Chapter 7
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Wager
“It is said that the divines did proclaim unto the people the value of the four virtues. Forgiveness was the virtue best embodied by Leå, The Goddess of Life and Light. Makir, God of the Khati, patience. Kindness, Elementa, Goddess of the Elementals. And finally, Volta, Goddess of Peace and Love, best represents the last of the virtues, love. This said, all of the Gods have within them a great capacity for all four of the Divine Virtue and thus serve as a great example for the four mortal races.
Demons, whose origin is that very deepest pits of hell, show us the way to ruin. Although these vile tormentors may hide among us, affeared of The Divine Light, they can always be recognised by the Three Infernal Sins which are characteristic of their kind. Greed, Selfishness, and Revenge. If any of this should take root in one’s heart, one should seek the aid of The Holy Church, for there is surely a demon whose influence is to blame.” – The Book of the Divines 2:13
“I am more lost than ever,” I bemoaned to my cat-self, who had covered his ears in an attempt to mute my insistent prattle, “These mortal emotions scatter all reason to the wind,” I reiterated for the umpteenth time as the cat hissed before prancing off and leaving me alone in the middle of a ravine.
I let out a breath, then continued walking through my silent contemplations. Following the rocky gorge upriver, I came across a cave. I walked in, and found myself entering The Underneath. Dark passages of all shapes and sizes bloomed around me as, with each step, I ventured deeper into the great labyrinth which lay beneath all of Gaius.
Dark creatures lurk in dark places. The Candlesweep gorged on its days-old dwarven meal - flickering and slurping noises marking the act. I walked past the gruesome scene, unseen by the creature as it did not wish to die.
I had expected to keep walking and end up in some dwarven settlement, where I might find my next target, but that was not the case. A few feet down the tunnel, illuminated only by the small light on the back of the Candlesweep, I saw a foot - only after I had tripped over it and ended up smashing my face against the hard stone.
Although this did annoy me, it had the effect of knocking me out of my own head, which was beginning to get a bit cramped as I filled it with “what if”s. Following the foot which had shot away, I found a rather confused dwarf woman hidden behind a rock - peering out into the darkness and trying to see what had just tripped over her.
Seeing nothing, she returned to what she had been doing. I expected that to be hiding from the magically empowered nightmare that was the Candlesweep or trying to use the distraction of its dinner to get away, but I was wrong. She poked her brown haired head, striped with grey, over the boulder every so often then ducked back down to scribble something.
Curious, I quelled my annoyance at the tripping hazard and stalked up behind her. Looking over her shoulder, I could see what she was up to. A half finished drawing of the monster was being quickly added to with each new observation. Looking more closely, my eyes unhindered by the darkness, I could make out words preceding the diagram to which she was now writing the labels:
* Wide grin, filled with fangs.
* Seven (sometimes eight) limbs that meld with the darkness and suspend its body off the ground.
* The candle flame that gives the creature its name can be moved about its shadowy body at will.
She continued adding labels as my eyes moved up to see what she had been writing before.
“My assistant's theory was correct! Despite seeing many mangled creatures in The Underground that can be attributed to the Candlesweep, he noticed the one common factor - there was always a dwarf there, or at least one had been in the area recently. Despite decades of trying to lure out the creature and having it strike out seemingly at random my assistance suggestion to use dwarven bate proved to be the only reliable method of attracting its attention. Too bad he could not be here to see it.”
Rather an interesting woman, I thought to myself as I read through what appeared to be an entry in some kind of bestiary.
She finished her drawing and slammed the book (as thick as the length of my forearm) shut, it squished down under the effects of an enchantment until it was no thicker than, and with the appearance of, an old and well used diary. She let out a contented sigh, an exhausted but exalted expression on her face. As she did, I was able to see the leather book cover which read:
“Tabitha’s Monster Book
The Big Book of Awesome Monsters
Miss Shungite’s Monster Anthology
Creatures of The Deep
The Monstiary
By Tabitha Shungite”
Each new iteration of the title was etched into the leather with a greater and greater degree of skill. The first two look to be the scratchings of a child.
I had to admit, this level of dedication to things as rare and dangerous as Monsters was rather impressive, especially from such a young age as the first of the book's names would suggest.
– Not long after Magus, the god of magic, created a barrier around the planet to deflect wild surges of manna from the sun which might do literally anything. He found that, although his barrier was capable of stopping these harmful waves of mana, it wasn’t without cost. Each hit it blocked slowly corroded the shield as the barrier spread the wild mana across its surface - some of that mana would decay over time but the rest would linger, slowly eroding his protection.
So, he had developed a solution - Monsters. Instead of wild motes of flame or sudden endless seas of illusionary fog, Magus changed this wild mana - forcing it into the form of a monster, solidifying and containing its power into nuggets that naturally formed monsters around them - Monster cores.
Although I was impressed by this woman's work, I was not impressed by her ability to stay quiet. After she had shut her book so loudly, and let out a great exhalation it was no wonder the Candlesweep heard her.
The Monster, however, did impress me with its ability to move silently, it swept through the tunnel, quiet as a mouse. Just as Tabitha noticed the lack of any crunching noises and her eyes shot open, the world fell still. Warm, amber light from the candle turned a pale white and Miss Shungite died - a spike of darkness passing through her chest before she could so much as blink.
“What are you?” she asked with joyful exuberance when she opened her eyes, not to see a Candlesweep, but a seven foot tall skeleton figure with the head of a long-dead raven.
She stepped forth, noticing that she was leaving her body as she did. Looking about, Tabitha found the course of her death, the Candlesweep, leaning over what was no question her corpse, not moving an inch.
“Huh,” was all she said.
“Huh?” I said, surprised to see yet another reaction to one’s death. “You’re not scared, angry, proud?” I asked, trying to get a gauge on her emotions.
“Oh well,” the dwarf said with some small disappointment, “It was bound to happen someday, at least it wasn’t until after I finished by Monstiary,” she consoled herself. “Say, what kind of monster are you? Now that I’m dead is there a whole new world of Monsters for me to document?” she asked with a childish excitement that was unbecoming of her apparent age. Based on what I knew of dwarfs, which was everything, she appeared to be in her late one-thousands - looking much like a sixty year old human.
With a mind to write about more monsters, she reached down to the book clenched in the hands of her body and tried to lift it. Her ghostly hands passed straight through the thing with no effect.
“I am afraid that won’t work,” I interjected, brushing off the Monster comment - by the definition of a Monster in this world, I was not one. But, by a more brought interpretation of the word, it might apply. I didn’t really want to think about that.
“But why?” she asked in a pleading voice as she pawed at her life’s work, “I have spent centuries on that, decades on the Candlesweep alone. There is no greater work on Monster species out there - none even come close. I had just written an entry for every Monster the dwarf people have ever heard of. It has required an impossible amount of courage, patience, and luck. And now what? It is to be left here in the depths to rot?” she questioned with more emotion than her own death had elicited.
“Calm down,” I calmed, “You seem more protective of that book than I have seen others of their children.”
“This is my child!” she rebuked.
“Look,” I said, trying to appease her, “I like what you have done, and am willing to make a deal with you.”
“What kind of deal?” she asked after a moment’s thought.
“I will ensure that your patience is rewarded, that book will find its way into the hands of someone who understands its importance.”
“And it shall be published.” she added.
“And it shall be published,” I agreed, “If you but take my hand and come with me,” I offered, holding out the hand in question.
It didn’t take the dwarf woman, Tabitha Shungite, long to agree. “Deal,” she said, shaking my hand. The second she came in contact with my body, her spirit disappeared and time resumed.
The Candlesweep dug into its new course with gusto and I plucked the book out from the now dead body's grasp, before it could be covered in blood, and stepped back from the messy eater.
I opened the Monstiary to have a quick flick through, and forgot about its expanding trick. Quickly, I had to lower the great tome to the ground so I didn’t drop it. Looking at the insides, the delicate diagrams, drawings and piles upon piles of notes about every Monster under the mountains I felt… inadequate.
If I but thought of any of these creatures, I would know far more than was displayed in this book and yet, there was more that could be learned from reading it than simply the information. The way it was written gave an insight into the author's mind, her way of thinking, that I simply couldn’t find elsewhere. There was a passion behind it, a sense of heart, that I simply lacked.
Closing the book, it once more shrank. I could have just willed it onto the desk of someone who would fulfil my agreement with Tabitha but that didn’t feel right. Something with that much care and effort put in deserved to be hand delivered.
That was the excuse I gave myself as I wanted to read it. To keep it safe in the meantime, I borrowed a trick used by this world's Wizards, the soul space. The name was a misnomer, they believed the items were stored within one’s soul but that was impossible. They simply, and unknowingly, used their thought signature - unique, like a fingerprint - as a key to a destination in the plane of desolation.
– The plane of desolation was, in fact, a sudovoid that was about 10^780 miles galactic north of this planet and simultaneously just below this area of space which made it easy to punch a hole through the fourth dimension to store and retrieve items. I placed the book inside where it would remain safe and started my walk once more.
✯
My feet led me further underground, to a dwarven city. Unlike before, since The Underneath was a dangerous place - I couldn’t stroll through open gates. The entrance to their city was both hidden and well guarded but that didn’t matter as there was presently a delivery of iron ore from one of the minds deeper down and the opening was left open. A couple of dwarfs shivered as the chill of death passed by but no alarm was raised.
I soon found myself on the mostly empty streets of a dwarven city, hosted within a giant cavan. Barely anyone was about as it was the middle of the night and most were asleep. I strolled down a district that was well lit and filled with larger buildings until something caught my eye; down an alleyway, behind what looked to be a bank, was a door - left ajar.
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Feeling inclined to enter, I pushed open the door. Inside, I found a trail of muddy footprints which I followed through the back end of the bank. It didn’t take long until I found their source. Deep within the depths of the building was a vault, and the door was hanging wide open. The footsteps lead straight inside.
“It's time to go!” A ginger haired dwarf insisted, holding a sack that clinked with the sound of gold.
“One minute!” another shot back, grabbing at a great pile of gold and shoving it into a tired bag.
“You can’t carry all those. I’m leaving before the rozzers show up,” the first relayed, strolling past me and out of the vault. The other thief only nodded absently as his eyes never left the shinies.
I lent back against a wall, deciding to wait. A third sack, then a fourth, then a fifth was filled from the vault's pile and still I waited. Despite the urgency of the other thief, six hours had passed as still the second filled bags with gold - he seemed to want to take the entire pile but there was more than three hundred bags worth and the other had struggled to take one.
Eventually, the sound of tinkling coins was interrupted.
“Stop right there thief!” some kind of uniformed dwarf shouted, backed by two others that entered the vault with swords raised.
The robber turned to them, his eyes now taken over with a golden sheen.
“You will not take my gold!” he hissed back at them. Slits formed in his eyes, he grew out fangs, and his ears became pointed. Before either of the officers said another word the now feral dwarf leaped at them like a beast and in seconds it was over. He landed on the blade of a shocked dwarf and died.
The world faded to monochrome and I thought I had a chance to ask the guy what that was about but I did not.
As soon as his spirit saw me, it attacked screaming something about gold. It only took a few attacks for him to realise he couldn’t do anything against me, at which point he returned to the pile of gold, crouching over it. But when he found he could not touch the gold he started grasping at it and kept grasping.
I thought to try Dem’s approach for once, choosing to stand there with my hand outstretched. Twelve hours later he was still focused only on the precious metal. I tried to speak to him but it was as if no one was home. Eventually I got bored and gave up. I slapped the spirit on the back and it disappeared into the wheel of reincarnation.
✯
When the scene finally resumed, I was treated to the sight of three lawmen utterly baffled by the suicide charge of a gold thief who had been overcome by some kind of magical sickness and had quite a mess to clean up.
I didn’t much care for the bloody mess that was left by his passing and I was irritated by the lack of knowledge I had gained from what ended up being little more than an animal by the end. I strode out past the horrified men. As soon as I stepped back through the door to the bank I found myself in snow.
Turning back, the door I had just walked through was now that of an outhouse. I stood on the side of a snow covered mountain, somewhere on the continent of Homos. A shovel trail led from the toilet to a squat, stone house with an aged, thatched roof. Directly behind and to each side were rising cliffs protecting it from the elements. In front, was a tremendous view of some river estuary, hundreds of feet below.
Smoke puffed up from the house’s chimney - the only clouds in an otherwise azure sky. Knowing this was where I was needed, I approached the oak front door. It opened as I drew near and a strong and sombre looking man exited.
“I’ll get some more wood,” he called back into the house, shutting the door behind him. The man, dressed in common but well made woollens, then trudged over to the woodstore beside the house, filled his arms with logs, came back to the front door and realised his mistake.
“Honey,” he called into the house. Seconds later, a woman wearing much the same attire, with an equally grave expression, opened the door to let him back in. She cracked a smile when she saw his predicament and I used the moment's pause to slip in the open door.
The house was small. I entered straight into the living room/kitchen which had a crackling fireplace. The only other room was at the end of this one and it was closed by a hanging curtain rather than a door.
In this fire room there were a goodly number of folk, most bearing some familial resemblance and all wearing a dier face. While most were adults who sat around in chairs with steaming mugs that warmed their hands, there were also three children sat right next to the fireplace, on the floor.
Between them was a silky black creature that seemed to hold all their attention. The cat looked up from his petting just long enough to catch my eye before returning to the warmth of the fire and the affections of the children.
A boy, no older than ten, walked out from behind the curtain, looking rather pale. He came up to one of the little girls who was playing with the cat and tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up and he pointed back the way he had come.
I followed her as she stood and entered the only other room the house possessed. Or I tried to. Although I slipped in just as the little girl pulled back the curtain I was caught by the room's occupant.
“Linder dear, come here,” a human woman, who looked as though she had been around since the dawn of time, said to her great, great, however many times, granddaughter. She then turned to me and said, “You can wait outside with the others.” Though she was propped up on a number of cushions in a cosy looking bed, her will still seemed strong.
Dumbly, I pointed a boney finger at my chest, as if to say - me?
“Yes you, just give me a minute - you shan’t have to wait long, she is the last I have to speak to,” she said with a stern but not unkind tone.
Her younger relative looked back, but saw nothing. Someone older might have dismissed it as the ramblings of a dying woman but being so young she continued to stare, willing whatever secrets were out of her sight to appear. She was about to give up but when the curtain moved aside to let an invisible figure pass she let out a little yelp of surprise.
“It’s quite alright Linder, I shouldn’t expect you to see him for a long time yet…” The elder continued but the curtain closed and I could hear no more. No one noticed as I reentered the room, they carried on with their quiet conversations.
I felt rather stupid. I knew, of course, that if the conditions were right someone could see me but I hadn’t expected it to happen. It hadn’t happened to Dem in hundreds of years so I assumed, wrongly, that it wouldn’t happen in the short time I would be filling in.
For someone to see Dem, the god of death, they would have to first have a strong connection with one of the gods. Since most of them were rather secluded this limited it to those of the First People, of which, only seven still lived. Secondly, one would need to be both near death and willing to accept it to be able to see me - she was both. Lastly, no small amount of magical talent was necessary.
Feeling rather awkward, I was left standing in a room with a bunch of strangers who didn’t know I was there and, since I was forced to wait, I picked up a mug of something that steamed and smelled delicious. It had been left on a table with a number of others to be taken by any who pleased. It filled me with warmth as I sat a bit back from the fire, out of the way, and stared into it.
The mixture of mesmerising flames and a soothing beverage had more of an effect on me than I might have thought. Time passed and, for the first time in my existence, I simply was - empty headed and relaxed.
My attention was drawn by my cat-self who brushed against my leg. Snapping back to my boney-self, I looked around to find the little girl exiting the old woman’s room. She turned her head from side to side, clearly looking for someone but not wanting to say anything.
Seeing this, I stood up and headed over to her. I patted her on the head as I passed by and felt the shiver as it travelled down her spine.
“You would do well not to scare young girls,” the old woman chided gently.
“Sorry, I didn’t think,” I apologised.
“You would do well to think and all,” she said with a wheezing laugh that broke down into a cough.
“Are you alright Granny Crone,” the man who had fetched the firewood asked, sticking his head through the curtain.
Distracted as I was by his entrance, I didn’t see it - and neither did he - until it was too late. A lit candle - no bigger than my thumb bone - flew across the room, striking the man on the head and bouncing off. Sill, it remained alight - its flame a definite yellow in colour.
“Jeffry, wait until that candle burns out and then bring everyone in here - do not disturb me until then,” she instructed, wagging a finger at the much larger man.
“Yes Granny,” he responded with a sad smile before ducking back out.
“What was that about?” I asked, confused by the whole situation.
“Oh, that was just so I can add some weight to my final words. I only have three minutes left but I don’t want my last words to be ruined by an awkward silence or by ‘can you pass my tea’ or some other such mundanities, they only have their full effect if I say them, then die,” she explained.
“It’s your death, you’re in control,” I conceded.
“Yes, yes it is but you’re not who I was expecting…”
“What do you mean, I am Dem - God of Death,” I proclaimed.
“You can cut that out at once, you may look right but you don’t act at all like him.”
At this, I reeled in surprise.
“Die often do you?” I asked, too taken aback to think to hide the fact that she was right in her assertion.
She laughed, making me feel like a small child, “I was one of the First People, I believe they call us now,”
“That’s impossible, you’re human. Even with the increased vitality being created by a god gave you - humans don’t last that long,” I said before I could think.
She leaned forward with a wrinkly smile and a sparkle in her cataract filled eyes, “Witches do,” she cackled. And as soon as she said it, I knew her story was true - how else could she see me whilst still alive.
“Fine, fine,” I conceded.
“I had heard of Dem, the god of death from Homos’ mouth. Back in the beginning, he was much freer with what he said. He raised us, don’t you know, all on his own - he was like a father to us… I had hoped to ask Dem if I could see him, just one last time…”
“You are right, I am not Dem, but even if I were, he cannot summon another god - Homos wouldn’t be able to get here with the time you have left,” I consoled - having regained myself enough not to reveal that although Dem couldn’t do that, I could.
“But you could,” she said, seeming to read my thoughts, “But you won’t,” she added with a somewhat curious tone.
“How did you…”
“Experience lad,” she replied to my unfinished question. “When I first felt your presence, I thought you might have been one of the children of the god - a demigod or a lesser god with enough power to take Dem’s place but now…”
I stayed silent, not knowing what new insight this creepy old woman might gain if I said anything.
She huffed, “I don’t have time for this, whoever you are you’ll have work to do soon - but before I go, I would like to tell your fortune.”
I was hesitant, there was something off with this woman, but I felt compelled to fulfil such a simple final wish.
“Okay,” I said, hesitantly.
“Just scoot over here and give me your hands,” she instructed. I placed my boney digits upon her palms and felt as a power left her and entered me. At first it swept through the body I was inhabiting, looking for something.
When the magical energy failed to find what it wanted in my skull, chest, or pelvis, it pushed deeper, into what lay beyond - the place in which living things keep their soul. It found an entrance and was instantly sprayed infinitely thin, across the entire universe.
The old lady gasped and her eyes, which had been screwed tight shut in concentration, shot open. I expected her to be shocked, having peered into my entirety. I expected her not to be able to comprehend whatever it was she saw, maybe even for her head to explode. I expected disbelief. I did not expect the words that came out of her mouth.
“You poor thing. You poor poor thing,” she said with genuine pity.
“What?” I asked, confused, “Was there something in my future?”
“No. No, I couldn’t make heads nor tails of that jumbled mess, but when I looked inside of you, I found no heart.”
“I am a skeleton?” I said questioningly.
“That is not what I mean. When I say heart I don’t mean heart, I mean that thing within all of our souls - that lets us love, that lets us hate, that allows us to feel. I’m afraid you don’t have that. And if you were to live a hundred lives, you could never gain it.”
I was quiet for a moment, taking in what she said. Was that true? It would explain why, whenever emotions were involved, mortals became completely unpredictable to me. I was made of only ideas swept out into the void - thoughts without souls. But I did feel stuff, surely.
I felt annoyed, mostly by myself. I felt content when I had begun the universe and again when I had created the gods… or was that just tiredness? No, no I was capable of emotions, she was wrong.
“I don’t believe you,” I said defiantly.
“I have seen a lot of souls,” she rebutted.
“None like mine,” I shot back, “I’ll tell you what - I will make a wager. One hundred lives, I will live one hundred mortal lives and come back to you. When I have experienced everything from a hundred mortal perspectives then I believe I should have developed the heart you speak of,” I said, thinking as I spoke.
“And how could you do that, let alone in the time I have left? and what would I wager?” she questioned, clearly sure of her diagnosis.
“Bah, time is just a construct of moral perception, it's a dimension like any other and just as easy to move through if you know how. As for what to wager… if I’m right, I shall have your soul for all eternity–”
“And what would you want with an old soul like mine,”
“Nothing, I just wanted to creep you out as much as you do me.” … “Anyway, if you win I’ll, let say, personally ensure that the next hundred generations of your family live long and content lives - you seem to like them.”
There was a silence, then she spoke, “I am not going to stop you from trying to develop a heart, even if I know it is not possible, I will not stand in your way. If you have to bet on it to try, then I accept,” she finished with a hand outstretched, ready to shake, “Or wait, should I touch you?” she asked, clearly holding back on account of my deathly powers.
“It’s fine so long as you aren't already a disembodied spirit,” I reassured, taking her hand and shaking.
I felt angry that she seemed to look down on me… Or did I? I thought I should feel angry, and I thought I was, but the feeling didn’t do anything. This “anger” didn’t change the way I thought or reasoned. Was something wrong with me? No, I had taken this bet, and now it was time to prove myself capable.
As soon as a deal was struck I froze that whole area in the fabric of space and time in a little crystalline bubble. To do so, I had to leave the body I had been inhabiting behind and my perspective shifted back to being above the planet.
“This is going to be interesting?” the cat said, appearing next to the everburning flame he had created earlier - which floated in geocentric orbit over the north pole.
I knew he was there before he spoke, no longer limited to the sight of a mere god.
“You think so?” I asked as I began to create a ball of concentrated soul stuff.
“We know so,” the cat said, yawning.
“You’re in charge while I’m gone,” I told the cat that was also me.
“Obviously,” he replied, as if there was no question.
I then squished my consciousness down into this tiny mortal soul, which was surprisingly easy. I wove into its structure several rules. First, my soul would not leave the planet of Gaius - meaning I would only be reborn as one of the five races.
Then, I made it so I would regain the memories of any past lives - once I reached adulthood for whatever race I was at the time. This way, I could actually learn from a hundred consecutive mortal lives but wouldn’t have to relive the worst parts every time.
Finally, I launched this new soul, containing my mind, down - into the planet of Gaius. Searching, like all new souls, for a body in need.