seemed to sense that he wasn’t worth the effort.
Tenthé reached a large boarded up building next to the outer city wall. This was the final stop for gods; a kind of retirement home. It was set up to allow the gods to enter, but once inside, they were stuck.
Banishment glyphs kept people out, and without people, the old gods couldn’t get worshipers. Without worshipers, they couldn’t get out; at least, that’s what they told him. Like most things, there weren’t any hard and fast rules, and Tenthé suspected that they could escape if they really wanted to, but that was their business.
Tenthé liked to visit occasionally. Once they’d found out he wasn’t going to help them, nor was he scared, they had gone back to what they spent most of their time doing, remembering the good old times.
Those were the stories Tenthé came to hear. Most of these gods were not nice guys. They loved to talk about magical battles powered by sacrificing the worshipers of other gods they’d defeated. The catacombs of the city were filled with these dead and Tenthé had a sneaking suspicion that, although they would never admit it, a lot of them had lost their power because they’d demanded their own followers be sacrificed as well.
He walked around the outside of the temple, being careful to leave everything untouched. In addition to the wards and walls, there was a generous collection of trash which was nearly as dangerous to his health as any of the magical defenses. Gods weren’t big on menial tasks.
All the entrances had been bricked up, but naturally, Tenthé had found a way in. There were a number of pedestals around the building, statues long gone. Behind one, the wall had cracked and shifted just enough to form a small gap he could wiggle through, which is what he did.
Inside, the temple was much larger than outside, the single room stretching off into the distance, with the floor, walls, and ceiling painted to represent a vast meadow under an open sky. The illusion was spoiled by the dingy and worn paint, with the only light coming from the dirt-smeared overhead windows. To round out the elegance, water dripped from various spots on the ceiling into puddles on the floor.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
As Tenthé took a few steps inside, billowing clouds of fog appeared, plunging him into a deep gloom. The ceiling became a foreboding cloud covered sky pierced by lightning that spawned deafening cracks of thunder. The floor was now a rocky expanse filled with boulders and cut with crags. Through this scene, a huge figure strode toward him, a knight clad in black armor under even blacker robes, effortlessly brandishing a ridiculously large sword. Red eyes of fire peered through a slit in the helmet.
“A sacrifice!” The words boomed louder than the thunder.
The knight swung at Tenthé, who ducked and ran forward, putting his hand up in a seemingly futile gesture to block the blow. Instead of losing his arm, the tip of the blade sheared off and clanged on the floor. Undeterred, the knight spun around for a second swipe, but Tenthé was already too close, leaping up to push off the knee of its armor. Tumbling through the air, he gestured at the sword as it narrowly missed him. The remainder of the blade broke off and followed him to the ground as he landed and rolled, coming to his feet.
Lurching to a halt, the knight stared at the hilt in his hand, all that remained of its weapon.
“My sword!” the god whined as it fell to its knees. The clouds and gloomy landscape faded as the knight shrank down to a more normal size. Tenthé wasn’t sure, but it appeared to be crying.
“I had this since the beginning!” the knight wailed while cradling the hilt. “What am I going to do now?”
The other gods were standing in groups by the walls of the temple, exchanging lucre. Some of them were laughing, some were swearing, and some both.
Two figures approached. The big one had a human body with the head of a wyvern, the other was a tiny emaciated woman who was a study in white. White hair, white eyes, white everything. Her looks were hard to pin down, both old and young at the same time, with a voice like branches scratching on a window.
“Hey boy,” she croaked. “You won me some serious cash! I was sure you’d do it! Here, some of it’s yours.”
The wyvern god just nodded. The witch tumbled coins from hand to hand, but Tenthé knew they’d disappear the instant he touched them. For some reason, the old gods didn’t realize their lucre wasn’t of any use to him.
“No, that’s okay,” he said. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”
“Well, more for me.”
She gestured to the sobbing knight, “While this fool figures out how much he’s screwed up, let’s talk. We need you to do something for us. Come over here.”
The two gods turned and walked to the edge of the temple where a fountain, or pond, had been. It was empty, with the bottom slightly damp. Tenthé hadn’t paid a lot of attention the other times he had been here, but he was pretty sure it used to have water.
“If you would be so kind as to find out why this has dried up, we would be quite appreciative.” The wyvern god kept nodding his lizard-like head up and down.
Even though she was being casual, Tenthé got the idea that this was important. The witch god, whose name was Hchhabbahorchkkt, acted as if it was nothing, but this was the first time any of the old gods had asked for a favor, rather than demanding one.
“What’s in it for me?” he responded.
The two gods looked at each other. Tenthé had been around. He knew a good bargaining position when he saw it. The other gods were trying to act casual, but Tenthé was sure they were paying close attention.
“What do you want?” the witch asked.
“Well. Let me think.”
Tenthé walked back toward the center of the temple where the knight was still staring at his sword. He came up behind the kneeling figure and put his hand on its arm. Immediately, it started to scream and writhe as Tenthé ate its magic.
It seemed cruel, but Tenthé knew better than to leave a potential foe in a position where it could seek revenge. The gods surrounding him weren’t surprised, they were the embodiment of violence and sacrifice, after all. In fact, once he finished off the knight, there was a second round of paying off bets. For these gods, the next best thing to remembering the past was betting. Tenthé guessed that was because forever got to be a long time after a while.
Which brought up the other reason why he had to do what he’d done. Tenthé had found that if he disabled one of the old gods, then the others would pounce on the victim in a very messy feeding frenzy. The gods trapped here were desperate for any magic they could grab, and regarded each other as potential food.
He walked back to the fountain and stared at the witch. When she started to fidget, he asked, “Okay. What’s the real story?”
She pointedly didn’t look where the knight wasn’t. After some time, she gave in.
“All right. Boy. The water is essential. It is the runoff from the sacred wells in the new temples.”
She turned and spat. The old gods weren’t too fond of the newer ones.
“It’s part of why we can last here. Details aren’t important, but we need it.”
That was not a good bargaining tactic, but gods were more into demanding, than negotiating. He thought it over. If he was too greedy, they would find some way to screw up the deal, a common theme in their stories. On the other hand, if he wasn’t too naïve, they’d stick to their promises. Plus, they were scared of him.
“Okay. Let’s just say you’ll owe me one.”
Tenthé was no stranger to making deals, at least with those who could remember him.
Hchhabbahorchkkt pretended to consider it. Perhaps she actually did have some clue about bargaining.
“Okay, but nothing stupid. Make it worthy.”
“Agreed.” Tenthé held out his hand to shake.
She looked at it and where the knight had been.
“Don’t think so,” she said.
Tenthé laughed, then glanced at the fountain.
“Any idea why it stopped working?”
“No. That’s what you’re for.”
Tenthé sighed. He hadn’t expected much and hadn’t been disappointed. The hard way it was.
He jumped into the fountain. It appeared that the water was supposed to seep in from the bottom, so he moved a few rocks around, eventually uncovering a channel full of smaller stones leading off to somewhere. Possibly a pipe, but more likely a sewer. It was the type of petty things gods did. The new gods would make the old gods dependent upon their sewage.
Maybe there was a cave-in upstream, or something like that?
He climbed out and scanned the floor for any nearby access, but when nothing obvious appeared, decided he’d have to search further afield.
“I’ll look around and see what I can find, but I might not get this done today,” he stated.
“Don’t take too long!” she hissed back.
The muttering from the others rose in volume. Tenthé wasn’t worried. A promise was a promise. Especially to them.
The wyvern god paced over to one of the temple walls, gestured, and the bricks disappeared to reveal an ornate but weathered door. Tenthé approached and put his hand out. It passed through the door as if it weren’t there. That was interesting. He hadn’t known the old gods could do something real like that. Maybe he should be a little more respectful?
Nah.
Tenthé stepped outside and looked back. There was no sign of the doorway from this side. As for the water, he couldn’t see any noticeable hollows, dips, or obvious access points. This was going to be a bit of a job.
Usually, he had no problems finding secret accesses and passageways, but he had noticed that his success was less in the temple district. It might be that the magic here interfered with his abilities. He didn’t know.
Whatever the reason, there wasn’t anything obvious to investigate, here. Maybe he would have better luck near the new temples? Probably they had more modern sewers? All he needed was a hint and he could generally find a way to get in. This might be fun.
Tenthé followed the twisting streets and eventually drew close to the newer parts of the district. Sounds of conflict swelled ahead of him, and as he emerged from the old temple warren into a large square, he came upon a crowd of priests pushing and heaving against each other, every one of them filled with religious fervor. It was entertaining. He watched the interplay for a while, being careful to stay at the edges where it would be easy to get away if the action surged in his direction.
This was good, though. The temples would be nearly empty of priests and priestesses, which meant that he could do some snooping without too much trouble. His experience with the clergy was not terribly positive. They tended to throw him out without any reason, accusing him of stealing the offerings.
They weren’t necessarily wrong.
Tenthé made his way to a nearby alley. So far, so good. Just out of view of the square, he found a sewer cover placed in a small alcove. Prying it up, he quickly slammed it back down. Obviously, what flowed here wasn’t even close to being holy, unless you were the god of poo.
He’d never heard of one, but it was possible. All it would take was a few worshippers.
He wandered deeper into the maze of temples. Dwarfing the others was the temple dedicated to the Turtle God. It represented thrift and profit, and was very popular these days.
He’d never been inside, but anytime he passed the main gate, he could see that the compound had a lot of showy fountains. That probably meant big sewers.
It might be a reasonable place to check, but even with most of the priests out on the streets fighting the good fight, there would still be a few watching for riff-raff. If he really wanted to, he could probably sneak in the front gate, but before making that kind of effort, he’d look around for a more him-friendly way to get in.
Walking around to the back of the temple, he came to the area where the garbage was brought out. Holding his breath, he hurried by.
Not that desperate, yet.
Close by, he found a flight of stairs leading up to a small door. It was locked, but beside the stairway was a grate set in the wall. He smiled.
That’s what he was looking for.
Tenthé peered through the mesh, seeing a passage going deeper inside. He examined everything carefully, alternating between his eyes. There was a weak alarm spell, but it didn’t seem to be connected to a larger system. He ate it, gripped the bars, heaved, and immediately landed on his rear when the grate almost fell out of the wall.
Well… that was easy. He turned the grate over. On the back was an embossed symbol that kind of looked like a wyvern. Ha! Some worker had repurposed it, which might have been a mistake.
Tenthé got up and wriggled into the passage, using his small size and flexibility to pull the grate into place behind him. Although cozy, he had no fear of tight places and proceeded to crawl deeper into the temple.